#it's too late for this and I'm tired but FOUND FAMILY!!!

[sukunahs]

sweet tooth | ryomen sukuna

episode 4: expectations are too high

pairing: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader (university au)

summary: sukuna has a notorious reputation on campus of being terrifying, but it's hard to be too scared of the guy when he shows up to your family’s failing bakery every day to buy strawberry shortbread.

when your life feels like its falling apart you discover just how sweet he can be.

word count: 8k

content: 18+ mdni, eventual smut, university au, FLUFF, angst, humor, slow burn, idiots in love, miscommunication, parental illness/death, grief, toxic ex-bf, money issues, stress and overwork, introverted reader, both sukuna and reader are SO confused

a/n: sorry for the delay on this chapter I had some heavy life stuff to deal with but I'm back and should be updating regularly again! also sorry this chapter is so long lol

series masterlist | ao3 | previous chapter (ch3) | next chapter (ch5)

Friday rolled around in no time at all and you found yourself almost surprised at just how quickly the week had gotten away from you. 

Between the day that you spent at your dad’s bedside and all the extra hours that you’d picked up at the bakery to account for the fact that he was completely bedridden right now, your schedule had been packed to the brim. 

You’d managed to convince the uni to defer some of your deadlines to next week, which they were completely understanding of given your father’s condition, but you still didn’t feel like you had any time to just take a breath. It was like you were living your life constantly on edge, always waiting for the next thing to go wrong. 

More and more had been falling through the cracks lately. You hadn’t spoken to your friends in weeks, generally not even finding the energy to reply to their texts; you’d been neglecting to take care of yourself too, skipping meals and often going days without showering - too tired to go through the motions when you’d return home late at night and exhausted. 

You’d had more than a few breakdowns under the safety of your duvet, wrapping yourself in a blanket and sobbing until there were no tears left to cry. The stress of being majorly overworked was one thing, but more than anything you just couldn’t cope with the reality that your father was dying, dread tugging at your soul at every given moment. 

It had been easier to pretend that things were okay with him before this week’s visit to the hospital. You’d always known that his death was inevitable, something that would find him sooner rather than later, but you’d always been able to push it to the back of your mind. You no longer had that luxury. You’d seen him there on that IV drip, witnessed firsthand how frail he was now.

Pretending that everything was okay wasn’t possible anymore. 

Over the last few days you’d considered calling Sukuna when things got bad. It was an offer that he’d put on the table for you, after all. But you didn’t want to be a burden to him, didn’t want to lean on him with your problems when he was out enjoying life - that wouldn’t be fair. 

Besides, his offer was probably just him being polite - something that he suggested because he cared about your father. You doubted that he really expected you to take him up on it. So each time you felt the urge and hovered your finger over the call button on his contact, you talked yourself out of it. 

He didn’t really want to hear you sobbing again. 

Although, sometimes you let yourself entertain the fantasy that his care for you was genuine, especially when he was sending you so many texts all the time. He’d message to tell you about his day, his thoughts on the Ship of Theseus, ask you for book recommendations and send you movie recommendations in return. 

On one of the many late nights where you were sobbing in your bed watching sad edits synced to Let Down by Radiohead, Sukuna even sent you a message asking if you were okay and telling you to go to sleep, since it was so late. 

It made your heart flutter that he must’ve noticed your online status and taken the time to check up on you. You’d really considered calling him that evening, wondering if he was lying in bed like you were, clutching his phone as he waited for you to respond. 

You doubted it. 

He was probably doing something cool, definitely not wallowing in his own suffering by watching sad things that were just going to make him feel worse. No, that was certainly an experience unique to you right now. 

So you’d held off on ringing him, even if you did yearn to hear his voice. He was probably with his friends, maybe even with some other girl - you calling him would be a major inconvenience. 

You’d shot him back a text telling him that you were okay, and that you were going to bed. At least his text had saved you from your doomscrolling, and meant that you woke up relatively refreshed on Friday morning. 

It was hard to ever really feel good these days, with so many worries pressing down on you at any given moment. But that morning you at least felt hopeful that you might have a better day than usual, excitement buzzing in your chest at the thought of spending time with Sukuna.

Perhaps you were more excited than really necessary, considering that it was just a study session, but you’d been thinking about him far more than you liked to admit lately, heart racing each time he popped into your head. You couldn’t stop thinking about how much interest he’d shown in you, how gentle he’d been with you on the phone.

You needed to be careful, couldn’t let your heart run wild with desire for him when Nanami had so clearly laid out his reputation. Not to mention, Sukuna had made it clear that he wasn’t interested in a one night stand with you - whatever he wanted from you, it evidently wasn’t anything greater than friendship.

But that didn’t stop you from feeling excited. Your body didn’t know that you weren’t meant to be feeling that way about him. 

What did temper your excitement was you meeting with your friends that morning, shortly before you were scheduled to meet up with Sukuna. 

Utahime had caught you in the library after one of your lectures and encouraged you to join her and your other friends in the cafeteria to hang out for a little bit, emphasizing just how little time you’d been spending with them lately. 

Admittedly, her whole speech had made you feel a bit guilty, and you weren’t the sort of person who wanted to be responsible for the sadness of others, so you’d willingly gone along with her request despite having lots of work to catch up on. If you were willing to give up time for Sukuna, it was only fair that you’d give up time for your friends too. 

But if you’d have known just how much the hangout was going to drain your social battery, you definitely would’ve stood your ground and told her that you really needed to study. 

Things had started off okay, normal even, with Utahime bringing you over to the table and no one making a big fuss out of your unusual presence, simply bringing you in naturally to the big debate that they were having about Shoko’s love life. 

It had made you feel calm, a little less shitty about the fact that you’d been avoiding these people for weeks. You’d been convinced that if you showed up again to hang out they’d start asking questions about why you’d been so distant lately and you’d have to lie out of your ass to avoid an awkward conversation. 

But that wasn’t what happened. You were free to sit back, feeling completely welcome as you listened to Shoko and Yuki bicker, with Utahime, Nanami and Ino chiming in every now and then to take sides or voice an opinion. It felt almost like things were normal - as if you’d never left. 

That was, until your phone chimed with a message. 

[Sukuna]: my lecture finished early so i’m outside the main hall already

[Sukuna]: no rush though idk if you’re still in class

You didn’t think anything of it as you saw the notifications on the screen, heart fluttering a little at the sight of his contact name, excited at the thought of him waiting for you just outside. Fumbling under the table you reached for your bag, only for Utahime’s voice to cut you off.

“Sukuna?” She asked in disbelief, brow furrowed as she stared down at your phone on the table. 

Hands faltering, you turned to her, a pang of anxiety shooting through you at the displeasure in her tone. You hadn’t expected Utahime to know Sukuna - you hadn’t known him until recently after all. Nanami was the only one who you’d assumed would know him thanks to his association with Satoru and that whole popular crowd. 

Clearly you’d thought wrong. 

“Uh, yeah.” You swiped your phone from the table, as if removing it from your friend’s view would lead her to forget what she’d seen. 

“Ryomen Sukuna? Face tattoos, pink hair, basketball team? That Sukuna?” She asked, still clearly in shock. You weren’t sure of his surname, you’d assumed that it was Itadori like his father Wasuke, but the rest of her description lined up. 

You nodded slowly, feeling a bit nervous under her scrutiny. Knowing that Sukuna was already waiting outside had you wanting to leave as soon as possible, desperate to prove to him that your absence the other day had been completely unlike you. 

Unfortunately Utahime clearly wasn’t done with you, and her accusatory tone had drawn the attention of everyone else at the table - the last thing that you wanted right now. 

“Why?” 

You weren’t really sure what to say to that. 

Despite being familiar with his reputation thanks to your discussion with Nanami, you weren’t sure exactly what Utahime or any of your other friends thought of him - clearly it wasn’t something positive though. You weren’t keen on telling them that you’d met him at the bakery, cautious that might lead to questions about why you were working there now. 

Besides, if Sukuna valued a certain reputation he probably didn’t want you telling anyone that he ordered strawberry shortcake and read thought-provoking literature.

“I’m helping him study.” You said simply, figuring that was the easiest answer without going into any details. And that likely would've been enough for Utahime if not for the fact that Nanami was frustratingly observant. 

“Oh, what class do you share?” The blonde asked, pushing his glasses up his nose as he surveyed you, clearly not content with that answer. 

It didn’t help that you’d lied when asking him about Sukuna the other day, approaching him after class and asking if he knew anything about a scary-looking pink-haired man, claiming that you’d happened to run into him in the hall and were simply intrigued with who he was. Now that he was sending you texts, it was clear that you’d already known Sukuna’s name long before Nanami had told it to you. 

Feigning ignorance to your friend probably hadn’t been the smartest idea. 

“We…don’t. He’s taking a class I did last year and asked me to tutor him.” 

Not technically a lie. 

“How did he find out you’d taken that class?” Shoko asked, deciding to throw her hat into the ring on questioning your current life choices. 

“The lecturer recommended me.” The lie spilled from your lips easily. “I got full marks on all the assignments last year, she suggested Sukuna talk to me since he was struggling.” 

Most of your friends seemed to buy that response. You were one of the most diligent students out there, it wouldn’t be too far-fetched for a lecturer to suggest that someone seek out your help. But it was clear that Nanami didn’t buy it, his expression filled with skepticism. 

“Even so, you shouldn’t get involved with him.” Utahime said quickly. “You probably don’t know because you haven’t been very social lately, but he’s not the sort of guy you want to be spending time with.” 

“I think I can make my own judgments.” You said, trying not to sound too bitter. You knew that Utahime meant well, and that she was just trying to look out for you, but with everything going on lately you weren’t keen on hearing a lecture from her right now. 

“I just think you don’t know what you’re getting into.” 

You shrugged. “He’s been pleasant enough, it's just studying.”

“Yeah, but he’s probably only doing it so that you’ll fuck him.” Shoko said plainly, voicing the words that Utahime seemed to be struggling to say. “He’s fucked half the girls on campus at this point.” 

The way that your chest tightened at her words was unpleasant. You shouldn’t care about that - who he was having sex with was totally irrelevant, it had nothing to do with your friendship with him. And yet you found yourself feeling a little worse than you had just moments before. 

“I don’t think so. And I’m not going to do that with him anyway.” Your tone was growing defensive, a little offended that they were treating you like some naive child who couldn’t think for herself. 

Shoko shrugged, clearly not invested enough in the matter to fight you on it. She wasn’t the type of woman who liked to put too much effort into things, much more interested in the fun things in life rather than arguing with her friends. Thankfully Yuki and Ino were the same - listening, but clearly unwilling to take a side. 

The same couldn’t be said for Utahime and Nanami, who still didn’t seem to be done with their anti-Sukuna rhetoric. 

“Fine, but even if you won’t sleep with him he’s bad news. That whole little group sucks, I hope Satoru chokes to death one day. You shouldn’t be associating with the likes of them.” Utahime continued. 

“They’re not all bad actually.” Shoko chimed in. “Suguru lends me cigarettes sometimes in our design class.” 

“Yeah, I’ve slept with Choso and he treated me sooo nice.” Yuki agreed with a proud grin. 

“Regardless.” Nanami said, swiftly moving the conversation back on track. “Sukuna isn’t someone that you want to be dealing with. He was a menace back in first year when I was roommates with Satoru. One time I went to get a snack from the common space and he was fucking some girl on the couch.” 

You were quick to dismiss the intrusive thought that popped up in your mind yearning to be that girl, wondering what it would be like to have his attention like that. It wasn’t in your best interest - that was exactly what you were being warned against right now. 

“I mean, that was years ago. People change.” You pointed out. 

“Maybe, but I’m sure he hasn’t.” 

“It’s true.” Yuki interjected. “This cheerleader, Yorozu, is in one of my classes and it sounds like he treats her like shit but she’s still obsessed with him for some reason.” 

You nibbled anxiously on your lip, feeling completely ganged up on. You really didn’t feel like explaining yourself, or outlining just why you felt they had the wrong idea about Sukuna and his intentions with you. 

“I think you should go back to Hiromi.” Utahime said matter-of-factly. “Nanami was talking with him recently and it seems like he’s keen to give things another try.” 

You instinctively scrunched up your nose at the mention of your ex-boyfriend. Your friends hadn’t been aware of the details around why the two of you broke up at the end of your first year in university, but you certainly wouldn’t be taking Utahime’s advice and going back to him. 

Not when he was largely responsible for how antisocial you’d become. 

“I’m good.” You muttered. 

It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t know just how badly the relationship with Hiromi had impacted you. It was something that you’d always intentionally kept to yourself, not big on your friends prying into your life and trying to offer you sympathy. But there was a part of you that wished they did know so they’d stop bringing him up to you as a romantic prospect every five minutes. 

“I don’t think you’re good if you’re hanging out with Sukuna.” She shot back. 

You ignored that, getting to your feet as you pulled your bag out from under the table. The morning hadn’t really gone the way you’d wanted it to. Considering that you’d been feeling pretty good when you woke up, you were really regretting letting Utahime pull you over here. 

Even if they did have your best interest at heart, spending time with Sukuna today was one thing that you’d actually been looking forward to, and now it felt like all the excitement had been sucked from you. 

“I appreciate your concern. I’ll catch you guys later.” Your voice was flat as you glanced over at your friends. 

Utahime and Nanami still looked frustrated, but the expressions on Ino, Yuki and Shoko’s faces came across as more sympathetic, perhaps guilty that you’d ended up feeling singled out at the first lunch that you’d attended with them in ages. 

“Babe.” Shoko called out as you turned to leave. “Let's have a spa day soon, yeah? I miss hanging out.” Her soft brown eyes were fixed on you, clearly making an attempt to make amends, not quite sure when she’d next see you considering how illusive you’d been lately.

“Sure.” You gave her a nod and a half smile, knowing that you wouldn’t be free to attend a spa day anytime soon. You were barely balancing everything as it was, there just wasn’t enough time for you to go and relax with your friends. Perhaps once summer break rolled around things would be different. 

You’d just have to wait and see. 

It felt like a relief to escape the overbearing presence of your friends as you made your way out of the cafeteria and to the front of the main hall, heart thumping against your ribcage as you noticed Sukuna on the sidewalk. 

He looked good, wearing an oversized red t-shirt with the name of a band you didn’t recognise, and a pair of black cargo trousers. His hair was a little messier than usual, as if he’d been running his hands frequently through his messy pink locks. A cigarette was hanging loosely between his lips. 

You began to make your way over to him, his red eyes shooting up to look at you with interest as he noticed you approaching. But before you could get too close Nanami’s voice was calling out your name from behind you. 

You weren’t keen on tearing your gaze from Sukuna, not when laying your eyes on him had butterflies swarming in your stomach in such a pleasant manner. But you and Nanami went way back, and you weren’t going to straight up ignore him even if he had frustrated you earlier. 

“Sorry.” Nanami said, bowing his head apologetically as you turned to face him. “That ambush wasn’t what you deserved, especially when I know socialising has been difficult for you lately.” 

Nanami was the only one in your friend group who had a deeper understanding of you. You’d known each other since middle school, and while he wasn’t aware of a lot of things like your father’s condition, he knew you well enough to understand that something wasn’t right at the moment. 

“Yeah, it was a bit intense.” You agreed, shooting a glance over to Sukuna whose fingers were wrapped around his cigarette now, brow furrowed as he watched you speak to Nanami. He was probably slightly too far away to hear what was being said, a fact that you were grateful for considering that the conversation was indirectly about him. 

“We’re just looking out for you, but you’re right - you’re not a child, and you're perfectly capable of making your own decisions.” 

“Thank you.” You said cautiously, fully aware that Nanami wasn’t finished yet. 

“But, I do just ask that you consider the things that we’ve said about him.” Nanami threw a stern glance over your shoulder in Sukuna’s direction. “I won’t try to make you stop hanging around with him if that’s what you want to do, but he’s not a nice man. He’s crude, he’s violent, and I don’t feel that he has any real respect for women.” 

“Right.” 

That wasn’t the impression that you’d gotten from Sukuna at all in the time that you’d spent with him so far. He’d stopped you from being harassed by those guys, showed interest in the book you were reading, and had spent the last couple of years entertaining your dad and his rambling stories. 

It just didn’t line up with the warnings that people were giving you. 

“Utahime was right about Hiromi, by the way. We’ve been chatting a lot in class lately and he’s been asking about you. I know things didn’t end well but he really misses you.”

“Mmm.” You didn’t dignify that with a response. 

The story that you’d fed your friends was that the two of you had grown apart and he’d ended things and broken your heart. There was much more to it than that but you didn’t think they needed to know the details. When things had ended you’d assumed that you wouldn’t be seeing Hiromi again.  

You certainly didn’t think he’d be popping up again over a year after things had ended. 

“Just think about it?” Nanami offered. “You guys made a good couple, and I know he’d treat you much better than Sukuna, if you’re even remotely thinking of heading down that road.” You had to hold back a scoff, knowing that even with Sukuna’s reputation you doubted that he’d cause you the mental anguish that your relationship with Hiromi had. 

“Sure.” You replied passively, knowing that arguing with Nanami was pointless, it was wiser to just listlessly agree until he felt his point had been made. 

His brown eyes narrowed, clearly not sure that you were really taking in what he was saying. Your gaze kept straying over to Sukuna who’d finished his cigarette now and had stuffed his hands into his pockets, watching you carefully, his expression unreadable. For a moment you thought you saw a flicker of frustration, but you couldn’t be sure. 

“Thank you.” Nanami said simply, an awkward silence settling over the two of you. 

“I don’t want to keep him waiting.” You gestured over to Sukuna, figuring that this was your cue to leave. “I’ll catch you later Nanami.” 

“Later.” You could feel Nanami’s judgemental gaze burning a hole through your back as you walked away, but you found it hard to care too much when Sukuna was smirking at you like he was right now. 

“Hey Angel.” He purred as you approached, red eyes flickering over your form and leaving you blushing. 

“Hey.” 

“Everything okay?” He asked, momentarily glancing past you to where Nanami was still watching from a distance. “He seems unhappy.” 

You shrugged. “Like I said before, he’s overprotective. It's no big deal.” 

Despite your reassurance, Sukuna seemed a little skeptical. His gaze lingered on the blonde for a while as he let out a hum of acknowledgement. It was clear that Sukuna didn’t like Nanami any more than Nanami liked him. Not like it was particularly surprising - they seemed to be complete opposites. 

“You ready to go?” Sukuna asked, returning his attention to you. 

“Sure. Do you have somewhere in mind?”

“There’s a great burger place not far from here, been meaning to try it for a while.” 

That sounded like a good suggestion as far as you were concerned. Lately your meals had consisted of pre-made sandwiches or onigiri from 7/11, and you were certain that those items weren’t providing you with all the nutrients that your body actually needed. Something with actual substance would do you good right now. 

“Can we walk? Or do we need to get the train?” 

“I can give you a lift.” He gestured to the black motorbike parked on the side of the road behind him and your eyes went wide with surprise, not realising that belonged to him. You’d never been on a motorbike before, and the thought of riding on one made you feel a little unnerved. 

Before you could protest Sukuna was grabbing the red helmet that sat on the seat and pressing it into your hands. “Put it on.” He said softly. You turned the object over in your hands, admiring the stickers that adorned the shiny material. They seemed to be stickers for various metal bands, but just like the one on his t-shirt, they weren’t names or logos that you recognised. 

“What about you?” You asked, noting that he only seemed to have one helmet. 

He shrugged. “I’ll drive slow, more important I keep you safe.” 

You desperately tried to stifle the swarm of butterflies fluttering in your chest at those words, reminding yourself that after all the warnings from your friends, you should at least make half an effort to not let Sukuna completely hold your heart in his hands. 

Pulling the helmet over your head, you looked up at him for guidance, not sure what he wanted you to do next. It must’ve been a source of amusement for him because he let out a short chuckle as he looked down at you. Perhaps you looked a little ridiculous wearing his helmet. 

He swung one leg over the motorbike, settling down on the seat before turning to look at you. “Climb on behind me and hold on.” 

Blinking a couple of times, you tried to process those words. He wanted you to hold onto him? You really hoped Nanami wasn’t still standing there watching because he’d probably throw a fit if he saw you gripping onto Sukuna on the back of his motorbike. 

But you weren’t about to turn the opportunity down with Sukuna looking at you the way he was. 

Carefully, you clambered onto the motorbike behind him, almost stumbling as you swung your leg over and tugging instinctively on the back of his shirt to regain your balance. He was laughing at the effort that you were exerting, encouraging you to wrap your arms around him once you were finally settled. 

You were grateful for the helmet hiding your face as you did as he asked, your cheeks burning a deep shade of crimson as you slid your arms around his mid-section, holding on to him tightly. Where your hands were resting you could feel the hard plane of his abs beneath his baggy shirt, and you tried to stay as still as possible, not wanting to seem like you were feeling him up. 

Even if you sort of did want to touch him more. 

He chucked once more, the sound rumbling through his body. “You don’t have to be so stiff. I don’t bite.” 

Those words did nothing to really get you to relax, now just more anxious about the fact that Sukuna was aware that you were acting a little weird in this situation. But he said no more on the matter, offering you one more reminder to cling on to him tightly before speeding off down the road. 

As you headed off you caught one last glimpse of Nanami, still standing outside the hall. He was watching you and Sukuna with a tightly clenched jaw, clearly not happy with what he’d just seen but powerless to really do anything. There was no doubt in your mind that you’d be receiving a strongly worded text message from him later. 

But that was a problem for another time. 

It was exhilarating being on the back of Sukuna’s motorbike, the wind whipping against your skin as he sped through the streets of Ueno. He’d said that he’d take things slow, but to you it felt like you were moving very fast, and you weren’t quite sure if you were enjoying it or if you felt a bit like you wanted to throw up. 

Either way, Sukuna got you there in one piece, pulling up at a cute little place tucked away down a side street. He pulled up outside and hopped off the motorbike, holding out his hand to help you climb off safely. Electricity pulsed through your veins as his fingers brushed against yours, and you sucked in a deep breath to try and steady your racing heart. 

If Sukuna noticed, he said nothing, smirking at you as he released your hand, softly pulling his helmet from your head. 

“Exciting, right?” He asked, gesturing to his bike. 

“Kinda scary actually.” You said nervously, head spinning. 

“That’s what’s fun about it.” 

You gave that some thought as Sukuna led you into the restaurant. It didn’t come as a surprise that Sukuna was a thrill-seeker, he definitely seemed like the type. But from a personal perspective you weren’t quite sure that you equated scary to fun. Your life felt plenty scary lately and you certainly weren’t having fun. 

The burger joint that Sukuna had led you to was cozy, and quiet enough in the middle of a weekday to feel quite intimate as the host led you to the back of the restaurant, sitting you down in a nice, secluded booth with a metal table between the two of you. 

Studying the menu you let out an internal sigh of relief at the sight of the prices, grateful that Sukuna had taken you somewhere that wasn’t too expensive. Even though he was paying for your meal, you didn’t want to feel like you were massively indebted to him, it wasn’t like you had the means to pay him back any time soon. 

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments as you decided what to pick, opting for a simple cheeseburger when the waiter returned, with Sukuna asking for a double bacon burger, insisting that it was the best choice since he needed to keep his protein intake high for basketball. 

A sense of nervousness settled over you once the waiter had gone, not quite sure how Sukuna wanted to proceed with this. You were here to study, right? Perhaps you should take the lead and bring out your notes from when you’d taken the class last year. 

But Sukuna seemed to have other ideas. 

“Was Nanami telling you not to hang out with me?” He asked, cutting straight to the chase. 

“Yeah.” You replied sheepishly, a little embarrassed by his complete awareness that you’d been discussing him. 

“Any compelling arguments?” Sukuna was leaning forward now, elbows resting on the table. The soft lighting in the restaurant had his red eyes looking particularly pretty, giving them a greater intensity than usual as he levelled his gaze on you. 

“Nothing he hadn’t already said before. He really doesn’t like you.” 

“Mmm, didn’t deter you though, huh?” He asked with a grin that you were sure had already won the hearts of many. If you weren’t careful it would win yours too.  

“I guess not.” You mumbled. Until you actually saw the Sukuna from the rumors, you didn’t think anything was going to drive you away. “Besides, there was no way that I was going to stand you up today, I still feel guilty about last time.” 

“You shouldn’t. You had your own shit to deal with.” 

You bit your lip as he trailed off. You’d wondered if he was planning on addressing the elephant in the room. On his call with you the other day you’d simply presented an outline of your father’s condition without going too deep into the details. It was hard for you to talk about it at length without crying. 

But now that you were actually hanging out you wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to discuss it. He probably had plenty of questions, and he clearly cared deeply about your dad. It wasn’t fair to keep him in the dark if there were things he wanted to know. 

“How’s your dad doing?” Sukuna asked, his expression serious. There was a certain amount of conflict in his eyes, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not he was allowed to ask you that question. 

“A little better now than when I last spoke to you. They got some fluids in him and he’s back to how he was the last time you were at the shop. I’d like to say he’s good, but he’s not.” 

You took a deep breath as you tried to control the tremble in your voice. You’d never really discussed these things out loud with anyone, and somehow putting it into words made everything feel much worse, like it was actually real. 

Your dad wasn’t fine. The doctors had given him until the end of this year at very best. The treatment should improve upon his quality of life, but ultimately he couldn’t be saved - his cancer had spread too much for that. It wasn’t something that you could linger on too much without breaking down, for now you just needed to appreciate the time that you had while he was still here. 

“And you?” Sukuna seemed to be closely examining you as he peered at you from across the table. “Are you doing good?” 

“Yeah.” You said quickly, defaulting to your usual answer. But the way that Sukuna tilted his head at you skeptically had you reconsidering. “No, not really.” 

“You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping. No offense.” You weren’t offended by his statement at all, it was just a fact. You knew that there were dark circles under your eyes and were well aware of just how exhausted you probably looked. 

It was hard to think of a response to that without getting too choked up, knowing that you’d probably burst into tears if you started talking too much about how much everything was getting to you right now. Besides, you didn’t want to trauma dump on Sukuna out of nowhere - it wasn’t fair, he probably wasn’t interested in all of that emotional weight. 

“It's hard.” You said finally. 

“Why didn’t you call me?” 

Your lips parted with surprise, not expecting him to care about something like that, figuring that he’d only put that offer on the table out of pity. And yet he looked genuinely offended by the fact that you hadn’t reached out. 

“I didn’t want to disturb you.” You said carefully, reflecting on Nanami’s words from the other day about him having a different girl over every night. 

“I wish you would.” 

You weren’t really sure what to say to that, a warm feeling spreading through you. If you didn’t know any better you would’ve assumed that he was flirting with you, but you knew that wasn’t the case. It was probably just a joke. 

Before you were forced to offer him a response, the waiter returned with your food, setting both burgers down on the table in front of you. It looked mouth-wateringly good, and you were quick to dig in, taking a large bite out of the cheeseburger. 

“This is good.” You said with a soft smile, changing the topic to avoid giving Sukuna a response to his last statement. 

It just wasn’t something that you wanted to get into. You knew that your fragile little heart would fall for him in an instant if he gave you too much to hold on to, you couldn’t linger on statements like that or you’d just end up getting hurt. It was important that you reminded yourself that the two of you were from very different worlds and his type certainly wasn’t you. 

You were just friends, that was all. And that was fine, after Hiromi it wasn’t like you were all that keen on being in a relationship anyway. 

“Mmm, real good.” He was already halfway done with his food, practically inhaling his bacon burger in one big bite

“We should probably get to studying after this, I’ve gotta get back for a lecture at 2.30.” You realised that it would probably be easy for the two of you to get carried away with talking and get no work done, and considering your limited time it was important that you actually helped him out. 

“Yeah, about that…” Sukuna paused for a moment as he scratched his head sheepishly, his pink locks sticking up in an unruly manner where his fingers had tangled in the strands. “I uh- I kinda lied about needing your help.” 

Huh?

“You- you don’t need my help?” 

“Nah…” He took a final bite of his burger, swallowing it down as he forced you to wait for an explanation. “When I was at the bakery the other day I wasn’t sure that you would wanna hang out if I didn’t give you a reason, so I figured asking you to tutor me would get your attention.” 

You stared at him blankly as you tried to process that information, almost letting out a laugh at just how guilty he looked right now, eyes darting around like a housecat who had just bitten their owner and was now pretending that they hadn’t. 

It wasn’t like you were mad. 

On the contrary, you were flattered that he’d gone out of his way to try and spend time with you. He hadn’t needed to lie to you, if he’d asked you to come to lunch with him you would’ve said yes anyway. 

Although, now you were thinking about it, maybe you wouldn’t have said yes considering how social interaction was far from your top priority right now. Turning your meeting into an obligation was surprisingly cunning - he’d probably learnt from your father that you weren’t the type of person to deny someone help. 

“Anyway.” He continued. “Now I feel bad because I didn’t know how bad things were with your dad, and I was running this whole scheme just to get you to hang out with me.”

“That’s so stupid.” You said with a soft little laugh, his lips curving up into a smile at the sound. 

“I thought it was pretty smart.” 

“I guess it was since I’m here, but what was your original plan? Were you just going to sit there and listen to me talk about linguistics for hours? Do you even take that class?”

“Actually I do. I just don’t need help with it.” You rolled your eyes dramatically, but you couldn’t help but be a little endeared by him. He hadn’t struck you as the sort of guy to come up with a plot like this, it was almost cute?

“So if you don’t need me to help you study, what do you want?” The question rolled off your tongue before you could stop it, taking the opportunity to try and understand his intentions with you. 

That seemed to stop him in his tracks, red eyes glancing down at the table as his brow furrowed. “To get to know you?” He almost seemed as confused as you were. 

“To get to know me?” That made his intentions about as clear as mud. 

“I guess I want to be friends.” He said carefully, and you couldn’t help but feel just a little bit disappointed at his words. There’d been a small part of you that had hoped that his interest in you was out of attraction, even if you knew that being a one-night stand of his was not a good idea. 

Really you should see this as a good thing. Nanami had said that Sukuna didn’t do relationships, so if you didn’t want to be just one of those girls that he slept with one time, this was probably the best you were going to get. Besides, Sukuna seemed to have a limited number of people who he valued as friends, and being one of them made you feel at least a little proud of yourself. 

“We can be friends. You don’t have to lie to me every time you want to hang out though - just ask next time.” 

“As long as you promise you’ll actually agree. Your dad said that you’ve been avoiding your friends like the plague recently.” 

A fair assessment. 

“That’s complicated.” You mumbled, chewing on your lip as you thought about how to explain that hanging out with him would be a source of comfort whilst being around your friends at the moment filled you with anxiety. “They don’t know what’s happening with my dad. If they did, they'd treat me differently and I don’t want that…but I can’t be around them all the time and pretend that everything is okay. It's just too tiring.” 

“It's easier because I know.” Sukuna offered and you nodded. 

“Easier because we didn’t know each other well before you found out. There wasn’t really a way for you to treat me any differently because we hadn’t established what normal looks like.” 

He seemed thoughtful for a moment, his hand coming to rest on his jaw. “Do you not want me to bring it up though? Your dad?” 

“Uh- no, it’s fine if you want to talk about him.” 

Honestly, the more you thought about it the more you realised that it was nice that Sukuna knew what was going on. It made you feel a little less alone, knowing that there was someone else out there who cared about your dad and understood the severity of the situation without being really overbearing with you about it. 

“Thanks.” Sukuna paused for a second, clearly running through a list of questions in his head that he’d been holding back, unsure before now if you’d be receptive to hearing them, clearly not keen to be the source of your misery. “Does he have anyone other than you looking after him?” 

“My aunt. You probably see her at the bakery sometimes.” 

Sukuna hummed in acknowledgement before continuing. “No mom?”

“They got divorced a long time ago. She lives down in Kyushu now. Although, she has come to visit a few times since he was diagnosed, she still cares about him a lot.” 

Your mother hated seeing your dad so weak, he’d been a strong and healthy man his whole life - seeing him reduced down to skin and bones and struggling to walk without support was heartbreaking. Part of you was glad that she lived so far away, you didn’t want her to see your father in this condition all the time - it would break her. 

“Does my dad know?” Sukuna asked, and you shook your head quickly. 

“My dad is too full of pride to tell people. He doesn’t want everyone fussing over him.” 

“Kinda like you.” Sukuna said, red eyes meeting yours playfully as an offended look crossed your face. 

“Hey.” You warned. 

His grin just grew wider at your protest, and you couldn’t stop warmth from spreading through you at the sight of his charming expression. It felt odd that he had such an understanding of your nature despite spending so little time with you, but you had to remind yourself that your dad had been feeding him information for years now. 

There was a part of you that really liked just how much he seemed to understand you - it felt like you were being seen for the first time in a while. 

You and Sukuna continued to talk at that table for a while, settling into easy conversation. He was quick to move the topic away from your father, seemingly not keen on bringing you down or making you cry. Even though you’d shown up at this lunch prepared to discuss it with him, you were grateful that he didn’t want to linger on it. You weren’t really ready yet. 

He did a lot of the talking, telling you stories about his friends, providing you with a completely different overview of the basketball team than the one that Nanami had supplied you with the other day. He had endless tales about Satoru embarrassing himself, pulling out plenty of examples of times where their group had gotten up to mischief. 

It was easy to understand why Nanami would absolutely despise them as a unit, he wasn’t the type of man who liked childish behaviour, and it sounded like Sukuna’s friends were all about that. Allegedly in their first year they’d gone into Nanami’s room and wrapped up all of his possessions in gift wrap - no wonder he wanted nothing to do with them. 

But from the perspective of an outsider the stories were amusing rather than problematic. 

Sukuna had suggested that you should meet them one time, telling you all about the parties that they’d throw at the house he shared with Choso and Toji. You’d nodded along but the thought of meeting his friends was terrifying - you already avoided social situations with your actual friends, going to a party and meeting a load of scary guys who would no doubt be very interested in the nature of your relationship with Sukuna was not ideal. 

Besides, it wasn’t as if you had much time for parties right now anyway. 

You told him a little about your friends, opting to leave out the part where they’d essentially all told you to avoid him because he was bad news. He didn’t need to know that, instead you went into detail about the things you used to do with them in first year - the trips into the mountains, the all night movie marathons, the time that Ino got locked out of his dorm and had to spend the night on the grass outside. 

“So, you don’t hang out with them much anymore because you’re too busy?” Sukuna asked, as you finished recounting your tales. Your plates had been cleared away now, drink glasses empty. You’d have to leave for your lecture soon, but you were having far too nice a time hanging out with Sukuna. 

“Mostly, yeah.” 

“Mostly?” 

“My social battery kinda took a nose dive at the start of my second year.” 

His brow furrowed with concern. “Because of your dad?” 

“No…” You chewed on your lip as you paused, trying to decide just how much you wanted to confide in him. The fact that he knew about your dad was already a lot, and you didn’t feel like completely spilling your guts, even if you did feel strangely comfortable telling him things. 

“I was dating this guy through most of my first year and after it ended I wasn’t really in a good place, ended up isolating myself a lot and before I could really get better my dad’s diagnosis came through and my social battery never recovered.” 

You lowered your gaze, not wanting to look at Sukuna as you spoke. He was far too perceptive, and you were confident that your expression would give away that there was a lot more to that story. But it wasn’t a can of worms that you wanted to open today.

And if Sukuna noticed he said nothing, letting out a quiet hum as he continued to stare at you from across the table. “The guy your dad hates, right?” 

You gave him a small smile. Your dad does hate Hiromi, it was amusing that he’d even outlined that to Sukuna at some point. You and Hiromi had originally met at the bakery - he was the son of one of your dad’s regulars, and your father had encouraged the relationship back at the start. 

But after seeing how broken the relationship had left you, he swore that he’d kill your ex if he ever saw him again. Although, you doubted he was strong enough for that now. 

“How much did my dad say about him?” 

“Not much.” Sukuna said with a shrug. “He just told me that you deserved someone much better than that guy and then asked if I was single.” You groaned at that revelation, not happy at the thought of your father trying to match-make behind your back.

“Sorry about him.” You mumbled, dragging your fingers down your face in embarrassment. Sukuna was smirking at you, evidently very amused by your reaction. 

“He’s endearing.” Sukuna said. “It's cute.” 

There was a part of you that wanted to ask Sukuna what he’d said in response to your father’s question, if he’d expressed any interest in you. But it was a stupid thing to wonder, a question that would only lead to pain. Of course Sukuna wouldn’t want you like that, he’d literally just told you that he wanted to be friends. 

That’s all you are. 

You couldn’t afford to think anything different, life was hard enough right now. Even if the sound of his voice had your brain short-circuiting, his smile causing butterflies to swarm in your stomach. It just wasn’t something that you could entertain. 

He’d asked to be friends, so you’d be his friend. That was all. 

“We should head back.” You said softly, eyes moving to your watch. 

Sukuna’s brow was furrowed as he watched you, pink lips parting for a second, as if he was considering saying something. But the moment passed and he simply nodded, waving over the waiter and paying for your food before ushering you out of the restaurant and back onto his motorbike, dropping you safely back on campus. 

“See you around?” You asked, as you hopped off the vehicle, and he gave you an easy smile. 

“Course. Make sure you call me sometime, angel. Don’t like the idea of you suffering all alone.” 

His words knocked the breath from your lungs, completely unsure on how to react to such care. The mantra of he’s just a friend playing on loop in your head as you tried not to read too deeply into his statement. But your heart was fluttering anyway. It was inevitable. 

You were so fucked. 

a/n: i know his surname isn't actually ryomen before anyone comes for me, just saying it is for the sake of this fic hehe

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed this chapter - reblogs and comments are appreciated, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this fic! <3

Taglist (open!): @call-me-nyxx @mad-katsuki @ilovesmolkittycats @cupidxml @solarlovesxyz @serenadesvt @fushiguroooozzz @surgikull @yuujispinkhair @himezoro @etsuniiru @lkukaknka @svnarxnn @chaos-4baby @rinofcike @eepydeepysleepy @linaaeatsfamilies @tisuruxx @grimm3r @minasuniverse @sail0rpluto @beereadzzz @00frenchfries00 @sukubusss @poopooindamouf @himbosexual @yatsuyu @thejujvtsupost @shewhoscreamssilently @kalulakunundrum @xxkay15xx @madison777x @thoreeo @saltypuffin1040 @t4ters @sugarysc @sussiesushi @silviscosplay @inthedarkshadows000 @jellybellyconnoisseur @p1nkfl0wers @philiasoul @emochosoluvr @tweetybomb @ynishalee @camsdrzd @jupitereleven @anguuubb @lily-bisque @christinezz33

© sukunahs

[seagrass-obsessions]

Everyone shut up. Found family trope the beloved

[warm-mangoes-with-chai]

Just found something after 3 years,,,, life is with living still,,,,🥹

Bottom line? NEVER give up, my fellow yuri soldiers 🧡🤍🩷

[vampmira]

open up what you got in your mind to me. [pt.1 – huntrix]

they've never met someone like you — a mortal who almost knew them .. better than they knew themselves. for the boys, it's annoyingly intriguing. for the girls, it's comforting.

paring(s): huntrix & saja boys x demon expert!gn!reader

warning(s): some movie changes, probably effected lore that makes no sense for the sake of the narrative

request: here ! this is part 1 – i loved it so much i had to make 2 parts hehe ,,, part 2 is here !

your family worked with the demon hunters for generations – mortals who studied the demons, found their strengths and weaknesses, worked as field researcher on demonology alongside the hunter to keep the honmoon safe.

unfortunately, your ancestors were unpowerful beyond their intellect and aura vision. physically, they were weak – protected only by the hunters. because of this, there was .. an accident. the demons found the weaknesses of the hunters – their darling researchers, so they did what demons would do.

thousands of years of pages and books and studies were lost in their attack. most information was mentally stored by hunters, but a substantial amount was still lost in physical ink. in modern times, these researchers are almost myths to hunters – legends. however, mythology tales say that the descendents of the researchers have all knowledge of the honmoon and the demons sealed away by it. of course, it remained apart of the stories celine told rumi, mira, and zoey growing up ... all until they met you.

they met you at a hidden pastry shop in seoul, hidden in an alleyway around the same area as that wack doctor zoey had so much faith in

it was the only place open after practice and rumi, as tired as she was, guided the girls in to enjoy the warm lighting and atmosphere

after declining the offers to go to the bathhouse for the 100th time, she thought this could be the perfect way to make it up to them

she ordered a few treats – mochi for herself, a little apple pie for zoey, steamed red bean buns for mira, and matcha for them all

the girls talked quietly, waiting for their order, until you called rumi up to retrieve the neatly wrapped box of sweets

when she came up to you, your fingers wrapped around her wrist, cold and startling

"i'm not sure how you got in here..", her eyes met yours, now void of the warmth you once held when she walked in, "but if a demon is ordering pastries from me, times must have changed." she shuttered under your hushed voice.

"d-demon...?" her skin was fully covered. even though her markings hadn't spread too far yet, she took precautions regardless, worried of the news that might ruin her relationships.

"i noticed your aura when you sat down. though, you don't seem that threatening... and the honmoon is completely intact aroun–"

"how do you..?" her eyes shook, almost pure horror behind them. there's tension between you two, fueled by her anxiety of being seen, of being exposed when her members were just right by the door. you studied her, her friends, and their auras alike, before you half smiled at her.

"my ancestors and yours were... very close." your voice rose, catching the attention of the pink and black haired girls. "do hunters not teach about researchers anymore?"

the three of them surrounded you quickly, eyes bright and curious

things like "we thought they were myths!!" and "you know about the honmoon!?" were thrown at you immediately

you debunked their mythology left and right, spending an hour after closing chatting with them

they felt.. seen? YOU felt seen!

you could finally talk to others about your aura vision and they could FINALLY get their hunter secrets off their chest

maybe it wasn't the best idea to spill it all in such a public place but who else would listen ?

celine got a very chaotic phone call later that night

and you? you got an invite to a luxurious penthouse and a few new friends

since then, you've helped them immensely

your memory was working like an endless library of information

you'd show them old diagrams your greatest great great great great grandparents had tucked away

discuss old journals that survived the attacks that became family heirlooms

told them fun facts about demons

especially to zoey, who seemed very intrigued by the fact that all demons had a weak spot in their chests due to their lack of personal souls

even, eventually, helped rumi tell the girls about her marks

zoey and mira were stunned in silence. rumi's arms were exposed, hands shaking in anxious terror, but you were right by her side. celine told her to always hide them but .. you understood. you accepted her mere minutes after meeting her. maybe the girls would do the same.

"rumi is.. something fascinating." you admitted. it sounded blunt, but you expressed it with a look of soft excitement. "she has mixed blood – the marks of a demon, the voice, soul, and heart of a hunter. she's never once lied about the kindness of her heart... the traits of hunters overpower any demon urges." you spoke for rumi as she stood there, feeling naked and scared under the judging eyes of her closest friends. "she's a pure experiment – but she's no less rumi. her aura proves that."

it took a few hours of conversations, explanations from both you, the expert, and her, the secret holder, but eventually, zoey and mira engulfed her in a hug – promising to keep the secret contained between the four of you. not even telling celine, in case she got them all in trouble. the golden honmoon was so close.. they'd be able to do this together, especially now that they have you.

during the events of the movie, they needed you a lot

but the last thing they wanted was a repeat of the accident

so they kept you their secret weapon ! working with you behind the scenes and away from the actual action

when the saja boys grabbed everyone's attention with their beautiful bodies and alluring voices, you were staring at their markings, especially at the joint fansigning they held

jinu noticed you about as much as he noticed bobby – just another person on staff

that is until he noticed how you stared at him

not ogling, but studying,, writing things down in the notebook you carried, covered in huntrix stickers

be lucky he noticed you over baby or mystery, otherwise you may have been targeted by their powers to throw you and huntrix off

he asked about you to rumi once .. the "mysterious person" on their staff that "always wrote in that notebook"

she was more worried about your safety than opening up to him but .. she thought..

if you helped her reveal herself to huntrix, maybe you could help jinu and the saja boys ?

they never expressed wanting help but she couldn't help but think about it

you hopped on board with her plan in secret, working on ways out of their servitude to gwima

it took a while but you figured that if you could channel your aura vision and hold them above the honmoon when it sealed, they could be healed of their marks too, human disguises left in tact.

it was only a matter of time before you tried it out.

[munsonstorm]

For Cryin’ Out Loud

pairing: post-outbreak! joel miller x fem!reader

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

word count: 7.9k

description: living with joel is complicated, especially when you can’t sleep due to nightmares. when you find yourself in his bed, you can’t help yourself. but joel sure can. give him a day to mull it over.

warnings: pretty slow burn, kinda forced proximity, kinda angsty, unspecified age gap (don’t like it, don’t read it), joel gives you tons of nicknames (darlin’, kiddo, etc.), discussions of nightmares and possible mental illnesses, some fluff, reader isn’t really described, joel is kinda a gaslighter, he’s also a bit pervy, unprotected p in v (wrap it y’all), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk, joel like worships you!!!!!, joel licks his fingers clean, giving genitalia pronouns, joel’s a big boy. think that’s it. lemme know what I missed!

author’s note: I really enjoyed writing this. the idea is pretty simple but I love domestic jackson!joel. I promise i’ll try to switch it up soon and write something that isn’t jackson!era lol. support your fav fics by reblogging and commenting!! thanks love ya <3

For some reason, you always find yourself standing at the threshold of the front door when you cannot sleep. 

The air was especially brisk tonight. You wrapped yourself in a gray chunky sweater you found in the lost and found in Jackson’s thrift store, hoping to regain some warmth. Your bed may have been comfortable, but it was the place where nightmares usually plagued you. 

It was too late to be awake, and you knew that if you were caught, you would hear it from Joel. He always reprimanded you. Every time he caught you up late, it was like your father woke up and found your hand in the cookie jar. 

The dynamic between you two had changed since arriving in Jackson, and you almost resented him for it. When it was just you, him, and Ellie, you were managing a family unit. Joel was always the protective father, you being the mom or the voice of reason, and Ellie being chaos. 

When Ellie and Joel’s relationship shifted, he took on a fatherly role for you. It bothered you. A lot. 

In a moment of contemplation, you hear footsteps coming down the steps behind you. 

He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and no shirt, his hairy tummy something you did not see often. 

“What are you doing awake?” He questions, his voice groggy with a twinge of annoyance. 

You do not feel like explaining yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without a justification. 

You huff, leaning your back against the door frame so you can get a full look at the broad man. “Can’t sleep. Thought staring into the darkness would help.”

He grunts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “How’s that workin’ for you, sweetheart?”

You could not close your eyes without the haunting dreams that seemed lively and so real. Every night, you had the same recurring ones. You were being chased, hunted, or murdered. Or all of the above. You would wake in a cold sweat, not wanting to shut your eyelids ever again. 

“Hm,” You say, staring back outside for a brief moment, “‘Was better when you weren’t looking over my shoulder.”

He chuckles, “Get back to bed.”

“I can’t, Joel.”

“You can and will. You’re no good when you’re tired.”

“If I close my eyes, Joel, I will just have the same goddamn nightmares I have every night. And I will end up doing what I’m doing now, which is trying to get some fresh air to forget them.”

“You’re not gonna forget ‘em with some fresh air. You just need to… get over them.”

The breeze picks up as soon as he says it, almost like the world knew the tension would have to be broken with some frigid air. You retort with, “And how do you get over yours?”

"I just accept them," he says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I don't have time to dwell on them. There's always more important things to worry about."

"I'm more tired in the morning when I just endure them." You explain, trying not to cry about it. But you are so sick of them. The same thing every night.

“I get it. One day they will subside, I’m sure of it. But for now, you gotta-”

You just want him to shut up. At the same time, your mind is trying to remember the last time you did not have a nightmare. The memory makes your stomach churn. “You remember that one time we were forced to share that sleeping bag? Back in Pittsburgh?”

“Yeah,” His tone was wary, “What about it?”

"That was the first night I didn't have it." You explain, your voice a bit shaking at the insinuation. You don’t want to face the fact that Joel, the man that you have known for going on 10 years, kept your nightmares at bay. The same man who continuously rejected you and told you that he was old enough to be your dad. The same man that told you no, I don’t like you like that. I never will. That Joel. 

“And? Why are you bringing this up now?”

"Because every night I go to my bed and I'm forced to face them alone. When you were there... they didn't even bother holding my mind hostage.”

He took another step closer, closing some of the distance between you two. He towers over you and you can’t help but stare up at him in awe. Joel has always been a complicated part of your life. You consider him your sexual awakening, honestly, but he will never ever know that. Over the years, he’s only gotten more handsome. 

But now, he has a curious expression written all over his face.

"Are you saying you want to share a bed with me?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to answer. You knew that was stepping over a boundary for Joel. He liked his space. He didn’t like you impeding on that space, especially. Your bedroom was the furthest away from his for a reason.

"I don't know." You manage to say.

Joel's gaze darkened, his expression was completely unreadable. You wish you could read his mind, but you should be grateful you can not. 

Because in Joel’s mind, he’s trying to formulate a way to convince you to stay away from him altogether. The wall he has built over the last decade was intentional. He did not want to hurt you any further. He already knew you had feelings for him, but he was an old man. He did not want to drag you into his mess, all the baggage he carried. He looked after you, he shared a home with you, and that’s it. Strictly platonic. 

He shifted on his feet a little, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You shook like a little leaf.

"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble.

You nod, "I don't know if I want that."

You do want that. But you want more, too. You knew you would be playing with fire. You would just be disappointed. 

Joel’s temptations are buried deep but they still fester every now and again. Some days he would catch a glance at you getting dressed in the crack of your door and have to take a cold shower. As soon as he felt those emotions bubble in his chest, he would try to distract himself. Maybe he would take a longer patrol. Maybe he would go to the Tipsy Bison and try to find a woman to take home. That one never really worked. 

“Well, what do you want then? Because standin’ at the door and letting all the cold air in ain’t gonna work for me or you.”

You look down at your picked-over fingernails and contemplate your next sentence. You don't want to be heartbroken in the morning when you wake up and he's there sleeping peacefully next to you and you're not... his.

"I want to sleep with you."

Joel was not expecting such a blunt response from you, but he appreciated you not beating around the bush about it. He gestures for you to step out of the doorway so he can shut the door, which you do. 

He looked down at you, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the exhaustion and uncertainty. 

"You sure?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.

You just nod as he locks the front door. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Joel couldn’t believe it either. Maybe it was the tiredness or the instincts he felt to protect you, but he was not mad at the idea of sharing his bed with you. 

You signal for him to go upstairs, “You lead the way.”

-

Joel’s room was always off-limits to you. So when you step into his small little world, you take it all in. 

The artwork around the room was mainly nature landscapes. He had a big dresser right at the room's entrance with picture frames of Sarah, Ellie, and other family members. You were even included in one photo—a picture of you and him on some horses from last year. 

A shirt littered one side of the bed, so you took that as it was probably his side. Unfortunately for you, it was the right side. You felt a pang of guilt realizing you would probably end up restlessly lying in Joel’s bed if you were stuck on the left. 

Before he can pull back the blanket for himself, you stop him. 

“Uh, can I sleep on that side?”

He completely halts in his motions, turning his head towards you with a blank expression. “My side? Why?”

You lick your lips, already regretting this whole thing. 

“Because I have had this superstition since I was a kid that I could only sleep on the right side of the bed."

Joel wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He can tell you are at war in your head about the question, your expression practically anticipating his rejection. 

"Superstitions, huh?" he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips."You and your weird beliefs."

You watch as he crosses to the other side of the bed and lifts the blanket. Is he actually letting you have his side? Maybe he doesn’t hate you. 

“You could also call it a compulsion, but superstitions seem more fun and less like a mental illness.”

He laughs this time, his deep chuckle making you feel a bit more relaxed about the situation. You did not feel like a burden as much. You walk to the right side and pull back his navy blue sheets and blanket. The spot looks warm and inviting so when you crawl in next to Joel, you start to realize that you’re back in the same situation you were in years ago in that sleeping bag. He was so close and warm and you wanted nothing more but for him to hold you and keep you comfortable.

But then another thing came to mind before you could imagine his arms around you. 

You usually sleep on your right side or back, but now you don't know what to do because you didn't know how Joel slept.

"Do you sleep on your side or back?"

Joel studies you as you fidget beside him, your uncertainty causing him to smirk slightly. It was almost endearing, seeing you be completely out of control of your surroundings. He remembers back when you were traveling with him you had an obsessive need to straighten up everything before you fell asleep. You had to roll yourself up in your sleeping bag the same way every night. 

"Usually on my back," he said finally. "But I can sleep on my side, too."

You swallow, trying to picture yourself sleeping. For some reason you felt the urge to have control of the situation, dictating exactly how he has to sleep, too. "Can I... I'll sleep on my side if you can sleep on your back? Is that okay?"

Joel had to suppress a smirk at your request. You knew he was trying to hold back a snarky remark. Instead, he surprises you.

"Sure, you can sleep on your side," he agreed, shifting his body weight onto his back, "��n I'll sleep on my back. No big deal."

You turn to face him, tucking the pillow further under your head. You can tell his eyes are heavy from exhaustion. You know it's time to shut up, to go to sleep, but you feel the need to say something else to him. Sometimes your brain concocts questions and statements and you know you shouldn’t say them, but your mouth betrays you.  

"When was the last time you had a girl in your bed?"

Why the fuck would you ask that? You think to yourself. It fell out of your mouth like drool.

Joel's eyes widened at your blunt question, surprise and a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. You knew he was probably just expecting you to lay here next to him, maybe roll around a bit, then sleep. But instead, it’s an interrogation.

He took a deep breath, his mind rattling around as he tried to think of a response. He didn't want to admit what his genuine answer was to you, but he too could not help himself.

"Why do you want to know that?" he asks, his voice steely.

You hate that he even responded because now you needed to defend yourself.

"I uh, don't know. I don't know why it matters."

Joel chuckled softly, noting that you probably just had a case of word vomit. You always told him you were infamous for putting your foot in your mouth, especially in awkward situations.

"Curiosity got the better of you, huh?" he asks, rubbing his face with his hands. “You just can’t help yourself, sweetheart.”

He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to face you, his gaze studying your expression.

You smirk, grateful that he's letting it slide. When he turns onto his side and he's at eye level with you, your face drops a bit. He is ruining the vision in your head. He’s throwing a wrench in your plans.

"You're supposed to be on your back, sir."

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. He knew he was supposed to be on his back, but the new angle allowed him to see you better in the faint moonlight.

"Don't worry," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'll turn back over in a minute. Just... enjoying the view for a bit."

You roll your eyes, lifting your hands from under the covers and lightly hitting his arm. You knew he was just fucking with you now. 

"Okay, for that, I want to know the answer to my stupid question."

Joel let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He shook his head, amused by your persistence. You start to think about it and you have never really seen him bring anyone home. Maybe it had been a very long time and he was embarrassed. 

"Alright, alright," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Last time I had a girl in my bed..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to the covers, his mind racing to find the right words.

"Go on..."

Joel took another deep breath, his voice dropping even lower as he spoke.

"It's been a long time, kiddo," he admitted, his voice pierced with a bit of shame. "Almost ten years, if I'm being honest."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "No way... You've never just... got it on with someone in bed?"

Joel's face flushed with embarrassment at your blunt question, a mix of shock and slight irritation flashing across his eyes.

"Jesus, you really don't hold back, do ya?" he muttered. He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable in a different way. He hadn't expected the conversation to turn so personal, so quickly and he did not want to face you anymore. He was mortified. 

You mentally slap yourself in the face.

"I'm sorry, I am just tired and delusional. Uh, you don't have to answer that."

Joel could practically feel the humiliation radiating off you and he too felt the exact same way. You knew how to add to an already awkward situation.

"No, no, it's fine," he reassured you, his voice a bit gentler now. "I get it. You're tired, and your filter has taken a backseat."

"Yeah, exactly..."

He shifted on the bed, turning onto his back again, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, avoiding your curious stare.

You could not help but stare at his side profile. A prominent straight nose. His downturned lips are surrounded by some fine lines that show his age. He was a beautiful man now, but you can’t help but imagine him back in his 20s. He had to have been a hit with the ladies back then.

Joel could feel your gaze on him, studying his face. And while you were not scrutinizing him, he felt like a commodity in a museum or something.  He forced himself to keep his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to meet your eyes.

"So… ten years and no sex?”

You could seriously, not help yourself.

"Correct.” He grumbles, still not meeting your stare.

"Damn, Joel." You mutter, adjusting a bit to sit up a little more on your pillow. "I seriously thought you were sleeping around the whole time we have been in Jackson.”

He finally turns your way, a bit of offense on his face. “Why would you think that?”

You shrug, not wanting to insult him. But that’s how you formulated your grudge towards him. It was easy to just chalk everything up to problems with random women you have seen around town. 

“You just give off the energy…”

“What?”

You huff, laying back on the pillow. “I don’t know, Joel! I feel like when I’m around you all the ladies think you’re handsome. They stare.”

“They are staring because you’re always following me around and we aren’t married or… together. They think we are odd.” 

You had never heard such things around Jackson, but it does sort of make sense. Everyone was probably just confused because you two lived together but were not a couple. You can admit it is bizarre, but it just did not feel like an option any other way, in your mind. So Tommy gave you two a bigger house and you set up separate rooms. 

But in actuality, Joel secretly told Tommy that he did not want you too far from him. So when Tommy couldn’t give you any other houses nearby, Joel just told him that you two would be roommates.

“Well fuck ‘em.” You mutter, trying not to sound too offended by the thought of people gossiping about you two.

Joel just nods. You settle by tucking your arm under your pillow. You yawn, the exhaustion now taking over your body. You watch Joel grab a pair of reading glasses from the side table and a book. You decide not to bother him, especially because he probably wanted to just read himself to sleep instead of being interrogated by you any further.

You close your eyes and eventually fall asleep. The deeper you get, Joel notices how your breathing pattern changes. When he’s finally ready to get some shut-eye as well, he watches as your body crawls closer to him. Your arm swings over his stomach and rests on his forearm. He is so shocked he does not move a muscle. 

You adjust some more, not knowing what you are doing. Your leg creeps up and tucks right between his. You snuggle your face right into his chest. The only movement Joel decides to make is slinging his arm over your shoulders to pull you in tighter. 

It’s the first time in years that you two slept soundly, with no interruptions. No nightmares, no sudden intrusions, nothing. Silence and snores fill the room and that’s it.

-

When you wake up, it’s slow and gradual. Your brain hardly computes that you’re laying on top of Joel’s shirtless frame, until your hand runs across his warm tummy. 

You crook your neck up, looking at the handsome man you are spreading across. 

His lips are slightly ajar, letting out hardly-there snores. They are so pretty and pink and you cannot help but touch them with feather-like fingertips. You would feel so guilty waking him up-

His eyes slowly open taking notice of your actions even though you tried not to stir him. Your eyes fly open in shock, but he does not seem very annoyed. He smiles. 

“Mornin’ darlin’,” He says in a deep sleep-laced voice. You smile back at him, loving that he decided to call you the nickname you always got giddy over. You press your fingers into his chest before replying.

“I didn’t have a nightmare.”

His hand comes up from your shoulders and tucks some hair behind your ear as he stares down at you, “That’s good kiddo. I’m glad you slept well.”

The intimacy is almost too much. The way this is how it would be if you woke up to Joel every morning. It sends your brain into overdrive and you force yourself to ruin it a bit.

“Woulda slept even better if you didn’t talk so much in your sleep.”

Joel froze for a moment, his cheeks immediately flushing pink with embarrassment. He sits up a bit more, adjusting to the brighter lighting in his room. He knew he had a problem with talking in his sleep. Ellie used to talk about it all the time. He dreaded hearing what he was saying while curled up next to you.

"Uh... what did I say?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.

"Something about it felt so good to be pressed up against someone, I don't know..." 

You could not help yourself and started to laugh. You knew you were going to get a rise out of him. 

Joel's face flushed an even deeper shade of pink as you started to laugh, clearly amused by your joke. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to come up with an excuse. He was just dreaming, it was not about you. 

"W-what?" he spluttered out instead of making an excuse. "I didn't... I didn't say anything like that."

You have a shit-eating grin on your face and you press your hands on his chest to prop yourself up. You enjoyed watching him squirm.

Joel's eyes flickered down to your hands on his chest. He sickly thought they felt so right placed there. He imagined what you would look like fully mounting him. 

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but you could see through his stone-cold exterior.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?" he grumbled, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Fully fuckin' with you." You giggle, hoping he is not really that mad at you. 

“You’re a brat.”

You move your foot slightly, running it up his leg. It sends shockwaves up his body, having you so close and moving around so seamlessly. 

"No, you said something about how beautiful, alluring, and incredible I am. Said I was the girl of your dreams…"

"Yeah, right," he said, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. "You expect me to believe that?"

"So, you don't believe me?"

"No, I don't believe you," he says, his voice stern but playful. "I think you're a dirty little liar, trying to play me for a fool."

"A dirty little liar, huh? Well, it's good to know that you don't think I'm beautiful, alluring, and incredible." You giggle at his acknowledgment, knowing he caught you red-handed.

"Oh, I never said that," he smirked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "You are all of those things, darlin’. But you're also a dirty little liar who likes to play games."

"So you think I'm beautiful?" You crack, the biggest smile painted on your face. You don’t even care that he’s calling you a liar because it does not matter. Joel thinks you are beautiful. 

“‘Course I do.”

You push yourself up onto your butt, sitting crisscross next to him. He secretly wishes you were still curled up on top of him. 

“You always this nice in the morning?” You ponder, your fingertips starting to toy with the hair on his stomach. He tries not to pay mind to it, letting you have full access to touch him. 

But it’s driving him insane. The way you look freshly woken up, completely enamored with the idea of him calling you beautiful. You have some puffiness under your eyes and your lips are more swollen than usual.

“I am always nice to you.”

You let out a scoff, “No, you’re not.”

He notices the shift in your tone and starts to get defensive, “Now you’re just lyin’.” 

Joel always loved to gaslight you in these situations. You knew better than to let him get away with it, especially now. “No there was that one time you told me you did not like me and that you would never like me. How you are old enough to be my dad-”

“Because I am!”

And there’s the wall. The only constant in you two’s relationship. He was so good at throwing it up when feelings were being expressed. When vulnerability was presented, Joel could not help but reject it. 

“And the world’s fuckin’ ended, Joel! Big deal!” You almost yell, moving your hands from him. 

Why does he already miss your hands?

He huffs, crossing his arms over his soft chest. “We have had this conversation for the last 10 years.’M not sure why we keep rehashing it.”

“And every time you turn me down it’s another fuckin’ stab in the heart.”

“You know why we can’t,” He practically growls. You can not stand to even look at him anymore with your bitterness and irritation taking over. 

“Whatever, Joel.” 

As soon as you say it, you’re already leaving his room and heading to your own. When you slam the door, you hope you have made your point. You want to scream and punch a hole in the wall, but instead you just furiously stomp around the room and grab your clothes. You had patrol at noon, so you needed to get to the mess hall before breakfast was over. You try not to cry as you strip down and get dressed.

Joel sits in bed, reeling. He hates that it has become a conversation every six months. He hated that rejecting you always sent you into a spiral of hating him for extended periods. It’s not that he did not want you, it was simply just not in the cards. He was too old to be in love. He was too old to play house with you. He just could not submit to the idea of leading you on, especially because you had so much more life to live. 

He finally works up the courage to get out of bed and put on some clothes. He opts for putting on his typical jeans and thick flannel. It was getting colder and he knew by the end of the winter, you would end up with half his flannels anyway, so he had to enjoy them while he had them. 

You storm downstairs, going to the back door for your boots when you spot him in the kitchen. 

“You got pat-”

“Yes.” You respond quickly, shoving your foot into your shoes. He stands behind you with a mug full of tea, watching your every move. 

“Who are you-”

“Jesse.”

He was asking his usual questions, which you were not in the mood to answer. 

“Hey, can you-”

You snap your head back at him, giving him the glare you gave him as a warning usually. By now, he takes it as a hint and backs off. But not this time. 

“Can I what?”

He rolls his eyes, “Can you fuckin’ not be a brat about this?”

You wish your glare came with knives. If that were the case, Joel Miller would be dead on his kitchen floor. 

You are so thrown off by the question that you just watch him get angrier when you do not respond. 

“Are you serious, right now?” You press, keeping your voice from cracking. 

He brings the mug up to his mouth, taking an obnoxious sip. When he pulls the mug away, you notice how steaming it is. “You always pull this shit-”

“No, you do! You do this shit to me every fuckin’ time, Joel. You sweet talk me, make me feel comfortable, have me lapping everything up in the palm of your hands, and then you snatch it away. Then have the audacity to get mad at me!”

You are yelling now and it is throwing him off. Joel knows better than to interrupt you like you do to him. You were the kind of person who would calm down if you felt heard. 

The way he knew you down to your core made this all so painful. Because if he was not so stubborn and true to his convictions, he would have fucked you the moment you touched his lips this morning. 

“I ain’t tryin’ to make this harder than-” “Too fuckin’ late.”

You think back to the moment last night when you knew you were going to hurt your own feelings by sleeping with him. You knew better, yet here you are, still blaming him for your stupidity.

He stands there, still holding his mug, staring you down like a wounded doe who got pierced with an arrow. He feels guilty like he misled you. Before he can say anything, you are lacing up your boots and leaving out the front door without another word. 

-

All day long, Joel wanders around the house trying to get rid of the pit in his stomach. Nothing works. A shower. Reading a book. Cutting wood. As soon as he tried to use laundry as a distraction, he reached into his hamper and found one of your t-shirts. He held it close and smelled it, trying to wrap his head around how he got here. 

You spend all day, silently fuming on horseback with Jesse. When he tries to get you to open up, you ice him out and tell him to focus on the trail in front of him. 

You get back by sundown, the sun setting making it a lot chiller than you expected. You decide to take the long way home, wanting to avoid being home for as long as possible. You were not ready to face Joel, let alone share a space with him. But unfortunately, during your patrol, you fell into some mud and needed a shower. The more time it spent on your clothes and body, the grosser you felt. 

You open the front door, announcing that you are home. It was a habit you and Joel developed after you both pulled guns on each other during late-night arrivals. 

You hear Joel mumble something from the living room, but you do not stop to listen and continue on your way upstairs to the bathroom. 

You strip down as soon as the door is closed, tossing your muddy clothing into a hamper in the corner. You would get them washed and hung as soon as you shower off. 

You hear Joel’s footsteps creaking around the upstairs hallway as you scrub your body with homemade soap and warm water. 

When you start to dry yourself off, you hear Joel grunting something in the hallway. You wrap yourself in a towel and peek your head out the door. He’s on his hands and knees wiping something off the hardwood. “What’s goin’ on?”

He looks up at you, your body only covered in a bleach-stained blue towel. It makes his head spin. He can’t even be mad that you tracked in mud. 

He swallows, gripping the cloth he’s using tighter. “You got mud everywhere.”

You step out, not even really thinking about the fact that you are not properly dressed in front of Joel. You were still mad at him, anyway. Who cares what he thinks?

“Sorry, I could’ve cleaned it up.”

He returns to wiping the wood, “It’s fine, I got it, kiddo.”

You accept his response and move on to your room, but the draft you leave behind drifts to Joel’s nostrils. Your soap smells like lavender and it always sends his mind racing when you are fresh from a shower. He clears his throat, trying to get through the emotions filling his chest. 

But it’s been like this all day. You’re all around him even when you’re not physically here. How can he get away from you? Why is he trying to run in the first place?

He’s on his knees in your hallway, cleaning up your mess, sniffing the air you leave behind because he’s fucking in love with you and he cannot help himself anymore. 

Joel starts to think about how peaceful he felt having you next to him last night and how he would love to feel that way every night. For once he’s not thinking about what everyone else would think. For once he’s thinking selfishly and caving into every desire he has ever pondered about you. How would you feel under him? How would your lips feel pressed against his pulse point? 

His body was on fire, thinking about you. 

You are fiddling with some clothes in your dresser after you flick on the overhead light. You do not hear him come into your room behind you. 

You are so wrapped up in your own thoughts that when he clears his throat to announce he’s in your room, you scream. Loud. 

“For cryin’ out loud, woman!” 

You grip your towel tighter when you turn and see him standing at your mercy. 

“Joel, what the fuck?” You yell, gesturing to the fact that you are practically naked. He does not care, of course, and his ears are ringing from your piercing scream. He gathers himself as you shift back, trying to create some distance from him.

He is trying not to gawk at the fact that your grip on the towel against your chest is only pushing up your cleavage. He’s biting back everything. “Can we talk?”

“Talk about what? The fact you crept into my room when I was trying to change? Are we past boundaries now?” 

You are pissed, trying not to rattle off another million things to discuss with him. He’s only really talking about one thing. 

He scoffs at your last statement. “Boundaries were already out the window when you crawled into bed with me last night.”

Silence fills the room as you completely stop breathing. The anger you originally felt dissipates. 

“Joel-“

“I ain’t doin’ this back and forth anymore,” He starts shifting in his spot, unsure if he really should be doing this. “I can’t live how I've been livin’. Somethin’s gotta give.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. 

“You are the one who won’t give, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, he practically drags himself over to you. Completely destitute. You have never seen him look so desperate before. You can tell that he’s been at war with himself ever since you left this morning. His eyes never lied.

His hand creeps up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

But then you remember his words from this morning. You start feeling like this is just a moment of weakness for him and that he will regret it later. You had to stop it before it was too late. You did not want to deal with the consequences. 

“Joel, you said we can’t-”

“Fuck what I said,” He cuts you off, “Do you want this?”

You stare into those brown eyes, searching for a sign of hesitance. You cannot believe Joel is being this vulnerable with you. 

But, you do want him. God, you have wanted him so badly for so long. You have searched for him in every man you have ever been with since knowing him. 

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He takes note of your parted lips, every word failing you at that moment.

“Darlin’-”

“Yes,” You finally manage. “Yes, I do want this.”

It’s all he needs. He closes the gap between you two by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his space. His lips crash onto yours, not wasting another breath of air waiting to indulge in his sickest fantasies. 

You are all Joel ever dreamed about. He knew that once he caved and physically gave in, his world would be shot and everything would revolve around you. For years it had been a teetering object on a cliff, one nudge would have him falling. He always managed. But now, he was falling head first. 

His lips move so perfectly with your own. Your hand released your towel and found the tufts of his curls at the base of his head. You did not care that the article pooled around your feet, leaving you completely bare in front of Joel. You have wanted this all along. To be uncovered, to be stripped down to the rawest form. He broke the kiss briefly just to scan your naked body, his forehead pressed against your own. 

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.”

Your heart stutters as his hand traces your stomach down to your hips, all the way down to your ass. He stops there, grabbing a handful. 

“I need you,” You choke out before pressing your lips to his over and over again. “Right now.”

He mumbles “jump” into your mouth and you do so, his hands working quickly to hike you up onto his waist. He carries you to your bed, wasting no time dropping you onto your back. 

He cannot get enough of your soft, swollen lips. Every time he pulls away slightly, he dives in again even more aggressively than the last time. 

You are so hypnotized by the way he feels on top of you. In the light, he seems so much broader than he was last night. He’s still fully clothed, to your dismay. You start to tug at his shirt, motioning him to remove the articles that are in your way. 

He throws off his shirt before he stands up at the edge of the bed and pushes down his jeans. 

“Joel… I-“

He just shuts you up with another passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to melt into your mouth. Your hands trail up his back, gripping onto his shoulders, holding him down so he is pressing against your nude body. 

“God, I have wanted this for so long,” He sputters, trying not to sound too desperate. “Been wanting this.”

That’s when his hand reaches down between your thighs and gathers the wetness your slit has to offer. His fingers dance across it, starting from the top all the way to your spongy entrance. 

“Please, Joel.”

He loves the lust-laced tone you speak with when you say his name. It almost makes him cum there and then. 

You watch as he makes his way down your body, peppering kisses from your shoulder to your hip. When he parts your legs, you feel quite exposed. The adrenaline of being so spread for him manifests into a moan. 

“You are divine, baby.”

The use of that adjective is so-not-Joel that it makes you giggle. He notes your reaction and decides to sink down into you. When his mouth gets close to your core, it’s no longer a laughing matter. 

He uses his fingers again, using them to spread open your pussy lips. He cannot keep his eyes away from how dripping you are. “This all for me?”

“Y-yes, Joel.”

“God, I was a fuckin’ fool for so long. Could’ve had her earlier and I never fuckin’ caved. Such an idiot.”

Him giving your cunt pronouns was enough to have you throwing your head back and shuttering. His touch was magnetic like he knew exactly what buttons to push as he rubbed his fingers and palm over your core. 

“Yeah, you’ve been missin’ out. Every night…” You swallow before looking down at the man that is enamored with your pussy, “E-every night I would lay in this bed, fuckin’ myself just thinkin’ about you.”

He growls at the statement, before teasingly kissing your clit. “Every night, hm, kiddo?”

“God, yes.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as he leans forward more and dives in. His nose is pressed firmly against the top of your pussy, nudging forward every time his tongue enters your hole. When that motion became consistent, you began to note the rumblings in the pit of your stomach. A familiar build-up that you managed to get when you were playing with yourself. 

His fingers move in tandem with his lips and tongue. While his middle and pointer finger slide in and out of you, his lips wrap around your clit. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming. 

You do not know where to center yourself, so your hands grip the bed sheets you were completely soaking as Joel pulls the first orgasm out of you. 

“That’s it, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, hm?”

You hardly make a noise, the orgasm is so earth-shattering that you just writhe on the mattress. 

“Oh my god…” You groan, finally able to catch your breath. When Joel removes his fingers from you, you watch as he slowly brings them up to his lips.

When he inserts them in his mouth, you gawk at him, unsure how to react. He watches your expression and chuckles darkly.

“Mm, never seen a man enjoy the taste of ya?”

You shake your head. “Never expected to hear those words leave your mouth, either.”

“Wait ‘til you hear what else I got to say.”

He stands up beside the bed, grabs your hips, and brings them to the edge. He is tossing you around with ease, bringing your lower body flush with his. He yanks down his briefs, revealing himself to you. You instantly take notice of how well-endowed he is. You never thought you would ever be close to his cock, let alone have it lining up at your entrance. 

“Joel…“ You stop him with your small voice, but still welcoming him in with your legs opened wide, “I don’t know if it will fit.”

He grins, “It will, baby. Just relax for me, okay?”

You watch him slide his member along your center, the feeling so blissfully overstimulating. You whine a bit, raising your hips to his. 

But Joel continues his torture, enjoying the way you’re squirming under him. The way your eyebrows are knitted together, your eyes shut as you grind up into him. It’s the prettiest sight. 

“Ready?”

Your eyes fly open as you watch him ease his way into your core, the sound of squelching filling the room. You don’t think you have ever been this wet for someone. 

“Oh my fuckin’ god, Joel…”

He smiles as he inches in, “Squeezin’ my cock so good, darlin’.”

When he’s fully sheathed inside, he tests the waters by drawing out slowly. You roll your hips in a circle, trying to feel out every inch of him. He fits, but you know once he starts to move faster, the stretch will become overwhelming. 

He’s trying to focus and not blow his load immediately. You look so beautiful below him, your tits slowly shifting back and forth every time he draws back and forth. He reaches out, wanting to feel the flesh between his fingers. God, he craved every inch of you, he realizes. 

You open your legs as far as you can, letting him hit you at a different angle. The movement allows him to slip in a bit more seamlessly, so when he speeds up his thrusts, you don’t feel like you will completely split in half. 

He brings your leg up to hips, and feeling your soft delicate skin against him makes him lose all sense. His hips snap faster the more you moan out for him. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, girl. I can’t believe I was missin’ out on this cunt,” He babbles, “Need this cunt every day from now on. Gonna have you all to myself every night.”

You are too fucked out of your mind to read into those implications.

“‘M all yours, Joel.”

He smiles, slowing down a bit. “Keep talkin’ like that and ‘ll finish a lot sooner than you.”

You sit up a bit, your eyes flickering over his entire body. He notices you checking out his nude frame, which makes him feel a bit more bold. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You love the way his tongue slips into your mouth so effortlessly. When he opens his mouth, his facial hair tickles your nose a bit which makes you smile. When his hips pick back up to a quicker pace, it sends you gasping into his mouth.

“Please, Joel,” You whine, that familiar build starts up but this time it’s like a freight train. Moving so quickly down every nerve ending in your body. “I’m gonna cum.”

“‘M with you, darlin’. Soak this dick. I’m right behind ya.”

His dirty talk causes the crash. Your body practically lifts off the mattress. You cry out so loud you are sure a neighbor could hear you. You try to gain your bearings, but you are panting like you just ran a mile. 

Joel fucks you through it, but the restriction your pussy is putting on his cock sends him over the edge. His hips stutter into yours, his seed emptying into your spent hole. He just keeps repeating your name as his thrusts slow down.

He has never had such a visceral orgasm in his life. His knees are weak and can hardly keep up his weight. He practically falls on top of you, which does not offend you at all. His warm sweaty body on top of you is almost reassuring. 

“You okay, kiddo?” He finally mutters as his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You just nod, bringing your hand up to his salt and pepper hair. You tug lightly, smiling to yourself. 

“I’m more than okay.”

He finally sits up, his cock spilling out of you as he adjusts his position. Your hole drips a mixture of cum onto your newly clean sheets, but you could care less. It’s just another thing to hand wash tonight.

Joel stumbles to the middle of the room, picking up your bath towel. He uses it to wipe himself up before coming over to you. Your legs are still slightly apart so he decides to clean you up a bit. He’s gentle, knowing that you are probably still sensitive.

Once he finishes up, he crawls next to you as you continue to recover. Your bones felt like jello so standing up to adjust yourself was not an option.

So instead of facing him, you stare up at your ceiling fan as his eyes lock onto every detail of your profile. It brings him back to one night you two shared under the stars a couple of years ago. It was his turn to keep watch so you curled up in your sleeping bag by the fire. He admired you from across the flames, the orange hues lit up every angle of your face. It was at that moment that Joel realized that he could not picture his life without you. You had weaseled your way into every facet of his life and he used to resent the impact you had on him. You were younger, more patient but still stubborn like him. You made him laugh, like genuinely laugh, for the first time since the infection. While you may have been a bit impulsive with your emotions, he envied the way you could say exactly what you were thinking. 

Joel did not want to love you, but it was impossible not to. 

You finally look over at him, noticing the softness in his gaze.

“Are you okay?” You pose, scrunching your nose. 

He gives you a toothless smile, his eyes crinkling a bit. “I just can’t wait to sleep next to you for the rest of my life.”

tags of people I love and who may wanna read (no pressure I just love u) (some of u did ask tho) : @ashleyfilm @hockeyhughes @pedrospookie @guiltyasdave @amanitacowboy @myownwholewildworld

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt3 of the Danny is a clone/reincarnation in the DC universe au. Danny meets an alien [pt2 here] [pt 4 here]

Danny was jittery all day, but he is trying to not cling to Cass. He'll definitely give in once Damian's friend is here, but he's determined to not give into his childish instincts before then. And he's being mostly successful!

He ignores the amused and concerned looks Cass sends him every time he forces down his instincts. He wants to stop being so codependent. He won't lie, it's been nice to let these people baby him, but he didn't use to be such an anxious wreck that can't do anything without his hand being held. It makes him hate himself at the end of the day when he only has his thoughts, so he's going to take the effort to do a little better. And this is his first baby step.

"I'm home!" Danny perks up at Tim's voice.

"Green Room!" Cass calls out, and Tim sticks his head in a moment later.

"I want to change out of my suit, but I'll be right back." Tim explains. "Damian and Jon won't be here for at least another 20 minutes, and that's only if traffic is good, which it never is, so it'll probably be closer to 30 minutes."

Danny nods, trying to swallow his rising panic. He hasn't been able to get a single word out all day. Luckily Cass can understand his body language when his hands are full and he can't write.

Cass comes and sits next to him when Tim ducks out. "You're being very brave."

[Doesn't feel like it.]

"New things are scary. Trauma makes it hard." Cass smiles sadly before switching to sign language. Danny can sign too, but he prefers his iPad.《My father was a very bad man. Trained me to be weapon only. I understood no language other than body. When I came to live here, I was scared too. I knew only to hurt, but it hurt to read pain. Had to learn how to be a person, like you are now. It's very brave to face what scares you. Like new people.》

[I still don't feel brave.] Danny fiddles with his stylus [There's too much wrong with me for normal people to be nice. I will be vivisected if people know.]

《Family will not let that happen. You're baby brother and we will fight for you til you can fight for yourself.》

Danny sniffles and manages his first word of the day. "Okay..."

Cass hugs him tightly and kisses the side of his head. "We love you. Trauma and all, baby brother."

Tim enters the room in a stolen hoody, some leggings, and house shoes at that moment. He pauses to look at them before sitting on Danny's other side, rubbing his back.

"It's not too late to tell them you changed your mind, kiddo."

[No. I need to do this. It's unhealthy to isolate yourself or hide from new experiences.] Danny gives a deep sigh. [I'm tired of being scared all the time.]

"Have you thought about going to a therapist? I don't want to push you, but I have found it really helpful." Danny knows Tim started going to a therapist about 2 weeks after Danny arrived. He can't help but wonder if Tim did that because Danny started clinging to him and Danny was too much. It makes him feel guilty, but he read enough mental health papers recently to know even if Danny is the straw that broke the camel's back, Tim was wise enough to get help.

[I'm not sure I'm ready to talk to someone about everything.]

"A good therapist will help you at your own pace." Tim tells him, "I vetted a dozen therapists, and am currently vetting another 6, so you can switch if you need to at any point. I just want you to be as happy, healthy, and safe as you can be."

Danny is thinking it over so hard that he startles into invisibility when he hears the front door open and Alfred greeting someone.

"Oh! Damn, time moved fast." Tim blinks at the doorway before turning towards Danny's invisible figure. "We can still turn them away."

Danny wills himself back into the visible spectrum. [I need to do this.]

"If you say so..." Tim's face is an odd mix of emotions; grief, sorrow, pride, and relief are all there. He calls towards the door. "Damian! We're in the green room!"

With them all sitting, Danny can't hide behind Cass or Tim, so he just buries himself into Cass's hug. A few moments later, Damian and a honey tan guy with black hair and deep sky blue eyes enter the room with a slightly nervous energy. Danny blinks at that. Damian's nervous energy is clearly over introducing them, and who-is-obviously-Jon's energy screams "Please like me! I want to be friends!". He briefly wonders if this is how siblings usually introduced friends to family. All parties scared that they won't like each other. He and Jazz didn't really have friends to introduce, so this is new territory for him.

"See?" Cass smiles at him, clearly talking about Jon's gold retriever puppy energy. Danny nods at her before shyly waving at the newcomers. Jon beams and Damian relaxes a hair.

"Hi, I'm Jon! Dami's told me a lot about you!" Danny sends Damian a confused frown. "He likes to brag about his cute new little brother."

[What is there to brag about?] Danny tilts his head. [I haven't done anything to brag about.]

"Are you kidding?" There's sadness in everyone's body language, but Jon is still smiling at him. "You sound awesome! You can read body language like Cass! And are trying to learn alien languages and history for fun! You apparently memorized every space fact you come across! You like learning in general! Trying to cover all the education you missed because your evil creators! And you want to know the coolest thing about you currently?"

Danny rapidly blinks at Jon's list, actually sitting up straighter and unintentionally pulling from Cass's hug. She lets him go easily.

[What?]

"You're letting me meet you despite your crippling anxiety." If Jon had a tail, it would be wagging hard. "No one would blame you for locking yourself away and hiding from the world after everything you've been through, but here you are! Trying to concur your fear and meeting me!"

Danny can feel himself blushing, but realizes Jon is kind of right. While he can still feel his anxiety wanting to smother him, he doesn't feel like he's drowning and needs to run away.

[I still don't see how any of that makes me "cool".]

"It's okay if you don't get it. The people who care about you do and can remind you to be nicer to yourself." Jon nods to his own statement before excitedly floating off the ground. "I love your hair! It looks like it has stars and comets in it!"

Danny's face feels like it's on fire. He can feel Tim and Cass trying to compress laughter.

"Well, that's a way to win him over." Tim can't quite keep the amusement from his voice. Danny hides his face in his hands, while Jon flounders.

"Wait! What?? What did I do??"

"You told a kid who's obsessed with space that his hair looks like space." Damian sounds exasperated and fond.

"Oh. Oh!" Jon sounds embarrassed, so he clearly hadn't thought about that when he said it. Which is nice.

Danny huffs out a tiny laugh and can feel the room freeze at the sound. It only lasts a second before Cass is hugging him in delight, and the tense moment is gone.

"I can now tell Todd only his ugly face made Danny cry." Damian says with all the maliciousness of a petty sibling. He recognizes it from his time with Jazz. Luckily, none of his new siblings have directed that tone towards him yet, he just knows he'll start crying. He's pretty sure they know it too.

He hates how fragile he is now, not being able to take slightly mean sibling teasing is the worst, but he literally can't do anything about it. He has to take baby steps and heal his trauma at a pace his brain and core can handle, or the potential ghost of Jazz will beat him to a third? fourth? death when they meet again.

Danny reluctantly leaves Cass's hug. He can still feel the steady thum of his anxiety, but Jon hasn't been mean or scary at all. Jon also potentially has advice for how Danny can control his ghost powers that are leaking steadily into his human form. It's like getting his powers all over again for the first time.

[How are you floating?]

"Oh! It's one of the powers I got from dad!" Jon beams.

[I know. But HOW? Can't control mine.]

"Damian! You didn't tell me he has powers!" Jon complains.

"I wasn't going to say anything in public." Damian glares lightly at his friend.

Jon turns a beaming grin at Danny."What do you do? I've got flight, superstrength, durability, lazer eyes, superhearing, and ice breath!"

Danny turns a pleading look to Tim, who flashed an amused but reassuring smile. "So far we've seen; flight, invisibility, intangibility, and we think an ice power is trying to develop. His hearing is advanced as well."

[Ghosty]

"You are not a ghost." Damian is pouting. This is one of the few play arguments Danny has been able to have without having a panic attack.

[Ghost powers. Hides from people. I'm a ghost.] Danny is playfully serious.

"I can see your point, but you're not dead!" Damian seems genuinely a little frustrated, and Danny freezes. Unfortunately long enough to make everyone worried, but he snaps out of it.

[I'm not sure I count as alive.] Danny admits, and the concern in the room skyrockets. He directs the next note towards Jon. [You have superhearing?]

"Yes..?"

[Listen.] Danny pats his chest. Jon's eyes lock on where his heart is.

"No.. no way! Why is it so slow?" A pause. "Your breathing is slow, too. Even though I can tell how anxious you are, meaning this is fast for you... What's that buzzing sound?"

[I'm a freak.]

"Danny, honey, don't call yourself a freak." Tim scolds. "It's not your fault you're like this or were even made. The real freaks are the LoA."

《And even if you were, we like you the way you are.》

"How about we focus on something else?" Jon is frowning in concern, but smiles when he makes eye contact with Danny. "How about we go to the gym, put out the thick mats, and see if we can get you flying on command?"

Everyone is silent as Danny thinks it over.

[Okay.]

The rest of the visit is spent in the manor's gymnastics gym. Danny is still too skittish to let Jon within 5 ft of him and doesn't say anything aloud, but he interacts, and learns some neat tricks when it comes to flying and landing. He still has trouble, but he made some real progress before it's time for dinner. Danny trails after Jon when he goes to leave after dinner, and graces the alien with a quiet.

"Bye..." Danny doesn't understand the funny thing everyone's face does, but he has to dodge Dick's tackle hug directly after. He quickly hides behind Tim after that, completely done with social interaction now. Tim fends off Dick and gets Danny to his room.

Danny likes how his room has changed over the months he's been here. The giant bed is gone, replaced by a bunkbed that's been modified to have sturdy planks hiding the bottom bunk on 3 sides and sturdy folding doors on the 4th. Danny can't sleep in the open anymore, so they made him a nice hidden bed so he'd stop sleeping under the bed. It's also shoved to the wall where he can see all the exits when he peeks out of his hidey hole. Every available surface is covered in space stuff. The built-in bookshelf near the windows is full of his favourite books and different workbooks for alien languages. Rocket ship models are on any book free space. Different space themed posters are plastered all over his walls, the side of his desk and dresser, even his bunk's sturdy exterior. Glow in the dark stars are placed in his home dimension's constellations throughout the room, not that anyone but him knows that. Inside his bunk, he has star covered bedding and star shaped fairy light.

Danny's space obsession has never been so filled. He feels well-fed and safe in this room.

He ends the day feeling accomplished for once. He starts looking forward to meeting his siblings' friends, even if he's scared shitless by the idea.

[dee-writes-angst]

THE HIGH LORD’S ROOM

FEATURING Rhysand x Reader

SUMMARY After surviving unimaginable trauma, you’ve built a quiet, careful life in Velaris. But when Rhysand, watchful, patient, and infuriatingly charming, starts to break past your walls, you’re forced to confront feelings you thought you'd buried forever. Healing isn’t linear, but maybe… love can be safe, too.

CONTENT WARNINGS past captivity and slavery, trauma recovery, PTSD symptoms (flashbacks, hypervigilance, panic), dissociation, mentions of food neglect and insomnia, emotionally vulnerable protagonist, explicit sexual content (nipple play, oral sex, penetrative sex, praise kink, mild dominance), explicit consent and aftercare, found family, protective friends (Azriel & Cassian), implied voyeurism risk (brief scene interruption)

AUTHORS NOTE I absolutely could not hold myself back from completing the smutty bat boys set, so here is Rhys'! I'm actually really interested in further exploring the librarian reader lore, so let me know if you're interest in seeing more!

Check out Azriel’s and Cassian’s versions here! The Interrogation Room and The War Room

You were shelving the last stack of books when you felt it—that unmistakable shift in the air, like a ripple of starlight brushing across your skin.

Rhysand.

You didn’t turn. You didn’t need to. His presence always arrived like a hush before thunder—smooth, soft, but laced with power.

“I thought I told you to stop working so late,” he said from behind you, voice all silk and shadows.

Your fingers tightened around the spine of a worn volume. “And I thought I told you that I like the quiet.”

His laugh curled through the high-arched rows of the library, deep and warm. You hated how much it affected you—how your heart tripped and your skin prickled just from the sound.

He stepped closer, unhurried. “Cassian says you’ve barely eaten today. Azriel threatened to drag you out by your ankles.”

You smiled despite yourself, gaze still focused on the shelves. “I’ll be sure to add that to the list of times he’s threatened me this month.”

Rhys didn’t respond right away. You could feel his eyes on you—studying, searching.

“Are you okay?” he asked at last, softer now.

You swallowed. That question always felt heavy, even from him. Maybe especially from him. Because somehow, Rhys saw through everything—the quiet smiles, the polite distance, the armor you'd spent years forging after your rescue.

Azriel had found you barely conscious in a slaver's den outside the Illyrian border, and Cassian had been the one to hold you upright during your first days in Velaris when you couldn’t sleep, eat, or speak without trembling. They never pushed. Never pried. They just stayed—and eventually, so did you.

Rhys, though… Rhys was different.

He didn’t just see you. He noticed things. The way your hands shook when someone got too close. The way you flinched at sudden movement, even now. The way you sometimes looked at the sky like it might fall on you again.

But he never treated you like you were fragile. Never tiptoed.

And that terrified you more than anything.

“I’m fine,” you said eventually. “Just tired.”

Rhys was quiet again. You turned toward him, and gods—he was unfair. All midnight hair, violet eyes, and impossible grace wrapped in that damned smirk.

“You shouldn’t lie to your High Lord,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks gave you away. It always did.

He stepped close enough that the scent of him wrapped around you, warm spice and crisp night air, calming and intoxicating at once.

“You know,” he said, head tilting just slightly, “you blush every time I get near you. It’s adorable.”

“Rhys-”

“I’m just saying.” That grin deepened. “You make it very difficult to behave.”

You opened your mouth—maybe to scold him, maybe to tell him to leave, maybe to confess that the idea of him not behaving was the only thing you’d thought about for weeks—but the words didn’t come.

Instead, his hand lifted. He didn’t touch you, not yet. Just hovered, waiting. Always waiting for you to close the space.

“I would never hurt you,” he said, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “You know that, don’t you?”

You did.

You weren’t sure when you started trusting him—not just liking him, or admiring him from afar, but trusting him with the mess of you. Maybe it was the way he never pushed you. Maybe it was the way he always asked. Maybe it was the way he let you be small, scared, quiet, and still looked at you like you were powerful.

Maybe it was just him.

You leaned forward, just enough to let your forehead rest against his chest. His hand finally touched you—curling around the back of your neck, steady and warm.

He let out a slow breath, as though your touch had undone something in him.

“You make me want to be gentle,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes.

“And I didn’t know I still had that in me.”

His thumb brushed the side of your neck, slow and reverent, as if he knew exactly how fast your heart was racing beneath his hand.

“You’re sure?” he murmured, his voice low and velvet-rich, his mouth near your temple but not quite touching.

You hesitated—but only for a breath. Then you leaned into him just a little more, allowed his scent wrapped around you, spice and cedarwood and something darker, like storm clouds after the heat.

“I trust you,” you whispered, and meant it.

Those three words were small, but they unraveled something in him.

Rhys let out a long, shaky breath and wrapped his arms around you, holding you to his chest. One large hand cradled the back of your head, fingers sinking into your hair, the other flattening over your spine. He held you like he’d waited centuries for you to offer him this closeness—this chance.

“I’ll go slow,” he said quietly, like a promise. “You lead, okay?”

You nodded, cheek still pressed against him.

Rhys pulled back enough to meet your eyes. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb stroking your cheekbone. His gaze searched yours for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was a slow-burning need—years of loneliness and restraint finally breaking open.

He kissed you.

This time it wasn’t teasing or smug—it was devotional. His mouth was warm and patient, tongue coaxing, exploring—never taking, only asking. You parted for him easily, melting into the kiss as his fingers tilted your chin just right. The feeling of him was overwhelming—his scent, his magic, the soft weight of his body as he guided you backward, deeper into the shadowed stacks of the library where no one would find you.

The world slowed.

Books, stone, distant wind against the windows—it all faded as Rhys pressed you gently against a wall lined with ancient tomes. He kissed you again, slower this time, hands braced beside your head. His magic curled around your ankles like a cat, purring in delight.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered.

You swallowed hard, shivering at the heat pooling between your legs. “I just want… you.”

A growl rumbled in his chest. “Then you’ll have me, darling.”

His hands slid down your sides, fingers skimming your ribs, your waist, the soft dip of your hips. He gripped the hem of your tunic and paused, giving you another silent chance to stop him.

When you didn’t, he pulled it up, slow and careful, and you lifted your arms to help. The cool air kissed your skin as your top slipped away, and Rhys inhaled sharply as his star-filled eyes drank you in.

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice wrecked. “You’re unreal.”

Your arms twitched, instinctively trying to cover your chest—but he caught your wrists and pressed them gently to the wall behind you.

“Don’t hide from me,” he murmured. “You’re perfect.”

He dipped his head to kiss along your collarbone, each press of his mouth slow and worshipful. He trailed lower, his tongue tracing the swell of your breast before closing around a nipple, sucking lightly, then licking over the sensitive peak until you arched into him.

“Rhys—”

“Shh, darling,” he said, switching to the other. “Let me take care of you.”

You were already trembling when he dropped to his knees.

“You’re so responsive,” he said, voice husky. “So good for me.”

His hands slid beneath your skirts, slowly drawing them up until the fabric pooled around your waist. You felt the heat of his breath against your bare thighs, his palms smoothing up the backs of your legs until he hooked a single finger into the band of your underwear.

He looked up at you again. “Still okay?”

You nodded, already dizzy with need. “Yes. Please.”

He kissed the inside of your thigh first—then again, higher this time, until his mouth pressed just beside the place you needed him most. He breathed you in with a soft growl that made your stomach flip.

“Look at this pretty little pussy,” he murmured, dragging your underwear down and off. “You’re already soaked for me.”

You whimpered and leaned back against the wall, your legs trembling as he spread your thighs apart. The sight of him—on his knees, eyes dark with hunger, shoulders bracketed between your legs—was almost too much to bear.

And then he touched you.

His tongue slid between your folds, slow and luxurious, tasting you like he was savoring the richest dessert in existence. He groaned against you, hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he licked and sucked, circling your clit with maddening patience.

You cried out, fingers flying to tangle in his hair.

He moaned again, like your sounds drove him wild. “That’s it, darling. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

Your hips bucked involuntarily, and he held you down, tongue flicking faster now, lips sucking until you were gasping, whimpering, falling apart in his hands.

“Rhys—gods—I’m—”

“Come for me,” he growled against your cunt. “Let me taste it. Let go.”

You shattered.

Your climax crashed through you in waves—hot, intense, shivering—and Rhys didn’t stop. He licked you through every flutter, every desperate moan, drawing out every second until your legs nearly gave out.

Only then did he rise, catching you as you sagged into him, your whole body flushed and trembling.

He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “You’re divine,” he whispered. “I could worship you for hours.”

You reached between you, fingers fumbling at the laces of his pants. “Then do it. Let me feel you.”

Rhys groaned low in his chest, and with another whispered spell, you felt the echo of magic sink into your belly—gentle and warm, preparing your body for what came next.

He lined himself up and pressed in slowly, his jaw tight with restraint.

“Gods, you’re tight,” he rasped. “So warm. So fucking perfect.”

You whimpered, your head falling back against the wall as he filled you—inch by inch—until he was fully seated, his body flush against yours, every inch of him trembling.

“Look at me,” he said, voice hoarse.

You met his gaze.

And that’s when he started to move.

Each stroke was deep and unhurried, the grind of his hips against yours sending sparks up your spine. He kissed you through it, whispering praises between every thrust—how good you felt, how proud he was, how long he’d wanted this.

How safe you were with him.

And when your second climax built, it wasn’t from teasing or magic or even pleasure—it was from the way he held you, like you were precious. The way he moaned your name like a vow. The way he made you feel cherished.

Your release hit hard and sweet, your walls fluttering around him as he groaned your name and spilled into you with a final, desperate thrust.

You stayed there like that for a long time, wrapped in his arms, hearts pounding in time.

And deep in your chest… something clicked.

A glowing warmth bloomed behind your ribs, spreading through your veins like starlight.

Your eyes met his—and you both knew.

The bond had snapped into place.

The world felt like it had gone quiet.

Not silent—just still. Like the whole library, the entire House of Wind, had taken a deep breath and was holding it.

You were wrapped in Rhys’s arms, chest against his, face tucked beneath his jaw. His scent surrounded you—smoke and midnight and that subtle sweetness he always carried when he let his guard down. His heartbeat thudded beneath your ear, slow and steady. Anchoring.

Neither of you had spoken yet.

Because there was something else now. Something new.

That tug—that golden-threaded, star-kissed pull in your chest. It hummed just beneath your skin, like music in your bones.

You knew what it was. You knew what it meant.

And the realization hit you like a crash of cold water.

You jerked back—just slightly, but enough that Rhys’s brow furrowed.

“Darling?” he asked softly, still breathless, hands instantly gentle on your waist. “What is it?”

You tried to breathe.

Tried to speak.

But the pressure in your chest swelled too fast—like you were going to burst.

“I—” Your voice cracked. “Rhys, I think something’s wrong. I feel—too much, I feel everything, and it’s—it’s too much—”

He sat up quickly, still holding you, easing you to sit in his lap. “Okay, okay,” he murmured, voice soothing but focused. “Look at me. Just breathe.”

You tried. Gods, you tried. But your vision was already swimming, and your throat was tight, and all you could feel was him—his heartbeat, his breath, his worry. His love. Pouring into you through that tether in your chest like sunlight you weren’t ready to hold.

“I—I didn’t mean for this,” you choked out. “The bond—it's the bond, isn't it? I can feel you and it's—I didn't think—I’m not—how is this happening?”

Rhys’s hands framed your face.

“Because it's real,” he said quietly, reverently. “Because it's us.”

Your lip trembled.

“I’m not ready,” you whispered.

“Then we won’t do anything,” he said instantly. “Not until you are.”

You blinked at him, breath still shaky. “But it’s already there.”

“I know,” he murmured, stroking your cheek with the backs of his fingers. “And it’ll wait. I’ll wait.”

You stared at him—at the man who had just wrecked you so gently you barely knew where you ended and he began. The man who could take cities with his power but only looked at you like you were something fragile and miraculous.

“You’re not angry?” you asked, voice small.

He smiled, just a little, and pressed his forehead to yours. “I just made love to the woman I’ve been falling for since the moment she told Cassian to fuck off in the training ring.”

You blinked, startled. “You were there?”

“Of course I was there. He came flying into my office to tell me a terrified little librarian threatened to set his wings on fire with a candle stub.” His smile softened further. “You’ve had my attention ever since.”

A shaky laugh escaped you. And something in your chest—where the bond pulsed, steady and glowing—eased.

“I don’t want to lose myself,” you said quietly. “I’ve fought so hard to become someone again.”

Rhys kissed your forehead. Then your cheek. Then the tip of your nose.

“Then I’ll help you stay exactly who you are,” he said. “I don’t want to own you. I want to walk beside you.”

You leaned into him.

Not because you were ready to finish the bond. Not yet.

But because it didn’t feel so scary anymore.

Because you weren’t alone.

And for the first time in a long, long time… you didn’t want to run.

A few days later, you were shelving returned texts when a familiar flutter of shadows curled across the back of your neck—followed almost immediately by a soft kiss to your cheek.

You startled, nearly dropping the heavy tome in your hands.

“Rhys,” you hissed, glaring at him over your shoulder.

He was already grinning, perfectly unrepentant. “Sorry, darling. Couldn’t resist.”

You turned fully, swatting his arm with the corner of your book. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I’m the High Lord,” he said, far too smug for your liking. “I’m allowed anywhere. Especially if I’m here to check on my favorite librarian.”

You tried not to smile. Really, you did. But the sparkle in his eyes, the softness in the corners of his grin… it made something flutter low in your belly.

“Favorite, hmm?” you asked, trying to keep your voice cool.

“Well, you are the only one who’s ever let me make out with her in the back room.”

Your face flamed instantly. “Rhys!”

He just chuckled, that rich, starry sound echoing off the ancient stone and high, book-lined walls. You turned back to your cart, muttering under your breath, but your cheeks were still on fire and he knew it.

Of course, he knew it.

“You’re glowing,” he said, voice low as he stepped behind you again—closer this time. “Blushing just for me. It’s very distracting.”

You were about to snap back with something vaguely threatening—maybe involving throwing him off the balcony—when the air shifted.

You felt it before you heard them: two male figures approaching from the main archway, steps familiar, the magic they carried unmistakable.

Azriel. Cassian.

Shit.

You stepped back from Rhys instantly, your hands smoothing your tunic, your pulse spiking hard enough that Rhys’s eyes flicked to yours.

“Hey,” he said softly, steadying you with a hand on your arm. “It’s okay. Nothing to hide.”

You gave him a tight look. “Maybe you don’t think so.”

Before he could respond, the footsteps rounded the nearest corner—and there they were.

Cassian and Azriel both halted mid-step.

They looked between you and Rhys, eyes scanning the too-small space between your bodies, the slight flush in your cheeks, the way Rhys’s hand lingered on your wrist.

Azriel’s brows lowered in that quiet, assessing way that always made you feel like he was seeing far more than you wanted him to.

Cassian’s gaze shot to your face, then Rhys’s, then back again.

No one spoke for three full seconds.

Then: “Rhys,” Cassian said slowly, smile polite—but tight.

“Cass,” Rhys drawled, completely relaxed. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “You’re awfully far from your office.”

“I needed a break,” Rhys replied easily. “And a certain someone,” he added with a glance your way, “is very good at helping me relax.”

You made a strangled sound that might’ve been a cough.

Cassian blinked. “What.”

“Oh my gods,” you whispered under your breath, covering your face with your hands.

“I’m joking,” Rhys said quickly—though the smirk he aimed at his brothers said otherwise. “Mostly.”

Azriel tilted his head. “How long?”

You froze.

Rhys didn’t.

“A few days,” he said, quiet now. “But it’s been coming for a while.”

Cassian’s jaw tightened—not angry, but visibly processing. He glanced at you again, gaze softer now. “Are you okay?”

That was what undid you.

Not the shock on their faces, not Rhys’s amused teasing, not even the underlying panic still fluttering in your chest.

It was that question.

That they still asked it.

You nodded slowly. “I am. I really am.”

Azriel stepped forward first. His eyes, always sharp, lingered on yours. “You don’t owe anyone anything, you know.”

“I know.”

“And if this changes anything—if you feel it changing anything—you can tell us.”

You smiled, just barely. “I think it’s changing everything. But not in a bad way.”

Cassian was still watching Rhys like he was trying to decide if he should shake his hand or punch him. Possibly both.

Finally, he let out a long breath, muttered, “Shit,” and crossed the space to pull you into a hug so fierce it lifted you off your feet.

“You better treat her like she’s sacred,” he told Rhys over your shoulder.

“I already do,” Rhys said simply.

Azriel was quieter, but when you stepped toward him, he met you halfway. His arms came around you with familiar care, one hand on the back of your head like he always did when you were overwhelmed. He didn’t say anything, just pressed his cheek to your temple and held you there.

You felt tears sting the backs of your eyes. Not from sadness. Just… from being seen. Still held. Still safe.

Rhys’s hand found yours as you stepped back, lacing your fingers gently. He didn’t pull, didn’t take. He just stood there, tethered beside you.

Azriel glanced between the two of you once more, then said, with the barest flicker of a smile, “We’re going to talk later.”

“Looking forward to it,” Rhys said, somehow managing not to sound smug.

Cassian groaned. “This is going to be worse than that time you stole my boots and blamed it on Mor, isn’t it?”

“Oh, definitely worse,” Rhys agreed.

You just groaned into your hands again.

It was late. Late enough that the sun had long dipped below the cliffs, but you were still tucked into your favorite corner of the library, curled up on a chaise with a blanket draped over your legs and a cup of tea cooling in your hands.

You weren’t reading. Not really.

Your mind was too full—spinning with soft kisses, Rhys’s voice in your ear, the weight of his hand on your wrist when Cassian and Azriel had walked in.

And the bond—still quietly glowing beneath your skin, like a candle that never fully went out.

You heard the door before you saw him. The gentle click of it closing behind him, then the shift of shadows as he approached—quiet, but not hiding.

You didn’t look up right away.

“Az.”

He stopped beside the chaise. “You left before dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

A pause.

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

You looked at him then.

Azriel’s expression was unreadable to anyone else—but you knew better. You’d studied those careful lines, those layered silences. You’d been wrapped in his shadows when you couldn’t stand sunlight. He’d held your shaking hands after nightmares, said nothing when you cried on the floor, and never once asked you to be stronger than you were.

Your throat tightened. “I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”

Az’s brows drew together, and he crouched beside you, one knee on the carpet.

“I don’t.”

You searched his face—his dark, steady eyes, the faint crease between his brows, the way he tilted his head slightly when something mattered.

“You looked… surprised.”

“I was,” he admitted. “Not because I don’t trust him. But because you’ve been through so much. And I know how long it took you to even let me sit this close.”

He was right. The first time Azriel touched you—truly touched you—it was weeks after your arrival in Velaris. You’d had a panic attack in the library, shaking and gasping behind a stack of encyclopedias. He hadn’t said a word. Just knelt beside you and offered his hand. Nothing more.

You’d gripped it like it was the only solid thing left in the world.

“I wasn’t expecting it,” you whispered. “The bond. The… way I feel around him. But he’s been so patient, Az. He never pushes. He just… waits.”

Azriel nodded slowly, his eyes scanning your face, like he was reading each tremble and pause in your voice.

“Does he make you feel safe?”

You nodded.

“Wanted?”

You flushed, but nodded again. “More than I know what to do with.”

A flicker of something moved through his expression—maybe grief, maybe relief, maybe both. Then he reached forward, his gloved fingers brushing lightly against your wrist.

“You don’t have to be afraid of what’s good,” he said softly. “You deserve good. You always did.”

Your breath caught.

And before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him.

Az froze for half a second—then sank into the hug, arms strong around you, chin resting lightly atop your head.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly. “Even if he’s in your life now. You don’t lose me.”

You buried your face against his chest, overwhelmed by the simplicity of it.

“You promise?”

Azriel’s voice rumbled low. “On my shadows.”

You pulled back enough to look at him—eyes rimmed with tears, but smiling now.

“Thank you.”

He nodded, and rose, smoothing your blanket over your legs like you hadn’t just shaken his heart open with those few words.

At the door, he paused. “You know,” he said, glancing over his shoulder, “he’s probably pacing the hallway waiting for me to give him permission to see you.”

You groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow and launching it at him. He caught it with one hand, smirking faintly.

“Tell him if he makes you cry, I’ll shove a siphon somewhere very anatomically inconvenient.”

And with that, he vanished into shadow.

A few seconds later, a knock at the door.

“Azriel?” came Rhys’s muffled, hopeful voice. “Is it safe?”

You sighed. Loudly, but your heart was already fluttering again. “Yes.”

The door cracked open a sliver, then fully—revealing Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, ruler of Velaris, and your current biggest problem. He poked his head in with an exaggerated wince, as if he expected a second pillow to come flying at him.

His grin deepened when you didn’t.

“Still in one piece,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “That’s a good sign.”

You raised a brow. “Is it?”

“Considering Azriel most likely looked like he was mentally composing my obituary on his way out? Yes.”

You tried not to smile. You really did.

But something about him—his voice, his ease, that stupid smirk—it tugged at the corners of your mouth until you were shaking your head.

Rhys’s eyes softened when he saw it. He crossed the room in two long strides and sat beside you on the chaise, one arm stretched behind you, not touching—just there.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

You hesitated. “Better. Azriel’s just… he’s always been there.”

“I know.”

You peeked at him. “What did they say to you?”

Rhys sighed dramatically and tilted his head back against the cushion. “Azriel spent a full minute staring at me without blinking. I think he was debating whether to gut me or drag me into a shadow dimension for questioning.”

You laughed, muffled behind your hands.

“Cassian,” Rhys went on, “paced. A lot. Then he asked me what my intentions were like this was a chaperoned courtship in the Autumn Court. Then he said if I broke your heart he’d snap my wings and feed them to Amren.”

Your eyes widened. “He did not.”

“Oh, he did,” Rhys said, completely deadpan. “Azriel even nodded in agreement. Which is frankly terrifying, because when he agrees with Cassian, it’s always about murder.”

You giggled into your hands, face burning. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Rhys turned toward you now, his hand lifting to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “They love you. Fiercely. And I’d be worried if they weren’t protective.”

You looked at him—really looked.

He wasn’t teasing anymore. Not fully.

And just like that, your pulse stuttered again.

“You’re still okay with this?” you asked softly. “With waiting?”

Rhys cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly beneath your eye. “There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t wait for if it meant you were ready.”

Gods.

You tried to look away, but he leaned in just enough that your noses brushed.

“And besides,” he added, voice low and wicked, “I’m very good at entertaining myself in the meantime.”

Your breath hitched. “Rhys—”

“Really, darling, you should’ve seen Cassian’s face when I told him how gorgeous you sound when you come.”

You choked. “Rhysand!”

“Worth it,” he murmured, clearly delighted, even as you buried your face in your hands and made a noise halfway between a squeak and a groan.

“I hate you.”

“You adore me.”

You mumbled something unintelligible, which only made him laugh.

And then, quieter, he said, “You really are glowing, you know.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “Is that your subtle way of calling me flushed and panicked?”

“No,” he said, softer now. “It’s my not-so-subtle way of saying you look happy.”

You blinked.

And the truth was… you were.

You still didn’t know exactly what this was becoming. Or where it would go. But right now, curled beside him in the quiet hush of the library, after Azriel’s quiet approval and Cassian’s half-threatened one, it didn’t feel scary anymore.

It just felt right.

You leaned your head on Rhys’s shoulder, and he immediately tucked his arm around you, pulling you closer.

After a long moment, you said, “So what did you say to them?”

Rhys smirked, gaze fixed lazily on the far wall. “I told them I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

“And?”

“And that I’m completely, irreversibly, stupidly in love with you.”

Your heart skipped.

“…Oh.”

Rhys turned toward you then, his violet eyes bright and open and sure. “Just thought I’d get that out of the way.”

You stared at him, warmth blooming behind your ribs like starlight, “I think I might be stupid about you, too.”

His grin was slow and devastating. “See? I knew I was your favorite.”

You groaned again—but this time, you were laughing.

And when he kissed you, slow and smiling, thumb brushing your cheek, you didn’t feel nervous or unsure or afraid.

You felt home.

[obeymeluv]

Been thinking about this eel and wanted to explore his character some.

-- Floyd realizing he likes you/falling in love with you --

Not proofread because it's late.

I was going to add two more but I'm tired and wanted to put something out.

Trying to decide if I'm going to put out more new stuff or circle back around to older stuff.

I.

Floyd is used to things being in black and white. No nuances. It's like survival of the fittest--you live or you die. You're living in one of the harshest environments and his brain is constantly circling back to HOW? It baffles him because you have no claws, your teeth aren't designed for raw catching, and he hasn't met a lander alive that could run fast enough to catch their food unless it was near death.

So HOW are you doing this with no magic?

Under the sea if you couldn't provide for yourself, you made yourself useful. If you worked for his family, that meant serving as muscle or as an informant. You looked better for getting information out of people than you did squeezing them.

Well, not the way he and Jade squeezed people, anyways. You squeezed them with kindness.

Yeah, he'd heard rumors that you were doing odd little jobs like the Savanaclaw runt. Mostly making little lunches and snacks. Sometimes you'd do a 'dorm night dinner' where you went over to another dorm and cooked!

Azul had been begging you to cook for the Lounge, to do a limited-time meal deal, but you could make more money cooking for the dorms. It was funny to see the Octomer practically foaming at the mouth as he tried to calculate earnings versus an enticing deal to get said earnings.

As long as they're not doing anything else, Floyd's relaxed eyes sharpened as his brows knotted together in a suggestion of annoyance. But why did he care, right? The law of the ocean, of the mers, was doing what you needed to do, right?

Why did it bug him so much? He knew you weren't doing anything else but why did the idea that you would--or could--make him want to take someone down in a death spiral?

The spaces between his fingers began to itch as the webbing threatened to emerge.

You shuffle your way into History of Magic wearing something that Crowley slapped together; it doesn't fit you as well as it could but Trein is the last one to make an issue of it. Floyd's gold eye twinkles with interest as he spots the cup in your hand. He likes to think the tea he smells is from Jade since you work at the Lounge with them but it could also be from Kalim or Goldfishy.

The fact that you can have tea, a small luxury in this foreign world, impresses him.

Yes, you do quite well, don't you?

"Hey Floyd," you sit down with a sleepy smile, setting out your meager supplies before holding the cup happily in both hands.

Ah. That's how.

Your smile makes him squirmy and he wonders if that's what his prey feels like before they meet his pharyngeal jaws.

---

II.

He only gets into fights because he's bored. Usually. Every now and then he and Jade will be called down to the Coral to help their father with a 'business venture'; that's an exception. The only other exception is when Azul sends them on a 'last call' visit.

Except for the occasions where he and Jade defended Azul himself, of course. That was way back in their childhood when he and Jade would terrorize the absolute shit out of those hateful mer-brats! Memories of pulling their scales off without getting caught or biting chunks out of their pretty tailfins when trying to go after smaller fish bring a smile to his lips.

Today he found a fourth reason he didn't expect: you.

He wasn't surprised to see Savanaclaw harassing you, not totally. These beastmen were at the mercy of their instincts and traits, too. Mainly stupidity, but having creature influence didn't always help things.

Just like he couldn't help himself from striking when it was convenient. When he was sure he couldn't lose. Moray eels were consumed with cowardice unless conditions were favorable and on land all fights were in his favor. The beastmen were strong, sure, and physically fit but there was a difference between being built for power and built for speed.

Jade may have taken to his land legs first but Floyd was still nimbler than people gave him credit for. The long legs were deceptive, he knew. It also helped that he spent a lifetime in the Coral where the sea sculpted muscle and got him used to dealing with a resistance that didn't exist on land.

"Kinda dumb to mess with the hand that feeds ya, huh?"

Leona would have their ASSES if he knew they were corning you and trying to bully you. Maybe cop a feel? Floyd swung his fist forward the second one of them turned their head to acknowledge him and it was one.

It was a blur but he was used to that. The Coral had obscuring kelp beds, bursts of water carrying all kinds of debris, and seafloor sediment that provided nice cover when needed.

All you needed were teeth and claws. And the scent of blood.

One of them was bound to get a good lick in. He'd be disappointed if they didn't, honestly. The one who tried to grab his earring would know he did something wrong tomorrow; at least two of his fingers were broken. Broken fingers don't matter to an unconscious guy, though.

"I didn't need your help!" you're glaring up at him. Floyd can't help but laugh. He blinks blood out of his eye. Somewhere near his eyebrow there's a wound throbbing.

"'Course ya did, shrimpy!" Floyd leans towards you, genuine smile showcasing pointy teeth.

"No, I didn't! They were starting to back off!" you hiss, pointing up at him.

"And now they're all the way off." Floyd shrugged, poking one with his foot.

"I'm telling Jade," you scoff. You both know Azul won't let him into the Lounge like this. Floyd detests the infirmary and had to be dragged there when he fell ill with his first stomach bug (Jade and Azul thought he was dying). The nurse gets on his case and the area smells too clean and chemical-y for his liking.

He flops down, waiting patiently and highly amused as you rummage through your thrift shop bag for medical supplies. You'd learned to start carrying stuff on you between Grim's overzealous fire-casting and Riddle's overblot. Floyd hums contentedly as you blot his face, nose wrinkling reflexively when he smells the alcohol wipe. You dab ointment on the wound above his eyebrow, scoffing and pulling his chin out of the crook of your elbow. Floyd snorts, pressing his cheek against your arm.

You smack a band-aid over the wound and he clicks his teeth as you glide your finger over the tender part. "You're such a good shrimpy, taking care of your moray," Floyd teases you, yelping when you pinch his cheek before starting off for the Lounge.

He lets you get a good distance ahead before launching off the ground. "Floyd?! Floyd, no! Stop! Don't do it!" you made the mistake of turning your head to look at him as the grass crunched under his shoes, breaking out into a run.

You shouldn't dart off in front of a predator. That activates the hunting instinct.

His laugh echoes as he catches you effortlessly, scooping you up and throwing you into the air like a toy. "Don't worry shrimpy, I got ya!" Floyd laughs, tossing you again.

---

III.

You're hard to find on your days off and that's really annoying to him. Sometimes Vil whisks you away for a spa day, sometimes you're holed up with that blue-burning recluse playing video games. Floyd has turned up empty-handed more often than not, which is impressive considering he's a hunter by nature.

The prey is illusive. And kind of offending him since you're dating but you're not here right now. He'd come find you if it wasn't that time of the month where they were stuck in their true forms, waiting restlessly for the latest delivery of the transformation potion.

No one knows how it happened, really, not even him. Most mers trade trinkets or hunt for their partners but he didn't do any of that. Not officially. He'd cook you something the second you stepped into the Lounge and comb the waters around Sage's for interesting stuff to give you but you didn't acknowledge those courting attempts so they didn't happen. You thought the way he opened and closed his mouth was just a sign of boredom and never did it back.

So yeah, it took forever for you guys to be a thing by mer standards.

You guys were dating by lander standards, though. Little things like you keeping him awake in class and him walking you to the next. He'd buy you something to put in your hair and you'd wear it the next day. When Azul found out you were the only one who could tie his bowtie without him complaining or undoing it, it was his favorite part of getting ready for a shift. If Crowley wasn't so stingy with the phone he gave you, Floyd would be blowing it up.

He continued his lazy laps in the Octavinelle pool, clicking his teeth and sighing sadly. A moray really shouldn't be without their shrimpy. It was cruel.

As if he'd summoned you, you showed up with a float. It meant you wouldn't be swimming with him today but Floyd could live with that. "Don't even think about it!" you warn, hearing the water pitter behind you as he breaks the surface. Floyd has yanked you in more than once on your 'float' days, blaming it on his predator nature. Leaning down to look through the awkward tent of your arm, one foot splayed across the float and trying to draw it close as you wiggled onto it, you met Floyd's mischievous gaze.

The fins at the side of his head flutter, your boyfriend ducking down until his heterchromatic eyes just touch the water. He pulls strong arms slowly and dramatically from the water, setting them softly on the deck as he flexes the muscles of his hands and lets the light play on his claws. "Think about what?" Floyd can barely get the question out, laughing already. His pupils thin as you successfully push off on the float, sending yourself across the water.

Just like that, he's gone. You peer over the top of your float to keep an eye on the lazy, winding shadow. He moves faster than that, you've seen it! What is he--

"Delightful to see you!" Jade pops up at your back and you yelp, losing your grip on the top of your float. If not for Floyd being on the other side and slinging his corded arms over you, you'd be in the water. He laughs at your near-heart attack and the little scrunch in your nose as water flings all over you. "Sam hasn't gotten our order in, I take it?"

"No," you glare at Jade. "He hasn't."

The calmer twin smiles in his usual unbothered way. You've learned to see the sadistic delight in it now. "I'll let Azul know. We'll be working on things below if you need us. Thanks for keeping my dearest brother company." Jade makes his way down and doesn't miss the chance to flick more water on you with the last bit of tailfin. You hiss, rolling over into Floyd's waiting lips.

"Shrimpy!" he sings, genuine delight slipping into a low purr as he peppers kisses up the side of your face and heaves his slick body onto your float. He's unexpectedly soft due to the weird 'hydration' coat they make. It doesn't dull the prominence of his scales and the feel of scale and slick against your skin makes your spine tingle.

He's either going to drown you or shred your float. You're bobbing in and out of the water, head thrust up to try and keep something dry. Floyd knew your prey instincts would kick in and make you flail; he's practically purring at the fact you've wrapped your arms and legs around him. He throws himself back, arms behind his head.

You relax when you realize he's become your personal float. A float that's very happy with himself. You've ridden on his back before but lying on his chest was new; even with your arms around him it still amazed you how strong his back was. Especially his shoulders.

"Happy?" you lay your cheek on him, eyes drifting along the swirls of blue and teal that surround the whitish-gray of his chest.

"Happy!" Floyd hums.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Hey, I saw you done the reader speaks French but I was wondering if you could one with italian or something similar. My family on my mother's side is italian and I'm learning it again and I'm sometimes embarrassed by my lack of knowledge (spanish was easier for me) if this makes sense. If not that's okay, I love your writing.

Italian Lessons

Summary: You're trying to learn Italian again and what a better way to learn than to get your best friend's best friend to teach you.

Song: Earned It · The Weeknd

Author’s note: You are so relatable! I was born in Italy but as soon as I left, my Italian left with it 😭 I've been trying to learn it but I can't so I wish you the best! I wrote so much but Tumblr didn't let me fit it all so I had to shorten it! Unfortunately due to my exams being in less than a month, I won't post much. 😭 Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 34.3k

MASTERLIST - F1

The scent of old leather and motor oil clung to Ollie’s car like a second skin, a familiar aroma that always grounded you. He swerved expertly through the London traffic, one hand drumming a rhythm on the steering wheel as a Formula 1 podcast droned from the speakers. He was talking, something about tire compounds and aerodynamic drag, but your mind was elsewhere, tangled in a knot of guilt and embarrassment.

"Earth to you! You’ve gone all quiet," Ollie chuckled, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. "Thinking about your impending Italian lesson?"

You sighed, leaning your head against the headrest. "Don't remind me. It's just… pathetic, isn't it? My own mother's language, and I can barely order a pizza."

Ollie, ever the comforting presence, reached over and squeezed your hand. "Hey, none of that nonsense. You're busy, you're successful, and you're finally doing something about it. That's all that matters. Besides," he added with a wink, "you know I think you're amazing, even if you only speak fluent English and sarcasm."

You managed a weak smile. Ollie always had a way of making you feel better. Years of friendship, countless late-night talks, and a shared history that stretched back to awkward teenage years had forged a bond unbreakable. He was family, the kind you chose, not just the kind you were born into. It was ironic, really, that he, an Englishman obsessed with speed and engines, knew more Italian phrases than you, the daughter of an Italian immigrant.

"It's just… Kimi," you muttered, the name feeling foreign on your tongue. Ollie’s best friend. An enigma wrapped in a charmingly gruff exterior.

"Kimi will be great!" Ollie declared, his voice radiating genuine enthusiasm. "He's a good guy, just a bit… quiet at first. But trust me, he's got a heart of gold hidden under that stoic exterior. And," he added with a knowing smirk, "he's fiercely proud of his heritage. He'll be thrilled you're making the effort."

You doubted that. You envisioned awkward silences, stumbling over conjugations, and Kimi's thinly veiled disappointment at your linguistic ineptitude. "What if I'm hopeless? What if I just embarrass myself?"

"You won't," Ollie said firmly. "And even if you do, so what? It's a learning process. Besides, Kimi's not judgmental. He's too busy being effortlessly cool to judge anyone."

You couldn't argue with that. Kimi did have an air of indifference that seemed to protect him from the world's criticisms. You'd always found it intriguing, that and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he did smile, which was a rare occurrence indeed.

Finally, the GPS announced, "You have arrived at your destination." You two pulled up to the paddock, a bustling hive of activity where Formula 1 cars were being meticulously prepped for the next race.

Ollie parked his sleek sports car with a flourish, the engine purring. You followed Ollie through the maze of garages.

In the Haas garage, the mechanics were a blur of movement as they worked tirelessly on the gleaming Formula 1 car. Ollie waved at them, calling out greetings in a mix of English and Italian that rolled off his tongue like a native.

He led you further into the garage, where the team was a blur of motion, focused intently on the gleaming Haas car. The sheer dedication and attention to detail were breathtaking.

"Right, let's get you acquainted with the place," Ollie said, clapping his hands together. “I’ll introduce you to Kimi after the race.”

“Kimi?” you asked, feeling a flicker of anticipation. This was it. The man who was going to help you reclaim your heritage. “So, he actually agreed to this?”

"Yep. He owes me a favor. Plus, he’s always up for a bit of a laugh."

You nodded, trying to absorb all the information. "Got it. And thank you, by the way. For all of this."

"Don't mention it," Ollie said, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he reached for his race suit. "It's the least I can do. I've always thought it was a shame you never learned Italian. Especially with your mom being so… expressive.”

That stung. He was right. It was a shame. And it was embarrassing. Your best friend, the one who’d grown up miles away from any Italian influence, knew more about your mother’s language than you did.

"Yeah, well," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "Life happens."

"It does," Ollie agreed, his tone softening. He pulled the race suit on halfway, leaving the top part unzipped. "But it’s never too late to learn. Kimi's a great guy, and he's surprisingly patient. Just… try not to be intimidated by the accent. It can be a bit thick."

"Look, I gotta go brief with the team," Ollie said, his attention already shifting to the race ahead. "Just… enjoy the show. And try not to get run over."

With a final pat on the shoulder, he was gone, swallowed up by the organized chaos of the Haas garage. You were left standing there, feeling a strange mix of excitement, apprehension, and inadequacy. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The scent of gasoline and burnt rubber permeated the air as you meandered through the bustling F1 paddock, your eyes scanning the horizon of gleaming cars and tightly wound tension that only a Formula One race could muster. Your phone chirped with Duolingo's cheery encouragement, a stark contrast to the thunderous symphony of engines revving in the distance.

"Mi dispiace, non capisco," you murmured, feeling a twinge of pride as the app congratulated you with a cheerful "Ding!"

Before you could bask in the glow of your linguistic victory, a velvet voice caressed your ear, "It's actually 'mi dispiace, non capisco.'"

You whipped around, heart racing faster than the cars on the track, to find Kimi, Ollie's dashing Italian best friend, standing just an arm's length away.

"Thanks," you replied, trying to compose yourself, as your cheeks flushed with a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun beating down on the tarmac.

"I'm just trying to brush up on my Italian, you know, for when I get to Imola."

He grinned, his eyes dancing with a mischief that promised untold adventures. "Well, you're in luck," he said, his accent a siren's song that could make any language sound erotic. "I happen to be a native speaker."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound a little too high-pitched for your liking. "Yeah, I kind of figured that out," you replied, trying to match his cool demeanor.

"Well, then," Kimi said, his smile widening, "having a teacher will definitely help you a lot."

It was ironic, indeed, seeing as Kimi was the person Ollie had suggested to help you with your Italian.

The same Kimi who had a reputation for leaving hearts fluttering in his wake, the one who spoke Italian as if it were poetry caressed by the gods themselves. You felt a peculiar mix of excitement and nervousness at the thought of learning from him. His eyes, a deep brown that reminded you of freshly roasted espresso, bore into yours, and you couldn't help but wonder if he knew the effect he had on you.

Before you could respond, a sharp, authoritative voice blared over the loudspeakers, "All the drivers go to their pits."

Kimi's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his eyes darkening with what could only be described as a predatory interest. "See you later, bella donna," he winked, his words a seductive promise before disappearing into the maelstrom of the racing world.

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him go, his lithe figure weaving through the chaos with an ease that could only come from years of navigating the fast lane.

The term of endearment hung in the air, a sweet whisper that seemed to caress your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. You spent the qualifying session in the Haas garage with Ollie, nervously watching the timings and trying to decipher the technical jargon being thrown around.

During the race, you were a nervous wreck. You cheered for Ollie, of course, your loyalty unwavering. But your eyes kept darting to the silver Mercedes on the track, following Kimi's every move. The roar of the engines, the squeal of tires, the frantic pace of the race – it all faded into the background. All you could think about was the way he had looked at you, the sound of his voice, the playful glint in his eyes.

Ollie finished a respectable 5th, a solid result for Haas. Kimi, however, finished 4th, just shy of the podium. When the race ended, you waited impatiently for Ollie to finish his debriefing with the team, your leg bouncing with nervous energy.

Finally, Ollie emerged, grinning. "Not bad, eh?" he said, clapping you on the shoulder.

You managed a weak smile, your heart thumping. "Congratulations, Ollie," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ollie's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Ready to meet the Italian Stallion?" he teased, using his thumb and forefinger to mimic a mustache.

Your stomach somersaulted at the mention of Kimi's name. You nodded, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, sure. Lead the way."

As you followed Ollie through the bustling paddock, your thoughts raced. What would you say to Kimi? How would he react to seeing you again? The moment of truth came as you rounded the corner and spotted Kimi, surrounded by a group of team members and journalists.

A slow smile spread across his face, and for a moment, it was as if you were the only two people in the world. You felt a rush of heat, a shiver down your spine as he excused himself from his entourage and approached you, his strides purposeful and confident.

"Hey Kimi! Great race!" Ollie exclaimed, his arms open wide for a hug. Kimi embraced him warmly, their friendship palpable, and for a brief, painfully sweet second, you felt like a third wheel in your own fantasy.

But then, as if sensing your presence, Kimi pulled back and looked over Ollie's shoulder at you, the smile never leaving his face. "Thank you, Ollie," he said, his voice a velvety rumble that seemed to resonate through your body.

"Oh, this is…" Ollie started, turning to introduce you.

"Y/N," Kimi finished, grinning mischievously, his eyes twinkling with a knowing look. He extended a hand, and as you took it, a jolt of electricity seemed to pass between you, setting your pulse racing even more.

"So, you're the one," he said, his accent thick and alluring. "The one who's going to learn Italian from me?" His smile grew wider, and you felt your cheeks flush under his gaze.

"Yeah," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the thunderous beating of your heart. "I've always wanted to, and Ollie said you're the best teacher around."

Ollie raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Wait, you two know each other?" he asked, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Kimi.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. "Well, we met briefly before the race," you began, your voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions swirling inside you. "I was practicing my Italian, and Kimi couldn't help but offer a few corrections as he passed by."

Kimi chuckled, a rich, deep sound that made your insides quiver. "Your accent," he said, his eyes sparkling, "it is… unique." The way he drew out the word 'unique' made it sound like an endearment, a secret shared between the two of you.

"I know it's not perfect," you admitted, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, "but I'm eager to learn."

Kimi leaned closer, his gaze intense. "I can tell," he murmured, his voice a purr. "And I'm more than happy to help. Italian is a beautiful language, full of passion. It's something you must feel, not just speak."

Your eyes locked onto his. The way his full lips moved as he spoke made your own mouth go dry. You swallowed hard.

"When can we start?" you asked, your voice a breathy whisper.

Kimi's eyes held yours, the intensity in them making your knees weak. "As soon as you're ready," he replied, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand. "But remember, I don't just teach Italian. I make you experience it."

Ollie looked back and forth between you two, the light of understanding dawning in his eyes. He winked at you and clapped Kimi on the back. "Well, I've got some celebrating to do," he said, backing away. "I'll leave you to it."

As he disappeared into the throng of people, you were left standing there, alone with the man who had occupied your thoughts all day. Your heart hammered in your chest as he took a step closer, his hand still resting on yours. "Come," he said, "we'll find a quieter place."

You were acutely aware of every movement he made – the way his fingers tightened around yours, the way his eyes searched your face, the way his chest rose and fell with every breath. You found yourselves in a secluded spot, a small area behind one of the hospitality tents.

"So, what's your schedule like?" Kimi asked, his eyes never leaving yours. His voice was low, the vibrations resonating through your entire body.

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on his question through the fog of desire that had enveloped you. "It's pretty open," you replied, your voice shaky. "I can work around yours."

"Good," he murmured, stepping even closer. You could feel the heat emanating from his body, the electricity between you growing stronger by the second. "Because I want to make sure we have plenty of time… to practice."

"I hope I'm not a bother," you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Kimi's smile grew, and his thumb stroked the inside of your wrist, sending shivers up your arm.

"Never, bella donna," he replied. "But do you have a boyfriend?"

You felt a thrill at the question. "No," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, as if looking for the truth within. "Good," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips before returning to your eyes.

"Why?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

He took a moment to answer, his thumb still tracing patterns on the sensitive skin of your wrist. "Uh, nothing," he replied, his voice low and gruff. "I wouldn't want to worry him if you're with me all the time."

The answer didn't quite satisfy you, but the way he said it made your stomach flip.

"So, how do you want this to go?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kimi leaned in closer. "I was thinking," he said, his eyes dancing with a hint of mischief, "if I want you to truly experience this, we have to go on little adventures."

You blinked, surprised. "Like… dates?" The word slipped out before you could stop it, a nervous giggle following close behind.

He nodded, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Si, like dates," he confirmed, his thumb now caressing your palm in a gentle, mesmerizing rhythm. "But not just any dates, bella. These will be… educational experiences. We will learn Italian, but we will also learn about passion, about feeling, about life."

Your heart skipped a beat. This was not what you had expected when you offered to help him practice English, but you found yourself nodding eagerly. "Okay," you breathed, your voice thick with desire.

Kimi stepped back, releasing your hand with a teasing smile. "Good," he said, his eyes lingering on your now-bare wrist, where his touch had left a trail of heat.

"But first," you managed to get out, your voice sounding more composed than you felt, "can I have your number?"

Kimi's eyes lit up, and he nodded. "Sure," he said, pulling out his phone. His fingers danced over the screen with a practiced ease that spoke of years of handling high-speed machinery.

He rattled off a string of digits, and you typed them into your phone, your own hands trembling slightly. You felt a strange sense of excitement, as if you had just received the winning lottery numbers.

"Got it," you said, trying to sound casual despite the racing of your heart.

Before Kimi could respond, a Mercedes staff member, dressed in the sleek, silver team gear, approached with an urgent look on his face. "Kimi," he called out, "we need you for the victory celebration."

Kimi turned to the staff member, his eyes briefly leaving yours. "Arrivederci bella donna," he said to you, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

The paddock was a whirlwind of activity, team members hugging and congratulating each other, the sound of champagne corks popping in the background. You felt a pang of disappointment at being separated from him so soon, but also a thrill at the prospect of what was to come. As you made your way back to the Haas garage, you couldn't help but replay the moment in your mind. His touch, his voice, the way he looked at you – it was all so intoxicating.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of your phone. You looked down to see a text from an unknown number. "Looking forward to our first lesson," it read, with a winking emoji. You felt a warmth spread through your body, realizing it was from Kimi.

When you returned to the Haas garage, Ollie was busy signing autographs for a group of eager fans. His face lit up when he saw you, and he excused himself to come over.

"So, how was it?" he asked, curiosity etched across his features.

You couldn't help but smile at Ollie's question, your cheeks flushing as you recounted your encounter with Kimi. "It was…" you paused, searching for the right words, "intense."

Ollie raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Intense, huh? Did he give you a taste of that Italian charm?"

You nodded, still lost in the memory of Kimi's touch. "More than just a taste," you replied, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice.

Ollie chuckled, his eyes gleaming. "Looks like you're going to be busy," he said, giving you a knowing look. "Just don't let your schoolgirl crush get in the way of my friendship with him."

You rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance, but inside, you felt a thrill at his words. It was clear that he had noticed the chemistry between you and Kimi, and it was equally clear that he approved.

"Don't worry," you said, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice. "It's just a language exchange."

Ollie nodded, but his knowing smile said he wasn't fooled. "Uh-huh," he said, winking. "Just make sure to keep me updated on your… progress."

You rolled your eyes again, but couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. "Don't worry, I will," you teased back. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The dreary Monday afternoon hangs heavy around you, the grey light filtering through your window mirroring the dull ache in your shoulders. You’ve been staring at the same spreadsheet for hours, the numbers blurring into an indistinguishable mess. The silence is a thick blanket, stifling and uneventful. Then, the vibration.

Your phone, lying face-up on the desk, jumps, the sudden movement shattering the monotonous quiet like a sonnet erupting in the middle of a slumber party. You glance down, your eyes widening slightly at the name glowing in the dim light: Kimi.

The message reads: "Hello bella donna, are you free tomorrow?"

You take a slow, deliberate breath, trying to quell the sudden heat that’s rising in your cheeks. You type: "Sure, what are you planning?" You need to know, need to understand the intention behind this sudden, charming overture.

Kimi’s response is swift, almost instantaneous. "How about a little dinner in my favourite restaurant in Italian? I promise to make it fun and interactive."

The playful wink emoji that follows does nothing to dispel the heat that has begun to spread through your body, a delicious blend of excitement and apprehension. You haven’t seen Kimi in a few weeks, not since that awkward bumping into each other at the coffee shop.

You’ve replayed that encounter in your head countless times, analyzing the subtle nuances of his smile, the lingering touch of his hand as he’d helped you gather your scattered belongings. You force yourself to take another deep breath. This is just dinner. It doesn’t have to mean anything. But a small, traitorous part of you hopes it does.

"Sounds perfect," you text back, forcing your voice, even in text, to remain steady. You fail. The rapid pulse that has started to thrum in your neck betrays you.

He replies almost immediately: "Okay bella donna, I'll pick you up from your apartment tomorrow."

The finality of the statement, the directness of the invitation, sends another shiver of anticipation down your spine. You stare at the message, your mind already racing ahead, envisioning the evening, the restaurant, his face illuminated by candlelight.

The rest of Monday crawls by in a blur. You can’t focus on your work, your thoughts constantly drifting back to Kimi and the Italian dinner. You imagine practicing basic phrases, stumbling over pronunciations, and his warm laughter filling the space between you. Tuesday arrives with an almost cruel slowness. You spend an inordinate amount of time getting ready, agonizing over every detail.

What to wear? Something casual, but elegant? Something that says, "I’m comfortable and confident," but also, "I put in effort for you." You try on three different dresses, discarding each one with a frustrated sigh.

Finally, you settle on a simple black dress that skims your curves in a flattering way. You add a delicate silver necklace and a touch of mascara, enough to highlight your eyes without looking overly done.

As you wait, your stomach churning with nerves, you pace your apartment, rehearsing Italian phrases in your head. "Buonasera," you murmur to yourself. "Come stai?" "Il conto, per favore." You feel ridiculous, like you’re preparing for a stage performance.

The buzzer rings, sending a jolt of electricity through you. It's him. You take one last deep breath, smooth down your dress, and tell yourself to relax. It’s just dinner. Just a friendly, Italian-themed dinner. You open the door, and there he is. Kimi.

He looks even more handsome than you remember. His dark hair is neatly styled, and he’s wearing a fitted, dark blue shirt that makes his eyes seem even bluer. His smile is warm and genuine, and it reaches all the way to his eyes.

"Ciao, bella donna," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends another wave of butterflies fluttering through your stomach.

"Ciao, Kimi," you reply, your voice slightly breathy.

He offers you his arm, and you take it, your fingers tingling against his skin. As you walk down the stairs, you steal glances at him, trying to decipher the look in his eyes. Is it just friendliness, or is there something more?

The restaurant he’s chosen is tucked away on a quiet side street, a hidden gem with dimly lit interiors, checkered tablecloths, and the aroma of garlic and basil hanging in the air. Soft Italian music plays in the background, creating a warm and intimate atmosphere. He pulls out your chair, and you thank him in Italian, stumbling slightly over the pronunciation of "grazie." He chuckles softly, and you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Don’t worry," he says, switching to English. "You’ll get there. I'm here to help you practice."

The evening unfolds like a dream. You order in Italian, with Kimi patiently correcting your mistakes and encouraging you to try new phrases. He tells you about his favorite dishes, describing them with such passion that you can almost taste the flavors. You try the osso buco, and it melts in your mouth, a symphony of savory flavors.

Throughout the evening, you catch him looking at you, his eyes lingering on your face, and you feel a warmth spreading through you, a feeling that goes beyond simple attraction. It’s a feeling of connection, of understanding, of being truly seen.

As the evening progresses, the conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and shared glances. The Italian phrases become less forced, more natural, as you relax into the moment. When the waiter brings the bill, Kimi insists on paying. You protest, but he just smiles and shakes his head.

"It’s my treat, bella donna," he says. "Besides, I promised you an interactive experience. The real fun starts now."

The real fun starts now. His words echo in your head, a promise that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. As you walk out of the restaurant, the cool night air kisses your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you feel inside.

Kimi’s hand lingers at the small of your back, a gentle guide as you navigate the cobblestone streets. You lean into his touch, your heart fluttering like a captive bird in your chest. He opens the car door with the grace of a gentleman, and you slide into the passenger seat, the leather cool against your thighs.

As he slides into the driver's seat, his eyes lock onto yours for a moment too long, sending a bolt of electricity straight to your core. He starts the engine, the purr of the vehicle blending with the soft music playing through the speakers.

As he drives you back home, the city lights stream past the windows, painting a kaleidoscope of colors across your skin. His hand rests casually on the gear stick, but your eyes are drawn to his strong, capable fingers.

You wonder what it would be like to have those hands on you, exploring every inch of your body, speaking a language more potent than Italian. The drive back to your apartment is a delicious mix of tension and comfort. His cologne fills the car, a scent that is both new and familiar. The conversation is easy, a blend of shared stories and teasing banter that you hadn’t quite anticipated.

As you approach your apartment, you feel a strange mix of disappointment and excitement. Disappointment that the night is almost over, excitement for what might happen next. The tension in the car is palpable, thick with unspoken desires.

He parks the car and walks you to your door, his stride purposeful, yet filled with a gentle hesitancy. You feel the warmth of his hand as it grazes yours, and you wonder if he feels the same electricity that's been building all evening.

The silence between you is a symphony of unspoken words, the quiet punctuated by the distant sound of a couple arguing in a nearby apartment and the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze. It's a comforting silence, the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket on a cold winter's eve.

As you stand in front of your door, the anticipation of what's to come hangs in the air, as tangible as the scent of your mingled perfumes. You fumble with your keys, your heart racing like a marathon runner approaching the finish line.

Kimi's eyes never leave yours, and you can see the question in them, the silent inquiry of whether this night will extend beyond the confines of friendship. Your hand shakes slightly as you insert the key into the lock, the metal cold against your skin.

The door clicks open, and you both hover in the threshold, the warm light of your apartment spilling out onto the darkened porch. He leans in, and for a moment, you think he's going to kiss you.

Instead, he whispers, "Grazie per la serata," his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

You swallow hard, your eyes fluttering closed for a brief second. "It was… amazing," you manage to murmur.

Before you can say more, his hand reaches up, and he brushes a stray lock of hair from your face. His touch is gentle, almost tender, and it sends a bolt of desire through you that makes your knees feel wobbly.

"The pleasure was all mine," he says, his voice a low murmur that sends shivers down your spine. "But the night doesn't have to end here."

You look up at him, the question in your eyes mirroring the one in his. The air is charged, and the silence stretches out like a tightrope, thrumming with potential.

"I had a wonderful time tonight," he says, his voice soft.

"Me too," you reply, your heart pounding in your chest.

He leans in closer, and you close your eyes, waiting for his kiss. But it doesn’t come. Instead, he whispers in your ear, "A presto, bella donna."

And then he’s gone, leaving you standing at your door, breathless and wanting.

You step inside, the contrast of the cool apartment air against your flushed skin making you shiver. The evening lingers on you, a seductive perfume that you can’t quite shake off. You walk to the bathroom, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes are bright, your cheeks flushed with more than just the cold.

Was it just the Italian, the romance of the language, or was there something more? You can’t shake the feeling that Kimi’s gaze had held a promise, a silent invitation that you hadn’t quite understood.

You decide to let it go, to enjoy the thrill of the unknown. After all, tomorrow is another day, another chance to learn, to explore, to feel. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You felt a buzz of excitement as you approached your apartment, the anticipation of what lay inside the package he had mentioned growing with each step. Once inside, you placed the package on the kitchen counter, the weight of it a tantalizing mystery.

The cardboard was a stark contrast to the sleek, black leather of the bag you had brought home with you, the letters of his name scrawled across the top in a familiar script that made your heart flutter.

You carefully sliced through the packing tape, the sound of it tearing a gentle crescendo in the otherwise quiet room. As the flaps fell open, you gasped. Before you lay a treasure trove of Mercedes merchandise, each piece more opulent than the last.

A leather-bound notebook, a pen with the company logo engraved on it, a scarf with the signature silver threads, and even a keychain with a miniature replica of the iconic car. But it was the small card nestled among the luxurious items that made your pulse race.

The card was simple, white with a single red rose embossed in the corner. You recognized Kimi's handwriting immediately, the way the letters curved and looped like a lover's embrace.

"To continue your lessons," it read, "with a touch of elegance." You couldn't help but wonder what kind of 'lessons' he had in mind, and whether they would be as exhilarating as the ones you'd experienced the night before.

Picking up the leather notebook, you opened it to find the pages filled with notes in Kimi's handwriting, each one detailing a different aspect of the Italian language.

The pages were also sprinkled with phrases that were anything but academic, reminders of the passionate moments you had shared, and a promise of more to come. You felt a warmth spread through your body, a phantom echo of his touch. You took the scarf, running the soft fabric through your fingers, feeling the gentle caress of the threads against your skin.

The keychain caught your eye, the silver glistening in the soft glow of the pendant light above the counter. It was the perfect size to attach to the diary you had bought to log your language progress.

The diary that now held secrets far more personal than conjugations and vocabulary. You couldn't wait to delve into the treasure trove of Italian delights that Kimi had so thoughtfully curated. The promise of future 'lessons' filled you with a giddy excitement that was both thrilling and a little overwhelming.

You slipped the keychain into your pocket, the cool metal a constant reminder of the passion that awaited you. You took a deep breath, inhaling the faint scent of leather and cologne that still lingered in the air from the package.

You sent Kimi a text, "What's the occasion?" you asked, curiosity piqued by the extravagant gift.

Kimi's response was swift and unabashed, "You look better in Mercedes than in Haas, wear this when you're coming to watch me in the Mercedes garage," accompanied by a winking emoji.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his audacity. "You're assuming I would switch from Ollie, who I've known my whole life, to you, who I've known for a week? How bold of you," you shot back.

Kimi's response was immediate. "Boldness is what makes life interesting, no?" he texted.

"It's definitely a persuasive argument," you replied, the smile on your face growing wider with every keystroke.

Kimi's response was as swift as it was seductive. "Persuasion is an art," he texted back, "but when the prize is as sweet as you, it's hardly a challenge."

You placed the notebook and keychain aside and picked up the phone, your thumbs dancing over the screen as you replied, "And what's the prize for passing these 'lessons'?"

Kimi's response was a masterclass in anticipation. "Ah, that would be telling," he teased. "I can't wait to see you in those clothes, bella donna," he replied, the Italian endearment rolling off his tongue like honey, sticky and sweet.

"I'll be sure to dress to impress, maestro," you replied, feeling a surge of playfulness in your tone.

Kimi's response was like a warm caress, his words wrapping around you like a silk scarf. "I have no doubt you'll leave me speechless, as always," he texted, his message sending a rush of heat through your veins.

You replied, "Bye for now," with a flirty wave emoji, your heart racing at the thought of seeing him again. You set the phone down and took a moment to revel in the feeling, the anticipation of what was to come a delicious ache. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The engine's roar echoed through the narrow streets of the bustling Chinese metropolis as Ollie's sleek Ferrari approached your apartment. Your heart raced in anticipation, not just for the exhilarating ride to the F1 paddock, but also for the secret thrill hidden beneath your clothes.

You had decided to wear the Mercedes merchandise today, a bold declaration of allegiance to the underdog team in a sea of Ferrari red. The tight-fitting T-shirt clung to your curves like a second skin.

"Hey Ollie," you greeted him, a playful smirk gracing your lips as you settled into the plush leather passenger seat.

Ollie looked over at you, a knowing glint in his eye. "Wow, really? You decided to switch to Mercedes that quick?" he quipped, revving the engine and pulling away from the curb. The car's vibrations thrummed through you, setting your blood pulsing in time with its powerful rhythm.

You shrugged, the fabric of the T-shirt sliding smoothly over your skin. "Just thought I'd try something different," you replied coyly, the wind from the open window teasing your hair and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

Ollie chuckled. "I heard Kimi is quite the Casanova. What's it like learning Italian from him?" His question hung in the air, ripe with innuendo.

You felt your cheeks warm. "It's… educational," you replied, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Ollie's teasing smile grew wider. "I bet it is. Kimi's got that certain… charm, doesn't he?" He winked, his hand briefly caressing the gearstick before shifting up to third. The car leapt forward, pressing you back into the seat.

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension in your body releasing like the hiss of a valve. "Sure," you teased back, your voice light and airy, "but it's all very professional. We're just friends, helping each other out."

Ollie's eyes flicked towards you, a knowing look playing across his features. "Just friends, huh?" He smirked, his gaze lingering on the way the Mercedes logo on your shirt. "Well, if you say so."

Ollie pulled into an empty spot in the Haas-reserved parking lot, the car purring to a gentle stop. The heat from the engine radiated into the confined space, a stark contrast to the coolness of the air conditioning.

"Looks like we're here," he announced, the smirk on his face unwavering.

You nodded, your pulse quickening as you took in the chaotic symphony of sounds and smells that filled the air: the high-pitched whine of engines being fired up, the metallic clang of tools, and the faint scent of burning rubber.

Ollie turned off the ignition, and the sudden silence was almost deafening. The tension between you was palpable, charged with an electricity that had nothing to do with the car's engine. You both stepped out into the sticky embrace of the early summer heat, the sun glinting off the chrome and carbon fiber monsters that surrounded you.

As you two walked into Haas, a murmur rippled through the team members and mechanics, their eyes drawn to the unmistakable logo emblazoned on your top. The whispers grew louder, a symphony of surprise and curiosity.

"Look, it's Ollie with a Mercedes fan," one engineer quipped, his laughter cutting through the air like a knife.

You felt your face redden as Ollie chuckled, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back to guide you through the throng of people.

"You can go see your boyfriend when he arrives," Ollie teased.

The words hit you like a splash of cold water, your heart skipping a beat as you realized he knew about your secret rendezvous with Kimi. You tried to keep your composure, but the blush spreading across your cheeks betrayed you.

"What are you talking about?" you retorted, feigning ignorance.

Ollie's grin grew wider, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, come on," he said. "I know that look. You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

You bit your lower lip. "What look?" you asked, your voice a little too high.

Ollie's eyes searched your face. "The one you get when you talk about Kimi. It's like you're melting from the inside out. Your pupils dilate, your cheeks flush, and your breath hitches ever so slightly."

"It's the same look you have right now."

"That's not true," you denied, the denial feeling weak even to your own ears. You busied yourself pretending to adjust the collar of his Haas polo to avoid his gaze.

Ollie didn't relent, saying, "Oh, it is. I've seen it. Remember last year's party when Kimi said 'Ciao bella' to you and you reminded me of that for a whole hour?"

Your cheeks grew hotter, and you felt a flutter in your stomach. You had hoped that incident would have been forgotten, but apparently, Ollie had a better memory than you gave him credit for. The way Kimi had looked at you that night, the way he had said those words, had left an indelible mark on your soul. It was a secret you had been carrying around for months, like a treasure you didn't know how to unlock.

"Well," you began, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice, "it was just a friendly greeting."

Ollie's eyes searched yours, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Friendly, huh?"

"And what about when he showed you those Italian phrases that are a little less… innocent?"

You had been captivated by his accent, the way his eyes danced with mischief as he leaned in, his breath hot against your neck. "They're just… phrases," you murmured, trying to sound nonchalant.

But before Ollie could respond, a familiar Italian accent pierced the air. "Hey guys!"

Your head swiveled around to see Kimi approaching, the sun glinting off his shiny helmet. The sight of him sent an involuntary smile stretching across your face, a smile that felt as intimate as a lover's caress.

You watched as Ollie's expression morphed into one of camaraderie as he stepped forward to greet his friend. The two of them slapped palms, a silent language of respect and friendship passing between them.

As they talked, you felt Kimi's gaze on you, a warmth that spread from the pit of your stomach to the tips of your fingers.

Finally, Ollie stepped aside, and Kimi was before you, his arms open wide for an embrace. As he wrapped you in his strong hold, his mouth brushed against your ear, and he whispered, "I knew Mercedes would suit you better," his breath sending shivers down your spine.

You hugged him back, your heart racing, feeling his muscular chest against yours, the scent of his cologne mingling with the scent of burning rubber and gasoline. You felt his hand slip down your back, resting for a second longer than necessary before pulling away, leaving a trail of heat on your skin.

"I see you've decided to show some love for the competition," he said, a teasing smile playing on his full lips.

You stepped back, trying to compose yourself. "It's just a shirt," you protested, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kimi's gaze dropped to the logo on your chest, and his smile grew wicked. "Is it?" He stepped closer again, his hand reaching out to trace the outline of the Mercedes emblem with his fingertips.

Ollie cleared his throat, and you snapped out of the spell. You stepped back, trying to regain some semblance of control.

"It's just for fun," you said, your voice sounding too high-pitched even to your own ears.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, the warmth in them unmistakable. He leaned in, whispering so only you could hear, "I'm sure it is."

Ollie's gaze flicked between the two of you, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. He clapped Kimi on the back. "We've got a race to prep for," he said, the teasing note in his voice clear as crystal.

The two of them walked away, deep in conversation about setups and tire strategies, leaving you standing there, breathless and flustered.

As the day wore on, the paddock buzzed with activity. The air was thick with the scent of burning rubber and gasoline. You found yourself drawn to Kimi like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the gravitational pull of his charm. Every time you caught his eye, he'd give you a wink or a smile that made your heart flutter. It was a dance.

You watched from the garage as the cars rolled out for qualifying. The roar of the engines was a symphony, a crescendo of power and speed that made your blood sing. And there he was, Kimi, in his sleek silver Mercedes, looking every bit the god of the track that you had always imagined him to be.

He glanced up, catching your eye, and gave you a nod before climbing into the cockpit. He disappeared from view, leaving you with nothing but the sound of your own racing heart.

The hours passed in a blur of tire changes and strategy meetings. The air grew thick with the scent of sweat and grease, the tension in the garage almost tangible.

And when Kimi finally emerged, his helmet under his arm, his hair damp with sweat, you felt the world tilt on its axis.

He was fourth on the grid, a respectable position, but you knew he had the potential for so much more. You watched as he peeled off his racing suit, revealing the tight, sweat-soaked fabric of his fireproof underwear. Ollie, on the other hand, had managed to qualify in eleventh place.

As the final practice session concluded, you found yourself gravitating towards Ollie, who was surrounded by his engineers, discussing the data with a furrowed brow. You hovered at the edge of the group, trying to appear inconspicuous, but his eyes flickered up to meet yours, a question in his gaze.

You took a deep breath and stepped closer, the smell of the track clinging to him like a second scent. His eyes searched yours, and he gave you a smile that was so forced it looked like it was painted on.

"Everything okay?" you asked, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Ollie's smile was tight, his eyes unreadable. "Yeah, just a bit of work to do before tomorrow." He stepped closer, his arm brushing against yours.

"I'm sure you'll do great," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Ollie nodded, but the smile he gave you was forced, a mere shadow of his usual charismatic grin. You couldn't help but notice the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes searched yours for something unspoken. The smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Ollie," you began, reaching out to touch his arm.

He looked down at your hand, then back up at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. "You should go and celebrate with your boyfriend," he said, his voice low and gruff. "Don't worry about me. I've got work to do."

You felt a pang of guilt, the weight of his words like a stone in your stomach. "Ollie, I—"

But he cut you off with a firm shake of his head. "It's fine," he said, his voice softer now. "You two have fun. You deserve it."

The words hung in the air, a strange mix of sadness and resignation that tugged at your heartstrings. You didn't know what to say, so you just nodded, the weight of his gaze heavy on your shoulders as you turned and walked away.

You found yourself in front of the Mercedes garage, the door open just enough to reveal the gleaming silver car that was the object of so much of your desire. Kimi was there, surrounded by his own team, his eyes scanning the data screens with a focus that was both intense and mesmerizing.

You took a tentative step forward, unsure if you should join him or keep your distance. But before you could decide, he looked up, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

"Ciao, bella donna," Kimi said, his voice like velvet, smooth and warm.

You felt the tension in the air thicken as you stepped into the garage, the sounds of the bustling paddock fading into the background. The light caught the droplets of sweat on his face, making them sparkle like diamonds against his olive skin. You swallowed hard, your throat dry. Kimi's team members looked up, a mix of curiosity and surprise etched on their faces. You had never ventured into their sacred space before.

"I just wanted to… congratulate you," you managed to say, your voice a mere whisper in the bustling garage.

Kimi's smile grew wider, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "Grazie, tesoro," he said, his Italian rolling over you like warm honey. He stepped away from his car, closing the space between you in a heartbeat.

His hand reached for yours, his grip firm and reassuring. "Come," he said, tugging you gently towards a quieter corner of the garage. The cacophony of the paddock faded away, leaving only the sound of your own breathing and the pounding of your heart.

You followed him, your body moving on autopilot, drawn to him like a magnet to steel. The air grew thick with anticipation, a silent understanding passing between you.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Kimi said, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he leaned against the wall of his garage. The shadows played over the contours of his face, casting him in a mysterious light that only served to enhance his allure.

You felt your pulse quicken, his words sending a rush of heat through your body. "I wanted to… I mean, I just thought I should… " You stumbled over your words, your cheeks flushing as you struggled to form a coherent sentence.

He leaned closer, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "Piano piano," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "Take it slow."

The words were a gentle command, a whispered promise that made your heart race. You knew what he meant.

"Your hand is shaking," he observed, his voice low and soothing. "Are you nervous?"

You nodded, the admission feeling like a confession. "A little," you whispered, your eyes dropping to the ground.

Kimi's grip on your hand tightened gently. "Don't be," he said, his voice a soothing balm. "You're safe with me."

You looked up, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, the world stopped spinning. His eyes were pools of warmth, inviting you to dive in and lose yourself in their depths. You took a deep breath, feeling your chest rise and fall with the rhythm of your racing heart.

"Kimi," you breathed, his name a prayer on your lips.

He tilted his head, a question in his gaze. "Yes, tesoro?"

You swallowed hard, the word feeling both intimate and terrifying on your tongue. "I've missed you," you confessed, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Kimi's expression softened, and he stepped closer, his thumb still stroking gentle circles on the back of your hand. "I've missed you too," he murmured, his breath fanning across your cheek.

You tried to deny the shiver that rippled through you, the way your body leaned into him without thought. "It's just been a few days," you protested, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Kimi's smile grew wicked. "Doesn't mean I haven't thought about you," he murmured, his thumb brushing the pulse point on your wrist.

"We're just friends," you whispered, the words feeling inadequate.

Kimi’s smile grew, a knowing glint in his eye. "Friends can miss each other," he said, his voice a soft caress that seemed to wrap around you.

"It's only been a week," you thought to yourself over and over again, trying to anchor yourself to reality. A week since you last saw him, a week since stolen glances and whispered conversations in the dead of night in a small restaurant.

You tried to deny it. "It's only been a week."

Kimi chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through you. "Time is a strange thing, isn't it? Sometimes it feels like forever, sometimes like a blink. This week felt like a lifetime.” He paused, his gaze intense. “A lifetime too long."

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of insincerity, but all you found was raw honesty. You could see the truth in his words, the same truth that resonated within you.

Kimi looked happy to be in your presence. The way his eyes lingered on yours, the soft smile that played on his lips, the gentle touch of his hand – it all spoke volumes.

It was a happiness that both thrilled and terrified you. You knew the risks, the complications, the potential for heartbreak.

"I shouldn't be here," you said, the words a contradiction of your own desires. "Someone could see us."

Kimi shrugged, his eyes still locked on yours. "Let them. I don't care."

"But... the press, your team…" You trailed off, unable to articulate the myriad of reasons why this was wrong, why it could never work.

"Let them talk," he said, his voice resolute. "The only opinions that matter are yours… and mine."

The warmth of his hand sent a jolt through your body, a stark contrast to the cool breeze that danced around you. You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the butterflies that had taken up residence in your stomach.

"Kimi," you muttered, the syllables sticking to your tongue like honey, sweet and thick with emotion.

He leaned in, his smile widening slightly, "I promise, I'm not going to rush you for an answer now." His words were a gentle caress, a soft whisper that tickled your senses. The air between you grew charged with anticipation, the kind that made your heart skip a beat.

You felt a warmth spread from your cheeks to the tips of your ears, and your eyes searched for a hint of teasing in his gaze. But all you saw was sincerity. "But we do need to go on our next date," he continued, his voice a smooth melody that seemed to resonate with the rhythm of your own heart.

"Now?" you asked, the word slipping out before you could stop it. The question hung in the air, filled with both excitement and doubt.

"Yes, now," he grinned, taking your hand firmly in his. His touch was surprisingly warm, a stark contrast to the cool metal of the garage door as it closed behind you with a gentle clank.

You felt your pulse quicken. "But what about your debriefing?" you asked, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice.

"I finished it quickly for you, bella," Kimi winked, his use of the endearment making your heart flutter.

You couldn't believe it. The race was the talk of the town, and he had managed to slip away unnoticed. "How?" you whispered, eyes wide with astonishment.

Kimi chuckled again, his grip on your hand tightening reassuringly. "I have my ways."

The private parking lot was dimly lit, the shadows playing tricks on the shiny exteriors of the luxury vehicles. His car, a sleek sports model in a deep shade of midnight blue, stood out like a beacon in the night. The cool metal of the car door was a relief under your fingertips as he opened it for you with a flourish.

You slid into the plush leather seat, the smell of new car and faint hint of his cologne enveloping you like a comforting embrace. The engine roared to life, the vibrations thrumming through your body as he revved it up. The headlights cut through the darkness as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the open road.

The wind in your hair was exhilarating, the city lights a blur as Kimi navigated the streets with the confidence of a seasoned racer. You couldn't help but let out a little laugh, the kind that comes from a mix of excitement and nerves.

He glanced over at you, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, his eyes never leaving the road ahead.

"Where are we even going?" you asked, the thrill of the unknown adding to the electricity in the air.

"Somewhere special," Kimi replied, his eyes flickering to the rearview mirror briefly before returning to the road.

The car's engine purring beneath you was the only sound in the quiet cab, the city's din fading as you ventured into the less-traveled streets. The anticipation grew with each passing moment, your heart racing faster than the speedometer.

Without warning, he pulled into the deserted parking lot of a quaint, old-fashioned cinema. The neon lights flickered, casting a soft glow that painted the pavement a warm shade of red. You felt your brows knit together in confusion, but before you could voice it, Kimi had brought the car to a gentle stop.

He was out of the car in a flash, rounding the hood to open your door. You took his hand, allowing him to help you out, the soles of your shoes clicking against the pavement.

As you looked around, the deserted cinema looked like a relic from another era, a stark contrast to the bustling world you had just left behind. Kimi led you inside, his stride long and confident. The lobby was empty, save for an Italian cashier with a knowing smile.

They exchanged a few words in their native tongue, and you felt a twinge of curiosity. The cashier handed over two tickets with a wink and a nod, and suddenly you realized that you weren't just any couple out for a movie.

The theater was empty, the vastness of the space swallowing up the sound of your footsteps. The screen was already lit up, the opening credits of "Mamma Mia" playing to an audience of two.

Kimi took your hand, leading you to the middle of the theater. The smell of buttered popcorn filled the air as you sat down, the plush seats seemingly made for moments like these.

"This used to be my favorite movie," Kimi murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "I think it will help you learn Italian."

You looked at him, surprised. "Italian?"

"Yes," he nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "It's a movie, but the lyrics are mostly in Italian. It's a classic romance, and the music... it's like a window into our soul."

The film started, the vibrant colors and catchy tunes of "Honey, Honey" playing out before you. Kimi leaned closer, pointing out phrases here and there, whispering translations in your ear. His breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. 

As the story unfolded, so did his own, sharing anecdotes and childhood memories that wove themselves into the fabric of the movie.

You found yourself getting lost in the music, the emotions playing out on screen mirroring the tumultuous symphony within your own chest. His hand found its way to yours, fingers intertwining comfortably. You felt your heart swell with every word he whispered, every shared smile, every beat of the Italian love songs.

The plot grew more intense, the characters' passions colliding like the waves of the sea that surrounded the fictional Greek island. Kimi's eyes never left the screen, but his grip on your hand tightened during the emotional climaxes, as if the love stories of the film were echoing his own feelings.

As the movie went on, you began to recognize the phrases he had taught you, the words rolling off your tongue almost naturally. The romance of the film filled the air, and you found yourself leaning into him, his arm around your shoulder, protective and warm.

Then, the iconic duet "The Winner Takes It All" began to play. The female and male voices intertwined, a poignant expression of love and loss. 

Kimi started to sing the male part, his voice a little too deep for the high notes, but filled with passion nonetheless. You couldn't help but laugh at his earnest attempt, the sound echoing softly in the deserted theater.

He glanced at you, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "You think you can do better?" he challenged playfully.

Emboldened by his playful teasing, you opened your mouth and sang the female part. Your voice was soft at first, tentative, but grew stronger as you found your rhythm. The melody swelled, and despite the occasional off-key notes, your harmony with Kimi grew more beautiful with each line. You could feel his smile against your hair as you sang, his chest rumbling with his own laughter.

The song ended, the screen fading to black before the lights flickered back on. The theater remained empty, the silence a gentle cushion for the emotional intensity of the moment. You both took a deep breath, the air thick with the scent of popcorn and the unspoken feelings that danced between you.

Kimi turned to face you, his eyes searching yours. "I didn't know you could sing," he said, his voice filled with wonder.

You blushed, feeling a bit self-conscious. "It's been a while," you admitted. "But I guess the right company brings it out of me."

He leaned in closer, his gaze intense. "I like bringing out the best in you," he whispered, his breath warm against your cheek. "I want to see more of it."

The movie continued, the plot unfolding with the sweetness of a blooming romance and the bitterness of misunderstandings. You found yourself lost in the story, the emotions of the characters resonating with the tumult in your own heart. 

As the film progressed, Kimi's hand slipped from yours to rest gently on your knee, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

The plot grew more complex, the characters' relationships tangling like the vines that adorned the Greek isle's landscape. You felt your chest tighten as you watched the heartbreaking scenes play out, the raw emotion on the screen mirrored in Kimi's eyes.

The film's grand finale approached, the music swelling with hope and longing. You watched as the characters faced their fears, confessed their love, and found their way back to each other.

As the final credits began to roll, the theater was bathed in the soft glow of the projector's light. You took a shaky breath, trying to ignore the butterflies that had started a frenzied dance in your stomach. "Kimi," you began, your voice barely a whisper.

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours, the question hanging in the air like a delicate thread. "That was beautiful," you continued, feeling the weight of the words on your tongue.

He nodded, his thumb still making circles on your knee. "I know," he grinned.

The theater was empty, the only sounds the distant hum of the projector and the beating of two hearts echoing through the vast space.

"Thank you," you murmured. "For this, for everything."

"It's nothing," he replied. "We're just getting started."

As you stepped out of the theater into the cool night air, you realized that it was really dark, leaving a quiet, peaceful calm in its wake. The stars twinkled above, a silent backdrop to the symphony of your racing thoughts. Kimi's hand found yours again, and you felt the promise in his grip.

The world around you was a blur as he led you to the car, the neon lights of the city reflecting in the puddles left by the rain. You slid into the passenger seat, your heart still racing from the emotional rollercoaster of the film and the intensity of the moment.

He started the car, the engine purring to life beneath you, and pulled out of the lot. The city lights danced in the side mirrors, a blur of color and movement as you left the past behind you. 

The future was unwritten, filled with possibilities and unknowns, but as you looked at Kimi, you knew that no matter what lay ahead, you had someone to navigate it with. The quiet between you was filled with unspoken words and the sweet anticipation of what was to come. The night was young, and the adventure was just beginning.

Kimi drove with the confidence of someone who knew the city like the back of his hand, the car's headlights slicing through the inky blackness of the night. The salty scent of the ocean grew stronger with each passing mile, hinting at the destination that lay ahead. 

Before you knew it, the asphalt under the tires gave way to the soft crunch of sand as he pulled into a hidden cove, the beach stretching out before you like a canvas of moonlit tranquility.

"Kimi..." you began, the question in your voice trailing off as he turned off the engine and opened your door. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was the only music that played as you stepped out of the car.

"I wanted to give you a 'Mamma Mia' experience," he said, taking your hand and leading you down a winding path to the beach. 

The sand was cool between your toes, and the soft glow of string lights guided you to a picnic blanket laid out with a feast of Italian delights. The scent of garlic and herbs wafted through the air, mingling with the briny tang of the sea.

The picnic was set up with precision, a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket, surrounded by plates of bruschetta, cheese, and a selection of meats. 

The sight was like a scene from a movie, so perfect it was almost surreal. He had even brought a small speaker, playing the film's soundtrack at a low volume, the music a gentle serenade to the whispers of the night.

You couldn't help but smile as he pulled you into a dance, the sand shifting beneath your feet. His movements were fluid, his grip firm but gentle, guiding you through the motions with a grace that made your heart sing. 

As you danced under the stars, you felt a sense of belonging, a feeling that was as vast as the ocean that stretched out before you. His eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze making your knees wobble. 

You weren't just any girl at any beach; you were in the arms of the man who you were slowly falling for.

The music grew softer as the night deepened, the stars above seeming to hold their breath as the tension grew between you. Kimi leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Do you want to sit?" he asked, his voice low and filled with meaning.

Nods and nods, your heart racing faster than the waves that lapped at the shore. You sat on the picnic blanket, the warmth of the sand seeping through the fabric, a stark contrast to the cold glass of wine he handed you.

You took a sip, the taste rich and full, complementing the salty air. The sound of the ocean was a gentle lullaby, the rhythm of the waves matching the beating of your heart. Kimi sat beside you, close enough that your legs brushed against each other. 

"How did you like this date, eh?" Kimi asked, his eyes searching yours. The question was a simple one, yet it held a universe of meaning.

You looked around the moonlit cove, the gentle waves whispering secrets to the shore, and back at him. "It's... perfect," you managed to say, the word feeling inadequate for the emotions swirling inside you. 

The Italian music played softly in the background, a serenade to the stars above. Kimi's smile grew, his eyes lighting up like the fireflies that danced around the beach. "I'm glad," he said, his voice a warm caress in the salty breeze.

You took another sip of the wine, the flavors blossoming on your tongue. "I didn't expect... this," you admitted, gesturing to the picnic spread.

Kimi leaned closer, his eyes searching yours. "What did you expect?"

You set the wine glass down, the tremble in your hand barely noticeable. "I don't know," you replied, a small laugh escaping your lips. "But definitely not this."

The question hovered between you, a soft echo of the waves. Kimi leaned closer, his gaze intent. "But what did you think of it?"

You took a deep breath, the briny scent of the sea mingling with the aroma of the wine and food. "It's more than I could have ever imagined," you confessed, your voice barely audible over the gentle symphony of the night. "I didn't know dates could be like this."

Kimi's smile grew, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "And how have you been treated before?" he asked, his voice a gentle coax.

You thought back to the dates that felt like they were pulled from a cookie-cutter, the men who had tried but never quite hit the mark. "It's just... nobody has ever made me feel like I'm the only person in the world," you murmured, the words a soft confession. "It's like you see me, really see me."

Kimi's eyes searched yours, understanding flickering in their depths. "You are special," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "You deserve to be seen, to be appreciated." He reached out, his thumb brushing away a stray hair from your face.

The touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine. "Thank you," you whispered, the words feeling like a prayer. You had never been treated with such care, such consideration. 

The men from your past had been shadows compared to the vibrant, living color of Kimi. They had taken you to dinner, bought you flowers, whispered sweet nothings, but they had never made you feel like you were the center of their universe.

As you talked under the stars, the wind picked up, carrying with it the scent of the sea and the promise of change. The picnic had been a feast for the senses, and as the music grew softer, so too did your heart, filling with a warmth that seemed to radiate from Kimi's very soul. 

You could feel the moment drawing to a close, the inevitability of reality trying to break through the magical bubble you had created.

"Let's get you home," Kimi said finally, his voice a gentle caress. You nodded, not quite ready to let the night end but knowing that it had to. 

You helped him gather the remnants of the picnic, the plates and glasses clinking together like a sweet melody. The sand clung to your clothes, a reminder of the enchanting world you had just shared.

He drove you home, the car's headlights cutting through the night like a beacon guiding you back to the safety of the familiar.

You watched the world go by, the streetlights casting a golden glow over the city's nocturnal landscape.

When you arrived at your house, the car came to a gentle stop. The engine ticked as it cooled, the only sound in the quiet night. Kimi walked you to the door, his hand in yours, the warmth of his skin grounding you in the moment. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, the anticipation of what was to come making it difficult to breathe.

"Good night, Y/N," Kimi said, his eyes searching yours. You leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, feeling the rough stubble against your lips.

"Good night, Kimi," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You watched as he stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours. You slid the key into the lock, the metal cold against your trembling hand. With one final look, you turned the knob, the door creaking open to reveal the warm embrace of your home.

You leaned against the door, the wood cool against your flushed cheek. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the echoes of his words with it.

You slid down the door, the adrenaline from the night leaving your body in a rush. Your heart felt like it was racing in a marathon, each beat echoing the rhythm of the waves from the cove. 

The house was quiet, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall, a gentle reminder that the world didn't stop spinning just because you had found a moment of happiness. You stepped inside, the warm light of the foyer wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. 

As you closed the door, you felt a strange sense of both longing and contentment. The night had been perfect, a memory you would cherish, but now you were left with the bittersweet realization that it was over.

The door clicked shut, the sound echoing through the silent house. You leaned against it, the imprint of Kimi's hand still burned into your skin. The taste of him lingered on your lips, a sweet reminder of the promise that hung in the air. . . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Every weekend, without fail, he would whisk you away to a new Italian-inspired adventure. Museums, where the air had the scent of ancient oils and the hush of reverence, became your classroom. You'd stand before paintings of rolling landscapes, Kimi pointing at the vibrant hues and insisting you name them in Italian.

It was as if he were feeding you a piece of the language with every brushstroke you took in. The cobblestone streets of the city's Little Italy echoed with your tentative words as you stumbled through phrases that once danced so effortlessly from your tongue.

The restaurants were his grandest stage. He'd select the most authentic trattorias, where the chefs had names that rolled off the tongue like the perfect pasta al dente. You'd sit at a table set with a red-checkered cloth, the aroma of garlic and tomatoes teasing your senses.

Kimi would order for you in rapid-fire Italian, his eyes gleaming with excitement as you tried to decode his words. The servers, with their genuine smiles, seemed to understand the silent struggle of your rekindling romance with their mother tongue.

They'd nod encouragingly as you fumbled through your menu, eventually pointing at a dish with a name that sounded like poetry but was just spaghetti to your unpracticed ears.

As the weeks rolled by, you began to feel a strange kinship with the language, as if it were a long-lost friend you were slowly getting reacquainted with. The frustration of forgotten vocabulary and grammar rules slowly melted away, replaced by a warm nostalgia for the days when Italian was your secret garden of words.

You started to anticipate the weekends, the thrill of the challenge growing with every mouthwatering dish and every sculpture that told a story you could almost remember. It was as though Kimi had cast a spell on you, and the incantation was the melodic cadence of his Italian commands.

One particular evening, the stars aligned. You stepped into a dimly lit enoteca, the walls lined with bottles that gleamed like jewels in the soft light.

The hum of conversation was a soothing backdrop to the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. Kimi had a twinkle in his eye as he handed you a glass of deep red wine and told you to order

You took a sip, feeling the warmth spread through you, and then took a deep breath. "Posso avere un piatto di bruschetta, per favore?" you asked, your voice stronger than it had been in what felt like an eternity.

The waiter nodded, a knowing smile playing at his lips, and disappeared into the kitchen. As you waited, the anticipation grew, not just for the food, but for the sense of triumph that was about to be yours.

The words had come so naturally, so confidently, that you could almost believe you had never lost them at all. It was as if you had just found a key to a door you didn't know was locked.

Kimi's smile grew wider as he heard your request. "Che bella voce!" he exclaimed, raising his glass to you in a silent toast. His voice was filled with pride and joy, and his eyes sparkled like the stars outside.

"You're doing it," he whispered, leaning closer across the table. "You're bringing it back to life."

The bruschetta arrived, a plate piled high with crispy slices of bread topped with a symphony of tomatoes, basil, and mozzarella. The waiter placed it down with a flourish, the scent of garlic and balsamic vinegar wafting towards you. As you took a bite, the flavors exploded on your taste buds, transporting you to a summer evening in a small Italian piazza.

Kimi's eyes never left yours, a gentle nod of approval etched into his expression. "Anche la tua pronuncia," he said, praising your pronunciation.

His voice was a warm embrace, a gentle nudge that encouraged you to keep going. You felt a blush creep up your neck, but it was a blush of pride, not embarrassment.

You took another bite of bruschetta, savoring the tangy sweetness of the tomatoes and the creaminess of the cheese.

As you chewed, you tried to think of the next thing to say, eager to keep the conversation flowing in Italian. Kimi watched you, his gaze filled with affectionate amusement, as you wrestled with the words.

"Grazie," you said finally, the word rolling off your tongue like a well-practiced aria. "E' deliziosa."

Kimi's eyes lit up like the candle on the table between you. "Non é solo il cibo," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Ma la lingua stessa. L'italiano é come la danza. Ha il suo ritmo, la sua grazia."

You nodded, understanding what he meant. Italian was indeed like a dance, one that you were slowly learning to perform again. You felt the rhythm of the language in the way the words flowed from his lips, and the elegance in the way he moved his hands as he spoke.

As the weeks turned into months, the lessons grew more intimate. It was no longer just about the words, but the emotions behind them.

Kimi would tell you stories of his childhood in Bologna, his voice painting vivid images of the bustling markets and the warmth of his nonna's kitchen.

You found yourself falling in love with him, not just for his passion for his culture, but for the way he shared it with you. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You were walking to Kimi's garage, the sun glaring down on the concrete, when you felt a gentle tug at your trousers. You looked down to see a shy girl, maybe eight or nine, with a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and a shy smile playing on her lips. She looked up at you with big, hopeful eyes.

"Hey there, sweetie," you said, bending down to her level. "What's up?"

The girl clutched a small, colorful bracelet in her tiny hands. It was a simple thing, woven from bits of plastic and thread, but to her, it looked like the most precious treasure in the world. "Can you give this to your boyfriend?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Confusion wrinkled your brow. "My boyfriend?" You didn't have one, at least not that you knew of.

"Yeah," she said, nodding fervently, "the one with the big car. The fast one. He's nice to me."

It dawned on you then. Kimi. You chuckled and took the bracelet. "Kimi, huh?"

The girl's cheeks turned a shade of pink that matched the plastic flowers on the bracelet. "Please," she whispered, her eyes shimmering with hope. "It's for him."

You straightened up and nodded, tucking the bracelet into your pocket with a smile. "Alright, little one. I'll make sure Kimi gets it."

Her eyes lit up, and she beamed a grin that could've powered a city. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

With a chuckle, you then took the Mercedes hat that belonged to Kimi from your head and placed it on her head. It was a bit too big, but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she looked like she'd just been crowned royalty.

The hat sat atop her head like a cherry on a sundae, slightly askew, with the brim casting a shadow over her freckled nose.

Her eyes grew wide with excitement, and she giggled as she felt the fabric of the hat against her forehead. "Wow!" she exclaimed, "I feel like I can drive a car now!"

With that, she dashed off, the hat bobbing comically with every step she took. You watched her until she reached a woman standing a few feet away, who looked at you with a grateful smile.

The girl threw her arms around the woman's legs and whispered something into her ear, glancing back at you. The woman looked surprised for a moment, then her gaze softened, and she nodded, glancing in the direction of the garage. She whispered something back, and the girl beamed up at you before running off.

You chuckled and continued your journey to the garage, the warmth of the sun on your back. The girl's excitement had brightened your day, and you couldn't help but wonder what Kimi would think of the bracelet.

When you arrived at the garage, the sound of a revving engine and the smell of gasoline filled the air. You walked into the cluttered space, passing by a wall of tools and a rack of greasy car parts, and all you could see were mechanics in blue jumpsuits scattered around, working tirelessly on various vehicles.

You squinted through the dusty light, looking for Kimi. There was no sign of him anywhere. You felt the heat of the engines and heard the rhythmic clinking of metal on metal, but still, he was nowhere to be found.

Then, in the corner, you spotted a glimpse of a familiar face—Bono, Kimi's race engineer, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was hunched over a table with a sheaf of papers spread out in front of him.

He had a pencil in his hand, scribbling furiously, and he looked utterly engrossed in whatever calculations he was doing.

Finally, you caught sight of Kimi. He was standing next to Bono, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression equally frustrated. The two of them were so focused on the paperwork in front of them that they hadn't noticed you yet.

You took a moment to watch them, the tension in their postures speaking volumes about their current predicament. As you approached, the sound of your footsteps echoed through the garage, and Kimi looked up.

"Looks like you have a secret admirer," you said, tossing the bracelet to him.

He caught the bracelet you tossed, and his expression grew more serious as he studied it. "What's this?" he asked, fingering the plastic threads.

"It's from a little girl," you said. "She wanted you to have it."

Kimi's eyes softened, and he looked up at you, his smile widening. "Really?"

You nodded. "She said you're nice to her one day."

Bono looked up from his calculations, his curiosity piqued by the exchange. "Everything okay?"

Kimi held up the bracelet, his grin unshakeable. "Yeah," he said. "Everything's great."

The two of you shared a look, and you could see the weight of their earlier frustration lifting. For a brief moment, the garage didn't seem so chaotic, and the only thing that mattered was the simple act of kindness captured in the plastic flowers of that bracelet.

"Well, that's sweet," Kimi said, his eyes never leaving yours. "But why did she give it to you?"

You felt a blush creep up your neck. "Um, she thought… I was your girlfriend," you admitted, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Kimi's smile grew even wider. He looked down at the bracelet again, then back at you, his eyes filled with amusement. "Did she now?"

You nodded, your cheeks burning hotter than the engine of one of the cars in the garage. "Yeah, she thought I was your girlfriend, so she asked me to give it to you."

Kimi's eyes glinted with mischief. "And what did you tell her?"

"I just said I'd give it to you," you replied, feeling more nervous by the second.

Kimi's gaze didn't waver. "But did you tell her anything else?"

You swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden dryness in your throat. "No, nothing else," you replied, hoping your voice didn't betray the lie.

Kimi's smile grew into a full-blown grin, and he took a step closer to you, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Are you sure?"

You felt your heart flutter as his proximity sent waves of heat through your body. "Positive," you managed to say, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Well, if you're my girlfriend," he said, his voice low and teasing, "I suppose I should be giving you something, too."

With that, he took off one of his own bracelets. It was a sleek, black leather band with a silver charm that looked like a tiny car. "What are you doing?" you asked, your voice a little breathless.

"Exchanging," he said, his eyes locked onto yours. He took your hand and slid his bracelet on your wrist. The warmth of his skin lingered on your skin, making you shiver. "Now, every time I wear this, I'll think of you."

The leather felt smooth and cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat that was building within you. You looked down at the charm, your heart racing as the reality of the situation sank in.

Kimi had never made a move like this before, and you weren't quite sure how to react.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as he fastened the bracelet around your wrist. His fingers lingered for a moment, brushing against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

Your eyes remained fixed on his, the intensity of his gaze making it hard for you to look away.

Bono, who had been quietly observing the exchange, cleared his throat. "We have a revision to do, Kimi," he said, his voice cutting through the thick tension like a hot knife through butter.

Kimi's gaze didn't leave yours for a second, a silent question lingering in his eyes before he finally nodded. "Right," he murmured, his voice a bit gruff.

Bono cleared his throat again, louder this time. "Kimi," he prompted.

Kimi's eyes snapped away from yours, and he took a step back, breaking the spell. "Ah, yes," he said, his voice returning to its usual, business-like tone. "We do have a revision to do."

You watched as he turned to Bono, the bracelet on your wrist a constant reminder of the moment that had just passed between you. Bono gave you a knowing look before focusing back on his papers.

You felt a strange sense of calm while KImi was stressing over maths. Numbers danced in your head, equations unfolding like graceful dancers in a silent ballet. You knew calculus. You understood it in a way Kimi never would.

"I just… I don't get it," Kimi groaned, running a hand through his already messy hair. His brow was furrowed in frustration as he stared at a page filled with integrals, the nemesis of his academic existence.

"It's like trying to understand a language no one speaks," Kimi muttered, pushing the textbook away.

You stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, the warmth of his skin seeping through his shirt and into your palm. "Let me take a look," you offered, your voice soothing.

Kimi hesitated before handing over the book with a defeated sigh. You sat beside him, the scent of engine oil and sweat mingling with the faint aroma of his cologne—a surprisingly pleasant combination that you'd come to associate with the garage.

The pages of the book fell open, revealing the tangled web of formulas that had him so flustered.

"It's not that hard," you assured him, leaning closer so that your bodies touched. "It's just a matter of practice."

Kimi sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I know, but it's just not sticking."

"I could teach you if you wanted?" you offered tentatively, glancing at both Kimi and Bono.

Bono's eyes shot up from the paperwork he had been engrossed in, and a look of relief washed over his face. "Yes, please," he said, his voice a mix of hope and desperation. "Anything to get this little gremlin to understand calculus."

Kimi rolled his eyes playfully, but you could see the hint of gratitude in them. He leaned back in his chair, his muscular arms flexing as he did so, and gestured to the open textbook.

"Be my guest," he said with a smile, his gaze lingering on your hand that still rested on his shoulder.

Bono looked up from his paperwork, his expression a mix of hope and skepticism. "If you can get him to pass this class, I'll owe you one," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of challenge.

You took the textbook into your hands, feeling the weight of the responsibility, but also a thrill at the prospect of being able to help Kimi in a way that was uniquely yours. "Let's start with the basics," you suggested, turning to the first chapter.

As you delved into the world of derivatives and integrals, you found yourself enjoying the process of explaining concepts to him. His eyes would light up when he understood something, and the way his brows furrowed when he was concentrating was endearing.

You felt a strange sense of intimacy, not just because of your physical proximity, but because you were sharing a piece of yourself with him that you had never shared with anyone else.

Kimi's mind was sharp when it came to cars—he could dismantle and reassemble an engine faster than you could recite the alphabet. But math? It was his Achilles' heel.

You found yourself getting lost in his eyes as you explained the rules of calculus, the gentle slope of his cheekbones, and the way his bottom lip pouted slightly when he was confused. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The faint scent of fresh ink and paper filled the room as you meticulously scrutinized Kimi's Maths homework, the soft whispers of the words dancing in the air like an intimate serenade. The bracelet he had given you weeks ago jingled with every turn of the page, a delicate reminder of the secret bond you shared.

"That's my brother's favorite bracelet," said a sweet, unfamiliar voice, piercing the silence like a softly played note on a violin.

Looking up from the academic tapestry laid before you, your gaze fell upon the speaker. A girl, no older than thirteen, with a cascade of long brown hair that shimmered under the muted lamplight, and eyes so deep and rich they could have been pockets of pure, untouched chocolate, stared back at you.

Her smile was a mirror of Kimi's, but there was an innocence in it that made your heart flutter like a caged bird discovering an open window.

"Really?" you replied, your voice a cocktail of surprise and curiosity. "How do you know?"

The girl leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I've seen him wear it a hundred times," she confessed, her voice a gentle caress on the silence. "But he said he gave it to you."

Her revelation hung in the air, thick with the anticipation of an unspoken question. You felt your cheeks flush, the warmth spreading from your core like wildfire. The bracelet grew heavier on your wrist, a silent testament to the secret you'd been keeping from everyone, including yourself.

"Is... is that okay?" you stuttered, fidgeting with the delicate trinket. The girl's eyes searched yours, a mix of amusement and something you couldn't quite place. "I mean, I didn't know it was his favorite."

She giggled, a sound so pure it could have been the tinkling of wind chimes on a perfect summer evening. "Don't worry," she assured you, "I think he's happy you're wearing it. It looks good on you."

"I'm Maggie, by the way. Kimi's little sister."

"Oh, it's nice to finally meet you, Maggie," you managed to say, trying to compose yourself. "Your brother's been helping me with Italian."

Maggie's smile grew wider, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Ah, yes," she said, her voice a melodious symphony of knowing and innocence. "Kimi's always had a knack for languages. And for helping people, too."

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words sinking in. The bracelet grew warmer, a silent pulsation that seemed to echo the rhythm of your racing heart. "He's been amazing," you confessed, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "He's really patient with me."

Maggie nodded sagely, her smile unwavering. "He always has been," she said. "But I've noticed a different kind of spark in his eyes when he talks about you."

You felt a strange mix of excitement and trepidation coil in your stomach. "He talks about me?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Maggie nodded, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "All the time," she said, her words a gentle tease. "He tells me how much you've been improving, how much he enjoys your company."

Your heart skipped a beat, the warmth from the bracelet spreading up your arm like a lover's caress. "Really?" you murmured, trying to keep the hope from bubbling over into your voice.

Maggie nodded emphatically, her youthful exuberance infectious. "Yeah!" she exclaimed, her cheeks dimpling. "He says you're the best student he's ever had."

You couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up from your chest, a warm, velvety sound that seemed to resonate through the room. "I think I'm the only student he's ever had," you said, the words tumbling out with an ease that surprised even you.

Maggie's laughter joined yours, a sweet harmony that filled the air with the lightness of feathers dancing on a summer breeze. "You're probably right," she admitted, her eyes shining with affection for her brother.

Then, as if on cue, a shadow fell over the two of you, and a familiar, playful voice rang out, "Hey! That's mean from both of you! Especially you, sorellina!"

You turned to find Kimi standing beside you, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. You looked up into his eyes, and the world around you melted away into a pool of molten chocolate, rich and deep.

"I've taught Ollie Italian too," Kimi added, a smug grin playing on his full lips.

Maggie rolled her eyes and playfully swiped at her brother. "Yeah, but you didn't give him a bracelet!"

Kimi's grip on your shoulders tightened slightly, his eyes dropping to the bracelet on your wrist. "It's just a little something," he said, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to resonate through your very being. "A small token of friendship."

"Kim told me you're Italian," Maggie asked, her curiosity piqued. "Is that true?"

You looked into her eager eyes, feeling the warmth of Kimi's hands on your shoulders, his presence a comforting embrace that seemed to bolster your courage. "Yes," you admitted, your voice a soft caress. "My mother's side of the family is from a small town outside of Verona."

Maggie's eyes widened with excitement. "Really?" she squealed, her voice a delightful trill. "That's so cool! Do you speak Italian fluently?"

You nodded, a warm smile playing on your lips as you felt Kimi's hands tense ever so slightly. "I used to," you admitted. "But it's been a while. That's why I've been asking Kimi for help."

Kimi's thumb stilled for a moment before resuming its gentle dance on your skin. "Well, it's definitely coming back to you," he said, his voice a soothing balm to the nerves that had suddenly taken up residence in your belly.

"It's all thanks to you," you replied, the words slipping out like a sigh of contentment. You felt a thrill rush through you as his eyes searched yours for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze lingering on your mouth before dropping back to the bracelet.

The sudden, unexpected announcement crackled over the intercom, jolting you both out of the intimate moment. "Attention, all drivers," the disembodied voice called out, "please report to your designated garage immediately."

Kimi's eyes snapped to the clock on the wall, his expression a mix of surprise and excitement. "The race," he murmured, his thumbs ceasing their gentle exploration of your skin. "It's starting sooner than I thought."

"Can I watch with y/n?" Maggie's voice was a breath of fresh air, filled with excitement and innocent curiosity. The question hung in the air, a delicate thread connecting the three of you in a way you hadn't anticipated.

Kimi's eyes lit up with an idea, his grip on your shoulders loosening as he stepped away. "Why don't you?" he suggested, turning to face you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It'll be like a little reunion, and maybe she can even help me teach you some Italian."

You felt your heart race as you looked from Kimi to Maggie and back again, the warmth from their gazes a gentle embrace that seemed to melt away the barriers you had so carefully constructed around your feelings.

"I'd love that," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "It'll be like a miniature Italian lesson."

Maggie's eyes lit up like stars in the night sky, and she clapped her hands together. "Yay!" she exclaimed, her youthful exuberance infectious.

Kimi leaned in to whisper into your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Okay, I'll leave you two beauties to it," he said. "But remember, I expect full reports of your language lessons later."

His lips curled into a knowing smile as he pulled away, his eyes holding yours for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "And please, take care of each other."

With those words hanging in the air like a seductive promise, Kimi turned and strutted out of the room, his confidence a palpable force that seemed to electrify the very air around him, leaving you alone with his sister again.

Maggie's gaze followed him, her eyes filled with a mix of adoration and something else, something that looked suspiciously like mischief. "So," she said, turning to you with a knowing smile, "do you like my brother?"

The question hung in the air, a delicate thread of curiosity that seemed to tug at the fabric of the room itself. You felt your heart race, the warmth from Kimi's touch still lingering on your skin like a lover's brand.

"Kimi?" you asked, playing coy despite the heat that flooded your cheeks. "He's a good teacher," you managed, your voice a soft caress that seemed to resonate with the vibrations of your racing pulse.

Maggie's eyes danced with mirth as she sat down beside you, her youthful energy a stark contrast to the intensity that had filled the room moments ago. "I know," she said, her voice a gentle purr. "But do you like him?"

"Maggie," you began, choosing your words with the same care you would a delicate pastry at an Italian café, "Kimi is more than just a good teacher to me."

Her smile grew wider, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of an untold secret. "I knew it," she whispered, her voice a conspiratorial giggle that tickled your ear. "He talks about you all the time, you know. Like you're some kind of... I dunno, Italian goddess or something."

Your cheeks burned with a blush that could have rivaled the sunset over the Tuscan countryside. "He does?" you whispered back, your voice a tremulous note in the symphony of emotions that played within you.

Maggie nodded eagerly. "All the time," she said, her eyes sparkling like the stars in an Italian summer night. "He says you have a way of making him feel alive, like nothing he's ever felt before."

The words hung in the air, thick with the promise of something more. You felt your heart race, the thrill of his confession echoing in your very soul. "Really?" you murmured, the tremble in your voice belying the tumult of emotions within you.

Maggie nodded, her eyes shining with the excitement of a conspirator. "He says you make him feel like he's home when you're around," she revealed, her voice a whispered secret that seemed to resonate through the very fabric of the room.

"And you know what?" she leaned closer, her breath a sweet scent of mint and youthful innocence, "I think he might have a crush on you."

The words hit you like a gentle gust of wind, sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. You felt your pulse quicken, the blood rushing through your veins like a river of liquid fire.

"Yeah," you said, trying to keep the excitement from your voice as you began to gather up the scattered pages of Kimi's homework. "Enough gossiping. We have to meet up with your parents to watch the race."

Maggie's smile grew even brighter, her eyes lighting up with the excitement of an impending adventure. "I know, I know," she said, bouncing to her feet with the grace of a gazelle.

Together, you walked to Kimi's garage, the sound of your heels clicking against the pavement a steady rhythm that seemed to sync with the beating of your heart.

As you approached the garage, you saw Kimi and Maggie's parents deep in conversation, their heads tilted towards one another as they spoke in hushed tones.

They were an elegant couple, evident in the sharpness of their features and the warmth of their skin. The mother, a svelte woman with hair as dark as a moonless night, looked up and noticed you first, her eyes lighting up with a smile that was as welcoming as a warm embrace.

"Ah, you must be the one Kimi's been speaking so fondly of," she said, her Italian accent wrapping around the words like a velvet ribbon.

Her voice was like the sound of a cappuccino machine in a quiet café, a comforting hum that seemed to resonate within your very being. She stepped forward, her arms opening to envelop you in a warm hug that smelled faintly of gardenias.

"It's so nice to finally meet you," she said, her accent a siren's call that seemed to weave a spell of comfort and belonging around you. You felt your muscles relax into the embrace, the warmth of her touch seeping into your very bones.

Kimi's father, a man built like a statue chiseled from the very marble that adorned the ancient Italian cities, looked up from his conversation with a proud smile. His eyes, so much like Kimi's, sparkled with the same mischief that you had come to know so well.

"Mamma, Papà, this is..." Maggie paused, a hint of shyness coloring her voice.

"Yes, yes," Kimi's mother interjected, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "We know who she is. Kimi has told us so much about you," she said, her smile reaching out to you like a warm hand. "We're so happy to finally meet the one who has stolen our son's heart."

You felt your own heart stutter in your chest at her words, the warmth of her embrace spreading through you like the first sip of a fine wine. "Signora," you began, your voice a soft crescendo of nerves and excitement, "I don't know what Kimi has been telling you..."

But she waved a hand, her smile a gentle dismissal of your modesty. "Ah, ah," she said, her eyes twinkling, "we know our son. He doesn't speak of just anyone like this."

Her words were a warm embrace that seemed to melt away your doubt, leaving you feeling both vulnerable and exhilarated.

Kimi's parents noticed your arrival, their conversation with themselves trailing off as they turned to face you. The love and pride in their gazes was unmistakable, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had grown between you and their son.

"Ciao," Kimi's father boomed, his deep voice a warm baritone that seemed to fill the garage. He stepped forward, extending a hand that was rough from years of working the cars. "I am Marco," he said, his grip firm and reassuring as you took his hand.

You felt a jolt of something unnameable as your skin met his, the heat of his touch a stark contrast to the cool metal of the garage. His handshake was firm but gentle, a silent promise that you were now a part of their world.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Antonelli," you replied, your voice a soft symphony of nerves and excitement.

Marco's eyes twinkled with mirth as he released your hand. "Call me Marco," he said, his voice a warm bass that seemed to resonate through the garage. "And this," he continued, turning to Kimi, "is the young lady you've been keeping from us?"

Kimi strolled over from his small meeting with Bono, his race engineer, his strides long and purposeful, his eyes lighting up as they landed on you. He was a vision in his fireproof suit, the fiery emblem of the Mercedes team blazing across his chest like a declaration of war.

"Ciao, bella," Kimi greeted, his Italian rolling off his tongue like a lover's caress. His eyes were a tempest of emotions, a mix of excitement for the race and something deeper, something that seemed to resonate in the very air between you.

Marco's smile grew wider as he stepped back, his gaze flicking from you to Kimi and back again, as if he could see the unspoken conversation passing between the two of you.

"We must go," he said, his voice a gentle nudge towards the reality that awaited outside the garage. "The race will begin soon."

Kimi's eyes remained on yours for a moment longer, a silent question lingering in the air. Then, with a nod that seemed to convey a world of unspoken answers, he turned to his father. "Yes, Papà," he said, his voice a rich timbre that seemed to resonate with the anticipation of the race.

He leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to his mother's cheek. "Ciao, Mamma," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'll make you proud today."

Her smile was like a warm embrace as she patted his cheek. "We know you will," she said, her voice filled with a love that seemed to echo through the garage.

You watched as the family shared a moment, feeling like an outsider peering in on a private dance.

Marco slapped his son's back, the sound echoing in the garage like a gunshot. "Vai avanti," he said, a mix of pride and urgency in his voice. "You're going to be late."

Kimi nodded, his eyes still locked on yours, the unspoken promise of something more burning in their depths. He took a step back, the heat of his gaze a palpable force that seemed to cling to your skin like a second skin.

"Vincere per me," you said, the words rolling off your tongue with surprising ease. It was a declaration of intent, a promise that you would win the race, not just for yourself, but for him.

Kimi grinned, his teeth flashing white against the tanned skin of his cheeks. "Of course, bella," he replied, the endearment slipping out as naturally as if you had been lovers for a lifetime.

The warmth of his smile seemed to fill the garage, casting a spell that made everything else fade into the background. His eyes searched yours, a silent conversation passing between you that spoke of desires and promises unspoken.

Kimi's movements were fluid as he slid into the cockpit of his sleek, silver Mercedes, his body melding with the machine as if they were one.

The sound of the engine roaring to life was like the crescendo of an orchestra, a symphony of power and passion that seemed to resonate through every atom of the air. You felt the vibrations in your chest, a thrumming beat that echoed the rhythm of your heart.

He flashed you one last smile, the kind that could make the sun jealous, and then he was gone, speeding away into the bowels of the circuit like a bullet released from a chamber.

You stood with Kimi's family the whole race, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. The grandstand was a sea of faces, a tapestry of colors, all united in their love for speed and the thrill of the chase.

Maggie's hand was a small, warm presence in yours, her excitement palpable, a heartwarming reminder of the innocence and purity that often accompanied youth.

As the checkered flag waved, the air was pierced by a roar that seemed to shake the very foundation of the grandstand.

"And for the first time, Kimi Antonelli reaches a podium position!" the commentator's voice boomed through the speakers, sending a wave of euphoria crashing over the crowd. The words echoed in your ears, a sweet symphony of triumph and vindication.

Kimi's parents erupted into cheers, their faces a canvas of unbridled joy as they leaped to their feet. Marco's deep baritone laughter rumbled through the air, his eyes shining with the pride of a man who had seen his son conquer the world.

His wife clutched her chest, her eyes brimming with tears of happiness as she watched her little boy, now a man, stand tall on the podium.

Maggie's hand in yours grew tighter, her nails digging into your palm as she bounced up and down with excitement. The vibrations of her energy seemed to resonate through your body, mingling with the thundering applause that filled the grandstand.

As the race concluded, the whole team, a blur of silver and black, sprinted towards the parc ferme, where Kimi's car would come to a majestic stop in front of the third-place podium.

The sound of their footsteps was a cacophony of victory, each step a declaration of their collective triumph. You watched, transfixed, as the mechanics and engineers, their faces a mix of exhaustion and elation, gathered around Kimi's car like bees to honey.

The car, a gleaming silver streak, pulled up to the sign, and the crowd's roar grew deafening as Kimi emerged, a modern-day gladiator stepping out of his metal chariot.

He raised his visor, revealing eyes that shone with the fierce light of a thousand suns. His helmet was plucked off, and his sweat-dampened hair stood on end, a testament to the battle he had just won.

The scent of victory, a heady mix of burning rubber and adrenaline, wafted over the team as they congregated around him. Kimi's eyes scanned the sea of faces, and the moment he spotted you and his family, a grin as wide as the Italian coastline split his face.

He was quick to spot you all, and with a bound fueled by the elation of his victory, he sprinted over, his heart hammering in his chest with excitement and love.

As he neared, the warmth of his presence washed over you, like a gentle Tuscan breeze that brought with it the promise of a summer's evening spent under the stars. His eyes danced from you to Maggie and back again, the love and pride in them a beacon that could guide ships lost at sea.

HIs father was the first to reach Kimi, his arms enveloping his son in a hug that seemed to hold the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

The fabric of Kimi's fireproof suit crunched as his father's embrace tightened, a silent declaration of the bond that had been forged over a lifetime of shared passions and dreams. You watched as Marco whispered something into Kimi's ear, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate with the very essence of pride.

Next was Kimi's mother, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she stepped into the fold of their embrace. Her slender hands rested on Kimi's shoulders, her touch as gentle as the stroke of a feather, yet it seemed to hold him as firmly as any steel embrace.

As she pulled back, she reached for you, her eyes searching yours with a knowing look that seemed to speak of shared secrets and quiet understandings.

Then, it was Maggie's turn. She launched herself into Kimi's arms, her small frame enveloped by his broad chest. Her giggle was a sweet symphony that seemed to hold the very essence of joy.

His arms tightened around her, and you saw the softness in his gaze, a tenderness that was reserved only for those who held his heart.

As she stepped back, her eyes met yours, and she winked, a knowing glint in her gaze. You felt the heat of his stare on you.

And then, there you were, standing before him, the world around you a blur of color and sound. Your heart was a drum in your chest, the rhythm of it echoing the roar of the engines that had just fallen silent.

Kimi stepped away from his family, the warmth of their embrace lingering on him like the scent of their homemade pasta sauce. His eyes locked onto yours, the depth of his gaze a promise that had been simmering since the first time you'd met.

"Bella," he murmured, his voice a velvet caress that seemed to wrap around you like a warm blanket.

His arms encircled you, pulling you into a tight embrace that seemed to banish the rest of the world. You felt the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, the scent of his sweat and adrenaline a potent aphrodisiac that made your knees weak.

Hiding your face in the crook of his neck, you inhaled deeply, allowing his scent to fill your lungs and your soul. It was a scent that was uniquely Kimi, a blend of engine oil, leather, and victory.

You didn't dare look up, fearful that the paparazzi lurking just outside the garage would capture the intimacy of this moment and twist it into some salacious headline.

You knew the price of fame, the way it could devour relationships, turning the purest of moments into the fodder for tabloid frenzies.

So, you held onto him, your eyes closed, your heart racing, as you silently prayed that the world would swirl on without noticing the two of you standing there, entangled in a dance of passion and friendship.

The scent of his neck was intoxicating, a blend of cologne and sweat that spoke of his fiery spirit and the intense physicality of the race. It was a scent that was uniquely his, a scent that had been burned into your memory the first time you had been this close to him.

You felt his heart hammering against your chest, a wild, untamed stallion galloping in time with yours.

"Hai vinto nel mio cuore," you murmured into his ear, the words a soft, secret whisper that seemed to resonate through his very soul.

His embrace tightened for a fraction of a second, the muscles in his arms flexing as he held you closer. It meant 'you won in my heart'.

The warmth of his body seemed to seep into yours, a gentle warmth that spread through you like honey on warm bread.

His chest was a wall of solid, unyielding muscle against which your soft curves melded like wax. You felt his heart, beating a staccato rhythm that matched the tempo of your own.

Kimi's chuckle rumbled in his chest, the vibrations sending delightful shivers down your spine. "Only in your heart, bella?" He leaned back slightly, his eyes searching yours, a playful smile dancing across his lips.

"Well," you replied, the words slipping out with the ease of a warm summer breeze, "you've certainly won my respect and admiration today."

Kimi's smile grew, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that made you want to kiss them. "That's a start," he murmured, his voice a soft caress that seemed to stroke the very fabric of your being.

With a gentle nudge, he stepped back, allowing you to breathe. His eyes never left yours as he turned to his team, his voice a mix of gratitude and adrenaline.

The team responded with cheers and slaps on the back, their faces a kaleidoscope of nationalities and emotions, all bound together by the shared victory.

You watched as Kimi moved from one person to the next, his voice a crescendo of gratitude as he thanked each member of his team, his words a balm to their weary souls.

His touch was a gentle reassurance that they were all part of something greater than themselves, a symphony of precision and passion that had just played out on the track.

Each mechanic, engineer, and support staff member beamed under his praise, their eyes shining with the light of a thousand suns.

The garage was a maelstrom of activity around you, yet all you could focus on was the way Kimi's hands moved, the way his fingers danced as he spoke, the way his eyes crinkled with every genuine smile he offered.

The warmth of his skin was still imprinted on yours, and you felt a sudden, overwhelming need to touch him again. The bracelet on your wrist felt like a lifeline connecting you to him, a tangible symbol of the secret bond you shared. . . .

The next week arrived swiftly, bringing with it the Imola Grand Prix, a momentous occasion for him as it marked his first time racing on home soil. A wave of anticipation washed over him as he prepared for the event, fueled by the desire to perform well in front of his countrymen. He knew the pressure would be immense, but he was determined to channel that energy into a strong and memorable performance.

The roar of the crowd was a distant hum, a white noise Kimi barely registered. He was in the zone, a place where the world narrowed down to the vibration of the steering wheel in his hands, the precise pressure of his foot on the accelerator, and the dance between man and machine that defined his life.

He was in the lead. Again.

The words felt foreign, almost unbelievable. Kimi, leading a Grand Prix. It wasn't a common occurrence in his career, a fact that gnawed at him more than he let on. But today, the stars were aligning in a way that felt almost…surreal.

Max had crashed spectacularly with Hamilton, sending sparks and debris flying across the track. Lando was nursing some kind of brake issue, forced to bleed speed into every corner.

Oscar, usually a consistent threat, was struggling with pace, falling further and further behind. One by one, the obstacles had fallen away, leaving Kimi alone at the front.

“Mate, everything is going well, you can win this!” Bono’s voice crackled in his ear, a burst of static in the otherwise focused silence of the cockpit.

Kimi didn't respond. He didn't need the encouragement. He could feel it. The car was responding perfectly. The tires were holding. The gap was growing. He just wanted to finish the race. He just wanted to see you.

He pictured you, sitting nervously in the team garage, your fingers twisting a stray strand of hair around your finger. He knew how much this meant to you, how you'd believed in him even when he'd started to doubt himself.

Your unwavering faith was a constant source of strength, a gentle push in the back when he felt like the weight of the world was pressing down.

That first time you'd tried to learn Italian with Duolingo, you'd been adorably lost. The way your cheeks had flushed when you'd confidently pronounced 'ciao' as 'choa' had made him laugh until his sides hurt.

But it was the determination in your eyes as you'd looked at him for correction that had made him realize he had feelings for you. It was the spark of curiosity, the hunger to learn and grow that mirrored his own passion for racing.

You understood the pressure he was under, the relentless scrutiny, the constant demands of sponsors and team bosses.

You saw past the stoic facade to the man beneath, the man who loved to cook, who enjoyed long walks in the woods, who valued loyalty and honesty above all else.

And somewhere along the way, that understanding had blossomed into something more. A quiet, comfortable love that grounded him, that gave him a reason to keep pushing, even when the races were tough and the defeats were crushing.

Now, with the finish line in sight, that love was his driving force. He wanted to win this for you. To prove to you, and to himself, that he still had it in him. That he could still stand on that top step of the podium and feel the spray of champagne on his face.

Lap after lap, he maintained his lead, his focus unwavering. He ignored Bono’s constant updates, the times of the cars behind him, the changing wind conditions. It was all background noise. All that mattered was the track ahead, the next corner, the next braking point.

He pushed the car to its limits, knowing that a single mistake could cost him everything. He felt the tires begin to degrade, the car starting to slide slightly in the corners, but he held his nerve, adjusting his driving style to compensate.

He could see the checkered flag now, a blur of black and white in the distance. A surge of adrenaline coursed through him, a feeling he hadn't experienced in years. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles white, and pushed the accelerator to the floor.

The roar of the engine filled his ears as he crossed the finish line, the crowd erupting in a frenzy of cheers. He had done it. He had won.

He slowed the car down, pulling into the designated area, his heart pounding in his chest. The relief was overwhelming, a wave of emotion that threatened to spill over.

He unbuckled his harness, his hands shaking slightly, and climbed out of the cockpit.

The moment his feet hit the ground, the frenzy began. His team rushed towards him, yelling, pushing against the fence that held them up.

They were a sea of color, a blur of faces and hands reaching for him. He could see the raw excitement in their eyes, the unbridled joy that came from victory.

Kimi took a deep breath, the sweet scent of burnt rubber and gasoline mingling with the cool air. He felt the heat of the car behind him, a testament to the fierce battle he'd just fought. The fence groaned under the pressure of his ecstatic team, their voices a cacophony of congratulations and relief.

"Kimi, Kimi!" They chanted his name like a war cry, their faces flushed and eyes gleaming with excitement. He couldn't help but smile, a rare occurrence on the podium, as he approached the barricade.

Through the chaos of the celebration, his eyes searched for you. Finally, they found you, standing apart from the rest, your face a portrait of shock and disbelief. He could see your chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, your eyes wide and shining with unshed tears.

He broke free from the crush of his team, his legs feeling like lead but propelled by the magnetic pull of your presence.

You looked so beautiful, your hair disheveled from the wind, your cheeks flushed with excitement. He couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as he approached you, the roar of the crowd a testament to his triumph.

His family, always his first priority, were right beside you. He saw his mother's eyes, filled with the kind of pride that could only come from a mother's love, and his father's firm nod, a silent acknowledgment of a job well done. Maggie, her face a mix of awe and admiration, ready to embrace him.

Kimi stepped through the barricade, the world around him fading into the background. His gaze remained locked on yours as he approached, his heart swelling with every step.

He threw his arms around his mother and father first, feeling the warm embrace of their love envelop him like a warm blanket. They had been there since the start, supporting him through every high and low, and their pride was palpable as they held him tight.

"You did it, son," his father whispered in his ear, his voice gruff with emotion.

Kimi pulled back, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he looked at his parents. The love and support reflected in their faces was the ultimate prize.

He hugged his mother tightly, her familiar scent of lavender and sunscreen bringing him comfort amidst the overwhelming chaos of the race. She kissed his cheek, her warmth seeping into his bones.

His father's embrace was firm, a silent nod of respect and understanding of the beast that was racing, and the battles that came with it.

Maggie was next, her arms wrapping around him with a fierceness that surprised him. Her perfume, a blend of vanilla and jasmine, filled his senses as she whispered congratulations into his ear.

The bond they shared was strong, unyielding, and had only grown stronger through the years. They had been through so much together, and her belief in him had never wavered.

He held her for a moment longer, feeling the tremble in her body as she fought back tears. The emotion of the moment was almost too much to handle, but he knew he had to keep it together. This was for them, for all the sacrifices they had made.

"Your girlfriend was cheering for you the whole time," Maggie muttered into his shoulder, her voice thick with emotion.

He whispered back to Maggie, "She's not my girlfriend yet," his voice low and filled with a hint of mischief.

Maggie pulled back, her eyes searching his, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Yet?" she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Kimi couldn't help but chuckle, the sound lost in the din of the celebration. He knew what she was implying, but now was not the time to explore that particular avenue of thought.

He had to find you, to share this moment with you, to show you that you were his inspiration, the reason he had pushed so hard.

He broke away from the embrace, his gaze finding yours once again. The distance between them closed in a heartbeat, the electricity of the moment crackling in the air like a live wire. You were frozen in place, your eyes wide and unblinking, as if you couldn't quite believe what was happening.

You looked at him, your eyes brimming with joy, and before you could say a word, he pulled you into his arms. Your body melded into his, fitting perfectly as if it had been made to be there.

His heart raced as he felt your softness pressed against him, the warmth of your embrace a stark contrast to the harshness of the race.

Kimi's hands slid down your back, feeling the curve of your hips and the gentle give of your body beneath your clothes. His fingers found purchase in the fabric of your shirt, his palms feeling the heat of your skin, the tension of your muscles as you held onto him.

You buried your face into his neck, inhaling deeply the scent of his sweat and victory, a heady mix that sent shivers down your spine.

"Thank you," he murmured into your hair, the vibration of his voice sending a thrill through your body. "Thank you for believing in me."

You pulled back, your eyes searching his, looking for any trace of doubt. But all you found was the unbridled passion of a man who had conquered his demons and emerged victorious. "You did it," you whispered, your voice trembling.

He took a deep breath. "May I… can I kiss…"

Before he could finish the question, before doubt could solidify in his mind, you leaned forward. Your lips met his, a soft, hesitant pressure at first, then deepening as he responded.

The rain seemed to fade, the fairy lights blurred, and suddenly, the world was just the two of them, a connection forged in a stolen moment.

The sensations in Kimi's stomach were a swirl of butterflies, a tornado of excitement and anticipation. It was a feeling he knew well from racing, but this was different.

This was a victory of the heart, a win that didn't come with a podium or a trophy, but with the sweet taste of your mouth and the feel of your breath mingling with his own.

Your lips were like a soft pillow, welcoming and familiar, yet charged with an electricity that sent currents through his body. He felt your breath hitch as you deepened the kiss, your hands tentatively moving to his shoulders, then sliding up his neck to tangle in his hair.

It was as if you were trying to hold onto him, afraid that if you didn't, he would vanish into the ether of the moment.

Unfortunately, you pulled back, your eyes searching his with a sudden shyness that was as endearing as it was surprising. His heart skipped a beat as he watched the color rise in your cheeks, the way your gaze darted from his mouth to his eyes and back again.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, feeling a little out of breath, your heart racing from the intensity of the moment. "I shouldn't have—"

But Kimi silenced your protests with a gentle shake of his head. "No," he whispered, his voice a hoarse rumble against your ear. "You're exactly what I needed."

You hadn't meant to kiss him. It was an impulse, a reckless, beautiful mistake. Now, you just had to figure out what to do next.

"You should probably go to your interview," you murmured against his ear, your voice a soft caress as you tried to pull away. But his arms tightened around you, holding you in place.

Kimi's grip was firm but gentle, his hands warm and reassuring on your back as he held you close. "I know," he whispered, his breath hot on your skin. "But I don't want to let you go."

"I promised we'll speak," you said, the words slipping out before you had a chance to think.

"Okay," Kimi grumbled, his arms reluctantly releasing you. His eyes searched yours, a silent question hanging in the air.

"Yes, we'll talk," you assured him, your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions inside you. You stepped back, trying to regain some semblance of composure, the feel of his arms around you still lingering like a warm embrace.

Kimi nodded, his eyes never leaving yours, a promise in them that this was far from over.

He stepped back, allowing the press of his team to guide him towards the podium. The flash of cameras and the cacophony of voices grew louder as he approached, but all he could hear was the echo of your heartbeat in his ears.

The interview went by in a blur, questions about his strategy and the race's pivotal moments that felt almost trivial compared to the tumultuous symphony of emotions playing out between you and him.

Yet, he answered with the grace of a seasoned champion, his mind still reeling from your kiss.

Each word was a battle to focus, his eyes straying to the spot where he knew you were standing, holding onto Maggie for support.

The podium ceremony was a whirlwind, a flurry of flashing lights and applause. As the Italian national anthem played, Kimi felt a strange disconnect, his thoughts racing to the conversation you had promised.

He watched as the trophy was hoisted high, the gleaming silver a stark contrast to the vivid colors of the setting sun. The weight of it in his hands was a reminder of what he had achieved, but it was your eyes that he sought, your approval that he craved.

He looked down at the sea of faces, a blend of sponsors, team members, and fans. And there you were, nestled among them, holding onto Maggie like a lifeline.

She looked up at him, her smile proud and knowing, giving him a subtle nod of encouragement. You were a vision, your hair a wild mane in the breeze, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and your grip on Maggie's hand a silent declaration of your own victory.

The Italian fans had gone wild. The air was thick with the scent of their excitement, a potent mix of sweat, passion, and victory.

They yelled and screamed, waving flags and banners, their voices a symphony of pride and jubilation. They were his countrymen, and their roars of approval were music to his ears.

Kimi looked out into the stands, his heart swelling with emotion. The tifosi, the Italian fans, were a force unto themselves. They were notorious for their unyielding support of their own, and tonight, they were in full voice.

He could see the undulating sea of red, white, and green, a tapestry of love and national pride that stretched as far as the eye could see.

The podium was a cacophony of noise as the champagne bottles were popped, the sound echoing through the air like a string of mini explosions.

The golden liquid arced through the sky, catching the last rays of the setting sun and casting a shimmering shower of light that bathed the podium in an ethereal glow.

The moment the podium interviews ended, Kimi was whisked away to the cooldown room, his body still humming with the high of victory.

He could feel the adrenaline slowly ebbing away, leaving in its wake a tremor in his hands that he hadn't noticed before. His heart was still racing, but it wasn't just from the race anymore.

It was the kiss, the promise in your eyes, and the unspoken words that hung in the air like an unresolved chord in a symphony.

The cooldown room was a stark contrast to the chaotic energy outside, a sanctum of white and chrome that gleamed under the harsh lights.

The air was cooler here, a welcome respite from the heat of the podium. He sat down, the chair a strange embrace after the tight confines of his race seat, and took a deep breath, trying to calm the tumult of his emotions.

In the corner, Charles and George, who had secured second and third place, were already watching the race highlights, their faces a mix of exhaustion and elation. They looked over at him as he entered, raising their bottles of water in silent salute.

The three of them sat down in front of the large screen, their eyes glued to the replay of the race that had just unfolded. They watched as Kimi's car sliced through the pack, a sleek and deadly predator hunting down its prey.

The commentators were gushing with praise for his driving, their voices rising and falling with the tension of the race.

Charles, his cheeks flushed with the exertion of his own battle for second place, leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Mate, that was incredible," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "You had the car dancing today."

George nodded in agreement, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Couldn't agree more. That overtake on Turn 3 was sheer poetry," he added, referring to Kimi's daring move that had secured his victory.

"Thanks, guys," he said, his voice a little rough. "Couldn't have done it without the team."

He took a swig of water, the cool liquid sliding down his dry throat. His eyes never left the screen, watching the replay of his victory lap, the car snaking through the track like a serpent celebrating its triumph.

The media scrum was a beast he knew all too well. It waited outside the cooldown room, a sea of eager faces, microphones, and cameras ready to devour every morsel of his triumph.

They would ask about his strategy, his thoughts on the race, and the inevitable questions about his future in the sport. But all he could think about was you.

As he stepped into the fray, the questions bombarded him from all sides, a cacophony of voices that seemed to blur together into a single, insistent drone. He felt a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the designated spot.

The team's PR manager, a tall, elegant woman with a no-nonsense air, whispered a few words of encouragement in his ear. He nodded, a forced smile plastered on his face, as he faced the barrage of questions with the practiced ease of a man who had done this countless times before.

"Kimi," a journalist from the front row shouted, waving a microphone in the air. "What does this victory mean to you?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching the crowd for any sign of you. "It means everything," he said, his voice steady despite the tumult of emotions still coursing through him. "But without my team behind me, it would have been impossible."

The questions kept coming, a relentless wave of inquiries about the race, the strategy, and his feelings on the podium. Yet, all he could think about was the taste of your lips, the way your body had felt against his, and the promise of what could be.

"Kimi, can you tell us about the final laps, when you knew you had it in the bag?" a journalist with a thick Italian accent called out, her voice eager to capture the drama of the moment.

He took a deep breath, the memory of the race still pulsing through his veins. "It was about the last ten laps when I knew I had a good shot at it," he replied, his eyes distant, lost in the replay of the moments that had led to his victory. "The car was perfect, and I just had to stay focused and keep pushing."

The questions kept coming, a relentless wave of words that he navigated with the skill of a linguist. Yet, his mind was elsewhere, replaying the sensation of your touch, the way your body had leaned into his during that spontaneous kiss.

It was like a secret shared only by the two of you amidst the chaos, a silent promise that echoed through his soul.

When Kimi was finally able to escape the media and the swarm of reporters, the first place he went was the family waiting area.

He walked down the corridor, the smell of burnt rubber and gasoline fading into the background as he approached.

His heart raced not from the adrenaline of the race, but from the anticipation of seeing you. His steps were quick, almost a jog, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of you.

The family waiting area was a stark contrast to the chaotic garage. It was a serene oasis of white leather couches and chrome accents, designed to give drivers and their loved ones a moment of peace before and after the race. The doors slid open, revealing a space bustling with energy, filled with his family.

But you weren't there.

The realization hit him like a blow to the gut. His eyes searched the room, desperate for a glimpse of your familiar form, the way you'd stand with your hands clasped tightly in front of you when you were nervous.

His heart sank as he saw only unfamiliar faces, a sea of congratulations that washed over him without touching the core of his being.

"Kimi!" His mother's voice broke through the haze, her arms open wide, her eyes shining with joy. He forced himself to move, to hug her, to accept the praise and love of his family, but his thoughts remained focused on you, the woman who had become the very air he breathed.

"Where's y/n?" he asked, his voice barely above a murmur, the question slipping out before he could catch it. His father's proud smile faltered for a moment, his gaze shifting to Maggie, who looked equally puzzled.

Maggie, ever the diplomat, stepped in, her eyes flicking towards the exit. "She said she had to go to the bathroom," she replied, her voice carefully neutral. Kimi's heart sank. Had he read the situation wrong? Was she upset? Or was she just overwhelmed?

He excused himself, the warm embrace of his family's congratulations feeling like a cocoon of well wishes that he was desperate to break free from.

His eyes searched the corridor, looking for any sign of your retreating form. The sound of his heart was the only thing he could hear above the din of the celebration, a thunderous rhythm that matched his steps as he moved away from the safety of the waiting area.

The hallways of the paddock were a blur, the faces of team members and officials passing by in a whirl of congratulations and handshakes.

He nodded and smiled, his mind racing, trying to piece together where you could have gone. The bathroom? Too obvious. To the garage to watch the podium from a distance? Perhaps.

But something in his gut told him you needed space, needed time to process the intensity of what had just happened between them.

He found it hard to believe that he had actually won. The victory felt surreal, as if it were a dream that could shatter at any moment. Yet, the kiss you had shared was very real.

The way your lips had moved against his, the gentle pressure of your hand on his neck, the softness of your skin under his touch—it was burned into his memory like the tire marks on the asphalt of Monza.

Kimi made his way through the garage, the sound of his boots echoing through the vast space. The team was busy dismantling cars and discussing strategy, but he barely noticed them.

His eyes scanned the area, looking for a flash of your hair, a glimpse of your smile. His heart thudded in his chest with each step, the anticipation growing with every passing moment.

Finally, he reached his driver's room. The door was slightly ajar, the dim light spilling into the corridor like an invitation. He pushed it open gently, his breath catching in his throat at the sight that greeted him.

There you were, curled up on the sofa, fast asleep. The softness of your features, the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, the peacefulness of your slumber—it was like a painting, a moment captured in time that he never wanted to forget.

You looked so vulnerable, so beautiful. The weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders, and in your sleep, you were free from the worries of the day. Kimi's heart swelled with an emotion he couldn't quite name.

He stepped into the room, his eyes never leaving your peaceful form. The scent of leather and oil was a familiar comfort, a stark contrast to the chaos of the podium. The air was cooler here, a gentle whisper that carried the faint scent of your perfume, a sweet and subtle floral note that made his stomach flutter.

As he approached, the shadows played across your face, highlighting the dark circles under your eyes.

He knew you hadn't slept well the night before, plagued by worries about your mother's reaction to your Italian lessons.

The quiet click of the door closing behind him was the only sound in the room. He approached you slowly, his steps measured and deliberate, not wanting to disturb your peaceful slumber.

As he got closer, he could see the worry etched into your features, the tension in your forehead, the tightness of your mouth.

He reached out, his hand hovering over your shoulder, the warmth of your body radiating through your shirt. He could feel the pulse of your heart beating in time with his own, a silent rhythm that connected them in a way that was more profound than any podium finish.

He brushed a lock of hair from your cheek, the softness of your skin sending a shiver down his spine.

Kimi took a deep breath, his senses filling with the sweet scent of your perfume. He knew he should leave you be, that you needed your rest, but the pull was too strong. He had to be near you, to feel the warmth of your breath against his skin.

He sat down on the edge of the sofa, his body aching from the race, the adrenaline that had fueled him now dissipating into a gentle hum of contentment. He watched you sleep, his mind racing with thoughts of the future, of what could be.

The gentle thrum of the air conditioning was the only sound in the room, a white noise that seemed to echo the rhythm of his thoughts. He knew he should be celebrating, reveling in the victory, but all he wanted was to hold you, to feel your heart beat against his chest.

With a silent sigh, he slid onto the couch, his body moving with a grace that belied his exhaustion. He eased himself down, the leather cool against his skin, the cushions molding to his frame as if they had been waiting for him all along. His eyes never left you, the curve of your body a siren's call that beckoned him closer.

The couch was big enough for the two of you, a silent invitation to share in this moment of triumph. He reached out, his hand brushing against the warmth of your shoulder.

The fabric of your shirt was soft under his touch, the heat of your skin seeping through, a silent promise of the warmth you offered.

Slowly, so as not to wake you, he slid closer, his body aligning with yours, his legs stretching out alongside yours. He leaned in, the scent of your hair filling his senses, a sweet, vanilla scent that was as intoxicating as the smell of victory.

The couch was a sanctuary, a place where the outside world couldn't reach them. He could feel the tension in your body, even in sleep, the weight of the world still pressing down on your shoulders.

His own muscles ached, a symphony of pain that was a reminder of the battle he had just fought and won.

He slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, the heat of your body a balm to his soul. He could feel your breath against his neck, the soft exhale a comforting lullaby that soothed the beast inside him. His eyes closed, and for the first time that day, Kimi allowed himself to relax, to let the tension bleed out of him.

He didn't know what would happen when you woke up, but for now, he was content to simply exist in this moment, the two of you entwined, the world outside forgotten. . . .

Your senses were a jumbled symphony as you gradually surfaced from the velvety depths of sleep. The scent of burnt rubber and the faint aroma of victory champagne lingered in the air, intertwined with the rich, earthy musk that was unmistakably Kimi.

His arms were a warm, comforting vice around you, his breathing steady and deep, as if he were lost in the most peaceful of dreams. You didn't dare move, fearing the spell might be broken, the reality of his embrace evaporating like mist under the glare of the morning sun.

Kimi's features were relaxed in slumber, the tension of the race and the weight of his historic victory seemingly forgotten as he lay beside you.

His dark lashes brushed against his flushed cheeks with every exhale, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest made your own heart stutter with an unfamiliar rhythm.

The soft light filtering through the hotel curtains cast a warm glow on his skin, highlighting the sheen of perspiration that still clung to him from the night's triumph and celebration. You studied the contours of his face, the way his full lips parted slightly, the stubble on his jaw that was just the right amount of rough.

His hair, usually meticulously styled, was a wild tangle of brown locks, sticking to his forehead in the most endearing way. The sight of him, so unguarded and vulnerable, made you feel an unyielding wave of tenderness and desire.

Your fingers itched to trace the line of his jaw, to feel the coarse stubble under your fingertips, but you held back, not wanting to disturb him.

The last time you had seen him, your mouth had been on his, tasting the sweetness of victory and the salt of his skin. Now, in the quiet aftermath of passion and glory, you felt a strange mix of emotions—elation at his success, awe at the depth of your connection, and a hint of fear that this moment might never come again.

But for now, you were content to simply be there, in the sanctuary of his arms, with the promise of the dawn just outside the window and the warmth of his love enveloping you like a blanket.

As the room slowly brightened, the whispers of daybreak painted shadows across Kimi's features, revealing the stark beauty of his profile.

His chest, a landscape of sculpted muscles and scars from past battles on the track, rose and fell with each breath, a silent symphony of life and vitality. The room was filled with a gentle hum of contentment, the only sound the soft rustle of fabric as his fingers flexed against your bare shoulder.

You hadn't been sleeping well for days, the excitement and nervousness of speaking to your mother in her native language in a few days. So, when he had been called away for his media duties, you had seen it as an opportunity to grab some much-needed rest.

As you stirred to consciousness, the unmistakable weight of his presence beside you sent a jolt of surprise through your body. You had not expected to find Kimi here, not after he had left earlier to face the barrage of questions and flashing lights.

Yet, here he was, his hand resting protectively on your waist, his leg thrown over yours in a possessive tangle that spoke of deep trust and comfort.

The heat from his body seeped into you, warming you from within, as your senses slowly sharpened to the world outside the cocoon of Kimi's drivers room.

Kimi then moved, his hand sliding down to the small of your back, his touch featherlight and electric. You held your breath, your heart hammering in anticipation, but his eyes remained closed, his breathing unchanged. His fingertips traced the curve of your hip, sending a shiver down your spine, as if he was unconsciously mapping the territory of your body.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Kimi's eyes began to open. The thick lashes lifted, revealing the warm whiskey hue of his irises. 

For a moment, there was a dazzling clarity to his gaze, as if he were seeing you for the very first time. The room, the race, the victory—it all melted away as he took you in.

As he blinked away the last remnants of sleep, a lazy smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he whispered, "Good morning," his voice a smoky rumble that resonated through your core.

"I think it's the evening, Kimi," you joked quietly, a playful twinkle in your eye as you glanced at the clock, the digits blinking an indecipherable message.

Kimi's eyes snapped open, the smile on his lips deepening as he took in the sight of you. "Ah, evening," he murmured, the word rolling off his tongue with a hint of amusement.

"Were you looking for me before?" you asked, your voice a soft melody that seemed to resonate in the quiet air.

Kimi's smile grew more pronounced, his eyes finally focusing on you with a warmth that seemed to set your very soul alight. He took a moment to process your question, the gears of his thoughts whirring behind those mesmerizing eyes.

"Before what?" he responded, his voice still thick with the residue of sleep.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his groggy state, the sound a soft, musical note that danced in the air around you. "Before you came back to the room," you clarified, the memory of his earlier departure still lingering.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, a flicker of understanding crossing his features as he pieced together the timeline of the night. "Ah," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through your very bones.

He leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours, the stubble of his cheek a delightful abrasion that sent a shiver down your spine. "I was," he admitted, his breath warm against your lips. "Couldn't stay away from you. You're like a gravitational pull, always drawing me back."

His words were simple, devoid of grand pronouncements or poetic metaphors, but their sincerity resonated deeply within you. Kimi wasn't one for empty words. When he said something, he meant it with every fiber of his being.

His eyes wandered onto your teal dress. "Did I ever say you look beautiful in this dress?" he asked, his gaze lingering on the way the fabric flowed around your curves.

You felt your cheeks warm at the memory of when he had first seen you in it. "You might have mentioned it," you replied with a coy smile, your heart skipping a beat.

Kimi's hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently caressing the skin just beneath your eye. "You always do," he said, his voice a gentle rumble that sent a delicious thrill down your spine.

The room was suffused with a warm glow, the light from the setting sun casting a soft halo around his head. The shadows grew longer, stretching across the rumpled couch, highlighting the contours of his bodysuit, the strong lines of his shoulders and chest. His eyes searched yours, a silent question in their depths.

"Does your family know that we're here?" you asked, your voice a whisper in the cocoon of quiet that surrounded you.

"Ah, i was looking for you so much that i forget to tell them i found you," Kimi replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Your heart fluttered at his admission, his Italian accent wrapping around the words like a caress. You felt a rush of warmth that had nothing to do with the champagne and everything to do with the way he looked at you—like you were the prize he had been chasing all along, and not just the victory trophy.

"It's like 10pm now," you muttered, the reality of time slipping through your fingers like sand. The race had ended hours ago, yet it felt like mere moments since you had been lost in the whirlwind of his victory.

"Mamma mia," Kimi groaned, his hand still resting on your hip as he sat up with a stretch, his muscles rippling under the tight confines of his bodysuit.

You mirrored his movement, your own body protesting after hours of inactivity. You looked outside the window and realized the world had moved on without you, the inky blackness of night having descended outside. The only illumination came from the distant city lights that twinkled like stars scattered across the velvet sky.

"We've been asleep for hours," you murmured in disbelief, your voice a soft caress that seemed to float in the air.

Kimi's gaze never left yours as he nodded, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile that was as warm as the afternoon sun in Sicily. "You needed it," he said, his thumb making lazy circles on your skin. "You've been so tense lately."

You couldn't deny it. The upcoming conversation with your mother had been weighing on your mind like a lead balloon. But here, in Kimi's arms, it all felt so far away, as if the world had stopped turning just for a brief moment to allow you this stolen slice of happiness.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice a soft sigh that seemed to melt into the air. "For everything."

Kimi's eyes searched yours, his thumb continuing its gentle dance on your skin. "What for?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his hand spreading through your body like wildfire. "For helping me learn Italian," you said, your voice a soft crescendo of emotion. "And for giving me back my confidence."

Kimi's smile grew more earnest, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He leaned in closer, his breath a warm whisper against your ear. "It was nothing," he murmured. "Your beauty and strength are all your own. I just helped you remember them."

His hand slipped away from your cheek, reaching for yours. But as you went to take it, you paused. "Flattery won't get you anywhere Antonelli," you said, your voice playful but firm as you picked up your bag, the warmth of his hand a sudden absence that sent a shiver down your spine.

Kimi's smile didn't falter, his eyes still holding yours as he leaned back against the couch cushions. "But it's not flattery," he protested, his accent thick and tantalizing. "It's the truth. You're like a fine wine, only getting better with time."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing in the room as you slung your bag over your shoulder. "Smooth, but still not going to work," you teased, taking a step away from the comfort of his touch. The coolness of the air was a stark contrast to the heat he emanated, and you felt the sudden urge to return to his embrace.

Kimi watched you with a knowing smile, his eyes never leaving yours as he sat up, stretching his long limbs like a cat rousing from a nap. "Ah, but you know I mean it," he said, his voice a low purr that seemed to resonate in the very marrow of your bones.

"Come on, don't you have a family to find?" you asked, trying to lighten the mood, a playful lilt in your voice.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, a spark of mischief lighting up the whiskey hue. "Eh, they probably went home," he replied with a nonchalant shrug, the fabric of his bodysuit stretching with the movement. "They know I like to sleep after the race."

You couldn't help but chuckle, shaking your head at his incorrigible charm. "They're going to be worried about you," you pointed out, the playfulness in your tone belying the concern you felt for him.

Kimi's gaze never left yours as he slowly rose to his feet, the fabric of his bodysuit clinging to his form like a second skin. "They know I'm in good hands," he said, the words a gentle caress that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You think you can get what you want after winning one race?" you replied, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

"I'd hope so," Kimi grinned, his teeth flashing white against the darkened room. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he took a step closer, closing the distance between you.

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound bouncing off the walls, as you grabbed his hands and pulled him up. His muscles, still warm from the race, bunched under your fingers as he stood, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the floor.

"Come on," you said, your voice a teasing purr that seemed to dance around the room. "Let's get your delusional ass back home."

Kimi's laughter rumbled in his chest, a rich, full sound that made your heart swell with affection. He allowed you to pull him to his feet, his fingers tightening around yours briefly before releasing. You felt the loss of his touch like a gust of cold wind, but the warmth of his smile was more than enough to keep you from shivering.

"Let me go get changed and then we can go," he said, his voice a smoky promise that had your heart racing. You watched as he disappeared into the en suite bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. The sound of running water and the rustle of clothing filled the silence, and you couldn't help but wonder what he was doing in there. The anticipation was almost too much to bear.

The ring of his phone pierced through the quiet, and you reached over to grab it from the nightstand, your heart skipping a beat when you saw it was his mom. "Kimi, your mom is calling," you called out, your voice echoing through the steamy bathroom.

Kimi's muffled response came through the shower curtain. "Can you answer it?" The urgency in his tone was palpable, his voice tinged with a hint of nerves that was foreign to the usually unflappable racer.

You picked up the phone, feeling the weight of his trust in your hand. The screen glowed with his mother's name, the very woman whose language you had been so meticulously preparing to conquer. The call to action was a stark reminder of the real world waiting outside the sanctuary of his arms.

"Ciao, Signora Antonelli," you greeted, your voice a soft melody that carried through the phone's speaker. The Italian words felt strange and yet oddly familiar, as if they had been coaxed from a dormant part of your soul.

Kimi's mother's voice was a flurry of warmth and concern. "Ah! Y/n! Non mi ero accorto che eri ancora con mio figlio," she exclaimed, a blend of surprise.

"Sorry," you murmured into the phone, your cheeks flushing. "Mi sono addormentato nella sua cabina di guida, non volevo trattenerlo. Ora sta facendo la doccia e sta tornando a casa."

Kimi's mother's laugh was warm and comforting, the sound wrapping around you like a blanket. "Non preoccuparti," she said, her words a soothing balm to your nerves. "Sono contenta che tu abbia riposato un po'. Kimi ha detto che sembri stanco in questi giorni."

You couldn't help but smile at her maternal concern, feeling a sudden kinship with her. "Lo ero," you admitted, the words slipping out before you could censor them. "Ma adesso mi sento meglio."

Her response was a delightful tapestry of Italian that you only partially understood, but the love in her tone was universal. "Ma lasciami indovinare, anche lui si è addormentato?" she asked, her voice a warm caress over the phone line.

The question hung in the air, a gentle tease wrapped in the velvet of her words. "Sí, siamo tutti e due un po' stanchi," you replied, hoping the truth wasn't too evident in your voice.

Kimi's mother's laughter spilled over the line, a rich, warm sound that made you feel as if she were in the room with you, sharing the moment. "Ah, che bello," she said, her voice a soothing balm to the nerves you hadn't realized you had. "Ma Kimi è sempre in movimento. Non so come fa a rimanere sveglio."

You chuckled, the sound a little too loud in the quiet room. "Lui ha una forza incredibile," you agreed, the words slipping from your tongue with surprising ease. It felt natural, speaking Italian to this woman who had given birth to the man you had come to love.

"Comunque, per favore, di' a Kimi di tornare subito a casa." she said, the warmth in her voice now tinged with urgency. "Dobbiamo ancora fare una festa in famiglia."

"Va bene signora Antonelli," you said, a smile playing on your lips.

The call ended with her final laugh, and you set the phone down, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment. You had managed to have a conversation with Kimi's mother without any major linguistic mishaps.

The bathroom door opened with a soft click, and a cloud of steam billowed out, carrying with it the scent of Kimi's spicy aftershave.

He emerged from the mist like a Greek god, his skin glistening with moisture, his hair slicked back from his face, showcasing the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones. The black tee clung to his still-damp torso like a second skin, tracing the contours of his chiseled abs and broad shoulders, while the dark trousers hugged the muscular curves of his legs.

Kimi looked like a man who had just conquered the world—and in a way, he had. The victory earlier in the day was etched in every line of his body, in the proud tilt of his chin, the way his eyes shone with an inner light that could outshine the neon of the Vegas strip outside.

He padded barefoot across the plush carpet, droplets of water clinging to his skin, shimmering like diamonds in the dim light of the hotel suite. The way the fabric of his black tee hugged his form was a delicious sight, revealing the play of muscles across his chest and the flat plane of his stomach. His dark trousers hung low on his hips, hinting at the V of his pelvis.

You watched him, unable to tear your eyes away, as he approached you, his movements liquid and predatory. The warmth of the shower had brought a flush to his cheeks, and his eyes, those whiskey-colored pools of passion, were fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart stumble in your chest.

"What did my mom say?" he asked, his voice a low, velvety rumble that seemed to resonate through the very air around you.

You took a deep breath, savoring the scent of his aftershave, a heady mix of spice and musk that was uniquely Kimi. "She said she's happy I've been helping you rest, but you should get back for your family celebration."

His gaze held yours, the warmth of his smile reaching out to you like a gentle caress. "And how was your conversation with her?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to vibrate through your very bones.

You felt a sudden rush of emotion, the weight of his question more profound than you had anticipated. "It was... good," you replied, the words a whispered confession. "It felt good to talk to her in Italian."

Kimi's smile grew broader, his eyes lighting up with a proud spark. "You sounded amazing," he said, the sincerity in his voice making your cheeks flush with heat.

"Thank you, we should get going," you said, trying to keep the tremor from your voice.

Kimi nodded, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Grazie," he murmured, his voice a warm caress that sent a thrill down your spine. "You've been working so hard."

You looked up at Kimi, his damp hair still hanging in his eyes, and felt a surge of affection so intense it almost brought tears to your eyes. "Thanks to my teacher," you said, the words slipping out before you could think better of it.

The engineers and staff that had been working tirelessly around the car looked up as Kimi's smile grew wider, his eyes crinkling with mirth.

"Thank you, all of you," he called out, his Italian accent thick and warm as he clapped his hands together, the sound echoing in the vast, empty space of the garage. "Couldn't have done it without you."

The remaining engineers and staff looked up from their tasks, a mix of weariness and pride etched on their faces as they returned his smile. They had been Kimi's rock through the season, the unsung heroes behind the scenes who had made his victory possible.

"Ciao ragazzi," he said, his voice carrying a hint of the exhaustion that lurked just beneath the surface. Despite the fatigue, his eyes held a fiery determination, a promise that the celebration of this win would be one to remember.

With a nod to the remaining crew, Kimi led the way out of the garage and into the parking lot, his hand sliding into yours with a familiar ease that sent a jolt of electricity up your arm. The cool evening air was a stark contrast to the warmth of the garage, sending a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.

The parking lot was a maze of shadows and reflections, the only light coming from the flickering streetlamps and the distant glow of the city beyond. Kimi's car sat in the corner, a beacon of luxury in the sea of concrete and metal.

The coolness of the night was a stark contrast to the warmth of Kimi's hand in yours as you approached the sleek, black sports car. His grip was firm, his thumb tracing circles on your skin in a gesture that was both reassuring and electrifying.

Kimi opened the passenger door with a flourish, his eyes never leaving yours. The motion was so smooth, so practiced, it was like watching a ballet dancer perform a perfect pirouette. You slid into the seat with a sigh, the leather cool against your bare legs. The scent of the car's interior was a heady mix of leather and his cologne, a scent that had come to symbolize safety and desire.

He moved around the car with the same grace, his movements fluid and economical, every gesture a silent symphony of intent. The door shut with a soft thunk, sealing you both inside. The engine roared to life with a purr that seemed to resonate through your very soul, the vibration a delicious promise of the power that lay just beneath your fingertips.

Kimi's hand slid from yours to the gear stick, his fingers wrapping around it with a confidence that made your stomach flip. He shifted into gear and the car surged forward, the tires biting into the asphalt as he navigated the winding path out of the circuit.

You watched his profile, the sharp lines of his jaw and the firm set of his mouth, the way his eyes never left the road. It was a stark contrast to the tender way he had held you in his arms just moments ago, the gentle caress of his thumb on your skin.

"Are you free tomorrow?" he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet hum of the car's engine.

The question hung in the air, thick with implication, like the scent of his cologne that lingered in the enclosed space. You turned to look at him, his eyes focused on the road ahead, the streetlights casting a warm glow on the stubble of his jaw.

"Tomorrow?" you repeated, the word echoing in the quiet. It was a simple question, but the anticipation in his voice was palpable, a silent promise of something more than just a casual get-together.

"Yes," he said, his gaze never leaving the road ahead, but his hand tightening on the gear stick, a subtle hint of his excitement.

You felt the weight of his answer in the air, a silent promise that hung between you like a ripe fruit waiting to be plucked. "What did you have in mind?" you asked, your voice a soft melody that seemed to dance around the edges of the car's cabin.

Kimi's smile grew more pronounced, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mischief as he finally turned to look at you, his gaze lingering on your face. "I want to show you something," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very fabric of the car. "It's a surprise."

"A surprise?" You couldn't help but echo his words, your heart racing with excitement. Kimi's surprises were always... unexpected.

"Mm-hmm," he hummed, his eyes flicking back to the road as he expertly maneuvered the car through the quiet streets. His smile grew, the kind that made your stomach flip-flop and your skin tingle with anticipation. "I think you'll like it."

Your heart raced at the thought of what could be in store for tomorrow. The way his eyes lit up, the excitement in his voice, it was infectious. "Kimi, you know I trust you," you murmured, leaning back into the seat, your eyes never leaving his profile.

He glanced over at you, his smile widening. "Good," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in your very core. "Because it's going to be something special."

The ride to your house was indeed quick, a blur of neon lights and darkened streets that seemed to fly by as Kimi's car ate up the asphalt beneath it. His driving was masterful, his hands firm on the wheel, his eyes never straying from the road ahead.

The leather seats hugged your body, the scent of his cologne mingling with the new car smell, creating a heady cocktail that intoxicated you further. You watched his profile, the way the passing streetlights played across the sharp planes of his face, casting him in an ever-changing palette of shadows and light. His jaw was set, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he navigated the maze of Italian streets.

The engine purred beneath you, a living entity that responded to his every touch. You could feel the power of the car, the beast that had carried him to victory, now carrying you both away from the chaos of the day's events. The tension in the air was palpable, a potent mix of exhaustion and desire that seemed to thicken with every passing mile.

As Kimi pulled up to the curb in front of your house, the car's headlights painted a warm, golden path across the cobblestone street, briefly illuminating the ivy that crawled up the ancient brick walls. The windows glowed with a soft light, casting a warm, welcoming beacon into the night.

Your heart fluttered as you realized the significance of the moment. This wasn't just a casual drop-off. This was Kimi bringing you home after the most incredible day of your life—his historic victory and the sweet promise of tomorrow's surprise.

The car's engine purred to a stop, the sudden silence echoing in the narrow Italian street. Kimi's hand slid from the gear stick to yours, his warmth seeping into your skin like a healing balm.

"Kimi," you whispered, the name a prayer on your lips as you turned to face him. "Thank you."

With a gentle nod, Kimi opened the car door for you, the cool night air rushing in to mingle with the warmth of the interior. He stepped out and came around to your side, his movements a silent poetry of masculine grace. The way he held the door open, his hand lingering on the frame, was a silent declaration of chivalry in a world that often forgot such things.

As you slid out of the car, the leather whispered against your skin, leaving an imprint of comfort that lingered like a ghostly embrace. Kimi's hand found the small of your back, guiding you up the cobblestone path to the heavy wooden door of your house. The warmth of his touch seemed to seep into your very bones, chasing away the last vestiges of the evening's chill.

He waited patiently as you fumbled with your keys, the tension between you growing as palpable as the scent of his victory still clinging to his skin.

Once the door swung open, you turned around to face him, his eyes burning into yours with a fierce intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. The warmth of his gaze seemed to melt the last of your resistance, leaving you feeling as vulnerable as a butterfly pinned to a board.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Kimi," you murmured, your voice a soft caress in the velvety silence of the night. The words hung in the air, a promise of more to come, a sweet agony that made your pulse race.

With a gentle tug, you drew him closer, your hand sliding up to cradle the strong line of his neck. His eyes searched yours, the whiskey warmth deepening as he leaned in, the anticipation a palpable force that seemed to electrify the very air between you.

Your pulse hammered in your ears as your lips met, the kiss a soft, lingering caress that spoke of unspoken truths and unbridled desire. The scent of his skin, a potent blend of sweat and victory, filled your senses, making you dizzy with longing.

Kimi's hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer, the heat of his body a warm embrace that seemed to chase away the last remnants of doubt and fear.

You melted into him, your body fitting against his as if it were made to do so, his muscular chest a wall of protection and desire that made your knees weak.

With a gentle nudge, you managed to pull away, smiling up at him through eyes glazed with desire. "I'll see you tomorrow," you whispered again, your voice a siren's call that seemed to echo in the night.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, his smile mirroring yours as he stepped back, allowing you the space to breathe. "I'll be counting the minutes," he murmured, his voice a warm caress that seemed to follow you as you stepped into the house.

The door closed behind you with a soft click, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night like a final note in a symphony. You leaned against the cool wood, your heart racing, the taste of him still lingering on your lips. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The remnants of yesterday still clung to you like the scent of champagne and burning rubber. Sleep had been a fleeting visitor, chased away by the racing thoughts that consumed you. Kimi's win, the roar of the crowd, the spray of champagne, the taste of his lips…twice. It was all a dizzying, exhilarating blur. He had finally done it. He was on top of the podium, victorious. And you were there, right beside him. And then, the surprise. He hadn’t given you any details, just a mischievous glint in his eyes and a promise that you wouldn't be disappointed.

Four o'clock. He’d texted you the time with typical Kimi brevity. It was perfect, really. 2 PM felt like an eternity away, but it gave you ample time to prepare. You wanted to look…effortless, but also breathtaking. It was a ridiculous paradox, but you were determined to achieve it.

The shower was long and luxurious, the hot water washing away the last vestiges of sleep. You shaved your legs with extra care, smoothing on a fragrant body lotion afterwards. In the mirror, you saw a reflection that seemed brighter, more vibrant than usual. You were alive, truly alive, and it was all because of him.

Makeup came next. You opted for a natural look, a soft blush, a touch of mascara, and a hint of gloss on your lips, the same lips that Kimi had kissed, twice. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the memory.

Your hair was a bit more challenging. You finally decided on loose waves, pinning a few strands back to keep them out of your face. You felt a pang of insecurity as you stared at your reflection. Were you good enough for him? He was a world-class athlete, a champion, a veritable ice man to the world. What did he see in you?

You pushed the doubts away. He had kissed you, hadn't he? He had invited you to share in his victory. He wanted you, and that was all that mattered right now.

The dress you chose was a simple, elegant affair. Knee-length, in a shade of soft blue that complemented your eyes. It was comfortable, yet flattering, and you knew Kimi would appreciate its understated charm. You paired it with delicate silver sandals and a small clutch.

And then, the waiting began.

You paced the apartment, a whirlwind of nervous energy. You checked your watch every few minutes, the hands seeming to move with agonizing slowness. You tried to distract yourself by reading, but the words swam before your eyes. You tried listening to music, but every song seemed to be about love, loss, and longing, only amplifying your anxiety.

What could the surprise be? A romantic dinner? A weekend getaway? Could it be… something more? The thought sent a jolt of panic through you. Were you ready for something serious? You hadn't known Kimi for very long, but the connection between you felt undeniable, powerful.

You replayed the events of yesterday in your mind. The way he had looked when he crossed the finish line, the pure, unadulterated joy on his face. The way he had held you close during the celebrations, his hand warm against your back. The way he had looked at you, his eyes filled with…what? Affection? Desire? Something deeper, something you couldn't quite decipher.

You remembered the kisses. The first, spontaneous and charged with adrenaline, a celebration of his victory. The second, softer, more tender, a silent acknowledgment of the feelings that were blossoming between you.

You were lost in these thoughts when a knock echoed through the apartment. Your heart leaped into your throat. This was it. You grabbed your bag, took a deep breath, and walked towards the door. Your hand trembled slightly as you reached for the handle. You opened the door, and there he was.

Kimi Antonelli, standing on your doorstep, looking impossibly handsome. He was wearing a suit, a dark, impeccably tailored suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean physique. But it was the absence of a tie that struck you. It was a subtle detail, but it somehow made him seem more approachable, more… vulnerable.

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile that lit up his face. "You ready?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat. He held out his hand, and you took it, your fingers interlacing with his. His touch sent a wave of warmth through you, instantly calming your nerves.

"Where are we going?" you managed to ask, as he led you down the hallway.

"It's a surprise," he repeated, his eyes twinkling. "But I promise, you'll like it."

You didn't press him further. You were content to be in his presence, to feel the warmth of his hand in yours. You followed him out of the building and into a waiting car.

The drive was a blur. You were too busy stealing glances at Kimi, admiring the way the sunlight caught in his hair, the way his jaw was set with determination. He seemed focused, almost…nervous? It was an unfamiliar expression on his face, and it intrigued you.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, you leaned back in your seat and began to ask questions. "Where are we going, Kimi?" you inquired, your voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced at you with a mischievous smile before returning his gaze to the road. "You'll see," he teased, his eyes never leaving the horizon.

The car's engine hummed soothingly, lulling you into a gentle doze. The city streets had given way to the open road, and the scenery outside the window was a blur of green and brown. You felt your eyelids growing heavy, and despite the excitement bubbling within you, the lack of sleep from the previous night began to take its toll.

Kimi noticed your struggle and reached over, placing a gentle hand on your thigh. "You okay?" he asked, his thumb rubbing small, comforting circles.

You startled awake. "I'm fine," you lied, hoping he hadn't noticed the dark circles under your eyes. The truth was, you hadn't slept well last night, your mind racing with thoughts of him. The gentle sway of the car and the warmth of the afternoon sun had conspired to lull you into a state of drowsiness.

Kimi's hand remained on your thigh, his touch a comforting constant. You felt the heat of his palm through the fabric of your dress and the steady rhythm of his thumb against your skin. It was a small gesture, but it filled you with a warmth that spread through your body, dispelling the lingering fatigue. You leaned into it, savoring the sensation.

As the drive continued, the gentle thrumming of the engine became a lullaby, and despite your best efforts, your eyes grew heavy. The scenery outside the tinted windows blurred into a mosaic of light and shadow. You blinked, fighting off the seductive pull of sleep, but the quiet, rhythmic journey was too much to resist.

Kimi's hand remained on your thigh, his thumb continuing its hypnotic dance. The warmth of his touch seeped through the fabric of your dress, creating a soothing contrast to the coolness of the car's air conditioning. Your eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment, until you couldn't hold them open any longer. You leaned your head against the headrest, allowing sleep to claim you.

You didn't know how much time had passed when you were jolted awake by the car coming to a stop. You blinked rapidly, the world coming into focus once again.

You looked around, and for a moment, you thought you had slipped into a dream. The scenery outside the window didn't look like the bustling city streets of Imola you were used to. It didn't even look like the countryside surrounding the Imola racetrack, where Kimi had claimed victory just yesterday. It looked like… Verona.

The cobblestone streets, the ancient buildings bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, the scent of blooming flowers mingling with the faint aroma of freshly baked bread. It was like stepping into a memory, a painting come to life.

You turned to Kimi in shock, your hand flying to your mouth. "Verona?" you whispered, the word barely audible.

He nodded, his smile growing wider. "Surprise," he murmured, his eyes alight with mischief. "I thought it was time for a change of scenery. Something… romantic."

The word hung in the air, heavy with implication, and your heart skipped a beat. Was he really taking you on a romantic getaway? The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. You had never been the type to indulge in fairy tales, but with Kimi, everything felt possible.

He opened the car door for you, and as you stepped out, the cobblestones beneath your feet felt alive with the history of the city. The warmth of the setting sun kissed your skin, and the air was alive with the sounds of a place untouched by the modern world. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with the intoxicating blend of antiquity and passion that seemed to pulse through the very air of Verona.

With a gentle tug, Kimi led you down an ancient path, his hand firm yet reassuring in yours. "Trust me," he said, his voice a soft whisper that seemed to resonate within you. He reached into his pocket and produced a velvet blindfold. "You have to wear this. You don't get to spoil the surprise," he grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

What could he possibly have planned? The soft velvet of the blindfold brushed against your cheeks as he secured it around your eyes, plunging you into a world of darkness. Your other senses heightened, you felt the warmth of his breath on your neck as he leaned in to whisper, "Are you ready?"

You nodded, your pulse quickening. The anticipation was exquisite, a thrill you hadn't felt since that first kiss on the podium. He guided you through the unfamiliar streets of Verona, the cobblestones cool against the soles of your sandals.

With each step, your hand tightened in his. You could feel the tension in his fingers, the unspoken promise of something extraordinary waiting just around the corner. The sounds of the city grew distant, replaced by the steady thump of your own heart and the comforting echo of your footsteps in tandem with his.

You walked for a while before you stopped, the sudden cessation of movement surprising you. The air grew thick with anticipation as he gently tugged at the blindfold. You felt the warmth of his breath on your neck as he whispered, "Okay, you can open your eyes now."

Slowly, you lifted the velvet shroud, blinking as the light flooded back in. Your eyes widened as they adjusted to the scene before you. You were standing in a courtyard, surrounded by lush greenery and the sweet scent of blooming roses.

Directly in front of you was a large, ornate sign, painted in a whimsical script that read, "Vuoi essere la mia ragazza?" You felt your cheeks flush at the translation: "Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

Kimi's nervous smile grew even more pronounced as he watched your reaction, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand. The courtyard was lit with soft, twinkling lights strung from the branches of the trees overhead, casting a magical glow over the entire scene.

You took in the sight before you, the beauty of the moment sinking in. "Ever since I saw you trying so hard to study Italian," he began, his voice low and earnest, "I knew I had to help you, but I didn't know that I would fall in love with you that quickly." His words were like a caress, gentle yet firm, leaving no room for doubt or misunderstanding.

A warmth spread through your chest, filling you with a feeling of belonging that was both exhilarating and terrifying. You had studied Italian for so long, driven by an unexplainable fascination with the culture, the language, and the passion that seemed to pulse through every word. And now, here you were, standing in the heart of Verona, with the man who had unwittingly become the embodiment of that passion for you.

Kimi stepped closer, his hand still holding yours firmly. You could feel the calluses from his years of racing, a stark contrast to the velvety softness of your own skin. "I've watched you struggle with the pronunciation, the grammar," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "And I couldn't help but be drawn to your determination, your spirit."

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession. "But why me?" you asked, your voice barely audible. You felt like you were floating, suspended between reality and a dream.

"Your dedication, your passion," Kimi murmured, his thumb still tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand. "It's inspiring. And the way you light up when you get something right… it's like watching the sun rise over the racetrack." His grip tightened, his eyes searching yours.

You felt your heart flutter in your chest, your breath catching in your throat. The way he talked about your Italian studies was as if he were recounting the plot of a romance novel, and you were the heroine whose perseverance had captured the heart of the stoic protagonist. It was a feeling so foreign, so intoxicating, that you could hardly believe it was real.

"Yes," you murmured, your voice trembling slightly. The word felt like a declaration, a confession, a surrender to the whirlwind that had become your life.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, looking for the truth in your response. "I know it's fast," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But sometimes, when you know, you just know."

You felt a warmth spread through you, a warmth that was more than just the sun on your skin. It was the warmth of his words, the warmth of his touch, the warmth of his love. You knew you were falling for him too, and it was happening at a speed that defied logic, but somehow, it felt right. "I know," you said, your voice soft and sure. "I feel it too."

The courtyard was a whirlwind of sensation around you. The scent of the roses filled your nose, their velvety petals brushing against your bare arms as you stepped closer to him. The cobblestones felt rough and ancient beneath your sandals, a stark contrast to the smoothness of the dress that clung to your damp skin. The air was thick with anticipation, with the promise of something new and thrilling.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, a silent question hanging in the space between you. You felt your heart hammer in your chest, the thud of it echoing in your ears like the purr of a finely-tuned engine. His hand was still wrapped around yours, a silent declaration of intent. You knew what he was asking, what he wanted from you. And in that moment, you realized that you wanted it too.

"Eh," he began again, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in the very air around you, "Vuoi essere la mia ragazza?" It was a simple question, yet it held the weight of the world. Will you be my girlfriend? The Italian words rolled off his tongue, a soft caress that seemed to ignite a fire in your veins.

You felt your heart stutter, your breath hitch. The question hung in the air, a delicate balance between hope and fear. Kimi's gaze bore into you, his eyes a stormy sea of emotion. The nervousness that flickered in those depths was endearing, a stark contrast to the cool confidence he exuded on the racetrack.

Slowly, you nodded. "Yes," you breathed, the word escaping on a sigh that seemed to carry with it all the unspoken moments between you, the shared glances, the stolen touches, the whispers of attraction that had grown into something more substantial.

Kimi's expression softened, his eyes warming as he leaned in closer. The world around you grew quieter, the sounds of the city fading into a gentle hum that melded with the beating of your hearts. His lips met yours in a kiss that was tender yet insistent, a silent declaration of his intentions. The warmth of his breath mingled with your own, and the sensation sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

As your arms snaked around his neck, you felt his hand tighten around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space between you. The fabric of his suit was smooth against your skin, a stark contrast to the roughened calluses of his palms. The buzzing warmth grew, enveloping you in a cocoon of sensation, making you feel as if you were floating.

His other hand found its way to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone in a gentle caress. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the steady thump of his heart matching the rhythm of your own. His scent was intoxicating, a blend of leather, engine oil, and victory, and it wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a sudden pop, and then, there was confetti. It rained down around you, a shower of color and light that made you jump back in surprise. You pulled away from Kimi, staring up at the confetti floating above your heads like a cloud of pure joy. He chuckled, a low, delighted sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

"There's another present," Kimi murmured, his eyes glinting with excitement.

Before you could react, he turned you around with a gentle touch on the shoulders. You blinked in surprise as your eyes fell upon a sight that made your heart swell. There, standing in the courtyard, were your parents. They looked as shocked as you felt, their eyes wide with delight and disbelief.

Your mother, her hair a fiery halo around her face, had her hand pressed to her heart, a single tear tracing its way down her cheek. Your father, stoic yet beaming, had his arms open wide, ready to envelop you in a bear hug that spoke volumes of his pride and love.

"Mamma, Papà," you managed to murmur, your voice thick with emotion. Kimi's grip on your waist was the only thing keeping you upright.

The confetti continued to fall around you, a whimsical touch to an already surreal moment. Your mother rushed over, her eyes sparkling with joy. She wrapped you in an embrace that was all too familiar, her warmth and the scent of her perfume grounding you in reality. "Oh, my darling," she whispered in your ear, her words tinged with a hint of an Italian accent she had never lost despite moving to the United States before you were born. "I knew this man was special the moment you talked about him. And now, he brings us to Verona."

Your father's hug was next, his strong arms lifting you off the ground. "You've made us so proud," he murmured in your hair. "And not just because you're with a Formula One driver." His laughter was contagious, and you felt a weight lift from your chest.

Kimi's hand remained on your waist, his touch a comforting reminder of the new reality you were navigating. As you pulled away from your parents, you couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events. You looked up at him, his brown eyes holding yours with a fierce intensity that made your heart race.

"How did you do this?" you asked, gesturing to the courtyard and the confetti that still danced in the air.

Kimi's smile was filled with the pride of a man who had just pulled off an impossible feat. "I have connections," he replied with a wink. His eyes searched yours, looking for the spark of wonder that you knew was reflected in your own. "And I wanted to make sure that when I asked you to be my girlfriend, it was a moment you would never forget."

The confetti continued to flutter around you, the gentle kiss of the breeze carrying the whisper of a thousand paper secrets. You reached up, plucking a piece from the air. It was a delicate pink square, with "Amore" written in flowing script. Love. The word seemed to encapsulate everything you felt in that moment.

"There's another surprise," Kimi grinned, his eyes glinting with excitement. Your heart raced. What could possibly top this? You looked around the courtyard, but nothing seemed out of place. The roses swayed gently in the breeze, the lights above you casting a warm glow on your skin.

"What could it be?" you asked, your voice a soft whisper that seemed to carry the weight of your anticipation.

"Only the best," Kimi assured you, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I've booked a whole restaurant for you and your parents to catch up," he announced. "They've been dying to hear about your life, your work, your… everything."

The realization that your parents were here, in Verona, because of Kimi's thoughtfulness, brought a rush of emotion.

You felt your eyes well up with tears as you looked at the man standing before you, his hand still resting gently on your waist. The gesture was more than just a show of affection; it was a declaration of intent, a promise to support and cherish you. You knew then that this was no fleeting fling, no whirlwind romance destined to burn out as quickly as it had ignited. This was something real, something that could withstand the tests of time and distance.

As your parents approached, the reality of the situation sank in. Kimi had done all of this for you, had brought your worlds together in a way that was both beautifully romantic and utterly unexpected.

The restaurant was a hidden gem, tucked away down a narrow alleyway. The walls were a warm terracotta, adorned with ivy and fairy lights, giving it a cozy, intimate feel. The scent of garlic and tomatoes filled the air, mingling with the soft murmur of Italian conversation and the clinking of glasses.

The meal that followed was a feast for the senses. Each dish was a testament to the rich tapestry of Italian cuisine, a symphony of flavors that danced on your tongue. You could feel the love and care that had been poured into each morsel, the tender embrace of a culture that reveled in the joy of food and the company of those you shared it with. The wine flowed freely, and your cheeks grew flushed as the warmth of it spread through your body.

Throughout dinner, you watched Kimi as he chatted with your parents, his Italian accent thickening with his enthusiasm. The way he spoke about his passion for racing, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his love for the sport—it was infectious. You felt a swell of pride in him, in his dedication and his success, and you knew that he was the kind of man who would never stop pushing himself to be better.

The conversation flowed easily, a tapestry of languages and laughter. Your mother spoke of her own youth in Italy, her eyes sparkling as she recounted tales of her rebellious days that made you blush. Your father spoke of his love for your mother, their bond still strong after all these years, and you found yourself looking at Kimi, wondering if that could be you someday.

Kimi reached across the table, his hand finding yours. He laced his fingers through yours, the touch sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. The intertwining of your hands felt natural, as if your hands had been searching for this connection since the moment you had first laid eyes on each other.

You took a deep breath, feeling a sudden urge to speak in the language that had brought you so much closer to him. "Mamma, Papà," you began, your voice a soft caress as you spoke in Italian, "Kimi mi ha portato qui per dirvi qualcosa di speciale."

Your parents' expressions shifted from surprise to astonishment, their eyes widening as they took in your words. You had never fully learned Italian in all those years. Yet here you were, speaking fluently in the language of love and passion, all because of the man beside you.

"Mamma, Papà, Kimi mi ha insegnato l'italiano," you continued, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you revealed the secret. Kimi's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes filled with admiration.

Your mother's hand flew to her chest, her eyes wide with shock and delight. "Davvero?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with incredulity. "Ma come?"

Your father's smile grew wider, his eyes glistening with pride. "È vero," Kimi said, his own Italian smooth and confident. "Tua figlia ha lavorato duramente. Voleva farvi una sorpresa."

You felt a thrill of excitement at the way your parents' gazes darted between you and Kimi, their astonishment clear. It was a moment you had never dreamed of, a moment where the two halves of your world collided in a beautiful mess of love and passion.

"Sí, mamma," you continued, your Italian rolling off your tongue with surprising ease. "Kimi mi ha mostrato il vero amore per l'italiano. Mi ha insegnato parole, frasi, mi ha raccontato storie."

Your mother's eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she took in the transformation before her. Your father leaned back in his chair, his hand on his chin, a proud smile playing on his lips.

"Incredibile," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You never cease to amaze us."

Your mother's grip on your hand tightened, her eyes brimming with tears of joy. "Che bella," she whispered, her voice filled with awe.

Kimi's thumb traced comforting circles on the back of your hand as you spoke, his eyes never leaving yours. The way he looked at you, with such admiration and love, made your heart swell in your chest. You had studied Italian for so long, but speaking it in front of your parents, with the man who had inspired you to finally master it, was a revelation.

Your mother's cheeks were flushed with emotion as she listened, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Mi dispiace," you said, switching to English. "I didn't mean to shock you. I just wanted to show you how much I've learned, and how much Kimi has helped me."

Your father leaned in, his gaze soft. "It's not every day you hear your daughter speaking Italian like a native," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "It's… incredible."

You felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of their happiness pressing against your chest. "Thank you," you whispered, squeezing Kimi's hand. "It's all because of him."

"That's a story to tell your kids," your mom teased, wiping away a tear with the edge of her napkin. "You found love by Italian lessons?"

You couldn't help but laugh at the irony of it all. The journey that had started with a simple curiosity about a language had led you to the love of your life.

As the evening grew later, the conversation grew quieter, more intimate. You found yourself leaning closer to Kimi, the warmth of his body a comforting presence. His thumb continued to stroke the back of your hand, sending waves of pleasure up your arm, and you felt a sudden urge to kiss him.

Before you could act on the impulse, he leaned over and pressed his lips to your cheek. The softness of his touch, the gentle brush of his stubble against your skin, made you giggle involuntarily.

The sensation of his kiss lingered on your cheek, a warm imprint of his affection. You felt your cheeks flush as you turned to look at him, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "What's so funny?" he asked, his voice a low purr that seemed to vibrate through you.

"It's just… I wasn't expecting that," you replied, your voice a soft giggle. The gesture was so tender, so unexpectedly sweet, that it had caught you off guard. Kimi's smile grew, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "But I'm not complaining," you added hastily, feeling the blush deepen.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours. "You know," he began, his voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to echo through the emptying restaurant, "I've had a lot of amazing moments in my life. Winning races, standing on podiums, living my dreams. But nothing… nothing has ever made me feel like this."

His thumb stopped its lazy circles, his hand stilling in yours. "You," he continued, his eyes searching yours with a depth that made your heart flutter, "are the best surprise I've ever had."

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your cheeks burn. The room grew quiet around you, the whispers of the last diners fading into the background as you became lost in his gaze. Your eyes fell to your entwined hands, the stark contrast of your fair skin against his tanned, calloused fingers.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words that had been hovering just beyond your lips for what felt like an eternity. "I love you, Kimi," you finally said, the words tumbling out in a rush of air.

Kimi's smile grew even brighter, his eyes lighting up like the stars that had just begun to peek through the inky sky above. "And I love you," he responded, his voice a soft caress that seemed to envelop you in a warm embrace.

The words hung in the air, a declaration that seemed to resonate through every atom of the universe. The love that had sparked between you during those Italian lessons had grown into a fiery inferno, and you were both lost in its embrace.

Kimi leaned in, capturing your lips with his, the kiss a sweet symphony of passion and promise.

You melted into the warmth of his embrace, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease away. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer until there was no space between you.

"I'm glad I took those Italian lessons from you," you murmured against his chest, your voice muffled by his shirt.

Kimi's chuckle rumbled through him, his hand tightening around your waist. "They've served us both well," he said, his voice a velvety purr that sent shivers down your spine.

You leaned back into him, the scent of him enveloping you like a warm embrace. "More than you know," you murmured, your voice thick with unspoken desire.

The Italian language had become more than just a bridge between you—it was a secret language of love, a shared history that only the two of you could understand. . . .

[uramakimochi]

LIttle Y/N giving Remus's 'after a full moon' scars with little kisses because that's what her daddy and dad do whenever she gets hurt. 'kiss the pain away' :')

SORRY IF I'M LATE WITH YOUR REQUEST MY LOVE BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT🤍

HEALING KISSES AND COLORFUL BANDAIDS

Wolfstar x daughter!reader

SUMMARY: Your fathers are always there for you when you get hurt so now you want to do the same for Remus. (1.9k words)

WARNINGS: fluff fluff and fluff!! No use of Y/N, but use of petnames.

English is not my first language so feel free to correct me.

Your parents had told you about what had plagued poor Remus since he was a child. Although at first Remus was very unsure about telling you the truth about the werewolf thing, with a little convincing from Sirius, James and the others, he found the courage to tell you about it.

And he was surprised when, despite your very young age, you revealed to him that you had had your suspicions, even if you weren't sure what it was.

"I always wondered why i went to sleepover with Uncle Reggie or Aunt Lily and Harry once a month, but i didn't know it was because you are a werewolf, Dad" you said in a thoughtful tone, while Remus looked at you more shocked than you were. "I thought werewolves were just stories!"

It didn't take Remus and Sirius long to convince you that Remus wasn't a monster. In fact, it didn't take them anything, to tell the truth.

The only one who had such a terrifying view of himself was Remus, but you understood that what happened to him wasn't his fault or anyone else's and you were determined to make him understand too. No one in your family looked at him differently and so you wouldn't either. He was your father and you would've never stopped loving him for it. Ever.

So, as James and Sirius took care of him during the full moon, you promised him that from now on you would help him too and that you would've never let him suffer alone again.

The front door opened and Remus and James entered next to each other. Remus was shirtless, wearing only some ruined trousers and had one arm thrown across James' shoulders, while his thin, tired and battered body couldn't help but lean against the one of his friend.

"Here we are" the bespectacled man murmured, flashing a warm smile at Remus. "Are you alright, Moony?"

"As alright as i can be" Remus replied with an ironic tone, but with a reassuring smile, even though his bones felt sore.

"Dad!"

Before any of them could expect it, Remus felt the force of a small body slamming into his legs. A pair of arms hugged him tightly around the waist and Remus's eyes bulged as he felt a rush of pain run through his body, but he stopped himself from cursing out loud.

"No no no no no baby baby wait!" another concerned voice hastily interjected.

Remus saw Sirius, who had stayed at home with you waiting for him and James, emerge from the same direction you had come from and approach the group but when he noticed the grimace of pain on his husband's face and your body wrapped around his, pressing painfully on his wounds, he quickly placed his hands on your shoulders to make you take a step away from Remus. Remus would never admit it to you, but he was honestly grateful for Sirius' intervention.

"See that Dad is hurt?" Sirius asked you sympathetically, wanting you to understand that none of them were angry. "I know you want to give him a hug but we have to be more gentle because if not we're going to hurt him, hm?"

At those words your eyes rested on Remus' body, finally noticing the cuts and wounds, some dry and others fresher, that covered his torso and face. You nodded slowly and everyone present could notice the exact moment when the joy of seeing your father return home disappeared to make room for guilt.

"I'm sorry dad" you murmured, lowering your head and playing with your fingers. "I didn't mean to hurt you"

Remus and James exchanged a look with Sirius who smiled tenderly and patted your head to comfort you. Remus slowly knelt on the ground, helped by James and you lifted your head to look at him.

"I know you didn't mean to hurt me, my darling girl" he said with an understanding smile, then reached up to your face and caressed your soft cheek with his thumb. "I'm not angry, don't worry"

He slowly stood up, grimacing as he heard his bones cracking like rusty gears, and then held out his hand to you. "But now i'm a little tired, will you accompany me back to my room please?"

And you nodded frantically with a wide smile, finally proud to be of use to him in some way, before taking his hand and leading him towards his and Sirius' room, being careful not to walk too fast.

When Sirius returned to their room after saying goodbye to James at the door before he left, he saw Remus half lying on the bed with his back resting on the pillows against the headeboard and an exhausted look in his eyes. But despite the tiredness, he could see a small affectionate smile that had grown on his husband's lips, while his loving gaze was directed towards you, kneeling next to him on top of the covers and with two packets of bandaids in your hands.

"Do you prefer the ones with butterflies or the ones with flowers, dad?" you softly asked, lifting your head to look at your father.  (Both your parents immediately noticed how you were careful to keep your voice lower and more delicate, not wanting to ruin the atmosphere and not wanting to disturb poor, tired Remus).

Sirius walked into the room to approach the bed, exchanging a look with his husband as he sat behind you on his side of the bed.

"Whichever you want, darling. I like both of them" Remus replied, holding back a yawn.

You smiled and began to open both packets of patches. "Then i'll use both"

So your parents admired you working with dedication on your father's body, as you used your colorful bandaids to cover the wounds that decorated his arms and chest.

"Honey, maybe you don't really want to use all of them" Sirius said gently, placing a hand on your back and stroking it with his fingertips.

You turned to look at him confused, holding a patch with a red butterfly between your fingers.

"Why?"

"Well because these are YOUR bandaids that you like so much and if you use them all for Dad then what will you use if you get hurt again?"

Sirius didn't want to be mean to you or Remus. He simply knew how fond you were of your bandaids (you had personally chosen them after careful consideration) and he knew that at that age you still tended to hurt yourself when you carelessly played without worrying about anything, so he didn't want you to be left without something to cover your wounds.

"He's right. I'm okay my love, you don't need to use all your bandaids on me" Remus then added.

You alternated your gaze from one to the other and after thinking about it for a few seconds you shook your head.

"It's okay, i don't mind" you said with a smile, leaning over to press the butterfly patch onto Remus' shoulder as the two of them looked at you in confusion and surprise. "Your wounds are bigger and they hurt more than the ones i get when i play. You need them more than me"

Remus and Sirius exchanged a tender look over your head and the latter gave him a comforting smile.

"I promise i'll be more careful not to hurt myself so you can use my bandaids" you concluded, placing the last one on his skin.

Remus giggled a little and Sirius slipped along the covers to get closer to him, both of them already imagining how difficult it would be for you to try not to get any injuries. But they knew you would put all the effort you could into it.

"I guess we'll have to buy some more then, won't we?" Sirius piped up looking back at you and you nodded. "Because Dad needs a looot of bandaids"

Remus ran his eyes over the colorful patches that decorated his body, as if he were a canvas you had painted on.

"Good job baby" he said, lifting a hand to stroke your head. "My little personal nurse"

"Wait dad, there's one more thing to do" you added, holding up a finger, as he tilted his head.

"What?"

"I have to kiss you on the boos to make the pain go away" you replied in an obvious tone. "You and Daddy always give me kisses when i hurt myself so i'll give them to you too"

Oh of course, how could they forget about that?

Your parents didn't like seeing you cry when you got hurt, but there was no better feeling for them than seeing you run up to them to beg them to kiss your knee or the palm of your hand to make the pain go away. And so they did. They would gently place one of your beloved bandaids on the wound and then place a sweet kiss over it, kissing the pain away and watching you smile again as if nothing had happened.

Remus looked at you with teary eyes as he felt his heart swell so much he was almost afraid it would burst in his chest.

You leaned towards your him and began to pepper his body with small kisses, leaving a loud "Mwuah!" every time your lips touched the patches covering his scratches. And when you were sure you hadn't missed a spot, you raised your head to look at him with a satisfied look.

"Done! How are you feeling now dad?"

A shaky smile spread across Remus's lips and before he could say anything, he felt Sirius' hand clasp his as he caressed the back of it. His gaze passed over him and then back to you.

"Better, my darling. I feel… S-So much better now"

But when you saw a couple of tears escape from his eyes and run down his face, you frowned, tilting your head to the side slightly.

"Do you want a hug?" you asked, leaning towards him and opening your arms wide.

"Noo dad, why are you crying?"

Remus sniffed and shook his head with a smile, while from beside him Sirius wiped away his tears with his thumb. "It's nothing lovie, really. I'm just very happy that you helped me"

He nodded without hesitation and wrapped his free arm around your small body, pulling you against his side. You snuggled into him, still being careful of his wounds, and Remus tilted his head to give you a series of kisses on your hair, squeezing his eyes.

"Thank you baby. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart" he soflty murmured and you rubbed your cheek on his shoulder, smiling.

"Mh. Anything for our Moony"

Remus felt his heart skip a beat, which always happened when he heard you say that nickname, having learned it thanks to James and Sirius.

It made him feel proud to be Moony. Proud to be your father and above all proud to have a daughter like you, who would always love him, despite everything. That would never see him as the monster he believed himself to be.

And while you closed your eyes to enjoy the family cuddles, with the desire to fall asleep in your father's arms, Sirius and Remus exchanged a loving look, while the former leaned towards his thin scarred face to leave a delicate kiss on a small scratch that decorated his wet cheek.

"Anything for our Moony"

[jaegerbby]

➳ someone older: chapter two

--͙[kento nanami x female! reader]-͙-

╰┈➤ word count; 5694

╰┈➤ rundown; you can’t have everything you want but you definitely can’t have your best friend’s dad.

╰┈➤ caution; best friend's dad! nanami, age gap (20s & 40s), masturbation, oral sex (female receiving), mentions of family issues.

| chapter 3 |

you have not stopped thinking about nanami.

you counted every second that passed since you last saw him.

your best friend asked you so many times why you were not coming over but you never gave her a truthful response.

you feel like your heart is pressing against your chest, on the verge of ripping out because it calls for nanami.

but he hurt you, he really hurt you.

"hey, you spacing out again?" yua drops into the seat beside you. you perk up almost immediately. the rest of your friends are gathered around the table playing cards.

"i'm just tired."

"are you sure? you seem so sad lately." you know she is just concerned and you really did try to hide it but your heart is breaking.

"i don't have anything to be sad about." you reach for the bag of chips from her, putting a handful into your mouth. you are lying again.

"if you want to talk, we can go upstairs." 'did something happen at home?' it is tethering on her tongue. you know she wants to ask. you are starting to hate being asked that.

"it's really nothing."

you see it on her face that she is about to push the subject. you feel sick to your stomach, you feel sick to even think about the things you keep to yourself.

"yua, you got anymore beer?" her words are interrupted by one of your friends.

"you already had like three." yua calls with a begrudging roll of her eyes. 

"c'mon, one more." you stand so quickly yua flinches in surprise.

"i'll go get it." you feel like you will suffocate if you have to think anymore.

you swipe your hand over your face as you hurriedly walk off. you might be too lost in the mess in your head because you do not realise you slam into someone until their hands grip your shoulders to steady you.

water drips on your skin and all you can see is blonde hair and brown eyes that you found yourself constantly wishing would be on you.

his chest is hard, your hands trail lower and nanami glimpses down when he realises. he releases you to take a step back and clears his throat.

nanami walks around you and you turn your body to follow him. you think you would always follow him. you would do it without a second thought. he reaches up to grab a cup from the cupboard and his shirt raises.

his shirt raises and your eyes trail over the defined indents of his hips, the veins that are on his lower abdomen and the blonde hair that trails downwards.

your lips part and you reach for his hand that rests on the counter, your pointer finger tugs on his pinkie. nanami's shoulders tense, you wish you could coax your hands over the muscles and rid him of any worry.

"can we talk?" nanami breathes hard at the sound of your voice. he knows nothing good ever comes out of talking to you. because when he talks to you, he starts thinking and before he can think coherently, he finds that he already got too close to you. 

he does not respond but he faces you, your head tilts back to look up at him.

"you told me you'd make it hurt. you did. you really did." your fingers trail along his palm before you grasp it tightly. "and yua asked me what's wrong. everyone always ask me what's wrong but i only want to hear it from you." your voice trembles, pursuing your lips.

it is the last thing he wants to see, he told you he would make it hurt but he swears his heart is being crushed just the same. he knows he should have stopped from the start.

you are the last person nanami should have gotten close to. when you look up at him with watery eyes, he wants to go against everything he told himself.

"i want to know that you care because that means i'm not the only one feeling like this right?" you want to ask him if he knows your heart is dying to be near him.

you squeeze his hand tighter. his hand feels so right in yours, it feels like his hand is the only one you are meant to hold.

nanami wants to tell you he does not feel anything for you. he wants to say it for your betterment but he cannot bring his lips to form those words when he does not mean them in the slightest.

he wants to put his arms around you and rid you of any sadness. he wants to do any and every thing to ensure another tear never fills your eyes.

when he does not respond you step closer. you bat your eyes in the sweetest way. all you do is tempt him.

"can you ask me what's wrong?"

he knows saying it would mean admitting he feels something too. kento says it anyway. "what's wrong?" he wants so desperately to call you his baby. your eyes light up when you hear it.

he can feel you holding his hand tighter, nanami cannot help but squeeze yours gently.

"i want to be close to you all the time but you won't let me."

he breathes shakily. it is the first time you have been around since that day.

he cannot admit it but your absence has been debilitating.

"i told you, this can't happen." you smile anyway. you are flashing him that pretty smile that is going to linger in his mind for days to come.

"i know." you wish you did not like him. it would have made everything easier but kento is impossible to not like. there is not a world where he could exist and your heart would ever be able to resist him.

you do not know how long you stand there, staring at each other, listening to nothing but the sound of shared air.

"i'm sorry." he says. his eyes are soft, he looks disappoint, he hates that he hurt you. the last thing he wants to do is add to your worries.

"it's okay." you say it but he knows you cried because of him.

he cannot help himself, not when it comes to you.

his hands cup your face and he hears your breath hitch as he leans in to nuzzle your nose with his.

then you're wrapped in his arms.

you're wrapped up in kento's embrace with your cheek pressed to his firm chest and his scent filling your senses.

you hold him like you never want to let go.

"i'm really sorry. i shouldn't have said it." his voice is deep and he's so close it's said right into your ear.

you hug him tighter.

"you don't have to be sorry. i'm tough anyway."

you barely separate.

you are still too close, far too close for it to be appropriate.

"yn." yua calls and you flinch. she walks into the kitchen. "oh, dad."

nanami steps further away, his hand finding his glass and yua looks between you.

"we're totally not drinking." she quips.

"i believe you." although the raucous behaviour of your friends outside proves her statement wrong.

she turns her attention back to you, "are you ready to head back?"

you wring your hands, your eyes still on kento but he does not look at you.

"you can go ahead, i need to use the washroom first."

---

you should not be here. you would like to pretend it was not intentional to end up in nanami's bed.

it started so innocently.

but it became so difficult to leave. how could you leave such an enticing scent? one of chypre and fougere. one of expensive cologne that you want to bathe in. you want to be covered in anything associated with nanami.

you writhe on the sheets, burying your face into the pillow. when his scent invades your senses, you lose all reason.

your thighs press together, you would give everything up to him. you would put every fucked up part of you into his hands and hope he saw something worthy in them.

you stroke your covered cunt, the ache between your legs intensifying. you wish you were being bent over by him, you wish he was pressing your face into the nest of his smell to muffle your cries.

you lowly curse, a low mewl of his name escapes your mouth as your fingers coax along your cunt.

it is an itch that only nanami can scratch because even as you strip your lower half bare and glide your fingers down your slit it is not enough.

your toes curl as you collect the syrupy juices leaking from you and slowly sink a digit inside. your pussy pulses, all you can think about is nanami's fingers and the way they would feel inside of you. you want to know have far they would reach, how experienced they are.

you need to know, you need him to show you.

you breathe shakily, slowly slipping your finger out before plunging it inside.

your brows furrow. you wonder how nanami would take you.

would he be slow and gentle? you shiver as the gummy walls of your swollen insides squeeze your finger.

would he be rough and go so hard you tremble? you slam your finger in this time. your cunt squelches, body writhing along the sheets. you feel like he would do it this way.

like he would pound his thick fingers into your pussy and make you delirious.

but his would stretch you out more than one of your fingers, so you add another. your thighs tense at the intrusion and your back arches off the bed.

you cannot wait, no your legs spread further and you plunge your fingers into your leaking hole. you do it over and over. again and again. until liquid coats your digits in copious amounts and drool fills your mouth.

when the stroke of your fingers filling your gooey insides is not enough the pads of your fingers find your clit and you roll it roughly.

you think nanami would take your cunt without any regard, with unleashed aggression.

the soppy noises of your pussy getting fucked fill the room, all you can think about is him and how desperately you need him to stuff you full. to make you whole.

kento told you sorry. he has told you a lot of things. you try to rearrange the syllables to phrases that make you wetter. things like him calling you a good girl and telling you how perfect you feel wrapped around his cock.

"kento. mmgh kento." you whine, you try to stay quiet, truly you do but the thought of him touching you instead makes you brainless. it rids you of any care.

your fingers curl and glide along your swollen insides, you shove them in to the knuckle. slimy liquid drips down and splatters every time you fuck back into your cunt.

your hips stutter, moving in tandem with your fingers. you pinch the stilted bundle of nerves before rolling it again. your hand moves frantically.

but it is still not enough, it is not enough.

you need nanami to get there. you need him to feel something.

"kento." you brokenly cry, your eyes rolling back as the way you fuck your cunt open grows rougher.

it seems he knows when you need him. like you call and he comes.

"what are you doing?" his eyes are alarmed, you barely hear the click of the door locking beyond the sound of your pussy getting filled.

you should stop, in fact, you should be ashamed. you are anything but that. your heart alights at the sound of his voice. your stomach erupts with too many butterflies to contain.

you whine, your insides feel like they are throbbing. your hand stills, slowly pulling them out as an onslaught of liquid seeps from you.

nanami can see it all. he can hardly get passed the sight of you on his sheets, fucking your cunt. like he wants to do instead. he cannot get passed the sight of you with disheveled hair and a brainless expression or how wet and messy your cunt is. he can see it, he can see it from here and it tears his mind apart.

"come, please." you mutely whimper, your voice sounds too intoxicating. you are intoxicating because against his better judgement he finds himself drawing closer.

he finds himself sitting beside your breathless body. "you said you were going to the bathroom."

you tilt your head to meet his distressed face, you want to see what nanami looks like at every moment. how his eyebrows quip up, how his jaw tightens. you want to see how his features contort in any circumstance, with any emotion. you want those to be yours.

"i got lost." you rasp. when he is this close, you can see every vein and ridge on his skin. every muscle and freckle. it only makes your cunt beg for more. it turns you into a desperate slut because nanami is right beside you and he is the only one who can make it all better.

"it's not your first time here." he rakes his hand through his hair. the still dampened strands hang over his forehead. it makes him look younger.

"it's my first time in your bed." your sticky fingers find his forearm, he is so tense. his eyes avoid you, fists tight in an attempt to regain some composure. it does not help in the slightest.

it is hard to ignore you when your cunt is stripped bare for him to see, when you do not even close your legs to hide away from him. it is hard to ignore the liquid you taint his skin with because he knows it came from your creamy pussy and he wants to get his fingers covered instead.

he wants to cover something else with you too.

"won't you look at me?" you reach down to stroke your swollen clit, squeezing nanami's arm as he clenches his jaw and lets out a sharp breath.

you press harder, your hips rocking. "please, kento, please just once."

you both know it could never be once. you lie to yourself that after this nothing will happen. that you would stop here.

nanami lies to himself too.

you do not hide the smile that impresses on your face as nanami climbs over you.

he grips your wrist to bring your slick sodden fingers into his mouth. all you can feel is heat when his tongue strokes over them and he sucks every bit of your essence. his expression is pained as he pulls back "why do you have to taste that good? have you not ruined me enough?"

he leans down and you swear he is going to kiss you but all he does is brush his lips along yours. "you taste so fucking good, sweetheart." nanami does not think he could stop now that he knows what you taste like.

you reach up to stroke the shaven hair just above his nape and tug him closer but nanami turns his head before you can kiss him.

"kento." it is quiet.

"we can't."

frustration fills you, you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, pressing kisses to his cheek. you are selfish, you need your fill. even if he does not admit it, he needs it too. perhaps more than you.

he relishes on the soft feeling of your mouth on his skin.

"let me see." he grips the sides of your waist as you leave wet kisses.

"baby, let me see your pussy. i need to see how messy she is." you think you might cum from his voice alone.

you do not want to let him go but you want him to see your cunt, you want him to touch and feel and sink inside you.

he sits up on his knees, his rough palms gripping your thighs to hold you open. he lets out an exasperated sigh. "everything about you is pretty. she is so fucking pretty, sweetheart."

you feel every callous on his rough hands as he glides them up your stomach to your sternum. he thumbs the fabric of your barely there shirt before he tugs it upwards.

"fucking hell." his lithe touches trail over your breasts before gliding down to squeeze your hips. "so gorgeous. you're the prettiest woman i've ever seen."

you want to kiss him. you want him pressed flush to your skin. all you want is nanami but you cannot have him.

"you were fucking this pretty cunt open, weren't you? what were you thinking about when you were shoving those little fingers in this leaking hole?" his voice is low. you only heard him like that once before.

you think about it all the time.

"you."

"yeah? what did you think about, sweetheart?" his nails nick your skin. nanami cannot believe he has you under him like this. he cannot fathom that a pretty thing like you ever spared him a second glance.

this is far more than he deserves.

"you touching me. if you would be gentle and nice like i know you are or," you swallow it down. the way the words instantly wash a heat over your body. "if you'll be mean."

"how mean? wrapping my hand around that little throat while i stretch your tight cunt or bruising this cute ass when i have you bent over?"

you feel like you will pass out. your body writhes like you want to put more of you into his hands. you want his touch on you always.

"i want it like that, kento, want it anyway you'll give me."

"anyway? if i shove my cock in this little hole and fuck it even if you're crying, even if you can't take anymore you'll still want it?" you moan at his words, your body jolting at the thought.

"anything, kento!"

his touches grow softer, your thighs ache to press together, more slick drips from you. he makes you lose it entirely.

"i would worship you, i could be as rough as you want and i would still worship you. cause that's what you deserve." he reaches up to caress your cheek. "you deserve every bit of affection and love and i wish i could give it to you." but he cannot. it sours your mood when he says it.

it rips your heart out.

"you can give it to me." you want it, you ache and crave for it. from him, only him.

"i wish i could, i would do anything to have you, baby. i would do anything to make you mine." those words are so empty.

"then do it." your voice breaks. tears prick your eyes and his narrow ones fill with pain. you know you cannot have him. you know that and it was certainly your mistake for ever entertaining the idea. for ever hoping.

he leans down to nuzzle his nose with yours and you find yourself leaning closer hoping for a kiss but he does not give it to you. "don't cry, sweetheart. please, don't cry."

you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. it is not a real kiss but you will let it suffice. "can you touch me?"

"i can't do that, baby."

you throw your head back with an exhausted cry.

"i'm telling you, you can. you can do anything to me kento, please."

nanami cannot let himself touch you because he will not stop. he will not let you go. he wants to put his hands all over you, he wants to memorise the marks on your skin, the contours of your flesh.

nanami wants you more than he can explain.

he swallows hard, nanami is worst than you.

"show me how you want me to touch you."

"i want more than just showing you."

"i'm right here." his large palm comes to caress your cheek and you find yourself pressing further into his touch. he is so warm. "we can pretend it's the same. i want to see it. i want to see how you fuck this pretty cunt when you think of me."

when he talks like that, when he touches you, when he leans down to brush his lips against yours and makes you crave for more. how can you refuse?

your cunt is a mess and you are too. your fingers find your slit, rubbing the underside along your entrance. you wish it was nanami instead.

he huffs a low groan, eyes trained on the liquid coating your digits as you stroke your pussy. "fucking hell." his hands press against the back of your thighs to hold you open. to spread your legs so he can see every bit of your soaking cunt.

you bite down on your lip, maybe you can pretend that nanami is yours as much as you are his. even though he does not accept it.

all you can thing about is how big his hands are, how big he is. everywhere he touches you burns. just like the way he burned himself into your soul.

"can you put them in for me? can you let me see what your pussy looks like when she's taking them?" his voice is sin. it must be. his touch grazes down your legs. "i know she takes it so well, huh? know she looks so good when she's getting fucked."

you could cry. you are crying.

"would look the best if you were fucking me." you whine and nanami hums. he hums and you swear you feel it down every bit of your body. to your bones

"yeah? i know, baby. i know, sweet girl. your pussy would look so good spread around my fat cock. would take it like you were made for it."

"i am." you are made for it, for him. you need him closer. you need him with no space because right now, any distance makes you sick.

"you are. fuck, you are." he grits his teeth, your body melting as he crowds over you and his mouth presses kisses to your neck. "show me, show me what i can't have. put them inside." and you listen. you listen because you are gone for nanami in a way you have never experienced before.

your fingers are covered in sticky liquid, you are wetter than usual. it is because of him. it does not take much to slide two fingers.

it does not take much to shove them in to your knuckles but the ache inside you cannot be quelled unless nanami takes you. "you're so good. how's it feel?"

"like i need you." you voice brokenly whispers. you slowly slip out before slamming back in. you are past the point of depravity. you movements grow repeated and rougher. harder and deeper. as deep as you can get.

you know nanami would go deeper, he might go so deep you lose your mind.

"you've never been fucked properly before, have you?"

you can barely hear him over the messy slurping noises of your fingers pounding into your cunt. over the splatters of your liquids between your legs or the feeling of your cunt clenching down every time you press your digits inside.

but you hear him. you hear him because he is yours. he is the only one you want to hear at every moment.

"nuh uh."

"i want to do that for you. i want to fuck your pussy open. i want to spread her out and stuff you so full you'll go dumb." he keeps his lips over yours, he keeps his voice low. he keeps tempting you. you want so deperately to press your mouth to his. you want so desperately to pull him close and feel the softness of his pink lips. you could try but nanami is stronger than you.

he is so much stronger and if he wanted, he could pin you down without much effort. he could pin you down without a muscle flexing.

"your fingers can't get deep in that little cunt like i can." your body writhes, you curl your fingers but it does nothing to relieve the burning in your abdomen. you arch your back off the sheets almost instinctively. like you want to show nanami all of you is for him to take.

"then fuck me, gosh, just fuck me." you grind your palm into your clit, your hips rocking as you sink your fingers inside. nanami's eyes are hooded, his pupils are blown so wide all you see is black.

he breathes a little harder seeing your fingers plunge inside your soaking slit. they are covered in sticky liquid and so messy all he wants to do is lick them up.

he wants to put his mouth on you and taste your cunt.

his hands find either side of your face, his palms are rough but the way he touches you is so gentle. his nose nudges yours, nanami is so close you swear you will pass out.

"i would fuck you harder than this sweetheart cause i can't help myself. you think i could have any composure once i'm inside this leaking hole? i couldn't if i tried because you destroy me. i would fuck this cunt until your legs are shaking and i have you shaped to my cock."

you squeeze your eyes shut as you pump into your cunt harder. your toes curl and your head feels dizzy.

nanami presses kisses to your cheek before trailing to your neck. you can almost pretend that he is fucking you. almost. because you know the girth of his cock would be an entirely different sensation that your fingers.

you know he would be so deep in your guts you might be too brainless to function.

you know if nanami really fucked you, he would ruin you for anyone else.

he already has.

your hand aches from the vigorous pace you have, it aches as you slam and curl your fingers.

"please, please, please." your lips press against the sharpness of nanami's cheek bone. you would do anything for a kiss.

"doing so fucking good, sweetheart. you're close aren't you?" he knows, of course he would. he sees it in the way your jaw hangs with broken moans, your barely open eyes and the way your thighs tense. "let me see how pretty you look when you cum. let me see how she creams. i know you'll make a mess, wish i could have it on my cock." you whine at his gravelly tone.

"kento, you can. you can have it." any way and any where he wants it.

"cum for me. want you to cover those fingers for me." you would do anything for him.

you kiss his jaw, reaching down to roll your clit in frantic circles as you finger your pussy. you thrust your fingers as hard and fast, wishing it was nanami's cock instead, wishing you could feel the stiffness of his cock being pounded into you.

"kento, please." you whine, your body jittering as you slam into your slit. your thighs flex and tremble, fucking into your hole as you cum. your gooey walls clench and pulse, covering your hand in sticky liquid. you fuck into yourself with uneven pumps of your fingers as your hips buck up.

nanami thinks seeing you cum is the greatest sight he has ever witnessed. he sees your pretty lips parted in cries, he sees your back arch up and drool down your jaw. he sees your pussy cream, wishing all that mess was covering his cock instead and he got to feel you clamping down on him.

when your fingers still they are trembling. they slip out with strands connecting them to your slick covered pussy. nanami's mouth is watering.

"such a good girl, baby." his hands coax along your body, your chest is heaving and there is so much juice dripping from your cunt that it soaks his sheets.

he feels like he won't have any choice but to press his face into that spot later and jerk his cock raw.

your coated fingers stroke along his lips, smearing them with the glossy fluid and his darkened eyes find yours. your breath hitches as his heated muscle slips out to lave along them.

he groans before his mouth engulfs your sodden digits and he sucks the creamy cum off.

he huffs a low curse and you jolt when he kisses the corner of your mouth and trails a flurry of frantic kisses down your warm body.

they are open mouthed and wet, your thighs jumping when he buries his face between your legs and the flat of his tongue trails along your entrance.

his rough palms squeeze your thighs and your fingers find his hair. you mewl, rocking your hips into his face as nanami desperately laps at your entrance. he incessantly glides the slimy muscle of his tongue along your sopping slit.

your jaw hangs and you pant when his tongue presses past your entrance and wriggles within your walls. nanami sucks and slurps at your pussy, he devours the mess between your legs without any regard.

he groans, the sound vibrating through you as he lowers his jaw to fuck his tongue further inside you. nanami loses his sensibility around you. you love nothing better than that.

you taste like this is all okay, like nanami can have, fuck and love you without any obstacle. you taste like you were made to be with him and he cannot do without you.

he plunges his tongue repeatedly inside of you. he loses himself in your cunt despite not fucking it. he loses himself because it is you and you rid him of any coherency. when nanami truly comes to, you are riding his tongue and he is fucking you with it like he cannot get enough of you.

truthfully, he cannot.

you whine when he suddenly yanks away, he feels punished to. to be ripped away from your oasis of a pussy is punishment. nanami wants to eat your cunt up until you cry.

until he takes everything and you have nothing left to give.

the pretty blond strands press against your stomach as he lays his head down. a defeated breath escapes him.

his hands squeeze your sides like they want to be embedded in your body. he does not want to take his hands away but he must because the second nanami is near you, he makes all the wrong choices.

he sits up, swiping his mouth and avoiding your exhausted bare body exposed for his prying eyes like he has not seen you cum or had his tongue deep in your cunt, like the taste of your sweet essence is not lingering in his mouth and giving him a permanent craving.

"you should go downstairs."

your eyes widen, you do not want him to push you away.

"kento." you brokenly speak, you hurriedly sit up and your hands find nanami's t-shirt to yank him in. finally, finally, you kiss him. finally your tongue is in his mouth in a messy exchange.

your fingers knot in his shirt as your tongue rolls over his, his lips are soft and you can tell he is holding back. you can tell he does not want to give in to you.

"please." you whimper against his mouth before your hand grips his throat and nip at his bottom lip. nanami laves his tongue overs yours before he tilts his head and leans in to kiss you fully. his lips move languidly whilst he gropes your naked body.

"please stop doing this to me, baby." he says quietly, caressing your cheeks then softly pecking your mouth. once, twice, he might do it too many times to count.

nanami finds you addicting.

"i just want you. is that too much to ask for?" you softly kiss him, stroking his adam's apple before you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.

"it is. you know it is." he wishes things were different and when you flash him watery eyes, his chest aches. "you are the most gorgeous girl in the world. you're too good to be true. i wish you weren't anything to her so you could be something to me." it breaks your heart. he rips it apart but nanami is the only reason it beats.

you wish you could be selfish. you wish you could throw the biggest tantrum. why can you not be something to both of them?

"get dressed and go downstairs like this never happened." he nudges your nose with his, your eyes flit over narrow eyes and angular features.

how could he ask you to forget this when you hung onto every single moment you had with him?

you want to protest, you want to stay here with him.

it seems kento can read your mind.

"i promise i'll give you a kiss if you do."

"just one?" your lips pout, all you can see, smell and feel is kento.

you would not have it any other way.

nanami finds you too cute, he finds you as someone he wants close at all times.

"just one." it pains him to say it. how could anyone ever kiss you just once?

kento is a gentleman, it is one of the reasons why you wish he could truly be yours because he helps you get dressed and you find yourself with your arms around his shoulders while you kiss him.

you find yourself holding him close. you kiss him despite how breathless you know you will be because stopping this one kiss meant you would not get another.

you do not want it to end just yet.

you do not want to leave nanami alone at all.

the truth of the matter is, when you came into this world, nanami already lived his.

your best friend is proof of that.

still working on pt3

[hoshifighting]

Workaholic!Joshua

— Synopsis: Joshua consistently skips happy hours or works overtime. You've tried to warn your friend countless times, but he didn't listen to you. As a result, it's no surprise that Joshua experienced a burnout on the office floor. — WC: 5.3k — WARNINGS: Smut, fluff, angst, office setting, fingering (f. receiving), clit stimulation, handjob, penetrative sex, a little bit of car sex, protected sex, dirty talk, flirty Joshua.

[Please be aware that the following text includes mentions of burn-out, collapse, fainting out, which may be a sensitive topic for some]

[Issue Club Serie]

You remember when you heard your manager talking about a job vacancy in the recruitment and selection sector. The name immediately stood out to you—Joshua. You studied with him in college, and you knew he would be perfect for the role.

The manager loved him. Joshua was charismatic, empathetic, and dedicated—everything the recruitment team needed. Every morning, he would thank you profusely, and at least twice a week, he would insist on buying you an overpriced coffee. It took some time for you to convince him that he didn't need to do this.

But there was something else you couldn't help but notice. The sheer number of job interviews Joshua had to lead, the late nights you'd see him at his desk with tired eyes, and how he always seemed a little lonely, even though the team welcomed him with open arms.

Joshua would rarely show up to the department's happy hours on Fridays or the company parties, and even then, he would only talk about work. There was no relief, no relaxation. You found yourself listening to him until the end of the night, as the rest of the team started to ask if he would even bother coming anymore, knowing he probably wouldn't.

You couldn't help but feel for Joshua. He was clearly passionate about his work, but at what cost? You watched as he isolated himself, unable to find that work-life balance that so many of us strive for. It made you wonder, what was driving him to push himself so hard, and at what point would the stress and loneliness become too much to bear?

As his friend, you couldn't help but worry about his well-being. You'd seen him cancel plans, skip social events, and even miss out on family gatherings, all in the name of his career. It was admirable, sure, but also concerning. 

You could consider reaching out, inviting him for a coffee or a quick chat. Maybe he just needed someone to listen and remind him that there was more to life than just work. 

But then again, who were you to judge? 

Everyone has their own path, their own motivations. Still, you couldn't shake the feeling that Joshua was heading for a burnout. You wondered if there was a way to help him find a better balance without undermining his ambitions. It was a tricky situation, and you weren't sure how to approach it.

As you glance at the clock, the hands indicate it's already 3:35 pm. Your stomach growls, reminding you that you've been so absorbed in your work that you've skipped lunch. Deciding it's time for a much-needed break, you gather your phone and wallet, heading towards the exit of the department.

But just as you're about to leave, you spot Joshua, his fingers dancing across the keyboard in a blur of movement. You can't help but let out a small sigh, knowing he's likely putting in extra hours again. Turning around, you make your way over to his desk, standing beside him.

"Joshua, it's past 3:30. Don't you think it's time for a break?" you say, your voice laced with concern.

Joshua looks up, blinking a few times as he registers your presence. "Oh, hey Y/N. I'm just trying to get this report finished before the end of the day," he explains, his brow furrowed in concentration.

You can't help but smile at his dedication. "Come on, you've been working non-stop. Let's go grab a bite to eat across the street. My treat," you offer, hoping to coax him away from his desk.

Joshua hesitates for a moment, glancing back at his computer screen. "I don't know, Y/N. I really need to get this done..."

"It can wait, Joshua. You need to take a break and recharge," you insist, your tone gentle but firm.

With a sigh, Joshua nods and starts to gather his things. "Alright, you win. Let's go," he says, shrugging on his blazer.

You can't help but feel a sense of triumph as the two of you head towards the elevator. "So, how are the apprentice interviews going?" you ask. "They're going well, actually. The candidates are all so eager and eager to learn," Joshua replies, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You chuckle, nodding in understanding. "That's the best phase, but I hope they don't overwork themselves in the future, right Josh?" you say, casting him a knowing glance.

Joshua ducks his head, chuckling quietly. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you," he says, the hint of a smile still playing on his face.

As you step out into the bustling street, you feel the sun's warmth on your face, a pleasant contrast to the cold, sterile office. You turn to Joshua, a playful grin spreading across your face.

"Alright, Josh, here's the deal. If you talk about work during this break, you'll owe me an ice cream," you declare, wagging a finger at him.

Joshua laughs, a genuine sound that lightens the mood. "Deal. Though, to be honest, I'd buy you an ice cream anyway," he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Don't you forget it. And remember, I'm serious," you say, trying to keep a straight face as you give him a mock-stern look.

Joshua raises his hands in surrender, still chuckling. "Alright, alright, I heard you loud and clear."

As you both find a cozy little café, the smell of freshly baked bread and brewed coffee envelops you. You choose a table by the window, and as you settle in with your meals, the casual chatter of other patrons creates a comforting background hum.

"Did you hear about the latest drama?" you begin, leaning in conspiratorially. "The director's wife found out he was cheating on her because her strawberry jam kept disappearing from the fridge—and the director doesn't even like strawberry jam!"

Joshua's mouth drops open, his eyes wide in disbelief. "No way. Seriously?" he exclaims, staring at you.

You nod, your face a picture of exaggerated exasperation. "Yup. She noticed it was going down way too fast and started putting two and two together."

Joshua shakes his head, still processing the story. "That's wild. You know, during the last interview I led, they actually put some strawberry jam on the table so the candidates would—" He stops abruptly as your glare pierces him. He laughs, holding up his hands again. "Sorry, sorry! No work talk, I remember."

You can't help but smile at his sheepish expression. "Thank you. So, back to the story. After she figured it out, she didn’t just confront him. Oh no, she went all out. She invited him to a romantic dinner, complete with candles and, of course, strawberry jam."

Joshua raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "And then what happened?"

You lean in closer, lowering your voice. "She waited until he took a bite of the dessert she made—some fancy strawberry tart. And then she calmly asked him if he enjoyed it as much as his 'office snacks.'"

Joshua bursts out laughing, nearly choking on his food. "No way! That’s brilliant. What did he do?"

You grin, enjoying his reaction. "He turned beet red and started stammering. She didn’t even wait for an explanation. She just got up, left the table, and moved out the next day. Took the jam with her too, just for good measure."

Joshua laughs so hard tears form in his eyes. "I can't believe it. That's some next-level pettiness. Good for her."

You noticed Joshua seemed more relaxed after your lunch together. He even managed a smile when you passed by his desk later that day. However, during the week, your attempts to repeat the lunch outing were met with resistance. Each time you invited him, he had a different excuse.

"Hey, Josh, want to grab some lunch today?" you asked on Tuesday, hoping to replicate the success of your last outing.

"Sorry, Y/N. I need to lead the apprentice interview," he replied, not looking up from his computer.

On Wednesday, you tried again. "How about lunch today? There is a pasta sale going on at the mall."

Joshua sighed, shaking his head. "I wish I could, but I need to filter the job applications. We're getting so many, and I need to find the best ones."

By Thursday, your frustration was evident, but you kept it in check. "Lunch today, Josh? You deserve a break."

"I'd love to, but I need to solve the issue with the employees' late salaries," he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "It's causing a lot of stress for everyone."

Joshua was developing into someone who rarely took a break from his work. Today was Friday, and as you were leaving with your coworkers, all you wanted was to taste a cold beer and find some refuge from the rough week. The whole department was eager to hang out together, and the air was filled with energy.

You were refreshing your makeup at your desk as your coworkers trickled out, laughing and chatting. Glancing over, you saw Joshua standing by the printer, watching the curriculums pile up.

"Josh, you coming out with us tonight?" you called over, hoping to finally get him to relax.

He looked up, "I don't know, Y/N. I have these curriculums to go through, and then there's the report I need to finish."

Tired of trying, you sigh in defeat, the weight of your concern for Joshua pressing heavily on your shoulders. He notices, his eyes meeting yours briefly, but you turn away and walk out. You knew you didn't have the responsibility of checking on him every single time—it was his choice to work himself into exhaustion. But how could you not worry? He was a great friend, and the thought of him breaking down alone between the dividers of his desk was unbearable.

As you sip your beer, trying to enjoy the happy hour, the image of Joshua's lost eyes lingers in your mind. The laughter and chatter around you fade into the background as your thoughts drift back to him. After a few hours, the night winds down, and you remember you forgot your keys at the office. Debora, your coworker, offers you a ride back so you can retrieve them before heading home.

The office is dark and silent as you and Debora step inside, your footsteps echoing softly on the tiled floor. Only one light is turned on, casting a dim glow over a single desk. You immediately recognize it—Joshua's desk. But he isn't sitting there.

A sense of dread fills you as you approach, the cubicle dividers blocking your view. As you round the corner, you see him—Joshua, sprawled on the floor.

You gasp, rushing to his side. "Joshua!" you scream out, your voice trembling with panic. You carefully lift his head and place it on your lap, your hands shaking as you check for signs of consciousness. He's unresponsive, his face pale and drawn.

"Debora, call an ambulance!" you shout, your voice tight.

Debora fumbles with her phone, her fingers trembling as she dials. She quickly explains the situation to the operator and then rushes to find building security for additional help.

You gently shake Joshua, trying to rouse him. "Come on, Josh, wake up," you whisper urgently, but he remains still, his breathing shallow.

Minutes later, which feel like an eternity, the sound of sirens pierces the silence. The paramedics arrive, and you reluctantly let go of Joshua as they take over, assessing his condition and preparing to move him. You insist on riding with him to the hospital, unable to leave his side.

As the ambulance speeds through the city streets, you hold Joshua's hand, your heart pounding with worry. Outside the building, a few employees gather, watching the scene unfold with concern. You barely notice them, your focus entirely on Joshua, praying silently that he'll be okay.

You don't know exactly how many hours you've been by Joshua's side as he lies in the hospital bed. You watched the morning light grow brighter through the window, dozed off, woke up to find him still sleeping, went to the bathroom, and grabbed something from the cafeteria. When you return to his room, you see Joshua awake, a nurse measuring his blood pressure. An uncomfortable silence settles in as the nurse finishes up and leaves.

You sigh, walking next to him and turning your back to him.

"Are you mad at me?" Joshua asks, his voice still weak.

You shake your head, the words snapping out before you can stop them. "No, I'm letting you rest, since you don't do it yourself."

He sighs deeply, and you close your eyes, immediately regretting your harsh tone. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you this much trouble," he says softly.

You shake your head negatively, looking down. "I found you on the floor, Josh. The only reason I was there was because I forgot my keys. What if I hadn't come back?"

Joshua struggles, but he manages to reach out and catch your hand that is hanging by the bedside. His cold touch makes you glance at him. His eyes are full of exhaustion.

"Please, don't make me this worried again,"

Joshua squeezes your hand weakly. "I'll try, Y/N. I really will. I'm sorry for pushing myself so hard and for pushing you away. I didn't realize how bad it had gotten."

You nod "You don't have to do everything alone, you know. We're all here for you. I'm here for you."

He nods, his eyes glistening. "I know. And I appreciate it more than you know. I just... I need to find a better balance."

"Promise me you'll take it seriously this time," you say.

"I promise," he whispers, his grip on your hand tightening just a bit, weakly. "I'll take better care of myself."

You sit down next to him, your hand still in his. "Good. Because you can't go through that again."

You didn't like the rumors circulating around the office about Joshua while he was away. It bothered you to hear whispers about his collapse, especially since everyone in his department knew how hard he worked and yet pretended everything was fine. 

As the days passed, Joshua's desk slowly filled with Post-it notes and snacks, contributions from you and other departments. Joshua's sudden health scare was a wake-up call, touching more hearts than just yours.

When Joshua returned today, Friday, you watched from your desk as he walked in, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his desk. Messages of encouragement and little treats were piled high. 

His face goes red as he glances around, catching the subtle glances of his coworkers. They quickly return to their tasks, but you see the corners of their mouths twitching with barely concealed smiles.

He worked at his desk, and his department members spared him from taking on too much. As the windows started to show the darkening sky, some people had already left to go home. Unlike regular Fridays, there was no happy hour planned for tonight.

Seungkwan approached Joshua's desk, a concerned look on his face. "Hey, Josh, you should really think about not doing extra hours today."

Joshua shook his head, "I'm going to take it easy for now…" a small smile formed as he looked at you. "Also, I have a happy hour for two tonight, so no extra hours."

As his friends gave you sly glances and teased you with their smiles, you felt your cheeks blush.

"Looks like someone's got a date," Seungkwan said, grinning.

How did you two end up on a date? It started in the hospital. Joshua was still recovering, lying in bed, holding your hand. The room was quiet, the noise from machines was the only sound.

"How can you forgive me?" he asked, his voice soft.

You shook your head, a gentle smile on your face. "I'm not mad at you, Josh. But it would be cool if you took a break every now and then. Maybe we could go to a happy hour someday."

Joshua licked his lips, still holding your hand and giving it a weak squeeze. He looked up at you, all flirty. "Would you be open to having a happy hour with just you and me?"

You blinked, shocked. "What?"

He blushed, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "Come on, it's so difficult for me to take a break. I'd love to have you as the motive for my breaks."

You scoffed, attempting to conceal the warmth that spread throughout your chest. "You should take breaks for your health and my sanity."

Joshua brushed his thumb against your hand, a playful grin grabbing at his lips. "Don't scold me, Y/N-nie, I'm sick," he teased.

You stared at him, a shocked smirk on your face. "You're taking advantage of me."

"Yes," he said, his smile growing. "Using the advantage, so you accept having an encounter with me."

The memory of that conversation makes you smile as you walk out of the office together, the evening air cool and refreshing. 

"So, where are we going for this happy hour?" you ask, trying to lighten the mood.

Joshua chuckles, his eyes bright with excitement. "I thought we could try that new restaurant around the corner. I've heard good things."

You nod, feeling the tension of the week melt away. "Sounds perfect."

As you both enter the bar, the atmosphere is lively but not unpleasant. You find a cozy corner table and settle in, the soft murmur of conversation and clinking glasses creating a comfortable backdrop.

Joshua looks at you, his eyes filled with gratitude and something else that makes your heart skip a beat. "Thanks for convincing me to take a break."

You smile, raising your glass. "To more breaks and less stress."

He clinks his glass against yours, a genuine smile on his face. "To more happy hours with you."

After dinner, you find yourself sitting in the passenger seat of Joshua's car. The air is filled with a comforting silence, both of you soaking in the cozy warmth of the evening. As he pulls the car up in front of your house, you pause for a moment, your heart quickening in your chest as you struggle to gather the courage to look over at him.

Instead, you direct your gaze out the windshield, staring at the street ahead of you. The dim glow of streetlights paints the night in soft hues of orange, casting shadows on the quiet neighborhood.

"Do you want to come inside?" you ask, your voice hardly above a whisper.

Joshua turns your face toward his, his touch gentle as he lifts your chin with a soft touch. "You want me to go inside?" he enquires, his tone soft.

You nod, your gaze drawn to his mouth. "Yes."

"Then tell me," he teases, "what exactly are we going to do inside?"

You gulp, your mind racing. "We can... we can..." you stutter. You didn't have an answer on the tip of your tongue.

Joshua leans in close to you, his smile growing wider as he whispers against your skin, "I'm going to come inside, but go easy on me," he says, his breath warm and sultry, "I'm not quite recovered yet."

You shiver at his words. "What do you mean?" you ask, your voice still low and quiet as you look up at him.

"What do you think I mean?" he replies with a smirk, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "I mean," he murmurs, his mouth brushing against your ear as he speaks, "that you might have to take it slow with me."

"Slow? How slow?" You're whispering, not because you're afraid of being loud, it's because you're so horny that your voice is strained. 

Joshua's lips curve into a smirk as he sees the effect he's having on you. 

"Slow," he whispers back, his voice low and seductive. "Slow to the point where you feel yourself starting to drip."

He closes the gap between you, his lips hovering just millimeters from yours as his hands slide up your hips.

"Are you sure you want me to come inside?" he asks, his mouth so close to yours that you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin.

Your mind could only focus on the two last words. Mind foggy. "Come inside?" 

Joshua widens his eyes slightly, then a cocky smile spreads across his face as he registers the double meaning of your words. "Hmm look at you, how nasty... I guess we can do this too..."

His lips crash against yours, no longer gentle but filled with urgency. His tongue delves into your mouth, exploring, tasting. You gasp, the wet noises so sultry inside his sleek car. His hands unclasp your seatbelt, and one slide from your knee to your thigh, slipping under your pencil skirt to feel the lacy panties you wore.

"Slowly, like this," he murmurs against your mouth, his voice too sultry.

His hand moves to the front of your panties, and you instinctively raise your hips as he pulls them down, discarding them onto the car's floor. The air inside the car starts to feel foggy, just like your senses, and your breathing becomes more rapid.

Joshua's hand returns to your now bare skin, his fingers teasing and exploring the wet folds of your pussy. You moan softly into his mouth, your body reacting to every touch. And slow, just like he said, he starts to circle your clit with his finger, making you instantly melt against the seat as you spread your legs wider for him.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark and intense, filled with fascination as he watches your reactions. Your mouth can't correspond to the wet kisses anymore, your hips roll against his hand, your legs spasm as you try to keep them open, and your skirt rises, revealing your sopping cunt glistening.

You find yourself pushed back against the seat, your body arching as you grow more desperate for him. His eyes never leave yours.

“I can feel how much you want this.” 

You can only nod, your breath coming in ragged gasps as his fingers speed on your swollen bud. 

“So open, so needy.” he murmurs making you feel that sharp stitch in your belly一your horniness growing. 

His words make you moan, and he chuckles, his voice filled with a gloomy promise. “I want to hear more of that,” he says, his fingers teasing your entrance before slipping inside. You cry out, your body responding instantly to his touch, your head thrown back.

“Joshua,” you gasp, your hands clutching at his shirt as you try to ground yourself.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck. “Yes, Y/N? Tell me what you need.”

“More,” you manage to say, your voice trembling, “I need more.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a fiery intensity. “More? I can give you more.”

With that, he increases the pace, his fingers moving inside you making the squelching wet songs, louder. He watches you so closely that you feel embarrassed; it is as if he reads everything about you and knows every secret you keep.  

“Every little touch, every little tease… you’re soaking it all up.” He coos, and you feel your orgasm getting closer and closer. 

You can only whimper in response, your body trembling with the need for release. He leans in, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. The taste of him, the feel of him, it’s all too much, and you can sense that you are nearing collapse.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he whispers against your lips. “Let go.”

His words are your undoing. With a cry, you shatter, your body convulsing against his leather seat. Joshua holds you through it, his touch possessive, trying to keep you still so you can feel the waves better. As you come down from the high, you find yourself panting, your body still trembling non-stop.

His fingers are soaked, glistening in the pale light. With a teasing grin, Joshua brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a satisfied pop. You immediately turn your face to the window, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you try to straighten your skirt. His chuckle fills the car, rich and warm.

“Shy now, are we?” he teases, his voice low and playful.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, your hands fumbling with the fabric of your skirt. But Joshua isn’t done with you yet. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “We can resume this inside. What do you think?”

You nod, finally daring to meet his gaze. He gives you a quick peck on the lips before stepping out of the car. You watch him circle around to your side, suppressing a laugh when he catches the glimpse of your knees trembling as you exit the vehicle.

“Did you get this horny?” he can't hide the amusement in his voice.

The walk to your front door feels like an eternity, your fingers fumbling with the keys as Joshua’s need becomes more apparent. He’s pressing his bulge against you, his hands roaming over your body as he kisses your neck, making it hard to focus on unlocking the door.

Finally, the door swings open, and you grab Joshua by the collar of his white shirt, pulling him inside. Your mouths collide in a desperate kiss, his hands clutching your hips as you stumble toward the bedroom. You don’t care about the noise or the awkward angles; all that matters is the friction among you, the urgent need to be closer.

With outstretched arms, you brace yourself against the wall, your body arching toward his as he presses against you. His hands are everywhere—sliding under your blouse, unhooking your bra, teasing the sensitive skin beneath. You moan into his mouth, your hands clutching at his hair while you're absorbed by the feeling.

“Bedroom,” you manage to gasp, your voice breathless and needy.

Joshua’s response is a low growl, his hands gripping your waist as he guides you through the hallway. You barely make it to the bed before you’re pulling at each other’s clothes, the fabric tearing in your haste to be free of it. His shirt falls to the floor, followed by your skirt, his pants, your blouse—until there’s nothing between you but skin and heat.

He pushes you gently onto the bed, his body covering yours as he kisses you sloppy. His hands continue their search, teasing, caressing, making you frantic with need. You arch against him, your fingers digging into his back as you pull him closer.

His cock lays heavily against your belly, a warm, wet spot forming on your skin from his precum. You grab his throbbing length, feeling it pulse under your touch. Joshua shudders, moaning needily against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you and adding to your own arousal.

Your hand collects the sticky lubrication, spreading it along its entire length. You begin to stroke him, your other hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. His eyes flutter open, trying to stay locked on yours as you speed up your strokes. His gasps and whimpers alimented your hunger, making you feel yourself oozing more and more.

At a certain point, he lets out a high-pitched squeak, hiding his face in your neck. "I need to be inside you," he says, his voice strained and desperate.

You close your eyes, the heat of his breath on your skin sending shivers down your spine. "Open this drawer," you murmur, nodding towards the bedside table.

Joshua extends his arm, fumbling slightly as he opens the drawer and finds a couple of condoms. He picks one up, glancing at you with a teasing smile. "Always prepared, huh?" he says, tearing open the shiny packet.

His hands move with such practiced ease that it makes your breath catch when you watch him slide the rubber down his length. His cock looks even more inviting now, sheathed and ready for you.

He positions himself at your entrance, pausing for a moment to look into your eyes. Slowly, he pushes inside, filling you inch by inch. You gasp at the sensation, your pussy stretching to accommodate him. Joshua’s groan is deep and throaty, his hands gripping your hips as he bottoms out.

For a moment, neither of you moves, so you adjust to his side, but thankfully his fingers prepared you well in his car. Then, he begins to thrust, his pace is slow at first, his eyes locked on yours, watching every reaction, his ears alert to your every moan, and every wet sound from your stretched little cunt.

You arch your back, meeting his thrusts, your hands clutching his shoulders. “Faster, Joshua,” 

He complies, his pace quickening, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The room is filled with the sex sounds—the slap of skin against skin, the mingled moans and gasps, the creaking of the bed. You feel yourself climbing higher, the knot on your belly desperately wanting to blossom.

Joshua’s rhythm falters for a moment, his grip on your hips tightening. “I’m close,” he whispers, his voice strained.

“Me too,” you reply, your nails digging into his back.

Joshua takes his cock out of you, positioning himself a little further back before slamming all the way in again. The sudden movement makes you grab his forearm, while his other hand lays on your belly. Each thrust is powerful, hitting that perfect, spongy spot inside you that makes you sob with pleasure. You grow tighter around him with every second, the stimulation driving you both wild.

"You're perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

"Am I?" you manage to gasp between his thrusts.

"Absolutely," he praises, his words going straight to your core. "You're so tight, so wet. You're perfect for me."

The praise sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making you arch your back and cum for him. Joshua smiles at the sight of you unraveling beneath him—Your legs try to close instinctively, but his hips keep them wide apart. Your eyes roll back, your pussy gushing as your fingers curl around the headboard.

He finds your clit with his thumb, rubbing it just as your orgasm peaks. It shatters you, making you curse.

"Fuck, Joshua! You're so deep... don't stop... please, don't stop. God, you're going to make me cum again."

"You're so fucking tight," he groans, his pace quickening. "I can feel you squeezing me. You're gonna make me cum so hard."

"Keep cumming for me, baby," he whispers, his own voice shaking.

His moans grow louder, his pace more frantic. Your dirty talk pushes him to the brink, and with a final, powerful thrust, he cums hard. His loud moaning, combined with the sensation of his cum filling the condom, makes your head spin.

Joshua leaves you shaking for the second time that evening, fully exhausted and completely satisfied.

Joshua falls on his side beside you, his breaths coming hard and fast. You can't help but tease him, a smirk playing on your lips.

"Are you going to faint here too? Should I call an ambulance? After all, you weren’t as slow as you said you would be."

He laughs, his chest heaving. "I’ve got enough energy to fuck you all night if you want to, leave your bed all drenched," he says, kissing your cheek and playfully slapping your clit, making you shudder.

"All night, huh?" you tease back, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. "Big talk for someone who just collapsed next to me."

Joshua grins, his eyes sparkling. "You doubt me?"

"I’m just saying," you reply, your tone playful. "Maybe you should pace yourself. I wouldn’t want you passing out on me."

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "I’m not going anywhere. And if you think that was all I’ve got, you’re in for a surprise."

You chuckle, your fingers dancing down his stomach. "Promises, promises," you whisper, your hand inching closer to his now half-hard cock. "Let’s see if you can keep up."

Joshua groans, his body responding to your touch. "You’re going to regret challenging me," he murmurs.

"Bring it on," you whisper back.

[littlelovelunette]

what about a navy! sevika x farmer! reader where the both of them are on the edge of their relationship because sevika won't prioritize her wife because reader wants to start a family before reader eventually goes out to her garden in the middle of the night.

sevika then follows her wife to the garden to she apologies and beg for forgiveness before they eventually got really really breeding kink, praise kink intimate on the grass in the garden in the middle of the night

Little You's, Little Me's, but Janna, Little You's...

Navy!Sevika x Farmer!Reader

Contains smut, angst, breeding, praise kink, lovey sex, impregnation, possible depressed!reader, modern au, Sevika G!P

Beyond frustration.

With the basic supply and demand of fruits and vegetables during spring, you're always on your feet running errands and supplying food. It gets tiring after a while especially when after a particularly heavy night even when you come back there is no loving wife of yours to greet you, hold you, sleep with you or even have sex with at this point.

And you knew perfectly well this was because Sevika didn't want kids and you did, so whenever you guys would talk now it'd get awkward because of that. When you both met you both had planned out your entire future together but now it all seemed in shambles. The woman you had married, who once said she loved children, didn't anymore. Your marriage was at an all time low, Sevika was so busy with her work and missions that she was barely even available anymore and it made you so sad.

At the beginning you had thought she was cheating but then you both had a huge fight about it, it's been distant since that one fight. Today was your anniversary and this was the first anniversary you spent without Sevika, sitting by the staircase in front of the front door, praying to Janna she comes back tonight because you have so much to ask. Does she even love you anymore?

"You don't sound sorry," You retorted angrily, "Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

The door clicks at 3 AM and Sevika slips in. She sees you at the staircase and sighed. "I know I'm sorry." She said her voice nonchalant which made you further mad.

"What do you want me to say?!" Sevika yelled back, her voice booming, making yours seem like a puppy's bark, "I'm not bending backwards and apologising for no shit, you know very well what my job expects of me, and if you can't handle that maybe you should buy yourself some maturity!—"

You could hear the faint snoring, Sevika was probably sleeping on the couch. You stayed there curled up in bed, leaning against the bedframe with tears pricking your eyes. You could feel the warmth of the tears falling down your cheek, it's been a while since you've felt any sort of warm anyway.

"All this just because I wanna settle down? I'm not getting any younger, Sev..." Tears appear at your eyes and you say nothing as you stormed upstairs and into your shared bedroom, curling up in bed. You felt miserable now. You waited for her to come in the bedroom and comfort you but you didn't hear her walking in so after you got up and looked around, the bedroom was still empty. It made you feel even more hopeless than before.

2 days pass, it's been the same except now you don't even get up to water your garden, nurture the plants. You just stay in your room, eat in your room, sleep in your room and sulk in your room. You wanted to cry, scream and just disappear but you also loved Sevika so immensely that it was eating away at your whole being at this point.

It was late at night and you couldn't hear Sevika snoring from down the hall, usually it was the white noise that helped you sleep but today you didn't even know if she was home. Body too tired to move from mental exhaustion but you forced yourself out of bed, almost stumbling into the wall as you walked down the hall. Your eyes squinted in the darkness and finally found the doorknob, you opened it and a small gust of wind greeted you. You sighed again, heart heavy, you just wanted Sevika.

Whichever it was, you didn't really care. Still staring into nothingness. You felt the figure kneel down behind you, "Baby," came Sevika's soft voice, "I'm so sorry I shouldn't have said all that."

You walked outside and sat down on the grass, curling up there. A while later, you hear the crunching sounds of the grass signalling Sevika either stepped out of the house too and into your garden or some mindless killer had broken into the fencing and would kill you.

You turned to look at her, eyes tired, face sunken.

"Love," Sevika gently held the side of your face, "Baby, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean what I said. I'm just scared. I'm being a little bitch but I'm so fucking scared that I won't be able to give my little ones enough time. I already don't give you time and—"

"Mm, it's okay," you said, looking away at the ground.

"No, it's not okay, I'm ready now. I'm sorry for being so cowardly, I couldn't even tell you, I thought you'd assume I'm weak."

"It's okay," you said now cracking a small smile as Sevika leaned in and kissed you, "Mm..." The kiss deepened, your body pressing into hers as you both kissed.

"I'd love to see little you's, little me's running around. Oh but Janna, little you's," Sevika said, her voice a little dreamy before she continued kissing you making you moan a little in her mouth, that gets her immediately hard.

"Doing so well, my baby," Sevika muttered as she tugged her sweat pants down just enough for her massive erect cock to slap up against her stomach, oozing precum.

Her hard cock pressing against your clothed sex through her sweatpants but she doesn't stop kissing you. Sevika nips at your jaw, and your neck as she moved lower. Her hands slipping beneath your blouse as she palmed your breasts. She was being soft and slow. Something you've rarely seen during sex. You tilt your head back giving her better access to continue her ministrations.

"Stuff me with your cum," You cooed in her ear which was probably tearing away at any forming hesitations in Sevika's head. She didn't need telling twice when she pushed your panties to the side and penetrated you. Her cock slipping in your slick wet folds with ease, buried snuggly within you.

"You look so beautiful like this, taking my cock so well," Sevika mumbled, she would always go pussy drunk whenever she was inside you mainly because you were so lewdly wet and your pussy was so tight.

Sevika pistoned her hips, pushing deeper into your cunt with each thrust, hands coming down to roll and twist your nipples between thick fingers that didn't hesitate going down your throat too, making you choke and drool.

"S-Sevika..." You whispered and then moaned loudly as she got a little faster.

"That good, yeah, baby? You like it? Want more?" Sevika cooed and you nodded, barely able to make sense out of her words as she thrusted in and out. Your juices coated her shaft completely, you needed more of her.

"Sevika, Sevika," you continued babbling her name and moaning softly with every kiss of her cock to your cervix, it felt far too good.

"Gonna cum in this pretty pussy," Sevika panted out, kissing you deeply. As she gave one ast thrust, you could feel your pussy filling up with her warm semen. Your eyes rolled back at the feeling, she didn't pull out though, she stayed inside for a bit before she slowly pulled out, letting your panties back on your vagina.

"They'll get soaked," you whined.

Sevika picked you up bridal style and took you to the bedroom, letting you lay down as she cleaned herself off and then you too, running you a warm bubble bath.

"I don't care, keep it inside," Sevika kissed you again.

"I'm so sorry for fucking up our anniversary," Sevika leaned in, kissing your forehead and stroking your hair gently as she helped washed your sore body.

"It's okay," you said with a tired smile, "I'm just really sleepy..."

"I know," Sevika gave you a half smile before picking you up, drying you off and putting you in bed, tucking you in. She got in bed too beside you and held you close.

"Soon... We'll have a little human all to ourselves," Sevika thought out loud to herself, looking at your already asleep face, "Sleep well, love."

[the-kr8tor]

Arrowroot + ❣️ : Jason Todd with reader who’s been a spy for as long as they can remember and he can never hide anything from them, so he enlists the whole family’s help to set up a proposal pls :3

JASON PROPOSING QIZNKWNXKWNXJ Thank you for the req! I hope you like it bestie ❤️

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem! Reader/ Red Hood x fem! Reader

Word count: 2k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Spy! Reader, established relationship, cw food mentions, lovestruck! Jason, fluff!

One year celebration 🎉

Navigation

You're attuned to little things, such as a simple change in temperature, the number of people inside a cafe or even eyes on you. You're used to it because of your profession. If you weren't then it could spell your death, or worse, capture. But the only person who can slip past through your honed radar is Jason Todd. Granted that he's your one weakness, him and a good matcha cake. So when you wake up to those glowing green eyes you love, his silhouette the only thing you can make out in your sleepy state and within the dark room, your senses don't blare for you to take up arms and shoot. No, instead of flinging a blade at the handsome boogeyman, you open your arms tiredly for him.

“Hey, Jaybird.” You croak out, eyes half lidded as you make grabby hands at him.

“A deadly spy making baby hands, and here I thought I've seen everything.” Chuckling, Jason walks into the slip of sunlight from the blackout curtains, revealing his handsome self to you in all his glory as he carries a tray of breakfast. His green eyes smile at you, head tilted whilst his dark hair is still tousled from sleep.

“Savour this moment, I'm only like this in the morning.” Grinning up at him, he mirrors your smile as he clicks the bedside lamp open. He's still in his boxers, bare chest almost blinding you from how the light reflects upon him. Like a moth to a flame, you poke his stomach. “Morning to you too, JJ.”

“Stop naming my body parts, babe.” He shakes his head, chortling at your shenanigans. Scooching close, he sits beside your hip as he places the tray of food on your lap.

“Can't help it when it looked at me first.” Joking, your eyes catch the spread. A plate of heaping waffles, crisp at the edges just like how you like it and with all the fixings that comes with it. A glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, and a bowl of fruit.

If it was a special day you wouldn't have second guessed what it's for. You could chalk it up to Jason being a classic romantic, but you remember that he got home late last night from patrol and would be too tired to squeeze out a handful of oranges just for you. Well he has done that before, but the way he looks at you, emerald eyes peeking through his lashes, lips casted into a small yet soft smile, you have a feeling what it's for. Especially when you accidentally found the ring tucked inside his sock drawer. It could be a proposal, years of loving each other all culminating to this day. Your heart soars at the conclusion, and you couldn't help the giddy smile to appear on your expression.

“I knew that I should've made pancakes instead.” His head tucks above his shoulder, lips pressed into a nervous smile.

You'll bet good money that the ring is in-between the waffles.

“No, I love it, Jason.” You reach for his cheek, thumb brushing along his skin to placate him. “I was just wondering what this is all for.”

Jason's face turns flat within a half second, brows knitted together as he frowns. “It's our anniversary.”

You raise a brow, slowly a smile spreads across your cheeks as well as his. The chorus of guffaws echoes in the shared room until he cups your face, reaching over the tray to press a brief kiss atop your smile. “I didn't even get you even for a little bit, hm?”

Shaking your head, you chase his lips, kissing him with a resounding smack. “Nope, I know what day it is, Jay, and it's definitely not our anniversary.”

“I thought I'd get you this time.” He lets your face go, picking up the syrup bottle and squeezing it all over the waffles just like how you like it.

“You're the only person who falls for that.” Smiling, you take the fork he offers to you. This is it, once you cut into that waffle you're going to get the prettiest ring ever, albeit sticky from syrup.

“What are you waiting for?” Eyes twinkling with mirth, the lilt in his tone doesn't fly by over your head.

“Nothing, just admiring your cooking.” You say in a sing song tone before cutting into the waffle right in the middle. As you lift the fork up, it reveals— nothing. Absolutely empty except for another waffle. You blink at your plate, taking a generous bite before Jason notices.

“How’d I do?”

“Good.” Nodding, you cut into another waffle, then another and another until you could only see the end of the plate. “It's really good.” It's not a lie, the waffles taste amazing like always, but you can't help but try to find the sparkly ring in between them.

“Yeah?” Jason lies down on his side, beaming at you as he watches you eat. His cheek rests on his fist, arm perched on the bed as he casually lays down on the quilted blanket. “You sure? Because you were slashing into it like it owed you money.”

“Oh I just thought that there's some whipped cream in the middle.” The other perk of your job is that you're quick in making excuses just like how you're quick on your feet when push comes to shove. But you don't need to run away from your fiancé to be as he looks at you expectantly.

“D’you want some whipped cream? I can grab it from the fridge?”

“No, it's fine.” You take his hand before he could stand up, patting him lovingly as he settles back down. He's definitely up to something. “Stay with me and have some of this, I can't eat all of it, babe.” As you bring the fork to his mouth, the two of you have a staredown. It reminds you of all the times you spot a fellow spy out in the field, but this time, you're starting to think that he knows that you know of his plan.

Jason chews as you scrunch your nose at him with a loving smile. That goes on for what seems to be hours, you feed him from your fork, while you sneakily scoop through the fruit but find nothing but fresh slices of mango and melon. And with every sip of the orange juice, you ready yourself lest you choke on the ring, but alas, you're left with a full bladder as you finish the whole glass.

“Trying to find something?”

Your head whips towards him, not even hiding the expectation any longer as you stare at him like he caught your hand inside the cookie jar.

“No,” you calmly say, politely straightening up your utensils on the plate. “why, should I be looking for something?”

Jason tilts his head back slightly whilst shrugging. “Not really.”

He knows. This fucker (affectionate) knows. And he's clearly playing with you and your unquestionable senses and perception.

“You know, babe,” you bat your lashes at him. “You never answered my question.”

“What question?” Oh he's challenging you. Sometimes you forget that he's also good at reading people because his usual sweetness and kindness towards you makes you forget. That and his kisses.

“Why you made me breakfast in bed?” Poking his pec, he catches your finger and splays your palm over his heart as he smiles at you innocently.

“Oh that, I just wanted to.” His index runs along the inside of your wrist, dancing along your skin until he reaches your elbow, cupping it gently as he traces small circles around it. “You've been working too hard, y’know, I just wanted to make you something nice.”

Why were you asking him again?

Your heart swells, “thank you, Jaybird.” Moving the tray beside you to have more space, you fold yourself to kiss him. The sweet syrup on his lips jolts you awake, but his hand on your back as he moves away your sleep shirt to feel your skin makes you fall back into forgetfulness. As you lean away, you peck the tip of his nose while he sighs affectionately. “I want to stay in bed with you, can we?” You say, almost a whine as he holds you close.

“We both have shit to do today, babe.” Jason looks at you through his puppy dog eyes. “I have that thing with Bruce and you—”

“Have debriefing.” You finish the sentence for him, head falling right atop his shoulder with a groan. “You can't expect me to just get dressed and leave when you made me breakfast in bed.” Your words are muffled by the crook of his neck.

Chuckling, he kneads at your back, comforting you with his warmth. “Well, you don't have to do the first one for at least another hour.”

Leaning away, you see the familiar glint in his eyes. You don't even say anything as you smirk and abruptly push him further into the plush bed.

—

Jason opens the car door for you as you get inside. He perches his arms over the window, gazing at you fondly. “You've got your water bottle?”

“Yep.” You sigh like a lovelorn schoolgirl about to move school away from her crush when it's just you going to work for the day. “You've got your keys?”

He dangles the carabiner of keys in his fingers. “Got them. You got your wallet?”

You scoff with a smile. “‘course, you've got my kiss?”

“Ah, shit, I think it's still in the house.”

“Well go get it then!” Giggling, he takes your face gently through the window and kisses you softly. “I see that you've found it.”

“I did, or maybe I need to look for it some more.” Moving back to kiss you again until you're a giggling mess, he pecks you once, twice, thrice before finally leaning away. “Keep safe, okay?”

“Always, Jason. Don't get shot.” You rub his freshly shaven chin as he fully leaves the side of the car.

“I won't. Don't forget, dinner at Bruce’s.” He taps your car as you put on your seatbelt and put it in reverse.

“As long as Alfred's cooking!” You call out before driving away.

Jason grins at the spot that you just left, hands tucked inside his leather jacket as he feels for the small velvet box inside. He might've not gotten you with the anniversary prank but he properly planted the red herring. Now you won't be any wiser when he proposes later at dinner when you'd expect a simple family dinner but not what he's planing— or what his family helped him plan. It's genius really. How to dupe a spy, and he thought it wouldn't be possible. But thanks to everyone's heads put together, including the world's greatest detective’s mind, this could work.

His phone rings, and Dick’s caller ID pops up. “Yeah?”

“Did it work?” He asks excitedly, too excitedly in fact.

“I'm surprised it did. Barbara was right, she sniffed it out immediately.” Jason chuckles as he leans against his motorcycle. A round of cheers echoes through the receiver, and Jason blinks at the sounds. “Am I on speaker?”

“Yeah! Everyone was on the edge of their seats waiting for your call, man. So she's not at all suspicious?”

“Not anymore.” He hopes, he really wants to surprise you just once. But that's hard enough when you're always anticipating everything.

“Listen, we cleaned up the gazebo and Alfred's going nuts in the kitchen. We just need to carry all the furniture in there and fix up the lights.”

Jason's fists clenches and unclenches, trying to ebb out the nerves. “Yeah, sounds good, thanks.”

“Just thanks?” Dick scoffs, and he hears a round of groans in the background. “You owe us, man, don't you dare elope without us being there.”

“That defeats the purpose of elopement.”

“Fine, guys, wreck the gazebo—!”

“I'm joking! She'd want to have everyone there.” Jason rolls his eyes and he swears his brother saw it from the click of his tongue.

“If she says yes!” Damien calls out, and he hears Barbara scold him.

“I'm going there now, don't start without me.”

As he puts on his helmet and races off to the manor, he feels the comforting warmth in his chest along with the sizzling nerves slithering in his arms. He just hopes that you don't immediately figure out the plan the second you enter the manor and it's just him and you inside.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 4

I may have girl bossed a bit too close to the sun and finished Chapter 5 and 6 too- I'm not quite happy with those so I'll go through them again before posting Ch5 😅

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 4 >>next

Well, we all knew they would never have time for you. They never do until it’s too late. That’s why funerals are for the living to say goodbye, to mourn, to let go of the guilt. It still hurt… It hurt so much to be brushed off by Alfred, to be ignored by Bruce, to be yelled at by Dick. You couldn’t even think of Jason without tearing up, and Tim was just straight-up mean. But at least he was honest. Cassandra and Barbara’s avoidance hurt the most since they were your only female interaction in years.

Everything you tried to do to prove yourself was, at best, ignored, at worst, compared to someone else and diminished. You had nothing in common with Richard besides knowing a few of the same bands. But that wasn’t enough to raise his interest in interacting with you. Every time he looked at you it was like he was angry and sad at the same time.

Jason and you were so similar. Finally, someone you could relate to, who knew how life on the streets was, how terrifying the big space of the Wayne residence was compared to the lives you once had. And yet he was more interested in Dick, no matter how rude the oldest boy was. You couldn’t blame him, you also wanted Richard’s attention. Your heart felt like it was rolled through needles and lemon juice when Jason got everything you wanted just for you to watch him get buried. Dick was angry when Jason first showed up, jealous, but by the time Jason grew up he was just as angry. You hoped that wouldn’t happen to you.

You were a great student, thriving in your classes and finishing middle school earlier than others, what else were you supposed to do when you had no friends? Of course, that was nothing to Tim’s brilliance. And every time you tried to bond with him on that or show him your achievements it would be a tired “I don’t have time for you.” or an uninterested “I achieved that when I was younger than you.”

Barbara is everything you wanted to be when older, smart, beautiful, had friends and the family's attention. It hurt so much to see her get along with Cassandra but not you, never you. And Cassandra… You tried. You tried to befriend her without overwhelming her, but since the first introduction, she had started ignoring you too, downright leaving the room if you entered it. Bruce went to all her recitals, but he never had time for your galleries or competitions. You stopped asking everyone to come when you found the invites and pamphlets balled up and thrown in the trash bins.

By the time Duke and Stephanie came around you had given up, what use was it? It’ll be another rejection, so you just took care of the garden and did more art, your room overflowing with it. You spent at least half of the monthly allowance Bruce gave, and yet you could still be a millionaire.

You gave up on the Waynes, only speaking to them if they spoke to you. You were done with them, with their secrets, with how they would talk between each other in whispers and then get quiet when you stepped into the room. They’d always look at you like you were a stranger, an enemy. And perhaps you were. So, fuck them. Fuck the boys, fuck the girls, and fuck Bruce and Alfred too.

Sneaking out was the best thing you have done for yourself- sure it was a long way from the Manor to the city and back, but it was all worth it. It was worth it to see the other street kids, to hear their stories, to hang out with the homeless and the girls on their smoke break, it was worth everything when you found your mom’s grave. It was nice, it felt like home.

Was it dangerous? Yes. But as long as you stuck to Red Hood’s territory you were fine, his rule of keeping kids safe seemed to also apply to you. He was nice, even if he never spoke around you beyond hums and grunts, but you enjoyed how gentle he was with the other kid, how he ruffled your hair, and how he helped you clean your mom’s grave. He was nice, and surprisingly so were most other rogues.

Ivy enjoyed helping you with tips for the garden, some of the flowers you grew there on every 13th of the month were made into bouquets for her, your mom’s grave, and Jason’s too. Two-face was surprisingly nice about your inquiry of the law and Penguin enjoyed helping you with your business classes. The Riddler made you want to smash your head against a wall most of the time, but boy was he good with philosophy.

You avoided the Joker like the plague. You couldn’t find it in you to care for him when Harley reminded you so much of your mom when she came with a black eye or busted lip asking if you could take care of Bud and Lou for a jiffy. You could never say no to her.

If Red Hood wasn’t keeping an eye on you, it was Bane or Killer Croc, both men letting you climb and swing from them like a spider. They enjoyed seeing a kid not tremble in fear at the sight of them, despite whatever they may tell you. Mr. Freeze was nice too, lonely like you. Sad you simply couldn’t take the cold for long no matter how many layers you put on.

You loved them all to a degree, but Catwoman always made you feel like her kid, not just a kid. Sometimes you felt guilty for wanting to call her mom, you had a mom. But she made you feel all soft and mushy, calling you her kit, crying with you when you first heard her call you that. She thought she had hurt you, oh, how panicked she was. But her hug was so warm, so loving once she found out that no one had called you their kid in so long.  You wish she would steal you away, she does too, but she made a deal with Red Hood. Selina wishes she had just taken you and moved across the country, everyone be damned.

Unknowingly, you had created the garden to hold flowers that reminded you of all of them, even the Waynes. You couldn’t bring yourself to kill their flowers, to make bouquets of them or sell them- you just didn’t have it in you. So, you just kept on growing them, talking to them, and telling those flowers what your alleged family would never listen to. And then Bruce ruined it all.

He wasn’t sure why he did it, exhaustion or paranoia, maybe both? But all Bruce knew he was seeing is his mom’s garden flourishing after years of it being neglected, of Alfred overlooking it at Bruce’s request to focus on what rooms were being used inside the manor instead. He didn’t think twice about grabbing the pesticide designed for Poison Ivy, didn’t think about asking Alfred, about asking the kids, he just reacted.

Bruce was drinking his guilt away in his office, forehead pressed against his desk as one hand held a whiskey glass and the other gripped at his hair. He had never seen his youngest that angry, crying so much-… He wasn’t sure when the last time he saw her smile or hang around the family was.

“What have you done?!” He remembers how pained and angry you sounded as he killed the last flower, his flower. He remembers how he acted, how annoyance rose in him as he explained, and he remembers how his heart fell out of his ass when you said that you took care of the garden and that you spent years building it.

His face remained unmoving as his hands shook, as his jaw clenched, as he could feel the sky crash on his head in tempo with your tears falling down your cheeks. He tried to justify himself, come up with a lie, something that would make him feel less guilty, but- “Yeah?! Well, maybe you would have known if you actually spared a glance in my direction from time to time- You should have left me in an orphanage, no- it should have been you instead of mom!”

You were hurt, you didn’t mean it, he was sure. Even after you went into the manor, crying your heart out, Bruce still sat there. He wasn’t sure what he could do, the pesticide ruined the soil, he didn’t even remember what flowers he saw. The man just went into his daytime office, grabbed his father's liquor, and drank. Bruce knew he should go and apologize and try to talk to you. He poured himself another full glass, instead. Tonight, Batman will be sleeping, and tomorrow Bruce will raise your allowance. If he remembers.

You knew to some degree Bruce didn’t like you, but for him to not even notice that you poured your blood and sweat into that garden when Alfred and even Cassandra did felt like a punch to the gut. You were a good kid, you tried your best to be, so why was this the hand you were dealt? Did he honestly think the flowers in the manor were bought by Alfred? The old man was so busy the last thing on his mind was to buy flowers for the house.

You couldn’t believe him, you could only cry for the lost plants, for one of the three things that brought you happiness. You curled into a ball under the warm duvet, crying into your knees until you could not anymore. The shadows did their best to soothe you, lulling you to sleep as the exhaustion of crying helped them.

Dreams didn’t come easy to you, sure, you had the usual nightmare, but calm dreams were a rare occasion. And this one felt so nice as you drifted in the endless dark space, two figures you couldn’t quite make out helping you stay afloat as they talked… chanted? You weren’t sure. It sounded like Latin, but it also didn’t. No matter, it was soothing, warm, it was what you needed.

You felt light as a feather. You felt free and- you hit your head… The pain not only confuses you but also wakes you up, the throbbing on the side of your head making you groan. Your tired eyes looked around trying to figure out what you hit as your hand rubbed the sore spot.

Maybe you were still dreaming. You must still be dreaming. Panic set into your veins- there was no way this was actually happening, it couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t be a meta- Batman hated metas and he worked for your- he worked for Bruce- You were fucked.

It didn’t matter that as soon as it happened and you panicked your body hit the floor so hard it rattled your nightstand, making a framed picture fall and break, it didn’t matter that you didn’t register the pain, or notice that you broke the floorboard where you hid all your diaries and drawings you made for the family- all your brain knew is that you should leave before Batman throws you in Arkham or GSP.

So that’s what you did. You grabbed your sports bag that you used for art supplies, stuffed it with some clothes, your laptop, phone, the chargers, took a few sketchbooks and pens, and the card with Bruce’s money. Not like he’ll notice, he didn’t notice that you spent thousands every other week at a fast-food joint for the homeless and street kids, didn’t notice that you spent millions every other year at retail stores for the same people, he didn’t notice the donations. He was as blind as a bat.

“Leap of faith” is what Superman once said in an interview about how others with the power could learn to take off. “It’s just a leap of faith.” He was right- you almost pissed yourself, but he was right. You understood why he always was floating above the ground; it felt so freeing to fly, circling the manor to the top, feeling the air around you. It was so nice. You should move, fly away, and yet your eyes can’t leave the destroyed garden. You should make a few stops before fully leaving… just a few.

When each of the rogues found one singular flower in their favorite seat, their window sill, on the weapons and cars they owned, all withered and falling apart, they knew what it meant.

Ivy was the first, she knew the second the plants died. After all, she helped keep the plants alive, nothing could thrive on the Wayne land anymore, almost like it was cursed, as if Death herself lived on the grounds. But seeing the burned and greying orange trumpet vine told her everything she needed to know, that it wasn’t you who destroyed them. Bruce Wayne and the Bats didn’t know what was about to come their way.

You’ll miss your friends, the kids, the rogues. You’ll miss Catwoman, but she always told you to be a bit more selfish. This was the moment for that. Doubt settled in at some point, but you had nothing holding you attached to the Waynes, Catwoman couldn’t or just wouldn’t take care of you, it was time to let go and abuse Bruce’s ignorance, make a new life for you where you don’t need to hide in the night for some social interaction.

New York City should be the perfect place for it.

Tag List: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry

[another-random-paradise]

Hello everything is fine? I just found your account and I'm already in love!!!

I loved your sleepy confession writing post, if it doesn't bother you and only if you want, could you do it for Kalim, Jamil and Ruggie? They are so cute!!! >w<

Oh, and sorry if the English is wrong, it's not my first language...

An even sleepier confession

Thank you for the request and the sweet words!! And don’t worry about your English, it’s great! Plus, it isn’t my first language either, so i get the struggle, haha! :)

——————————————————————————————————

Crush!Reader sleepily telling him, they want to marry him / part one

Characters: Kalim, Jamil, Ruggie

Format: Headcanons

Warnings: None that i can think off

Kalim 

-Chances are, you were at one of his party’s, stayed late, and are too tired to go back to ramshackle 

-so, Kalim being Kalim, annoys convinces Jamil to let you two have a sleepover. The absolute energy boost Kalim gets after getting permission already makes Jamil regret his decision..

-after a long night of story telling (with how many siblings Kalim has, he definitely always has tea to spill), pillow fights, and movie marathons, you finally decide to go to sleep, much to Jamils relief

-Just before you two fall asleep though, you unconsciously make one last comment “Life is always so fun with you, really makes me wanna marry you one day..”

-If you thought you’d get any sleep after a comment like that, you’re wrong! Because Kalim is now wide awake and practically yelling in excitement 

-He’d be asking you if you really meant it, before talking about how you’ll have to meet his family first, especially all his siblings! They’ll love you!! Why don’t you come with him over the next Holidays?! All while being all over you, kind of like an exited puppy are those ears and a tail??, meanwhile you’re just sitting there like ‘oh shit, I said that out loud?!’ 

-It’ll only get worse if you confirm that, yes, you do, in fact, want to be with him and maybe, hopefully, marry him one day 

-Jamil storms in, thinking you two were getting assassinated or something, only to see Kalim hugging you, practically shaking in excitement, talking about all the dates he’ll take you on (and about your wedding of course)

-you sheepishly look over at Jamil, who is staring daggers into you, the message clear ‘you couldn’t have waited until morning?’. If looks could kill, Jamil would have cut you into a three course meal just now :D 

-Jamil tells him to quiet down, so the rest of the dorm can rest

-Kalim continues to whisper-yell, till eventually you two fall asleep cuddling 

-the next day, half the school already knows about your now relationship, partially because the entirety of scarabia could hear him, and partially because Kalim can’t keep his mouth shut-

-He is so hung up on that marriage comment, that he might accidentally introduce you as his fiancée a few times!

Jamil

-you, being the kind soul that you are, probably decided to help him out with his chores around Scarabia 

-But unlike him, you aren’t used to so much work, No matter how much Crowley tries to overwork you so eventually you’re just straight up exhausted.

-Jamil brings you to one of the many couches, but he makes sure it’s one away from the business of the dorm, he wouldn’t want you to be disturbed while you sleep he cares to much about you for that

-He picks up the few dirty plates some other students left behind, as you get comfortable, which is a very easy task, considering all those silk blankets and soft pillows! You mumble something a mere second before falling asleep. “You’re so caring, Jamil… makes me want to marry you even more than i already to..”

-Jamil halts in his tracks, he almost drops the plates he was carrying! Partially because he’s flustered, but also because a part of him hoped you wouldn’t like him back and the crush would pass.. not that it ever would have

-He is lost in thought as he makes his way to the kitchen, he almost even runs into another student

-Jamil likes you, he really does, there’s no doubt there, but he’s worried more than anything. He doesn’t have time for love!

-not only would you distract him from keeping Kalim from accidentally getting himself killed, but his work would mean that he’d have little to no time to spend with you.. not to mention if you get married, you and your future children would be forced to work for the Asim family too- Unless..

-If he takes you’re last name, instead of him yours, neither of you would be a part of the Viper name any longer. Instead of him enslaving you into service, you could free him from his life of servitude.

-And you always find ways to hang out, despite how busy he is

-He continues to work, now with a smile on his face. 

-Maybe this could work out after all :)

Ruggie

-Another one who you were probably helping with work

-Usually he’d refuse help, he doesn’t want to be indebted to anyone, but hey, it’s an excuse to spend more time with you, so he’ll make an exception 

-Afterwards, your beat.. even after book 3 and knowing him for a while, you never could have guessed how much work just one certain Lion could make.

-He lays down next to you, either making a sarcastic or teasing comment as he does.

-As always, you laugh in response, but this time you follow it up with “You’re a great guy, you know that? I hope i get to marry you one day..”

-His usual smug smirk, is gone. Just like that. It’s replaced by absolute shock

-He turns to you, to question you about it, only to see you’re already in the land of dreams 

-Ruggie doesn’t know how to feel, He is shocked, flustered, and most of all, confused. Yes, he is happy that you like him back, it just confuses him.

-You’re in a school filled with rich guys and literal Royalty. So, by the seven, why would you like a guy like him? Especially since your first meeting was literally him stealing a sandwich from your son friend! 

-But it makes him smile, in a school filled with rich people, someone as amazing as you, still chooses him, so he must be really great, right?

-Now he’s even more determined to get a good job, so that he can give you and your possible children a good life!

-He just hopes his Grandma and the kids will like you.. nah, he’s sure they will, you’re you! 

-He won’t immediately make his move to ask you out, but he’s definitely working on it! He would be a bit more hesitant about asking you out (Even after you basically asked to marry him) if you’re a girl, as in nature male hyenas are naturally more submissive towards the female they’re trying to court 

This was so much fun to write, thank you so much for the request!!

Feedback is welcomed, just please be nice!! Hope you all have a nice day <3