#my other textbook from the same company

[inverse-genius]

me staring at the etextbook costumer service people as they ask me to give them the course diagnostics off of a webpage that has been broken for three days (the webpage i contacted costumer support about… three days ago)

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!

I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader

summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara. 

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao

warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13

wc: 3.5k ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.

Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things. 

Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax. 

Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration. 

It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers. 

"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler. 

"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."

Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words. 

"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers!  How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?" 

"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"

"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!" 

"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."

"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."

"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling. 

"I could do this all day, princesa. " 

You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure. 

~~~

You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit. 

You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive. 

He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time. 

You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far. 

That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him. 

You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.

"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar. 

"You okay?" 

He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you.  "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all." 

You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."

He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."

"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."

~~~

As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two. 

Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand. 

Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over. 

It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you. 

You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.

You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.

You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass. 

It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder. 

"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?" 

You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink. 

"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar. 

He stretches out his hand, and you take it. 

"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."

Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words. 

"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"

"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck. 

"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."

The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do. 

And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him. 

Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you. 

~~~

He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.

You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.

He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer. 

He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in. 

You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness. 

"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him. 

You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension. 

You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip. 

"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck. 

He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders. 

He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out. 

"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper. 

Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."

The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile. 

You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face. 

~~~

It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more. 

He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words. 

Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is. 

He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate  all your needs. 

When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order. 

So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk. 

He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach. 

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -" 

"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains. 

You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary. 

"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?" 

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-" 

"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious . 

"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body. 

"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something. 

You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up. 

He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?" 

You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression  is steady, just as unreadable. 

"Do you want to?" 

You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over. 

"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me." 

You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust. 

"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod. 

Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man. 

You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper. 

"Fuck, Miguel." 

"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot. 

You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares. 

"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans. 

"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."

His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters. 

" M-Miguel …"

He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm. 

" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?" 

You nod frantically with a stifled sob. 

"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."

"...fuuck you."

" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."

"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.

"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."

" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please." 

"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?" 

"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks. 

He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers. 

You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath. 

"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."

You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought. 

You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy. 

He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum. 

Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago. 

"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process. 

"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?" 

"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."

All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles. 

"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa." 

_

_

_

[purinfelix]

you're here, that's the thing ˚⟡˖ ࣪ - franco colapinto

summary: your boyfriend tries his best to make your schedules, as a racer and student, work - even when miles apart w/c: 900

a/n: it's finals season for me and i needed to write something self-indulgent as a break from cramming forgive me 🙏

Being a full-time student was one thing, but being a full-time student in a relationship with an extremely clingy boyfriend, who also happened to be travelling the world to race in Formula One, was a whole other challenge.

You and Franco had had some time to adjust to a long-distance relationship since you started dating, having such different lives, and managed to make it work for the most part. But now, with him having to wholly commit to his racing and finals season rolling around for you, it put a strain on your relationship that neither of you was ready for.

It was a strange paradox - the less free time you had outside of classes and studying, the less you were able to spend talking to him, and the more you wanted just to drop everything and fly to where he was. Your morning texts and voice message updates stopped being enough, and before you knew it you struggled to go longer than an hour studying without sending your boyfriend a message to whine and complain.

You were fully aware of how immature and irresponsible this was, but this awareness did little to stop you. And it didn't exactly help that Franco seemed to share the same sentiment, telling you again and again how hard it was for him as well, how racing seemed almost impossible without you there to cheer him on. It hurt, but the two of you just had to do everything you could to get through it - for you to focus on your studies and for him to try his best at racing.

All this came to a head one Sunday though, the afternoon before one of your final exams and - because of the time difference - the night before Franco's next race. Sitting in your dorm alone, surrounded by piles of textbooks, notes and scattered pens you felt a sudden jolt of vulnerability and before you knew it you were reaching for your phone.

"Can you call?" you typed quickly to your boyfriend, your eyes lighting up upon seeing the three dots begin moving almost instantly.

"My gosh, I was just going to ask you the same thing," he replied, and before you knew it your phone was springing to life with a call from him. Clicking accept, you couldn't help but smile widely at the sight of his face.

"Hi," you say, almost shyly.

"Hi baby, how are you?"

"Good," you pause, "stressed."

He nods understandingly, "You're holding up okay, hm? Taking care of yourself?"

"Of course, Franco," you laugh at his almost motherly concern, "and you?"

"Nervous, of course."

"Well, that makes two of us." You pause after speaking, for some reason this call is turning out less enjoyable and more awkward than you hoped.

"I'm sorry, I'm just really tired," you hear your boyfriend say and when you look up you can definitely see it, his eyelids half closing over deep, dark circles under them.

"Do you want to sleep? I have to study anyways."

You watch as he chews his bottom lip, thinking of what to say though once he finally talks his voice is small, almost like a confession. "But I wanted to talk to you."

"We are talking Franco, and we can talk tomorrow once you rest."

This doesn't seem to quell his worries though, his brows still knitted in thought. "I just feel so useless knowing that you're struggling and stressed and I can't even keep you company like I normally do."

You nod sympathetically until an idea pops into your head. "We can keep the call on, carry me over to your bed - you'll sleep and I'll study."

Even through the fatigue pulling him down, Franco nods enthusiastically, doing as you say. You watch him sink into the plush white bedsheets of whatever hotel he's in, and whilst you feel a little jealous at his ability to rest right now, you turn back to your desk and start pulling out your notes.

"You'll be okay," you hear him mumble.

"What do you mean?"

"With your exams," he smiles sleepily, eyes flitting as he watches you pick up your highlighters and pens, "you're the smartest person I know."

"I don't know how much that's saying, you didn't even finish high school baby."

"Hey! I was trying to be nice," he says, feigning offence though there's a soft smile across his face.

"You're right, I'm sorry," you laugh, "you'll be okay as well, with your race tomorrow."

"I hope so."

"I know so."

"I wish you were here," he sighs, looking at you earnestly and all you can do is give him a nod in agreement.

"But for now," you wave your pen to hint at the fact that you need to get back to cramming and he seems to get the hint.

"Right, right, you won't even know I'm here," he assures you.

And despite that, the entire night passes without you once forgetting it. Not that he's distracting or anything, in fact he falls asleep mere minutes after telling you that - leaving you to work peacefully for the rest of the night. Instead, his presence, even as he sleeps, even through a screen and halfway across the world, is enough. You find yourself smiling as you study because maybe having a long-distance boyfriend, even one as clingy as Franco, has been a blessing in disguise all this time.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Hiii

Can you do the gang with the reader who can sleep anywhere and everywhere as they pleased😴 (Sorry if my English is a bit broken😭🫶)

Summary: The Outsider x Sleepy!Reader

Warnings: none Author's Note: gonna try and get thru a lot of requests today, ive got like 15 in my box

You were always tired. Many times you fell asleep in random places, always leaving the gang in awe of how you could sleep so well in such obscure places. Your boyfriend decided that you two needed to spend some time together, so imagine his reaction when you fell asleep!

PONYBOY CURTIS

He invited you over to study, but it really was just catching up over textbooks. It was a little past 3 and Pony was starting to get hungry, so he told you to wait while he grabbed you both a slice of cake. It was a minute before he came back, two plates in hand but he stopped dead when he saw you. You were slumped over the table, head resting on your arm, fast asleep. He laughed and you woke up with a start. 

“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you” he smiled at you, placing your cake next to you. You give him a hazy smile and gently nod.

“Sorry, what were we talking about?” You ask, yawning. He smiled and shook his head.

“Maybe we should just stop and go to bed” He led you to his room and piled blankets on top of you, letting you fall asleep in his arms.

JOHNNY CADE

 Johnny is also a victim of falling asleep in random places, but was never quiet at the same level as you. 

Today, he invited you to the lot for stargazing. You both sat in comfortable silence as you observed Tulsa’s night sky. Johnny turned to you, a smile on his face.

“Don't you think it's pretty?” And he immediately stopped. You were asleep, curled up tightly for warmth, the moon reflecting off your pretty skin. He sighed and smiled wider, wrapping an arm around you and scooting closer to sleep alongside you.

SODAPOP CURTIS

 Soda took you out to the local diner as your weekly date. He got up once to grab some milkshakes from the counter when the waiter engaged him in conversation. He tried to cut the conversation short and get back to you, but apparently he didn't do it fast enough. 

When he came back to your table you were asleep, your hair splayed out and your face down in your arms. He laughed and unbuttoned his flannel to put on top of you as a makeshift blanket. He sat there in his white work tee until you woke up.

STEVE RANDLE

Invited you to come to the DX for his shift and keep him company when a customer walked in. Steve left you alone to consult them and the urge to sleep took over. 

When he came back, you were nowhere to be seen. He looked for you frantically, and only until he checked the corner of the workspace did he find you.

You were passed out and curled up in the corner. He sighed out of relief and sat down next to you for a moment before laying his jacket on you as a blanket.

TWO-BIT MATHEWS 

You, him and his sister hung out often. You took her to dance classes, the park and other places. 

He expressed his interest in going to watch movies with his sister, so you went over to his house with a few DVDs in hand. 

The movie only barely started when he went up to get popcorn and returned to find you both asleep together. He laughed and sat down next to you, careful not to wake the both of you.

DARRY CURTIS

Finds your sleepiness a very good opportunity for someone to mess with you so he always warns you about it. He was in the kitchen with you making dinner when you dozed off next to the stove. 

Darry immediately woke you and started to lecture you about falling asleep near dangerous things but he turned away for one moment and you were asleep again!

He sighed, frustrated, before calming down and picking you up and carrying you to bed.

DALLAS WINSTON

He understands your sleepiness because he often gets really tired too. However, that doesn’t mean he doesnt tease you for it. He’d taken you to another one of Buck’s parties, but you were already tired from a long day, so when he sat you down to get another drink you found yourself drifting off. It didn’t matter how loud the music was or how loud the people were talking, you soon fell asleep.

Dallas came back with the drinks and gave you an unimpressed look. He sighed before placing down the drinks and picking you up. He quickly went up into his room and dumped you on the bed before going back down to the party.

[theorderisgone]

ꕀ ﹒Quiet Distractions

PAIRING // ITOSHI RIN X GN!READER

SUMMARY // A quiet library study session turns sweetly distracting as you tease Rin, whose soft reactions reveal just how much he enjoys your presence.

CONTENTS // drabble, fluff

The library was quiet, save for the soft scratching of pens on paper and the occasional muffled cough. You sat across from Itoshi Rin, your textbooks spread haphazardly while his were meticulously organized. He was absorbed in his notes, brows furrowed in concentration, a faint crease forming between them.

"You know," you whispered, leaning on your palm, "you're kind of cute when you're this serious."

Rin didn't look up, but you saw the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips—his version of a smile.

"Focus," he muttered, flipping a page with precision.

"But I am focused," you teased, your eyes fixed firmly on him instead of your notes.

He sighed, finally looking up. His teal eyes pierced through you, but they softened almost immediately. "If you fail because you're too busy staring at me, don’t blame me."

You grinned, leaning forward on the table. "I won't. I’ll just say my boyfriend is too distracting."

Rin shook his head, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "Idiot," he murmured, returning to his notes. But you noticed how his pace slowed, and the corner of his mouth lifted just slightly higher.

For the next hour, you both sat there—him diligently studying, you pretending to do the same—content in the quiet rhythm of each other’s company.

author's note // hope you enjoyed readint this !! also please drop requests in my inbox

[melodic-haze]

h-hey 👯‍♀️😕😜🎀

Since you said in your other post that you wanted to write for either Miko or Ei, I HAD AN IDEA!!

What if Miko and fellow kitsune!Reader who start their breeding months (in january obviously) and have Ei volunteering herself to them not knowing that they can’t obviously be sated in just one day 🙄 (r.i.p her cunny)

☆ — DEMO TRACK: switch!Miko x sub!Ei x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader and Miko can shift what they want (specifically their genitals 😄), knotting and breeding (not really)

☆ — NOTES: You. YOUUUUUU. Are such a genius ily anon ty for this 🙏🙏🙏

Ohhhh this bitch REALLY fucked around and found out LOL I almost feel bad.......almost

Have to hand it to Ei though, she DID try to research before proposing the idea in the first place. Especially since this is set in the first year since she got out the PoE........but studying it obv won't be the same as the real thing LOL

You and Miko have fared relatively okay on your own—the two of you have ABSOLUTELY mated before to ease each other's heat but it always felt like something was missing. You both made sure to take procedures to make sure neither of you ever concieved a child after the process with the excuse of the two of you being way too busy to care for one but like. The actual main reason was that if you were to have a child, you both wanted to have the third piece of the puzzle there with you

Now that the third member of your polycule's back, your heats are STRONGER THAN EVER bc wtf she's acc here??? Ughfhghfhh neeeeeed......like do you get me I hope you do

It wasn't as if it was a normal discussion to have out in public (you both always talked about it indoors until neither of you needed to really talk ab it anymore from all the time spent w each other) but it was a nice picnic between the three of you; Ei's head was on Miko's thighs as she ate up yet ANOTHER skewer of tricolour dango while you were leaning on the latter's side when she brought it up

Ei cleared her throat with a slight tinge of nervousness, "Could I perhaps, ah.. assist the both of you in your mating period?"

You choked on the dango that you were about to swallow as you see Miko startle the slightest bit, nearly dropping her novel in the process.

When you managed to regain your composure (or at least a modicum of it), you could only rush out a simple "'scuse me?" as Miko placed her book down to the side with a raised brow.

Miko combed her fingers through Ei's hair as she questioned, "What brought this on, dear?"

"Well..." The Archon licked her lips as she slowly got her words out, "I've.. left you two for over five hundred years. And while I'm glad that you both had each other for company whenever the season hits, I cannot deny that.. well, I feel bad, I suppose."

"You feel bad," the shrine priestess mocked, which.. really, wasn't all that undeserved, despite the fact that she was mocking the nation's leader.

"For a lack of a better word, yes." She sits up and turns to the both of you, putting the now-empty skewer aside, "Now that I have returned from my admittedly self-imposed isolation, it would be remiss of me to.. avoid my duties as your lover."

"I don't mean to be rude, Your Excellency," you teased, "but do you even know what you're saying? You've been in the Plane of Euthymia for so long; I worry for your safety."

You hear the pink fox envoy let out a quiet snort of amusement for your slight condescension (all in good faith, of course) as Ei sighed, "I think you forget that I am not a fragile mortal who needs to be coddled—I can withstand brutal wars and come out victorious."

"Besides," she adds, "I have done a fair amount of research to refresh my knowledge. I assure you both that I can take whatever it is you give me."

Miko mused, "I thought you knew better than to rely on textbook information rather than actual experiment, Ei."

"You're trying much too hard to dissuade me from my offer."

"We both deserve to rib into you for at least a couple hundred years."

"Especially considering how we've been left to fend for ourselves..."

"I.. suppose I do deserve that. And I want to make amends for it all, starting with this. So.. will you let me help? Please?" She looked at the both of you with such sincerity despite the subject matter.

...

The fact that Raiden Ei herself was begging the two of you though...

The both of you jumped her sides with sharing grins, your ears flicking in sync as you let out your own laughs.

"You should hope that you don't regret that, Ei.."

"..Because we are rather.. insatiable."

Then comes the actual thing and ohhhhh girlie was NOT prepared

When I said your heats get worse bc of how Ei's back, I fucking MEAN IT. It's the fact that that familiar sweet smell isn't just a not-quite-forgotten memory for you two anymore that it's just driving you both abslutely NUTS

When she gets to you two she gets POUNCED ON and there is. Basically no break for her at all and foreplay is basically foreGONE atp tbh

Eat her cunt like a bitch STARVED it's like both you and Miko are competing and assisting each other at the same time like who can eat her out better, who can make her squirt, etc etc

SO MANY BITE MARKS ON HER HOLY SHIT like okay yes on you and Miko as well but both of you want to mark Ei EXTREMELY for all the time you've lost with her. The both of you wanna show both Ei and perhaps the entirety of Inazuma that archon is YOURS at the end of the day......at least, if the loud noises didn't give them enough of a hint 🤷‍♀️

You're so right anon rip Ei's cunny indeed bc both you and Miko ABUSE the living HELL out of it❗️❗️❗️ You do often have to personally pry Miko off when she's overstaying in the spot you're supposed to share 🫶🫶🫶🫶 just tell her she's being a VERY bad girl rn and she'll fold. Usually she wouldn't but the haze (lol) in her mind is sooo fucking thick she can't think straight and she can't think of the witty remarks she would've otherwise made :((( poor baby the only thing she wants to do is breed and get bred :(((((((

I need to spitroast her with Miko so very badly I'm ngl to you I neeeed I NEEEEED I need to see Ei being impaled on both ends, both sides basically slobbering

It'd be very messy and would 100% take so long before you finish but when you do, it's with your fellow kitsune's own pussy practically filled to the brim and Leaking as she's laid out and finally passed out as your hips are locked in on your Archon's own; you cumming inside of you for like the nth time and stuffing her full w a mix of both your and Miko's cum and essentially plugging it with an inflamed bulb :3

Whether Ei has a system that allows her to get pregnant or not, gen who knows.......but one thing's def for sure. Or like three things acc: one, you two are VERY clearly excited that your shared lover is finally back; two, turns out she absolutely LOVES being used and bred by her two partners; and three?

It was an unusually hard thing to do, waking up. Despite having an artifical body and being an archon that has faced true horrors and extreme exhaustion, she found herself absolutely spent from the marathon.. copulation.

Ei had hoped that her exhaustion meant that the two of you were much more tired than she was, even despite your inhumanity, and yet...

Her eyes couldn't help but flutter open as a sudden gasp left her lips—she sees you push into her roughly with a lust-addled look on your face. You were already inside her when she fell asleep, considering the animalistic knot that held the both of you together, but even when it had shrunk to a more.. manageable level, you still hadn't taken it out.

Then Ei looks slightly to the right and there she sees her pink-haired familiar, heavily breathing as she grinded her wet, hot pussy onto her thighs with such loud, obscene moans.

(If the Archon listened close enough, which she did, she would've noticed the slight growl to the sounds she made—such a sound was at its most clearest when she ducked down to press another bite mark on porcelain skin.)

She couldn't even utter a word to remark that she had just woken up, didn't even have the room to do anything to stop you before you started pounding away at her like your life depended on it.

..And she could. Really, she could. She wasn't the feared Raiden Shogun for nothing.

She could stop you if she wanted to.

If she wanted to.

But when she feels the residual fluids within her gush out as you essentially resculpt her insides over and over and over, when she feels the desperate whines that Miko lets out as she cums and covers her thigh in slick, well.

She finds that she doesn't really want to.

(And really, not only was it her fault for volunteering, but this is her responsibility as your lover.)

(She knew that, and she wasn't going to start shirking her responsibilities again.)

(Even if it costs her her mobility for a while. But it's fine, she can just do a lot of maintenance after.)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The Brave Little Toaster

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by Wil Wheaton.

The AI bubble is the new crypto bubble: you can tell because the same people are behind it, and they're doing the same thing with AI as they did with crypto – trying desperately to find a use case to cram it into, despite the yawning indifference and outright hostility of the users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

This week on the excellent Trashfuture podcast, the regulars – joined by 404 Media's Jason Koebler – have a hilarious – as in, I was wheezing with laughter! – riff on this year's CES, where companies are demoing home appliances with LLMs built in:

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-hgi6c-179b908

Why would you need a chatbot in your dishwasher? As it turns out, there's a credulous, Poe's-law-grade Forbes article that lays out the (incredibly stupid) case for this (incredibly stupid) idea:

https://www.forbes.com/sites/bernardmarr/2024/03/29/generative-ai-is-coming-to-your-home-appliances/

As the Trashfuturians mapped out this new apex of the AI hype cycle, I found myself thinking of a short story I wrote 15 years ago, satirizing the "Internet of Things" hype we were mired in. It's called "The Brave Little Toaster", and it was published in MIT Tech Review's TRSF anthology in 2011:

http://bestsf.net/trsf-the-best-new-science-fiction-technology-review-2011/

The story was meant to poke fun at the preposterous IoT hype of the day, and I recall thinking that creating a world of talking appliance was the height of Philip K Dickist absurdism. Little did I dream that a decade and a half later, the story would be even more relevant, thanks to AI pump-and-dumpers who sweatily jammed chatbots into kitchen appliances.

So I figured I'd republish The Brave Little Toaster; it's been reprinted here and there since (there's a high school English textbook that included it, along with a bunch of pretty fun exercises for students), and I podcasted it back in the day:

https://ia803103.us.archive.org/35/items/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_212/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_212_Brave_Little_Toaster.mp3

A word about the title of this story. It should sound familiar – I nicked it from a brilliant story by Tom Disch that was made into a very weird cartoon:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I8C_JaT8Lvg

My story is one of several I wrote by stealing the titles of other stories and riffing on them; they were very successful, winning several awards, getting widely translated and reprinted, and so on:

https://locusmag.com/2012/05/cory-doctorow-a-prose-by-any-other-name/

All right, on to the story!

One day, Mister Toussaint came home to find an extra 300 euros' worth of groceries on his doorstep. So he called up Miz Rousseau, the grocer, and said, "Why have you sent me all this food? My fridge is already full of delicious things. I don't need this stuff and besides, I can't pay for it."

But Miz Rousseau told him that he had ordered the food. His refrigerator had sent in the list, and she had the signed order to prove it.

Furious, Mister Toussaint confronted his refrigerator. It was mysteriously empty, even though it had been full that morning. Or rather, it was almost empty: there was a single pouch of energy drink sitting on a shelf in the back. He'd gotten it from an enthusiastically smiling young woman on the metro platform the day before. She'd been giving them to everyone.

"Why did you throw away all my food?" he demanded. The refrigerator hummed smugly at him.

"It was spoiled," it said.

#

But the food hadn't been spoiled. Mister Toussaint pored over his refrigerator's diagnostics and logfiles, and soon enough, he had the answer. It was the energy beverage, of course.

"Row, row, row your boat," it sang. "Gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, I'm offgassing ethelyne." Mister Toussaint sniffed the pouch suspiciously.

"No you're not," he said. The label said that the drink was called LOONY GOONY and it promised ONE TRILLION TIMES MORE POWERFUL THAN ESPRESSO!!!!!ONE11! Mister Toussaint began to suspect that the pouch was some kind of stupid Internet of Things prank. He hated those.

He chucked the pouch in the rubbish can and put his new groceries away.

#

The next day, Mister Toussaint came home and discovered that the overflowing rubbish was still sitting in its little bag under the sink. The can had not cycled it through the trapdoor to the chute that ran to the big collection-point at ground level, 104 storeys below.

"Why haven't you emptied yourself?" he demanded. The trashcan told him that toxic substances had to be manually sorted. "What toxic substances?"

So he took out everything in the bin, one piece at a time. You've probably guessed what the trouble was.

"Excuse me if I'm chattery, I do not mean to nattery, but I'm a mercury battery!" LOONY GOONY's singing voice really got on Mister Toussaint's nerves.

"No you're not," Mister Toussaint said.

#

Mister Toussaint tried the microwave. Even the cleverest squeezy-pouch couldn't survive a good nuking. But the microwave wouldn't switch on. "I'm no drink and I'm no meal," LOONY GOONY sang. "I'm a ferrous lump of steel!"

The dishwasher wouldn't wash it ("I don't mean to annoy or chafe, but I'm simply not dishwasher safe!"). The toilet wouldn't flush it ("I don't belong in the bog, because down there I'm sure to clog!"). The windows wouldn't retract their safety screen to let it drop, but that wasn't much of a surprise.

"I hate you," Mister Toussaint said to LOONY GOONY, and he stuck it in his coat pocket. He'd throw it out in a trash-can on the way to work.

#

They arrested Mister Toussaint at the 678th Street station. They were waiting for him on the platform, and they cuffed him just as soon as he stepped off the train. The entire station had been evacuated and the police wore full biohazard containment gear. They'd even shrinkwrapped their machine-guns.

"You'd better wear a breather and you'd better wear a hat, I'm a vial of terrible deadly hazmat," LOONY GOONY sang.

When they released Mister Toussaint the next day, they made him take LOONY GOONY home with him. There were lots more people with LOONY GOONYs to process.

#

Mister Toussaint paid the rush-rush fee that the storage depot charged to send over his container. They forklifted it out of the giant warehouse under the desert and zipped it straight to the cargo-bay in Mister Toussaint's building. He put on old, stupid clothes and clipped some lights to his glasses and started sorting.

Most of the things in container were stupid. He'd been throwing away stupid stuff all his life, because the smart stuff was just so much easier. But then his grandpa had died and they'd cleaned out his little room at the pensioner's ward and he'd just shoved it all in the container and sent it out the desert.

From time to time, he'd thought of the eight cubic meters of stupidity he'd inherited and sighed a put-upon sigh. He'd loved Grandpa, but he wished the old man had used some of the ample spare time from the tail end of his life to replace his junk with stuff that could more gracefully reintegrate with the materials stream.

How inconsiderate!

#

The house chattered enthusiastically at the toaster when he plugged it in, but the toaster said nothing back. It couldn't. It was stupid. Its bread-slots were crusted over with carbon residue and it dribbled crumbs from the ill-fitting tray beneath it. It had been designed and built by cavemen who hadn't ever considered the advantages of networked environments.

It was stupid, but it was brave. It would do anything Mister Toussaint asked it to do.

"It's getting hot and sticky and I'm not playing any games, you'd better get me out before I burst into flames!" LOONY GOONY sang loudly, but the toaster ignored it.

"I don't mean to endanger your abode, but if you don't let me out, I'm going to explode!" The smart appliances chattered nervously at one another, but the brave little toaster said nothing as Mister Toussaint depressed its lever again.

"You'd better get out and save your ass, before I start leaking poison gas!" LOONY GOONY's voice was panicky. Mister Toussaint smiled and depressed the lever.

Just as he did, he thought to check in with the flat's diagnostics. Just in time, too! Its quorum-sensors were redlining as it listened in on the appliances' consternation. Mister Toussaint unplugged the fridge and the microwave and the dishwasher.

The cooker and trash-can were hard-wired, but they didn't represent a quorum.

#

The fire department took away the melted toaster and used their axes to knock huge, vindictive holes in Mister Toussaint's walls. "Just looking for embers," they claimed. But he knew that they were pissed off because there was simply no good excuse for sticking a pouch of independently powered computation and sensors and transmitters into an antique toaster and pushing down the lever until oily, toxic smoke filled the whole 104th floor.

Mister Toussaint's neighbors weren't happy about it either.

But Mister Toussaint didn't mind. It had all been worth it, just to hear LOONY GOONY beg and weep for its life as its edges curled up and blackened.

He argued mightily, but the firefighters refused to let him keep the toaster.

#

If you enjoyed that and would like to read more of my fiction, may I suggest that you pre-order my next novel as a print book, ebook or audiobook, via the Kickstarter I launched yesterday?

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/picks-and-shovels-marty-hench-at-the-dawn-of-enshittification?ref=created_projects

Check out my Kickstarter to pre-order copies of my next novel, Picks and Shovels!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/08/sirius-cybernetics-corporation/#chatterbox

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[the-midnight-blooms]

me and my husband | psh

pairing: CEO!park seonghwa x scientistwife!reader AU: modern au word count:  6.3k

masterlist

In the midst of a fragile soul dwindling under the aches of animosity, the married couple laid in bed with their backs facing each other. The husband, Park Seonghwa, an esteemed CEO of a pharmaceutical company ‘Park Pharmaceuticals.’ had the front board of the book lodged into the silk casing of his pillow with his other hand steadying it so he could still, quite painfully, scan his eyes over the text. Agitated, he got up with a grunt before sitting up to finish the chapter of his book. With his scientists publishing reports on the latest medicine they were developing, he immediately rushed back to his university textbooks to affirm he was still equipped with the necessary knowledge to understand the science. Meanwhile, Mrs Park- a research scientist at Park Pharmaceuticals' rival company, ‘Kim Pharma.’ was battling against her insomnia despite motherhood knocking her straight off her feet. Their daughter, Park Dami, was fast asleep in the room next door to Seonghwa’s study cuddling the little Toothless toy he had gifted her when she was still a cherub. It had seemed that Mrs Park was prone to falling asleep at the most odd times of day, whether it be during dinner or cleaning the home.

Perhaps it was the heartache she was suffering from. The love that she had held for her husband was a permanent fixture, a vow that she had promised not to break, and one she had not and never would for as long as she lived. However, the increasingly distant behaviour from her husband in light of his burgeoning role as CEO had her heart yearning for him. Being a mother was difficult and of course, so was Seonghwa’s job. Yet, he also had duties as husband and a father, which he seemed eager to abandon altogether.

“Why can’t you try to understand how difficult it is for me to do all of this? So much pressure at work, then I come to you going on about some stupid dinner with your parents!” He shouted, she flinched at the dissonance of his noxious tone reverberating off the walls of the small study- biting down at her lip.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave.”

“Sorry, my arse. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be fucking nagging in my ear all the time, would you?” He barked, as she sped out of the room. It had been three weeks since she had, politely and quietly, asked her husband if he was free to attend her mother’s dinner party. He refused, erratically, and despite having apologised with saccharine kisses and diligent promises, he didn’t turn up to dinner in the end.

“Oh he’s busy Mum. He’s seeing to some of the lab work, you know how stressful it was for me.” Her father complained light-heartedly, raising how unfair it was of him to neglect his family.

“Do you want to me have a chat with him? I can give him a good word.” Hastily, she steered her father away from that direction. The last thing she needed was Seonghwa to turn around and blame her for the earache her father would give.

With a relentless sigh, she sat up reaching for the bottle of water on the nightstand. His eyes flickered at her movements, lips moving up and down to form the shape of the words as he silently committed them to memory, forming judicious links between the knowledge and application.

“Seonghwa.” She called out for him, he hummed in return, barely reeling his eyes off the page. Please look at me. “I was thinking about going back to work again. I contacted my manager about restarting and at the moment I would only need to go in for about two days or so.” Shutting his book close, he finally met her stare, deep in contemplative thought.

“Do you think you can work and take care of Dami at the same time?” He questioned. She had thought about this several times before she dialled in her manager’s number. As much as she had inherited her father's kind-hearted nature, stunning beauty, and soft-spoken voice in the end it was the passivity she had drawn from her mother naturally rendering herself subservient to prioritise ones needs over her own. Essentially, if she had told Dami to keep her lips on a tight seal and remain of the sofa the whole day: she would.

“I’m sure I can as long as she's in sight. She'll be in nursery from September, so I'll be able to start work.” He fell a little quiet, turning to drop his book onto the night stand.

“Ok, if that’s what you want. If you need me to come home earlier, I mean I can’t at the moment, but in a few weeks time if you need me to-then I will.” Nodding, she sent him a grateful smile before sliding back under the covers to turn her night light off.

Her heels clicked, exasperatedly, on the porcelain white floor dashing straight through the double doors; her heart pounded furiously against her chest, a violent ache gnawing at her arteries. With her body almost barging into a number of figures, her anxious apologies echoed into the swamped corridors, in which her colleagues shook their tired heads in annoyance. Finally, reaching the top floor she scuttled out of the elevator catching the eyes of Mrs Lee.

"Lab coat, darling, lab coat." Squealing, she unbuttoned the off-white coat, scowling at the permanent pen marks and splashes of iodine before handing it to Mr Kim's assistant. Mrs Lee, threw the coat onto her seat, gesticulating for the young scientist to follow her. After a short knock, the heavy glass door was pushed open; several pairs of eyes darting their way.

"Ah, Miss Cheong! How nice of you to join us!" Hongjoong exclaimed, a teasing glint in his eyes that wanted to make her wipe the smirk of his lips.

"My apologies, Mr Kim, we ran into a problem down at the lab." She explained, a blush forging on her cheeks as a grave set of eyes burned into her skin.

"No worries. This is Miss Cheong, she will be our project lead on the next Kim-Park program." The Kim-Park program was founded by Kim Hongjoong of Kim Pharma and Park Seonghwa of Park Pharmaceuticals. With both companies leading the pharmaceutical industry, both founders decided in order to produce a greater economic boom, and serve an excellent supply chain of mandatory medicine; both of their greatest minds could work together to create poignant breakthroughs in the scientific sector. After all, the two companies had the countries top scientists working for them but together they could very well improve the nature of modern medicine. Hence, today both CEO’s came together for a kick off meeting establishing the blueprint for their next, biggest projects.

"'No worries?'" A derisive voice arose from across the room, where she snapped her head to find a man with wide eyes and thin-rimmed square glasses that sat at the bridge of his long nose, staring back at her. His long, slicked back hair that fell past his ears as he, mockingly, cocked his head to the side in amusement. "I didn't know Kim Pharma tolerated tardiness, Mr Kim." Returning his stare back to Hongjoong, he raised an eyebrow anticipating his answer.

“What was the problem down at the lab?”

“House fire." She retorted, "And I had to assign interns some lab work. Kim Pharma doesn't tolerate tardiness Mr Park but your project manager doesn't seem to be here? We'd have valued him being present at the kick off meeting." His face heated red in embarrassment as he gritted his teeth.

Park Seonghwa was insufferable.

The worst thing about him wasn't even that he was pedantic and scrutinised her work with a keen eye, or that his sharp attention-to-detail left her wanting to force him to chug a beaker of concentrated hydrochloric acid. It was that under his strictly co-ordinated demeanour, he was a beautiful man blessed with an angel's aura. It was that he was tall and that his voice could hypnotise her; send her lunging over a precipice into the expanse of uncharted oceans. At times his allure had her wanting to excuse her pathetic hatred. They bickered at every meeting, every email was sent with 'Regards' rather than 'Kind Regards'. It wasn't long before the bickering had transgressed to shouting in the boardroom as he began to question her teachings, snickering at every intellectual point she made as if she had not graduated from university with the same degree as himself.

"You forgot to add that cisplatin is a cis isomer." He stated, as she sat across from her in his office. This time, she didn't bother to retain herself from rolling her eyes. "A problem, Miss Cheong?"

"Who's reading this report, Mr Park? A high school student or the manufacturer? Any man with common sense and college level chemistry knows that cisplatin is a cis isomer. Do you want me to also write down that it has a square planar shape with a bond angle of 90 degrees?" She snapped, leaning back in her chair with a disgusted look. He smirked taking off his glasses, cleaning the lens with the hem of his blazer sleeve. Dear god. Sedate me.

"No, but you do need to explain how cisplatin works in detail. It only works as cis isomer, not trans. You didn't specify that."

"You're incredibly pedantic." Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his perfectly defined nose, the smirk remained fixed on his lips. "I'm not surprised people are handing in resignations, at your company, every week."

"They can leave if they wish, lazy people don't contribute to Park Pharmaceuticals' success." Oh and he was cocky too. As well as being a pretty face full of wits, Park Seonghwa was also wrought with egotism that made her want to wrangle his gorgeous, slender neck. "Have you ever considered joining our company?" A snicker escaped from her lips which eventually transcended into a laughter that wholly baffled him.

"I'm afraid I'd be a part of that sorry statist-,"

"I'm sorry for being an arsehole, Miss Cheong. Can I make it up to you?" And when she questioned him how he would make it up to her, he proposed the idea of a date. All he wanted was her, regardless of her much she was everything he was not. “Go on a date with me, please.” He blurted, with her feet rooted to the ground and lips falling into a thin line his heart palpitated within his chest. He sought the way her hair fell over her shoulders in light waves having ripped it from its knot after she walked out of the lab. Her pink lips were practically begging to be touched by his, he wanted to soothe the symphony of weary sighs that dispersed from her, and the headache that wracked her brain from his abstruse behaviour. Above all, he was falling in love with Miss Cheong because he despised her in such a paradoxical way. He hated the way she was smarter than him and beautiful in the way that she must have been carved from the clouds of heaven.

It often made her giggle at Hongjoong's astonishment when she handed him the wedding invitation. His excitement when he ripped open the seal to read Seonghwa's name as the groom, dropped the smile from his face as he looked at his college friend.

"You're marrying the enemy?" She shook her head at him, almost scolding him for deeming Seonghwa the 'enemy'. "This isn't what I meant when I said 'Fuck Park Seonghwa." Lobbing the pillow at his head, he dramatically sunk into his sofa as their childlike laughter eructed into the blithe atmosphere.

It had felt like a distant dream now, to be loved and adored in the ways that he once did. To be held as if every touch was their last, to be kissed as if their lips would never meet again and they were lovers in the midst of an age-old war that would tear their nimble hearts apart. To have her husband again and not a dispassionate demon who tore past the gates of hell and inflict all the condemned’s curses on her.

Giving you my all, giving you my everything. Laying my life down at your feet, stripping myself of my own honour just to feel something by you. A glance, a breath, a sigh. You tell me to leave- I don’t mean anything to you anymore.

"Hwa, you could have at least told me you weren't going to go in the first place. Then I wouldn't have gone to the company party." Sat at the foot of the bed, he pulled the jumper over his torso, pulling his trapped hair out from the neck hole. He bit his tongue as his wife rebuked him for his absence, once again. "Do you know how humiliating it was for me to be the only one sat without her husband there?"

"I told you I was going to run late."

"You were four hours late, and you're a half an hour drive to the office! Why didn't you say no, in the first place?" Tearing the earring out from her lobe, she sunk into the chair trying her hardest to not slip into tears; the sympathetic stares of hundreds etched into her memory. How stupid did she look for being dressed so ostentatiously, when the real jewel was not even in her possession? The clatter of pearls emptied into the drawers, hands buried into palm of her hands closing her eyes to relive the myriad of dejection. They never said marriage was this painful. Hard, yes. But not painful. "Hwa, do you love me?" She inquired, turning around in her seat.

"What?"

"It's as simple as you think. Do. You. Love. Me?" Her voice wavered as she asked him, the distant stare in his eyes revealed answers to the questions that she did not want answered.

“If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t have married you. Or given you a beautiful daughter. I miss one, silly, company event and you start throwing a tantrum.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve completely abandoned me!” Her shout restituted off the thin light blue walls, jumping from her seat at his petty arguments. “You are such a terrible husband and you make me feel trapped in this marriage!”

“And you fucking suffocate me! You suffocate me!” He roared across the room, his strident tone penetrating through her, grazing down the surface of her heart. Rupturing the weak seams that held it together. Stumbling backwards, her palms gripped onto the mahogany table; shaking, biting down her lip to prevent a sob from escaping. "The only time I felt like I could ever breathe, in this marriage, was when I was not with you. When I was at work, or with the others, or just anywhere else. But never with you." Dipping her head, away from him, she shut her eyes as tight as she could.

"Please stop." she whispered, a plead so quiet it almost went unspoken. Yet Seonghwa heard it anyway because no matter how angry he was, their souls were still intertwined. Their hearts beat as one, they were uniform, one whole being. Slowly, he treaded towards her, mimicking the dip of head.

"Why? Can't you take the truth?" he mocked. Full tears pooled in her eyes, her chest burning from holding in her breath. "I should divorce you." He proclaimed, without a stutter. That was enough to break her. An obnoxious wail infiltrated into the void of the room. Was that what he wanted? To provoke some sort of emotion from her to satisfy his ego? He scoffed, before darting from the room-slamming the door shut behind him. Wrought with tears she trudged to her bed, slipping under the covers; sobbing herself unconscious.

"Mummm. Ammiii. Ammaaa." A small voice whispered, the softness soothing the persisting ache in her chest. Holding back the smile ready to break through, she fixed her eyes shut waiting to see what her daughter would do next.

"Dami, let your mother sleep. Come on." The urge to smile had dropped instantaneously, the familiar sense of forlorn gushing into her again; his sweet, addictive voice puncturing holes into her heart.

"I'm hungry." She could hear the pout on her daughter's lips. Huffing, she groaned loudly snapping at her daughters attention, who jumped up and down in excitement of her mother awaking. Reaching out for her child, she picked her up settling her down on her laps. "Mama, I'm hungry." She squeaked.

"Have you washed up yet?" She shook her head. "Ok, let me go to the bathroom first. Then I'll help you."

"I'll help her wash up." Seonghwa offered. Refusing to look at him, she simply gave him a curt nod, the sight of his face wanting to make her erupt into a fit of sobs.

"I promise I'll never make you cry." He had promised, before their marriage. They sat under the stars, the cool wind brushing at their cheeks. Astronomy books sat scattered around her as she attempted to map out constellations in the beaming night.

"And if you do?" She challenged, playfully smirking. With a cute frown he gave her a nudge.

"I promise I won't but in the 0.00001 percent chance that I do, then you should leave me. You’re worth more than the moon to me, and to hurt you is the deadliest sin I can commit." He immediately leaned forward to swoop her into a deep kiss- both of them smiling as they did. The memory of his now-broken promise brought tears to her eyes again. Tightly pressing her palm to her mouth, to hold back her cries, she sucked in yet another breath. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

Gripping onto the bathroom sink until her knuckles bled white, her knees hit the floor. Nicking the handle of the tap- tears freely flowed down her cheeks as the water rushed through the basin at rapid speed. I want my baby back.

Feeling the heavy burden of a collapsing marriage, her shoulders sunk as she chopped at the onions, preparing their dinner. Dami sat on the stool by the kitchen island, with her mini crayons scribbling over the pictures in the colouring book.

“Mama, why did Appa sleep in my room yesterday?” Scraping the onions into the pan, she grabbed the wooden spoon to stir it.

“He was missing his little princess. He wasn’t causing you trouble, was he?” She teased, sending her a forced smile. God, it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay happy. To smile was to pain her cheeks, they felt more contented relaxed than to uplift and radiate an aura of joy that didn’t seem to exist within her anymore.

“He’s so big, I fell off bed.” She snorted, laughing at her child’s proclamation. It was not long before a thought occurred to her that whenever they slept in the same bed- it was always her that took up the most room-rather than him. A fond memory occurred to her, specifically a night where her body was plastered to his.

“Ah, jagi, can you move a little? I’m up against the window?” Her body shuffled slightly to the left, giving him room to breathe a little bit more. “Thank god.” He huffed out a sigh of relief, her lips fell into a pout- as she rolled further away from him towards the edge of the bed. If space was what he wanted, then she was going to give it to him. Seonghwa’s arm outstretched for her, the cold air battering his skin was no comfort, he wanted her again. A tantalising laugher infiltrated the air, he shuffled closer to her pressing his lips to the top of her head.

“Never mind I need my cuddly bunny.” He sang, nestling his face into the crook of her neck. Now, she couldn’t remember the last time he had held her so close to himself. If anything, he needed the space now and rested just less than a metre apart from her each night.

“It was nice! Appa is a teddy bear.”

“Am I, my princess?” Turning away from the doorway, she opened the cupboard to reach for the spices, shielding her melancholic face away from him. The sweet dissonance of giggling entered her ears, if he had no love to spare for her at least he had enough to spare for his daughter. “Ahem, I’m going on a business dinner tonight.”

“Ok.” Seonghwa watched her, resting his hand on the top of his daughter’s head who went straight back to colouring in the flowers in her book-switching to a pink crayon at that. “What time will you be home?” He shrugged, then quickly noticed that with her back to him she wouldn’t see.

“I don’t know. Don’t wait up.” How could he say that knowing that there wasn’t a night in their marriage where she didn’t sit patiently on the sofa, waiting for him to come back home. Even on the days where he warned her he’d be back a lot later than usual. Regardless, she’d stay plastered to the sofa switching from the tv, to her phone, to a random book-eyes continuously flickering to clock- skipping to the kitchen to shove snacks into her mouth, as she’d never eat without him.

The urge to erupt into a fit of sobs inclined, chewing on her lip violently provided her with enough solace to finish making dinner, feed her daughter and put her to bed. Then at last, when she closed the curtains to her bedroom, a hushed cry escaped her; spending the rest of her night as she did prior, wailing and wailing until fatigue had lulled her weary heart to sleep. The creak of the door went unnoticed to her, Seonghwa crept in; her sleeping figure rested in the bed, the comforter dragged over her head. He sighed, contemplating whether to slip beside her or retreat back to Dami’s room for the night.

This sequence continued for the next few weeks, every night she would cry herself to sleep and Seonghwa would sleep in Dami’s bed. It wasn’t even their room at this point, it was hers with Seonghwa’s things in it-just like her flat pre-marriage. Her room with Seonghwa’s books, few pieces of clothes and odd bits of trinkets. One morning she woke up to find a stack of papers on her nightstand. Fear coursed through her blood, were these the divorce papers that he had suggested to her? Rifling through the papers, her heart soothed as soon as she realised they were just Dami’s crayon drawings. Stick figures of Appa, Amma, and little Dami in the middle. Drawings of flowers, then one just of Amma and Appa, a big heart between them. If only that were true. If only his heart still beat for her the same way hers beat for him.

She heard his voice trail out of the study, as she almost raised her hands to knock and summon him downstairs for lunch. The rapid muttering halted her movements, instead she tentatively pressed her ears against the door to assess the situation.

“Yes, honey, I’ll be there soon…She’s pissing me off right now. I’m trying to get the papers set at the moment…I don’t know about a few more weeks?” Slapping her hand to her mouth, she squeezed her lips shut to prevent any pained sounds from releasing. Honey? There was another woman? And the papers? Was he really, truly, trying to divorce her? Rushing to the bathroom, she slammed the door shut, flipping the tap back open to relive the same endless cycle.

“I’m going on a work trip to Japan, for a week. We have an important business meeting. I might need you take care of Dami by yourself.” His head snapped from up Dami’s unfinished Lego project. She’d fallen asleep when playing, so her father took it upon herself to finish building the set.

“You should have asked me beforehand. You can’t just accept to go offshore, and then give me a week’s notice.” He scolded, playing with the pink block between his fingers.

“I only got told today. I tried to call you whilst I was still in office, but I couldn’t get through to you.” Sighing, his shoulders slumped as he shook his head in disappointment. It appeared that Mrs Park was also refraining important matters from her husband; making decisions of her own that they promised they’d always make together. An uncomfortable silence remained suspended in the tense air, shifting uncomfortably in her spot as she awaited for him to say something else. Even if it was to belittle her, she urged to hear the sound of his voice.

“If you cared enough about me, you’d know I’m busy too.” Chewing down on her lip, she held back a painful sigh. There it is. “We’ll be with my parents for a week while you’re gone. When’s your flight?”

“Sunday night.” Nodding, he scooped up the remaining pieces on the floor pouring them back into the packet before getting up himself. “I’ll pick you up from the airport.”

The work trip to Japan was just as tranquil as she anticipated, the host company was as hospitable as they could be. The days were cut short, the air silent subsiding one into deep thought, even if they denied themselves the pleasures of having to think. With her knees tucked up to her chest, she stared out onto the vast market of skyscrapers, the teeming arena beneath contributing the noises that fell deaf at her ears. She needed to leave the home, its confining airs strangling the lumen of her windpipe. She didn't exactly know what to do now that it was confirmed: Seonghwa did not love her. The declaration was enough to send her into delirium, enough to have her jolting up at night; drowning in cold sweats, preaching his name like a mantra. The flight home did not come soon enough, she boarded the plane with such eagerness and drenched even further in pain when she was assigned the seat next to her colleague and her husband.

Nervously, she dialled in his number once more hurriedly, tapping her feet against the cobbled footpath; her free hand latched onto the sweaty handle of the suitcase. Pick up, pick up, pick up. Being met by the voicemail service was disheartening, wrapping her arms around herself as the wind blew harsh against her skin sending a ripple of goosebumps over her.

"Mrs Park, is your taxi late?" Whipping her head around to find her colleague, she shook her head in dismay. "Do you need a lift? We don't live too far from each other."

Pushing through the large wooden gates of his childhood home, she adjusted the straps of her back pack lifting her head to find the blaring of orange lights through the slits between the window blinds. A small bustle of activity could be heard from the other end, tentatively, her fingers rose to provoke the silver door knocker.

"I'll get the door!" His voice floated through the surface, reaching out to caress the aches on her skin bruised wholly by him. As soon as their eyes met across the doorway, the smile was wiped clean from his lips. “Oh god, I’m sorry, it had completely slipped my mind-,”

“You don’t forget things, Hwa. The truth is: it didn’t slip from your mind, you just didn’t care.” You haven’t cared about me for a very long time. You haven’t loved me in a long time. I am no longer your wife but just Dami’s mother, to you. Though some sort of vile emotion named fear had prevented her from saying those words, becoming lodged at the crux of her throat, floating on the tip of her tongue.

The worst thing was, he didn’t say anything. He was silent, unwilling to reckon against her and fight for their marriage again. When did he become so passive? Up until now, when was there a day in their relationship when he didn’t fight to keep her at his side? Trudging into the household, the warmth lacerated her skin, taking off her shoes as the pattering of small feet came her way. A small body engulfed her larger frame, the delightful giggles of her daughter infiltrated her ears as her mother finally came home to her.

"We ate sooo much food. We had tteokbokki, dakgalbi, ramen. Halmeoni tried to make me eat yaksik but it was nasty." Letting out a tired moan she fell onto the floorboard, Dami crawling on top of her, as her mother-in-law stuffed her with enough food to last her a century.

"Ugh, Dami. Please get off Amma, my tummy is going to explode."

"Halmeoni! Amma ate too much!"

"Your Amma didn't eat enough!" Eomeonim shouted back from the kitchen. Seonghwa ambled into the room settling a cup of green tea in front of her, whilst simultaneously lifting Dami from her stomach. There was an uncomfortable silence amongst them as their daughter, oblivious to the obvious tension between her parents, entertained them nevertheless by dancing around the room and singing. He left the room in between to see to his mother in the kitchen. Feeling terrible for leaving her to tend to the mound of dishes, she carried behind walking straight into the enemy's territory.

“Are you stupid, boy? How could you even suggest a divorce?” She hissed. “It was only yesterday when you came running to me, with your eyes so full of love. Where is that love now?”

“People change.” He deadpanned, hot tears fulfilled her eyes, blurring her vision as she rushed back to the front room.

“We’re going, now!” She ordered, a pout on her daughter’s face grazed the surface of her heart. She couldn’t stand here, and hear her husband declare that he didn’t love her anymore. She couldn’t watch the love of her life slip from the tips of her fingers, whilst she sunk beneath the earth under her feet. She grabbed his car keys, from his jacket. “We’re going home, eomeonim. I need to go into the office, tomorrow. Thank you so much for taking care of Dami.” Kissing the top of her mother’s head, she slipped on her shoes before carrying Dami out of the home. Seonghwa followed hot on her heels.

“Where do you think you’re going at this time of night?”

“Home, Hwa.” The lock clicked out of the place, she jerked open the car door to fasten her daughter into the seat ignoring her cries and pleads to stay at her grandmother’s. “Dami! Quiet!” She roared, the same way Seonghwa would shout at her for nights on end for doing nothing other than being his wife.

“Stop acting like a child and come back inside right now!” He commanded.

“I won’t, Hwa. Because the next time I go back in and let myself be hurt by you, I’ll have no one to blame but me.” He fell quiet, swallowing the heavy lump in his throat. “I am the still the girl who would wait nights for her husband to come home to her. But you are no longer the boy that would walk straight into her arms.” Choking on her sobs, she jerked open the car door to slip inside, her daughter calling out for her father. After all, they were the same woman. Both so utterly in love with the same man that could not love them both in the ways one could dream of being in love. For being in love with him was asking for annihilation, his devotion unreachable like the stars studded in the midnight sky. Was he not made from the stars? An angel borne from light, whose banner was a celestial plane that would diminish the human essence in a heartbeat? Steering the car out of his driveway, Seonghwa stood plastered to the floor a single tear dropping from his eye as he felt his soul meander away from him.

That night, when they reached home, Dami was tight in her arms after having cried the whole journey home from missing her father. Eventually, exhaustion overpowered her and she reluctantly slept in her mother’s arms. She was so sure now that her daughter thought she was the villain for ripping her away from her father. Nuzzling her small face deeper into her mother’s neck, she felt her bottom lip tremble as she called out for her father.

There was no need to frantically run to the post box every time a letter slipped through, meeting the ground with a loud thud. Though, she did it anyway, with little Dami scuttling behind her as if she was expecting a letter herself though deep down Mrs Park knew that she wanted her Appa to come home. It had been a month having not heard back from him. No messages or calls. After work, she ventured over to his office only to be turned away by his assistant; catching a quick glance at his shadow through his window.

“I have to make an appointment to see my own husband?” She uttered through gritted teeth, though the woman in front merely nodded, disinterestedly. “When is Mr Park next available?” The jarring clatter against the keyboard gnawed at her ear drums, annoyance fulfilling her.

Fuck this. Rushing to the handle of his door, she keeled it open storming inside-the loud slam of the door jumping him up from where he sat in his seat. The assistant rushed behind, squawking about how she had to leave.

“Cilla, it’s ok. Go do your job.” He ordered, softly with his eyes fixated on his wife. She didn’t expect him to look this way, the clean, composed Seonghwa now with tousled hair and small dark circles under his eyes. Eyes bloodshot red as if he had been crying for weeks on end, exhaustion piling in them. His sunken face as if he had not eaten for weeks-Seonghwa, not eating? The same man who used to kiss her hands and go for seconds, claiming there must have been some magic in them for she made such delicious food?

“Dami is getting upset. She misses her Dad. The least you could is come home and see her, so she doesn’t think that her father abandoned her too.”

“I’ve been busy-,”

“You’ll always be busy, Hw-Seonghwa. But not busy enough that you can’t spare an hour or two to see your daughter.” She spat, storming straight out of his office, sending the assistant a dirty look on her way to the elevator.

“Appa!” Dami’s animated tone weighed down her father’s heart, his arms wide open as she jumped into them. Fixing her spot by the kitchen doorway she watched as her husband played with her daughter. After a few hours, when they had put Dami to sleep, they sat with each other in the front room Seonghwa pulling out an envelope from his work satchel.

“The-uh- papers. Divorce papers.” A pang struck through her, hands shaking as she reached out for them.

“As her mother, I’ll have custody over her. You should be allowed to see her every week, so maybe the weekend?” Her voice quivered, slightly as she opened up the seal of the envelope, its woody scent wafting up her nose. With little energy, to pull out the form- she settled it onto the coffee table. “We’ll move to my mother’s house…” She trailed off biting down on her lip as Seonghwa closed his eyes shut.

“That’s fine. You can just post it to the lawyer. I’d like to see Dami at my office next week, could you do that?” Nodding diligently, she owed him that much. He’d be counting down the days soon until he’d rarely see his daughter. How would they tell her Amma and Appa weren’t as happy as they were in the drawings?

Her eyes scoured over the woman sat in front of him, as she opened the door to his office. God, she was beautiful with her long, black, silky hair, siren eyes, her chic office look. Everything she was not, though she had managed to pick herself up and put a lot more effort than she usually did with her fitted suit, hair tied back into a sleek bun-held up by the closest pen she could find on her dressing table since her silver claw clip was nowhere in sight. Was she the woman he was going to leave her for? She couldn’t even blame him at this point, why keep something expired when you could throw it away and have something new? Gripping onto the straps of her handbag, she slowly let go of her daughter’s hand who ran to her father’s side.

“Gaeun, this is my wife Mrs Park.” Timidly, she shook her hand. Gaeun saw Mrs Park as an intimidating woman, with her silent face as she ambled into the room with her daughter, her neat hair, pointed heels and tailored skirt that accentuated her curves. She matched Mr Park’s daunting presence perfectly, and of course her intelligence was known to all as well as her insistence to remain at his rivals’ company. “Dear, this is Gaeun- she’s one of the project leads on the next Kim-Park collaboration.”

“I see.” Her head picked up, giving both parties a short nod before leaving the office. She reckoned there was enough to time to make it to her own company and break down in the toilets before beginning the work day.

The rain thundered down from the sky on a solemn afternoon, the clatter of dishes being returned to the cupboards entailing the home; followed the thundering knock at the door. Peeking into the peep hole, she swung the door open, she pulled her husband in immediately rushing around him as he jerked off his shoes.

“Into the shower now.” Without hesitation, he grabbed his clothes from her bedroom before soundlessly making his way into the shower. She only assumed he had come to their home for the signed papers, it had been a while since he’d given them to her; though all she could think about was the way her pen could not even touch the sheet. The door to the study creaked open, as she bit her lip with the unsigned line glaring back at her.

“I haven’t- I haven’t signed the paper, yet.” His breath hitched in his throat, inching closer and closer to her. With the tickle in her throat pervasive, the pen neared the line her heart shattering with every second that her hands rebuked the damned sheet in front. How did she even do her signature?

“I’m sorry that you fell in love with me. I’m sorry that you married me. I’m sorry that I’m not enough. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the perfect wife for you.” She blurted, the pen falling from her fingers onto the table. He called out her name, drawing forward arms outstretched to encircle her into him. To hold her as tight and as true as she deserved. To fulfil her of kisses that he had deprived her of, to ease her of her pain. Though she stopped him in his tracks, with a palm to censor his movements. “No, Hwa. I haven’t been enough for you for a very long time. I must have done something wrong for you to hurt me like this. I must have done something much worse than what you’ve done to me. I just wished you spoke to me than gave me this stupid sheet and trying to end us in a single heartbeat.” An agonising wail left her lips, as she dropped to the floor tucking up her knees to her chest. Her lungs burned, desperate for air running her fingers through her hair as she slowly breathed out to ease the throbbing sensation loitering at her temples. He sunk to the floor with her, engulfing her frame within his. His jumper so soft, drenched in the scent that she adored. The same scent that he wore when they first met. Her bottom lip quivered again.

“You did nothing, it was all me. I forgot who I was, I forgot it was you who gave me life.” Her tears stained his shirt, he held her closer to his body. “I came to here to change your mind. I didn’t want you to sign those papers. I was so scared you had.” Their bodies rocked back and forth as the painful sound of her sobbing gradually declined.

“I couldn’t do it.” She whispered, her throat sore from this prolonging nightmare. Kissing away her tears, his fingers gently tilted up her head so he could bore his eyes in her beautiful ones. “I just need to know if there’s another woman. If there is, and you love her the same way you loved me, you can have her.”

“There was never another woman. It was always you I swear.” He pledged, as his own tears rushed down his face tickling his jawline before pattering carefully on his sweater. “I was just a poor excuse of a man, a poor excuse of a husband. I admit that I felt like you’d never leave me, but when I realised you really could it hurt me so much.” Drawing lines over his sweatshirt she listened to the sweet sound of his voice whisper into her ears.

“I’ll be a better man. I’ll work on me, and you can just keep on being a great wife and mother.” Their lips met in a frenzy of emotions, their palpitating hearts enamouring their befallen entities as passionate kisses filled the wounds that penetrated through them. His hands snaked around her waist, as hers ran through his long hair emitting a husky groan out of him. “Do you think Dami would like a sibling?” He joked, before being met by whack to the back of his head, they deepened the kiss before she happily rested her head against his chest.

“Maybe, but not now. Right now, you need to come home to us.”

“It’s just you and me now. Nothing’s going to hurt you baby.”

All Right Reserved © the-midnight-blooms

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

cheong meaning 'quiet' 'eomeonim' means mother-in-law (husband's side) 'halmeoni' means grandma

A/N: i'm sorry if the ending seems a bit rushed, i'm going on some meds soon and i have no idea how shit i'm gonna feel while on them. wanted to update in case i have no energy to release something else for a while😖 Hope you guys liked this one! ✨✨

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

tags: @n0v4t33z @potatos-on-clouds @jjongwho

[wethotcrazy]

Buona Fortuna

pairing: Mercedes F1 Team! Kimi Antonelli x F1 Academy Driver! Reader

word count: 5500

trying out some new stuff, but chat i fear i cooked a little too hard. also if you like this tell me (i might make more parts to it), and sorry for the sudden change i just wanted it to be all in one part instead of two.

The Mercedes F1 hospitality area was nearly empty at 11 PM, save for two figures huddled at a corner table. Kimi Antonelli, still in his team polo despite the late hour, sat across from Y/N, who was surrounded by engineering textbooks and a laptop displaying race telemetry data.

"You know," Kimi said, sliding a fresh cup of coffee toward her, "most people would think I'm crazy for spending my free evening watching someone study thermodynamics."

Y/N looked up from her calculations, offering a tired but genuine smile. "Most people would think I'm crazy for studying thermodynamics between F1 Academy practice sessions."

"That's why you're you," he replied with a soft smile, a familiar warmth of admiration in his voice.

Their friendship had always been like this – comfortable silences, shared understanding, and mutual support that went beyond their racing careers. It started back in their Prema days when they were both trying to navigate the delicate balance between racing and high school.

While Kimi had treated academics as a necessary obligation, Y/N approached it with the same passion she showed on track. He remembered watching her in awe as she'd switch seamlessly between analyzing racing lines and solving calculus problems during their breaks.

"How do you not get burned out?" he'd asked her once during their Prema days.

"Because I love both," she'd answered simply. "The racing helps me understand the physics, and the physics helps me understand the racing. They're not separate things in my mind."

That response had stuck with him, reshaping his own approach to racing. While he might not share her enthusiasm for academic pursuits, her words had taught him that true excellence came from understanding every aspect of what you do.

Now, a couple of years later, he found himself gravitating toward her study sessions whenever their racing schedules aligned. Sometimes he'd ask questions about the engineering concepts she was learning, genuinely curious about how they applied to their cars. Other times, like tonight, he'd simply keep her company, finding inspiration in her unwavering focus.

"Remember when you posted that congratulations message when we  graduated?" Y/N asked suddenly, looking up from her textbook.

Kimi grinned. "How could I forget? 'Proudest teammate award goes to @KimiAntonelli,'" he quoted the replies that had flooded in. "I meant every word of it, you know. Still do."

"You always have been supportive," she laughed, but her eyes showed deep appreciation.

"You know, I joke about you being a nerd all the time, but..." he paused, gathering his thoughts. "Watching you excel in both worlds, it made me realize I wasn't pushing myself hard enough in some areas. When I'm tired after a long day of practice and all I want to do is sleep, I think about you studying after equally long days. It makes me want to be better, to understand more, to push harder."

Y/N set down her pencil, touched by his honesty. "Kimi..."

"I mean it," he continued. "Everyone in F1 asks me about my rapid rise through the ranks, but they don't see what I see. They don't see my friend who's working twice as hard, not just winning races but understanding the very science that makes these cars work."

A comfortable silence fell between them as Y/N returned to her studies and Kimi started reviewing his own race data on his tablet. This had become their routine whenever their race weekends coincided – her studying, him working, occasionally breaking the silence to share thoughts or ask questions.

"Another win for Y/N L/N!" the commentator announced as she crossed the finish line. "The F1 Academy sensation continues to dominate while pursuing her mechanical engineering degree..."

After Y/N won her F1 Academy race, Kimi was the first to reach her in parc fermé. As they hugged in celebration, he whispered, "You always make it look so easy."

She laughed against his shoulder. "Nothing about this is easy."

"That's what makes it impressive," he replied, pulling back to look at her. "And don't worry – I saved you a spot in the hospitality area. You've got that fluid dynamics test to study for, right?"

"You're not sick of being my study buddy yet?"

Kimi's expression softened. "Never. Besides," he added with a playful grin, "how else am I going to learn why my car does what it does? My engineers would be proud of how much engineering I've absorbed just from listening to you study."

That evening, as they settled into their usual spot, Kimi watched Y/N dive straight into her studies despite the exhaustion of race day. Her dedication wasn't just about achieving good grades or winning races – it was about pursuing excellence in everything she did. And while he might joke about her being his inspiration, the truth was far deeper than any joke could convey.

Because in Y/N, Kimi saw what true passion looked like. It wasn't just about being fast on track or smart in class – it was about the relentless pursuit of understanding, the dedication to growth, and the courage to chase multiple dreams at once. Her drive pushed him to be better, to learn more, to dig deeper into his own craft.

"Hey," he said suddenly, making her look up from her books. "I know I tease a lot, but you really are an inspiration. Not just to me, I know so many others out there that really look up to you."

Y/N's face softened into a smile. "And you're the best study buddy a racing driver could ask for."

"Even though I still don't understand half of what you're studying?"

"Especially because of that," she laughed. "Your confused face keeps me entertained during the boring parts."

As they settled back into their comfortable routine – Y/N with her studies, Kimi with his race notes – he couldn't help but smile. Some might find it strange that a Formula 1 driver chose to spend his free time watching his friend study engineering, but to Kimi, these quiet moments were as valuable as any time spent on track.

Because it was in these moments that he was reminded of what real dedication looked like, what true passion meant, and how the pursuit of excellence in one area could inspire growth in another. Y/N might joke about him being her study buddy, but in truth, she was teaching him something far more valuable than engineering principles – she was showing him what it meant to never stop pushing, learning, and growing.

And that, more than any podium or pole position, was why his admiration for her only grew stronger with each passing day.

The Mercedes garage buzzed with pre-qualifying preparations, but Kimi's eyes were fixed on his phone screen, watching Y/N's F1 Academy race. He was supposed to be reviewing track data, but he couldn't help himself – her racing style had always captivated him.

"Antonelli!" Ollie Bearman's voice cut through his concentration as his friend poked his head into the Mercedes garage, Haas race suit tied around his waist. "Let me guess – watching Y/N's race?"

Kimi didn't even bother hiding his phone. "She's in P2, fighting for the lead."

"When are you going to admit you're in love with her?" Ollie teased, settling beside him to watch.

"I'm not—" Kimi started to protest, but his words were cut short as Y/N executed a perfect overtake into Turn 1. His involuntary smile said more than any denial could.

"Sure, sure," Ollie laughed. "You've only been like this since our Prema days. 'Y/N's so dedicated,'" he mimicked. "'She's so inspiring. Did you know she got another perfect score?'"

Kimi felt his cheeks warm. "She's my friend."

"A friend you can't take your eyes off of," Ollie pointed out. "A friend whose races you watch while you should be prepping for quali. A friend who—"

"She's through! She's won!" Kimi interrupted, jumping slightly in his seat as Y/N crossed the finish line. Without thinking, he immediately opened his messages.

Kimi: Incredible drive! That move into T1 was pure class. Good luck with studying later - FaceTime after quali? Need to hear all about that overtake 👊

Her reply came quickly:

Y/N: Thanks Kimi! 🏆 Those racing lines finally making sense 😂 Absolutely yes to FaceTime - I'll be watching your quali! Show them how it's done ❤️

The heart emoji made his own heart skip a beat, though he tried to ignore it. His phone buzzed again:

Ollie: I saw that smile when she texted back. You're not fooling anyone 😏

Kimi rolled his eyes, but couldn't completely suppress his grin. His race engineer called him for the final quali briefing, and he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Yet as he slipped into his race suit, he found himself thinking about how Y/N would be watching.

The qualifying session was intense, but knowing Y/N was watching somehow made him push even harder. As he crossed the line to secure P3 in Q3, he could almost hear her cheering.

The moment he parked in parc fermé, he was pulling out his phone, FaceTiming Y/N while walking to his media obligations.

Her face appeared on screen, beaming with pride. "P3! Kimi, that last sector was incredible!"

"Not as incredible as your overtake earlier," he replied, unable to stop smiling. She was sitting at her desk, engineering textbooks already spread out around her, hair still damp from her own podium celebration.

"Are you seriously doing this interview while FaceTiming?" she laughed as he positioned himself for the post-quali interviews.

"You're more important," he said without thinking, then quickly added, "Besides, you can help me with the technical questions about car balance."

A Sky Sports reporter approached, amused to find him on FaceTime. "Kimi, fantastic qualifying! Who are you talking to?"

"Y/N L/N," he answered proudly, turning his phone to show her. "She just won her F1 Academy race today."

"Kimi!" Y/N protested, embarrassed by the attention, but he could see her trying not to smile.

The reporter, well aware of their friendship, played along. "Any advice for him, Y/N?"

"Remember what I taught you about apex speeds," she teased. "It's just like solving differential equations – all about finding the optimal solution."

Kimi laughed, his expression softening in a way that made Ollie, watching from nearby, shaking his head knowingly. "Always the engineer, even on race day."

As he moved through his media obligations, he kept Y/N on the call, their easy banter and shared joy making the tedious process enjoyable. She occasionally chimed in with technical insights that actually impressed the journalists, making Kimi's chest swell with pride.

"You should be studying," he finally said, once he was heading back to the team motorhome.

"I am studying," she protested, holding up her thermodynamics textbook. "I'm just also watching my favorite Mercedes driver crush it in quali."

"I'm the only Mercedes driver you know personally," he pointed out.

"Still my favorite," she winked, and Kimi felt that familiar warmth spread through his chest.

Maybe Ollie was right. Maybe these feelings went beyond admiration and friendship. Maybe the way his day felt brighter when she smiled, the way he looked forward to their study sessions, the way he felt proud of her achievements as if they were his own – maybe it all meant something more.

But for now, he was content to walk through the paddock, phone in hand, listening to Y/N explain her winning overtake while flipping through engineering notes. In that moment, with hundreds of miles between them but their connection as strong as ever, Kimi realized that some feelings didn't need to be admitted out loud to be real.

"Hey," Y/N's voice softened. "You went quiet. What are you thinking about?"

Kimi smiled, watching her juggle her textbook while trying to maintain eye contact through the camera. "Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you in my corner, even when we're racing so far apart."

Her expression melted into something tender that made his heart race faster than any qualifying lap. "Always, Kimi. We're a team, remember? Even when we're not teammates anymore."

And if Ollie happened to catch him later that night, still on FaceTime with Y/N as she studied and he reviewed race data, both of them fighting sleep just to stay connected a little longer – well, maybe his friend wasn't completely wrong about those feelings after all.

The F1 social media landscape exploded one Tuesday morning when Prema Racing announced their 2025 Formula 2 lineup. Among the names was Y/N L/N, making history as she stepped up from F1 Academy after a dominant season.

Within minutes, Kimi's notification feed was flooded as fans tagged him in the announcement. He didn't hesitate to share his excitement:

@KimiAntonelli: From studying engineering between races to fighting for the F2 championship - this is what dedication looks like! So proud of you @YN_LN! Time to show F2 what you're made of! 🏎️📚

The tweet quickly went viral, but it wasn't just the announcement that caught fans' attention. Within hours, racing fan accounts began sharing compilation videos:

"KIMI AND Y/N: FROM PREMA TO F1/F2 🥺❤️ (a thread)"

The first video showed them as young teenagers at Prema, Kimi helping Y/N carry her textbooks to the engineering room while she explained race strategy concepts. Another clip featured their podium celebrations, where they'd always find each other first for a congratulatory hug.

@F1Moments: "The way Kimi BEAMS when talking about Y/N's achievements? We're not okay 😭❤️"

The clip showed various interviews where Kimi praised Y/N:

"She's not just fast on track, she understands these cars like an engineer..."

"While we're all focused on racing, she's getting perfect grades in mechanical engineering..."

"Y/N shows that with enough passion, you can excel at anything..."

@MotorsportEdits had created a masterpiece: a split-screen montage of their parallel journeys. On one side, Kimi's rise through the ranks to Mercedes F1; on the other, Y/N dominating F1 Academy while pursuing her degree. The video ended with their recent FaceTime sessions during Kimi’s post-quali interview, Kimi turning his phone to face the Sky Sports camera.

#KimiAndYN started trending on racing Twitter.

@RacingNews: "Remember when Kimi brought his phone to post-quali interviews just to stay on FaceTime with Y/N? 🥺"

@F1Academy: "From study buddies to racing's power duo! Congratulations to our champion @YN_LN on her promotion to F2!"

Quote tweeted by @MercedesAMGF1: "Our boy @KimiAntonelli's biggest cheerleader is moving up to F2! 🙌 #KimiAndYN"

The social media storm reached new heights when an old video surfaced from their Prema days:

"Can someone please explain the physics behind this overtake?" Kimi asked in the clip, while Y/N drew diagrams and equations on a whiteboard, both still in their race suits.

"Every time I explain physics, you somehow turn it into a racing question," Y/N laughed in the video.

"Because you make it make sense!" young Kimi protested.

@PremaRacing decided to join the fun, sharing a collection of photos: "Buona fortuna e buon viaggio! #KimiAndYN"

The photos showed their journey: studying together between practice sessions, celebrating podiums, Kimi and Y/N's high school graduation, Y/N watching Kimi's first F1 test from the pitwall while highlighting her engineering notes.

Ollie couldn't resist commenting:

@OllieBearman: "If I had a euro for every time @KimiAntonelli talked about @YN_LN during our Prema days, I'd be richer than Lewis Hamilton 😂"

Y/N finally responded to the chaos with a photo of her and Kimi from their Prema days, both asleep in the engineering room, textbooks and data sheets scattered around them:

@YN_LN: "Some things never change ❤️ Thanks for always believing in me @KimiAntonelli! 📚🏎️"

Kimi's heart skipped when he saw her post. He was in the Mercedes simulator when his phone exploded with notifications, but he immediately took a break to respond:

@KimiAntonelli: "From helping me understand physics to making history in motorsport. Proud doesn't even begin to cover it. Can't wait to share the paddock with you again ❤️"

Later that evening, during their regular FaceTime call, Y/N couldn't stop laughing about the social media storm.

"Have you seen the edits? They found clips I didn't even know existed!"

Kimi grinned, watching her sort through her F2 contract papers while simultaneously organizing her study materials. "My favorite is the compilation of every time I've talked about you in interviews. Apparently, I'm not subtle."

"When have you ever been?" she teased. "Remember when you brought me up during your first F1 press conference?"

"Because they asked about inspiration! And you're..." he paused, his expression softening, "you're the most inspiring person I know."

Y/N's cheeks turned pink. "Keep saying things like that and these fans might get ideas."

"Let them," Kimi said softly, watching her juggle her racing dreams and academic pursuits with the same grace she'd always had. "They're not entirely wrong."

The hashtag #KimiAndYN continued trending well into the night, with fans sharing more memories, creating new edits, and celebrating their journey. But for Kimi and Y/N, it was just another evening of FaceTime study sessions and race discussions, their bond stronger than any trending topic could capture.

@F1Community: "Find someone who looks at you the way Kimi looks at Y/N when she's explaining engineering concepts 😍 #KimiAndYN"

Attached was a recent photo from the paddock: Kimi leaning over Y/N's laptop, completely absorbed as she explained some complex engineering principle, his expression a perfect blend of admiration, affection, and awe.

Some things really never did change.

The Italian summer sun painted long shadows across the Antonelli family's garden as Kimi watched Y/N from the kitchen window. She was curled up in her favorite spot on the outdoor sofa, engineering textbook balanced on her knees, hair gathered in a claw clip. Even on break, some things never changed.

Last summer had been at her family's house – he smiled remembering how her mom had fussed over both of them, making sure they took actual breaks from racing and studying. This year, it was his family's turn to host, and his mother was equally determined to fatten them both up with endless servings of homemade pasta.

"She's still studying?" his mother asked in Italian, appearing beside him with fresh bread for dinner.

"Always," Kimi replied fondly. "But watch this."

He grabbed two glasses of fresh lemonade and headed out to the garden. The moment he sat beside her, Y/N automatically shifted, making space while never taking her eyes off her thermodynamics equations. It was a practiced movement, born from countless study sessions across years of friendship.

"Mum's making that pasta you love," he said, setting her lemonade within reach.

"The one with the pistachio pesto?" Y/N looked up, eyes brightening.

"Of course. She says you're too skinny from all this studying."

Y/N laughed, finally closing her book. "Between your mom and mine, we're never going to go hungry during these summer breaks."

It had become their tradition, these shared summers. Between the chaos of the racing season and now Y/N's university schedule, these precious weeks were their chance to just... be. No pressure, no cameras, no podiums to chase – just them, family, and the Italian summer stretching endlessly ahead.

"Remember last summer when your dad tried to teach me proper Italian, Tuscan?" Kimi asked, settling deeper into the sofa.

"And you kept mixing up your words?" Y/N grinned. "And the look on his face…"

"Hey, I've improved! Besides, you're one to talk – you still use engineering terms in Italian."

"That's different! Those are technical terms!"

Their laughter mingled with the sound of cicadas and the distant clatter of dishes from the kitchen. Y/N's textbook lay forgotten as she tucked her feet under herself, turning to face him fully.

"I love this," she said softly. "How even with everything changing – you in F1, me heading to F2, all the craziness – we still have this."

Kimi's heart warmed at her words. He knew what she meant. These moments were precious: the quiet afternoons studying, the family dinners where their parents swapped embarrassing stories about their karting days, the late-night gelato runs in his dad's old Fiat.

"You know," he said, watching the sunset paint her face in golden hues, "I was thinking about our first summer together, back in Prema. Remember how you made me help you study for physics?"

"You mean how you used every physics problem as an excuse to analyze race strategy?" she teased.

"It worked, didn't it? I understood downforce better after your explanations."

Y/N smiled, reaching for her lemonade. "And now look at us. You're living our F1 dream early, and I'm..."

"Being absolutely incredible," he finished firmly. "Racing, engineering degree, and still finding time to spend summers with me and my crazy family."

"Your family is my family too, you know that. Plus," she added with a mischievous grin, "your mum's cooking alone is worth the trip."

As if on cue, his mother's voice called from the kitchen: "Bambini! Dinner!"

They shared a look – they were hardly children anymore, but to their families, they'd always be those two kids from Prema, dreaming big dreams between study sessions.

"Five more minutes!" Kimi called back, not ready to break this moment.

Y/N leaned her head against his shoulder, a gesture so natural it made his heart ache with familiarity. "Your mom's going to come get us out here if we're late."

"Worth it," he murmured, watching the last rays of sunlight fade. "Besides, you need a break from studying."

"Says the one who spent three hours analyzing race data this morning."

"That's different!"

"How?"

"Because..." he paused, smiling. "Okay, maybe we're both workaholics."

"Maybe that's why this works," Y/N said softly. "We understand each other's drive."

The garden was growing darker, fairy lights automatically twinkling to life along the pergola. From the kitchen came the warm sounds of family life – his mother singing along to the radio, his father setting the table, the rich aroma of dinner wafting through the air.

"Ragazzi!" his mother called again, more insistent this time.

Y/N laughed, standing and offering him her hand. "Come on, before we get in trouble."

Kimi took her hand, but didn't immediately get up, just holding it for a moment. "Thanks for choosing to spend summer here again."

"Always," she squeezed his hand. "Where else would I want to be?"

As they walked toward the house, Y/N's textbook tucked under one arm and their empty glasses in hand, Kimi felt that familiar surge of gratitude. For all their success on track, for all their dreams coming true, it was these moments he treasured most – the quiet evenings, the shared laughter, the simple joy of having her here, making his family home feel even more like home.

"Race you to the table?" Y/N challenged, eyes sparkling.

"You're on, F2 driver," he grinned, both of them breaking into a run like they were kids again.

Some things changed – their racing categories, their achievements, their growing dreams. But this – their summers together, their understanding, their connection – this remained constant, as reliable as the Italian sun and as sweet as his mother's lemonade.

And as they collapsed into their seats at the dinner table, breathless with laughter while his parents fondly shook their heads, Kimi couldn't help but think that of all their victories, all their podiums and poles, this might be his favorite kind of winning.

"And crossing the line to take pole position in, Y/N L/N with a stunning lap!"

Kimi's celebration in the Mercedes garage was immediate and enthusiastic enough to draw knowing looks from his entire team. He was supposed to be preparing for his own qualifying session, but his eyes had been glued to the timing screens.

His phone was already in his hand: Kimi: POLE POSITION!! That sector 2 was absolutely insane! Call later? 🏆✨

Her reply came seconds later: Y/N: Learned from the best 😉 Good luck in quali! I'll be watching between engineering lectures ❤️

"Antonelli!" George Russell called out, grinning as he passed by. "Tell your girlfriend congratulations on pole!"

"She's not my—" Kimi started, but George was already walking away, laughing.

@GeorgeRussell63: Caught our rookie watching F2 quali instead of prep 👀 Wonder why? 😏 @KimiAntonelli @YN_LN #Busted

The tweet immediately went viral, with fans cooing over Kimi's obvious pride in Y/N's achievement. The F1 paddock's collective teasing had become relentless since summer break ended.

Later that evening, after both their sessions were done, Kimi settled into his hotel room for their nightly FaceTime call. Y/N appeared on screen, trophy visible in the background, textbooks already spread around her.

"There's my pole-sitter," he beamed.

"There's my Q3 hero," she countered. "P4! Kimi, that was incredible!"

"Thanks to your tip about the kerbs in turn 9—"

A notification interrupted them: @LandoNorris: @KimiAntonelli mate your face literally lights up every time you talk about @YN_LN 😭 Remember when you made us all watch her F1 Academy race during the drivers' briefing?

Y/N burst out laughing. "You did what?"

Kimi's cheeks reddened. "It was an important race! And they all wanted to watch anyway..."

Another notification: @OscarPiastri: Can confirm. He gives us daily updates about both her racing AND her engineering degree 😂 #Whipped

"The whole grid is against me," Kimi groaned, but he was smiling.

"At least Ollie has backup now," Y/N teased, adjusting her laptop so she could better see him while highlighting her thermodynamics notes.

"Speaking of Ollie—" Kimi started, but was cut off by yet another notification.

@OllieBearman: Throwback to Prema days when these two would "study" together but really just stare at each other for hours 👀 #IveBeenSayingItForYears Attached was a photo of teenage Kimi and Y/N in the Prema engineering room, books open but clearly lost in conversation

"We did not stare at each other!" Kimi protested.

"No, you just watch me study every single day," Y/N smirked.

The notifications kept coming:

@CharlesLeclerc: Remember when @KimiAntonelli asked for restaurant recommendations in every city because he wanted to "surprise a friend" during race weekends? 🤔

@CarlosSainz: The friend: @YN_LN 😂

"You asked Charles for restaurant recommendations?" Y/N's expression softened.

"I wanted to make sure you had good places to eat during race weekends," Kimi mumbled. "You forget to eat when you're studying..."

@MaxVerstappen: Called it! Pay up @SChecoPerez - told you he'd watch her quali instead of prep 💰

@SChecoPerez: Next time hide your phone better @KimiAntonelli 😂

Y/N was fully laughing now. "You've got a betting pool on us?"

"The whole paddock apparently," Kimi sighed, but couldn't help smiling at her joy.

@AlexAlbon: POV: You're trying to discuss race strategy but @KimiAntonelli is texting @YN_LN Attached was a video of Kimi smiling at his phone during a strategy meeting

"I'm never going to hear the end of this," Kimi groaned.

"Poor baby," Y/N teased, then her expression turned more serious. "Hey, did you see the analysis I sent about your sector 3? I think if you adjust the entry angle—"

Kimi's heart swelled as she launched into a detailed technical explanation, seamlessly switching between race engineer and student mode. Even with an ocean between them, she was still looking out for him.

@LewisHamilton: Y'all leave them alone - it's sweet 🙌 Some of us remember what it's like to be young and in... racing 😉 @KimiAntonelli @YN_LN

Their phones buzzed simultaneously with a message from Ollie: Group chat "Prema Days" Ollie: LEWIS KNOWS 😭 Even the 7-time champ sees it! Just kiss already!

Y/N rolled her eyes, but Kimi caught the slight blush on her cheeks. "We should probably study," she said, clearly trying to change the subject.

"Of course," Kimi agreed, already pulling out his own notes. "But first - that move into turn 1 for pole? Walk me through it?"

Her face lit up as she began explaining the technical aspects of her qualifying lap, and Kimi found himself smiling softly, completely absorbed in her enthusiasm. In the background, their phones kept buzzing with notifications, the entire F1 grid apparently determined to point out what everyone else could see.

@ValtteriBottas: Taking bets on how long until they officially announce... their "friendship" 😏

@MercedesAMGF1: The way @KimiAntonelli watches all her races from our garage when we're at different tracks 🥺

@ZhouGuanyu24: Don't forget how he explains her engineering projects to us during track walks! Never seen someone so proud 😂

But for Kimi and Y/N, wrapped up in their own little world of race analysis and study sessions, the teasing was just background noise. Their connection, whether across the paddock or across continents, remained as strong as ever – even if the entire F1 grid seemed determined to turn it into the paddock's favorite love story.

"Hey," Y/N said softly, interrupting his thoughts. "Earth to Kimi?"

"Sorry, just thinking."

"About how the entire F1 grid is never gonna let up on you?" she teased.

"About how lucky I am to have you in my corner, even from far away."

Her expression melted into something tender that made all the paddock's teasing worth it. "Always, Kimi. Distance doesn't change that."

@OllieBearman: I've been watching this romcom live since Prema and let me tell you, it only gets better 🍿 #KimiAndYN

This time, neither of them bothered to protest.

The blue light of the laptop screen illuminated Y/N's face as she finished highlighting another passage in her thermodynamics textbook. A soft snore made her look up at her phone propped against the desk lamp - Kimi had dozed off during their FaceTime call, his face peaceful in sleep. The sight brought an involuntary smile to her face.

It was typical of their study sessions these days. Between his F1 schedule and her F1 Academy races, late-night calls were often the only time they could catch up. He'd insist on keeping her company while she studied, claiming he was reviewing race data, but more often than not he'd fall asleep to the sound of her pen scratching against paper.

She closed her textbook quietly, though she knew the sound wouldn't wake him - he could sleep through anything after a long day at the track. As she started her bedtime routine, her mind wandered over their relationship, this comfortable space they'd carved out for themselves between friendship and something more.

The paddock gossip was relentless these days. Every shared smile, every supportive tweet, every time he watched her races from the Mercedes garage - it all became fodder for speculation. Even Ollie, who'd known them since their Prema days, wouldn't let up with his knowing looks.

Standing at her bathroom sink, Y/N caught her own reflection smiling at the memory of Kimi's proud face when she'd explained a particularly complex engineering concept earlier. He'd leaned closer to his camera, completely absorbed, that familiar warmth in his eyes that made her heart skip a beat.

The truth was, she knew how she felt about him. It was there in the way her day felt brighter when his name lit up her phone, in how naturally they'd gravitated toward each other since their junior racing days, in the comfortable silence of their study sessions. But timing was everything in racing - they both knew that better than most.

They were both chasing their dreams at full speed. He was making his mark in F1, living up to the immense expectations placed on Mercedes' youngest driver. She was balancing her engineering degree with her F1 Academy campaign, working toward her own F1 dreams. Adding another variable to that equation felt risky.

Climbing into bed, Y/N glanced one last time at her phone. Kimi had shifted slightly, his features soft in sleep, Mercedes team jacket still on. They had something special - something that had grown organically from shared ambitions and mutual understanding. Maybe that was enough for now.

Racing taught you patience, after all. Sometimes the best moves weren't the boldest ones, but the ones you waited for, setting them up carefully until the moment was just right. For now, she was content with their late-night study sessions, his proud smiles after her wins, the way he'd listen intently to her engineering explanations even when he was exhausted.

"Goodnight, Kimi," she whispered, ending the call. Whatever they were, whatever they might become, it was worth protecting. Some things didn't need to be rushed.

Her phone buzzed with a text from him, sent automatically when their call disconnected: Sweet dreams, engineer. Proud of you always. ❤️

Yeah, Y/N thought, settling into sleep with a smile. They were just fine exactly as they were.

here are some of the tags: @floweringanna, @hiraethberry, @holendernik, @oooom4arie, @burnhampeaches, @dying-inside-but-its-classy

let me know if you want to be added to the list :))

[hailthegodsong]

PRACTICE

One Shot ~ College Josh Kiszka x College Female Reader

Word Count: 7k +

Summary: After facing the embarrassment of failing to make a girl cum during his first time, Josh confides in you, his best friend. You figure out together that the best way to learn is with practice, and Josh is very willing to learn.

Content Warnings: College Josh, tons of ellipses (...), mutual pining, kissing, crying, swearing, self-depreciation, reverse hurt/ comfort, awkwardness, brief mention of porn. SMUT 18+ INCLUDING: Guided sexual activity (teaching), oral sex (female and male receiving), lack of knowledge on female anatomy (Josh struggles to find the clit for a hot minute), teeth, accidental edging?, fingering, moaning, erection, grinding, orgasms, happy ending, sleeping together, teasing, flirting and a pinch of domestic fluff.

꧂

Josh had been a constant in your life for as long as you could remember, an unwavering presence woven into the fabric of your childhood through to adulthood. From navigating the labyrinth of high school hallways to chasing the shared ambition of attending the same college, the two of you had always moved in tandem. Together, you weathered it all: sleepless nights bent over textbooks, the dizzying thrill of your first (underage) alcoholic drink, and those languid afternoons when laughter spilled over with the haze of cheap weed. Whatever life demanded, you faced it side by side.

His presence in your dorm had long since ceased to feel like an intrusion. Though the rules of gender-separated housing dictated his place was down the hall, Josh had effortlessly claimed yours as his second home. He’d sprawl across your bed without a hint of self-consciousness, idly flipping through the pages of books he’d never read or tinkering with the turntable until the familiar crackle of your favorite vinyl filled the air. And when he wasn’t here, you were in his room, legs dangling off the edge of his bed as you picked apart the meaning of song lyrics or indulged in your shared taste for philosophical debates that never led to conclusions.

There was a comfort in Josh’s company, a rhythm to it that felt unspoken and eternal. But lately, that ease had begun to fray, tension seeping into the quiet spaces you once took for granted.

You couldn’t pinpoint when it started— when his laugh began to linger in your ears long after the moment had passed. Or when you found yourself watching the way his curls framed his face, wild and untamed. The intensity of your attention startled you sometimes, the way your pulse quickened at the sight of him absentmindedly biting his lip or fiddling with the hem of his shirt. You told yourself it was nothing. A passing infatuation, harmless and insignificant. A crush. It wasn’t like you hadn’t crossed that line before.

Prom night was the first and only time it happened—a kiss born of youthful curiosity and mutual inexperience, convincing yourselves that you couldn't possibly graduate high school without having a first kiss. It hadn’t been love, not in the traditional sense. You’d laughed about it after, promising each other it was no big deal. Just a silly, awkward pact between friends. And for years, it hadn’t been more than that. But now, the memory lingered in sharper focus, refusing to fade.

Tonight, as Josh stood before your mirror, fussing with the stubborn collar of his shirt, there was a shift in the air. His movements lacked their usual carelessness, replaced instead by something more deliberate. His reflection caught yours, his brow furrowing slightly as he smoothed down his curls.

“Okay, okay,” he said, spinning to face you. “Do I look okay? My hair’s not too…” he fluffed his curls around and shook his rigid hands around his head for emphasis, “...feral?”

You tilted your head, assessing him. Josh always looked good, but tonight he’d gone the extra mile. His shirt hugged his lean frame perfectly, the dark jeans emphasizing his toned legs. The faint sheen of cologne reached you even from across the room, and it took effort to suppress a pang of something you didn’t want to name.

“You look fine,” you said, keeping your tone light. “You’ve gotten this far; she obviously likes you.”

The ‘she’ in question was a girl Josh had been seeing for a few weeks. Pretty, confident, and apparently into him enough to invite him over tonight. The way he’d hesitated before telling you about the invitation had clued you in on what he thought it meant. Suggestive comments, he’d said. The implication clear.

Josh was still a virgin. And you suspected that tonight, things may change. 

You ignored the ugly twist of jealousy in your stomach as he flashed you a hopeful smile. “Thanks for the pep talk,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll uh… let you know how it goes?”

You managed a smile and waved him off, saying something about how being late wouldn’t get him very far, the door clicking shut softly behind him. The room felt quieter without him, emptier. Shaking your head, you pulled out your laptop, determined to distract yourself with homework. 

But your mind kept drifting, wondering how the night was going. If it was everything Josh hoped for. If he…

You pushed the thought away and refocused on your screen. The wait was painful, and it didn’t help that his cologne lingered in the air, along with a few clothes he’d left scattered on your floor. You weren’t expecting to see Josh again that night, suspecting he'd return to his dorm… or spend the night at hers, but you were anxiously awaiting a text to clue you in on how the night went.

Two hours later, a knock jolted you from your half-distracted state. You frowned, glancing at the time. When you opened the door, your breath hitched.

Josh stood there, his eyes red and puffy, cheeks wet, curls disheveled. He looked heartbreakingly vulnerable, and before you could think, you were pulling him into your arms.

“Josh, what happened? Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer right away, burying his face in your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your middle in a tight hold. His breath hitched, and you felt the faint tremble of his body as he let out a quiet sob. You shuffled backward into the room, kicking the door shut behind you.

“Josh?” you prompted again, softer this time, reaching up to stroke the back of his head.

He pulled back from your touch, the movement sudden, as if you’d burned him. He swiped at his eyes with the heels of his palms, frustration evident in every movement. “I fucked it up,” he said, voice cracking. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He ran a hand through his hair and gripped it at the root in anguish. 

Your brow furrowed. “Talk to me. What happened?”

Josh let out a dramatic groan, and sat on the end of your bed, eyes closed tight in a grimace as he replayed memories from the night through his head. He huffed and flopped backward onto your bed. He lay sprawled out, staring at the ceiling, blinking away fresh tears. You climbed onto the bed, sitting cross-legged beside him, your hand resting lightly on his forearm. Your thumb traced soothing circles against his skin as you waited for him to speak.

“I embarrassed myself so bad,” he said finally.

You stayed quiet, sensing he needed to get it all out.

“We were making out,” he gripped his palm against his forehead, and dragged it down his face, pulling the skin as it descended. “Things were… happening… you know, escalating,” he added, his voice tinged with mortification. “She wanted me to go down on her.”

Your throat went dry, and you cleared it quickly. “Okay,” you said carefully.

Josh glanced at you, his cheeks flushing, then returned his gaze to the ceiling. “I mean, I really wanted to. I was happy to. But I’ve never… I’ve never done that before. I… I couldn’t…” He groaned again, throwing an arm over his face. “She said it was fine, but I couldn’t even make her cum.”

You swallowed hard, your heart twisting at how genuinely distressed he sounded.

“I told her I’d keep trying,” he continued, voice breaking. “I wanted to learn, but she just… didn’t want to anymore. Then she said we shouldn’t see each other again. Kicked me out of her room. She… she was so mean about it too, like I’d really wasted her time.”

Your chest tightened. “That’s harsh.”

“It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic,” he muttered. “Can you believe I did research before I went? I even watched porn videos for fucks sake!” he exclaimed, and your brows rose. “I thought– I thought I was prepared. But– I’m just another one of those fucking… idiots, who don't even know how to–”

“Josh,” you interrupted. “It’s not like anyone’s born knowing how to do these things. Porn also probably wasn’t the most trusting research either,” you added with a little smile, “But every girl is different anyways and it takes practice.”

He rolled onto his side to face you, head propped up by his arm. “How am I supposed to practice if I just get kicked out when I try?” He whispered an ‘Oh God’ under his breath, tears dried now, but the look of pure shame and utter embarrassment still ever present on his features. 

You bit your cheek, searching for the right words. “You’re a handsome boy, Josh. There are plenty of girls who’d be happy to… help you figure it out.”

He scoffed. “As if. I’m never trying that again. Too embarrassing.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. He toyed with a loose thread on your lounge pants, his face a display of frustration and sadness.

“I just… I don’t know how she– how can anyone expect me to know how when…” he trailed off, bringing his thumb to his mouth to nervously pick at his fingernail. “I just need someone to teach me,” he whispered, almost to himself.

An impulsively bad idea surfaced in your haze of thoughts. You sat in silence, turning the idea over in your mind. It was ridiculous, maybe even a little reckless, but… you’d suggested something like this before. That kiss on prom night, a way to shed the weight of inexperience, had felt practical at the time. This wasn’t so different, was it? The same kind of problem, the same kind of solution… and maybe…

“I mean,” you said hesitantly. “You could…”

Josh twisted his body below you and flopped his head into your lap casually, looking up at you with those wide, earnest eyes. “Could what?”

Your gaze darted away, one finger twisting one of the curls that framed his face absently. “Never mind. It’s stupid.” You shook your head, heat creeping up your neck.

“No, no,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “Say it. Please. You can’t say anything stupider than I already have tonight.”

You let out a weak chuckle, nerves buzzing under your skin. “I was gonna say… you could– if you were okay with it… you could try it on… I mean, I could teach you.”

The words hung heavy in the air. The silence that followed was almost deafening, broken only by the ticking clock and the faint chirp of crickets outside. You could hear the soft inhale and exhale of your own breaths, and the absence of Joshs, who had apparently stopped breathing. 

You scrunched your face in embarrassment, tilting your head back to avoid his gaze. “Oh my god, that was so stupid. Please forget I ever said that. I don’t know—”

“No!”

Your eyes snapped back to his face as he sat up abruptly, meeting you at eye level. His hand landed lightly on your knee, grounding you.

“No,” he repeated, softer now. “I mean, yes. I mean… no, don’t forget it. I don’t think it’s stupid,” he shook his head frantically. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes wide with something between nervous anticipation and curiosity. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Really?” you managed, barely above a whisper. The boundaries of your friendship had never been crossed like this before, and the weight of what you were suggesting settled heavily between you.

Josh nodded, his gaze flicking to where his hand rested on your knee before returning to meet your eyes. “I mean, yeah. If you’d be okay with… that. I don't want you to do it just cause you think you have to or anything,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “I want you… to want to.”

The vulnerability in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. You nodded, hesitating before speaking. “I do want to,” you admitted softly. Your ears heated at your admittance, and you were quick to correct your confession. “I mean… how else are you gonna learn?” You added quickly, as if it could somehow lessen the gravity of the moment.

Josh exhaled a shaky laugh, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Right. Okay.” He shifted slightly, his hand still on your knee. “But um… we’ll be okay after this, right? I don’t want to mess us up or anything.”

You let out a nervous laugh of your own, shaking your head. “Yeah, we’ll be okay. It’s just like when we kissed in senior year. We can just… forget it ever happened after.” The idea of forgetting something so monumental seemed silly, and you knew for a fact you’d never be able to ‘forget it’. Josh stared at you with uncertainty, your friendship too important to him to lose. “Josh, I’m not going to hate you if you can’t figure it out. Besides,” you teased lightly, “My expectations aren’t particularly high after the way your night went.”

His laughter was genuine, his body relaxing slightly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he quipped, his smile growing. But the tension remained, unspoken yet palpable. Josh glanced around your room, his eyes settling on the quilt cover before he cleared his throat. “So… how do we do this?” he asked, the awkwardness of the question stark against the intimacy of the moment.

You swallowed hard, looking down at your hands. “Um, okay,” you huffed out a short breath, “We’re really doing this,” you murmured, half to yourself. Taking a deep breath, you lifted your gaze to meet his. “Do you want me to… guide you? Or should I let you try and then just… correct you as we go?”

Josh thought for a moment, his mouth pursing as he considered. The soft glow from your bedside lamp illuminated his face, his curls framing him like a halo. “Maybe… just let me try?” he said finally. “And you can tell me if I’m doing something wrong? Tell me what to do instead?”

You nodded, your nerves thrumming under your skin. “Okay,” you said, your voice steadier than you expected. “Let’s just… get it over with.”

Josh’s eyes widened slightly as you stood, the reality of the situation hitting you both. You hesitated for a moment before pulling down your lounge pants, exposing your legs. You still wore your panties, the fabric a modest barrier that somehow felt more intimate than nothing at all. You kept your chin high, determined not to succumb to the embarrassment bubbling inside you.

You climbed back onto the bed, lying against the pillows so you could watch him. The air was thick with tension, the weight of what you were doing sinking in. “I’m going to leave these on for you to take off,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “It’s not just about… you know. It’s a process. For girls, at least. You need to take your time. Go slow.”

Josh nodded, repositioning himself to kneel between your legs. His movements were hesitant, the vulnerability of the moment clear in the way his hands hovered uncertainly. As he leaned forward, his breathing matched yours— uneven and nervous.

You caught an accidental glimpse of the growing bulge in his jeans, your cheeks heating at the sight. 

Josh’s gaze flickered briefly before he clenched his jaw, his own embarrassment evident. “I know,” he muttered, noticing your wandering gaze. “Just… ignore it.”

You stifled a proud smirk, the idea of him feeling aroused right now sending a similar pang down to your core. 

“Are you sure you want to do this? I’m not… I might not be able to…” Josh asked, insecurity creeping in on himself as he lowered himself, eye level with your clothed pussy. Having an embarrassing encounter with a girl he’d been seeing was bad enough, but for the same thing to happen with the woman he admired most? He’d never live it down. 

“I’m sure. I mean, this is really fucking weird,” you laughed, “But if you don’t do well that’s okay, that’s what we’re doing this for, right?” 

Josh nodded, jaw tight, before he refocused his gaze to your barely covered pelvis. “You’re right, this is…” Josh blew out a long breath, and you felt it hit your inner thighs, “Really fucking weird. I can’t believe we’re doing this.” 

“Don’t think about it too much,” you advised, voice wavering in your faux confidence. Josh nodded and swallowed, taking a deep breath before reaching his hand up your legs to gently grasp the lacy sides of your panties. 

Looking back to your blown out eyes, he licked his lips. “Can I take this off?” 

You nodded quickly, trying to calm your racing heart and to somehow control the heaving of your chest. With fluttering eyes, Josh took a hold of your underwear on each side of your hip, and gently pulled them downward. 

So you were really doing this. 

You tilted your hips to aid in the removal of the only thing maintaining your modesty, and blew out a tight breath when Josh's eyes refocused on your pussy, now completely bare. 

“Shit, okay,” he breathed out, eyes glossy as he stared down at you. You instinctively closed your knees insecurely, cueing Josh in that he wasn't the only one who felt that they had expectations tonight. 

He placed a gentle hand on your knee and looked back up to you, “Don't be shy.” His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, “If you don't want to do this anymore just tell me, please.”

You nodded quietly, “I’m fine. Same uh… same for you.”

He shook his head, but didn’t say anything else as he gently parted your knees for him, exposing you once more. With a dramatic roll of his shoulders, as if he were warming up for a workout, Josh then plopped back onto his forearms, the bed bouncing slightly under his weight. 

You giggled a little at his theatrics, earning you a smirk from below. The smile was familiar, and you eased out a breath of comfort remembering that this was Josh. You didn’t ever have to feel self-conscious around him. 

“Okay, I’m just gonna go in,” Josh stated, though it was more like the question with the way he watched you, unsure, but a little curious too. 

You nodded, reaching for another pillow to prop beneath your head, “Just go slow, remember? It’s more sensitive at the start,” you advised. 

Josh nodded, and dipped his head between your legs. Your stomach caved with anticipation. You tilted your head back to brace yourself for the contact, staring pleadingly at the ceiling as if it would give you any answers as to what on earth you were both doing. 

Your leg twitched softly as you unexpectedly felt a barely-there kiss planted against your inner thigh, Josh's hand creeping beneath the curve of your plush limb to hold. His eyes found yours quickly at the first movement. He was unspeaking, but his expression was question enough.

You nodded, “Keep going.”

With a timid smile, he nodded once, before his head disappeared between your legs again. He placed another kiss to the same spot on the other leg, lingering a little bit longer before pulling away, only just. 

His lips grazed your skin as he dragged them closer to your pussy, planting another kiss before moving on. 

You swallowed, feeling yourself throb in anticipation. You’d have expected him to be more… clumsy? You weren't quite sure, but the tentative, slow burning nature of Josh's journey was not what you were expecting. 

At last, his lips found where you needed him most, grazing across your sensitive skin, before he pressed one long, wet kiss to your clit. 

You gasped as his lips practically enveloped the sensitive bud, and he pulled back slightly, eyebrows rising as his eyes found your face, watching intently for a reaction. Satisfied with what he saw, he looked back down, and reconnected his lips with your aching core. 

You were embarrassingly wet, and if Josh noticed, he didn't point it out. He ran his tongue down to your entrance and gathered some wetness and spread it over you, coating you in your arousal. The unholy sounds of your moistened skin reverberated in the otherwise quiet room, and you fought back a blush. Josh shuffled below, repositioning his legs so that his groin was in direct contact with the mattress. 

You didn’t have much time to think about it before his tongue dragged up through you, stopping just below your clit as his lips sucked on… well, nothing.

You furrowed your brow and peered down at him. You could feel his tongue darting out to touch you, licking between his plush lips, just above your entrance. 

“Josh, what… what are you doing?” you asked, bending a knee a little higher and widening it to see him better.

Josh's eyes bounced to yours in an instant. “Does… does that not feel good?”

You smiled sympathetically at him, “No… not really.” Josh's ears went bright red. “I mean, you're doing the right thing, but do it… do it where you were before… on my clit.”

“I thought I was?” he wondered, peering down at you and reaching his index finger to touch that same– close, yet wrong spot, just between your clit and your entrance. “Isn’t it here?”

You let loose a silly smile as you shook your head, “No, you had it before…” you commented, reaching down to lift his finger marginally higher until it rested over the nub. His eyes zeroed in on the spot, mouth open in a lazy ‘o’. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was told it was just above the… hole. Like almost on the edge,” he whispered, slowly circling the spot and watching you for your reaction. 

You stifled a moan as you squirmed a little. “Don’t apologise, you weren’t far off,” you choked out. “Who– who told you that?” you asked, sanity slipping through your fingers as you tried to compose yourself against Josh's moving fingers. It was as if he had forgotten he was even touching you.

Josh smiled sheepishly, “Jake.” 

You rolled your eyes and Josh pumped his brows once before dipping his head back down. He reattached his lips to you, this time right over your clit, eyes watching you for approval. The look of ecstasy on your face was apparently enough, as his suction broke momentarily through his little smile. 

His tongue slipped through his lips and lightly flicked your clit, causing you to cry out. You could have died of embarrassment right then, keeping your eyes on the ceiling to avoid Josh's burning stare. 

If Josh minded you being vocal, he didn't let it show as he continued his movements, gracing your swollen skin with soft, calculated movements. You bit your lip hard as his tongue continued to flick against you, that familiar, warm, tight feeling building in the depth of your stomach. 

But as quickly as it arrived, the feeling left you, as Josh's pace changed completely. You sniffed, and tried to get used to the new rhythm, straightening your shoulders slightly. 

Your mouth parted in a gentle sigh as you grew comfortable with his movements again, a little slower than before, but just as pleasurable. Although he’d been a little clumsy here and there– and failed to locate the clit– Josh was doing a pretty good job, you thought. You weren’t so sure what that girl had had an issue with.

You hummed happily as his movements brought forth another wave of pleasure, tightness building in your stomach again. Alas, Josh’s tongue changed rhythm again. 

You threw your head back in annoyance, feeling the warm fuzzy feeling leave you in a blip. 

“Josh…” you started, bringing your hand to his shoulder and tapping lightly. He popped his head up, chin listening and eyes dazed. 

“Yeah?” he asked. His arms were still hooked tightly around your thighs, keeping both you and him grounded in the act. His contented look quickly fell when he took in your expression. “Oh. What is it? Tell me, please.”

“You’re… you’re doing really good, I promise, it's just that…” you hesitated. It was a lot harder giving feedback in the bedroom than you would have thought. Maybe it was the people pleaser in you, or maybe it was because you cared about Josh, but you felt bad. 

“Just what? Tell me, c’mon, I wanna learn,” he pleaded with an encouraging smile, squeezing your thighs reassuringly. 

“You just keep changing it up. I can’t…” you struggled for the words, “Everytime you… get on track, I guess– you change up the rhythm. I can’t keep up.” 

Josh bit his cheek and pursed his lips, deep in thought. “Shit, sorry. Okay, I’ll be more… consistent. Can you let me know I’m doing it right though? I think I’m changing ‘cause I don't know if you're– if it's good.”

You nodded, and sat back as he returned to you. This time, when he reconnected with you, the pace was steady as before, and the concentrated stare he held on your face told you he was trying his absolute best to do this right. 

“More… more pressure,” you advised, your instruction quickly followed as Josh's tongue rubbed against you harder. 

You bit your lip to keep at bay your moans, and to your dismay, Josh's mouth left you entirely, leaving behind a cold gust of air. You let out a small, frustrated sigh.

Josh swallowed and wiped his chin, “I need you to make more… noise. Please don’t be shy about it. I just don't know if I’m doing it right.”

“Okay,” you breathed, not expecting him to ask that of you, “I will.” For some reason, letting sounds of pleasure escape you seemed far more intimate. Despite the fact that he was literally rubbing his mouth against your pussy, the whole experience had seemed rather transactional, and you’d tried your best to keep it friendly. But showing him that you were actually aroused and enjoying yourself seemed a step further from ‘friendly’.

Josh dove back in, a lot lower this time as he’d decided to try something new, his mouth directly over your opening. He experimentally circled your entrance with his tongue, glancing up at you frequently, before he slowly nudged it inside. 

“Oh shit,” you whimpered pathetically, the feeling reminding you of what had been missing. Josh pushed it in a little deeper, and curled his tongue so that it dragged along your front walls. His thumb reached up to your clit, eyes watching to make sure he got the right spot as he pressed down, rubbing slow, deliberate circles. 

Unable to help yourself, your hand found his head, fingers kneading into his curls as he worked you perfectly. 

“Fuck Josh, thats it,” you whispered. You couldn’t cum like this, but God did it feel good. A low sound reverberated from Josh’s chest when you tightened your hold on his hair, pushing him a little bit closer to you as you let free a moan. 

Peering down at him again, you noticed one of his hands had abandoned his tight hold on your thigh, and was now preoccupied with palming himself through his jeans. 

Your chest was heaving. It felt so good, and Josh was practically feeding off your energy. Your fingers kneaded into his hair, letting yourself relax completely against him. 

His tongue jerked against your walls for a while longer, thumb continuing to rub circles over your clit, until he slowed, somehow cuing that as good as it felt, you weren't finishing from that alone.

You sighed as he slowed, feeling him slip his tongue out of you and look back up at you, licking his lips. He smiled shyly at the look of you, cheeks red and forehead slightly damp with sweat. Your hair had gone a little messy against the pillow and you stared down at him with a certain look on your face that had his stomach flipping. He leaned back on his knees to sit on his heels.

The way you looked then, he thought, was the most beautiful he’d ever seen you before. 

“Any feedback?” he asked, a little awkward smile playing on his lips. 

“None.”

He smirked proudly at that. “I wanna… I wanna try and make you cum now. Is that okay?” he asked. 

“Isn’t that the whole reason we’re doing this?” you asked, laughing a little.

He shrugged, “Well, I know it takes a while. And it’s not always about finishing. ‘S important to make you– make girls feel good for the… duration.” A blush crept on his cheeks at the slip up, but you ignored it. 

You whispered a small ‘true,’ as Josh fell forward onto his forearms. 

“Okay, take five, or however many times I’ve gone back in now,” he joked, and you giggled a little. The sight of your abdomen bobbing with your laughs had Josh feeling all warm and cozy inside. 

Returning his mouth, Josh spread the wetness from your centre back up through your folds to your clit, eyes darting to you to ensure he was actually there, before shutting his eyes and giving it some much needed attention again. First he licked, and you moaned lightly at the sensation, and then he sucked, which brought your hand back to his curls and your back arching into his touch. 

The tight suction on your clit left, and he left a long sloppy kiss to it again, burying his face in you completely. Unfortunately, it was a bit too deep, and something hard scraped the sensitive flesh.

“Ah teeth!” you yelped with a jolt. 

Josh held your hips steady and smiled up at you sheepishly, “Sorry, accident.”

He dipped back down and continued to lick and suck– mostly at the same time. He experimented with pace for only a moment before finding what suited you best– or, what made you moan the loudest and writhe the most restlessly. 

One of his hands drifted up your inner thigh and his middle finger found your entrance, the tip tracing the edge questioningly. His eyes found you again, and you nodded frantically, brows furrowed in ecstasy. 

“Do it Josh, please. Do it, do it,” you pleaded, your arousal getting the best of you. Slowly, he coated his finger in the same wetness, and eased it gently inside of you. Your walls wrapped around him, warm and tight as you pulled him in. He groaned into you at the sensation, but you didn’t care, pulling his face in closer as you chased the heavenly feeling brewing in your stomach. 

“Another,” you breathed, “Another, Josh.”

Josh didn’t make you ask twice, as he eased his ring finger in beside the other, curling the digits against your walls just as his tongue had, though hitting you deeper and with more strength– more calculation. 

It was perfect. His tongue flicked against your clit quickly, the pace unwavering between his lips that wrapped tightly around you, as if sucking you into his mouth. His fingers moved perfectly inside you, hitting that spot expertly each time. You cried out when he pressed just a little more pressure against your clit with his tongue.

One glance down at him, eyes closed in contentment, mouth on you and fingers in you, brought you to the edge– but the sight of him rubbing his hard-on through his jeans pushed you over it. 

“Yes yes yes yes, don’t stop, Josh I’m– fuck!” you cried, holding Josh's head against you as if he were leaving, hips bucking against his face. You were sure he was suffocating against you, but he didnt stop, groaning into you as you practically rode his face. 

You came down slowly, though still floated in a haze of pleasure. Josh slowed his movements in sync with your pulsing walls, contracting against his fingers. 

Being in this high of sexual euphoria was dangerous, like lacking sobriety and spilling your guts without a second thought. You realised that when you heard yourself ask Josh to take his pants off. 

His head whipped up immediately, meeting your eyes in a wide look of disbelief. “What?”

No longer being touched, your rationality sent a flush up your neck. You wish you could have taken it back, maintained the somewhat hidden nature of your activity, and continued to allow you both to pretend that you were only doing this for Josh’s… sexual education. Alas, he had heard you, and he was awaiting a response. There was no turning back now.

“Your jeans. Take them off… please?” You were desperate at this point.

What the fuck were you thinking? 

Josh swallowed and clumsily pulled away from you, shuffling off the bed and onto his legs, wobblier than he was expecting. His eyes remained locked on you as he fumbled with his belt, fingers trembling against the silver buckle. Once it was unclipped, his fly was undone in a flash and his jeans were practically ripped down his legs. He stumbled with the fabric around his ankles for a moment, and you watched amusedly from the bed as he hopped on one foot, fighting the jeans off his body. 

“For fucks sake,” he muttered, tearing them away from his body before straightening up. He stared at you, now only in his– very tented– underwear. His chest was heaving in anticipation– in excitement. 

Taking a chance that you knew you shouldn’t have, you slowly crawled off the bed, to stand in front of him, and lowered yourself to your knees. Josh lost his breath at your movement, mouth agape as he breathed heavily, hands hovering by his sides.

You placed one hand on the front of his thigh gently, and looked up at him for a go ahead. 

“Holy shit,” he whispered, seemingly out of breath. 

With a sudden burst of confidence, you smiled a little, “Can I… return the favour?”

Josh swallowed thickly and tore his eyes away from yours, no longer able to stare at you without making a fool of himself. He instead stared at the wall ahead. “Yes. But you don't have to if–” he choked out, breath caught when you slid your palm from his thigh to his hard bulge. 

His breath shuddered in a voiced whine, one hand steadying himself on your shoulder. 

“We shouldn't be doing this,” he advised as you squeezed him through the thin fabric of his navy boxers. 

“I know,” you agreed, taking the waistband between your fingers and sliding his boxers past his hips and to his ankles. His cock sprang free, hard and swollen, bouncing in the air a little only inches away from your face. 

Josh cursed as you exposed him, running a hand through his already disheveled curls in a feeble attempt to ground himself. You took a moment to study him, eyes taking in his pink, swollen head, the same shade of pink as his lips. He curved to the left a little, and he was thick and beautiful as ever. 

You looked up at him through your lashes, “Can I?” 

Josh's mouth hung open as he nodded desperately, drunk with desire. “I’m not gonna– I won't be able to last… I’m already– fuck. I can’t hold on for long–”

You cut him off, gently shushing him as you leaned forward and placed your pouted lips against the head of his cock. It was already a little damp, tasting faintly of pre-cum, and you happily coated your lips with the substance. You didn’t get much further before Josh's hands found your top, tugging the collar gently. 

“Please… off?” he pleaded. You nodded and pulled your shirt up over your head, Joshs helping hands pulling it off your arms eagerly. Though wearing a bra, Josh ogled at your breasts shamelessly, eyes wide and mouth still parted. The lustful look on his face was absolutely sinful. 

You brought your mouth back to his aching cock, wrapping your lips around him and lowering yourself only slightly, so that the head was completely enveloped between your lips. Josh moaned and brought a hand forth to the back of your head, but quickly pulled it away anxiously. 

His attempt to remain respectful while you were on your knees for him made you smile. You reached back and took his hand in yours, pulling it to rest against your head.

“Oh God,” he whispered. You popped your lips off him and ran your tongue down his length, leaving wet sloppy kisses in your wake to wetten his skin, and his thighs trembled at the contact. 

You brought your hand up to the length and pumped him twice, coating his cock in your spit, before taking him into your mouth as best as you could. Your hand held whatever you couldn't fit, and you wrapped your lips around him tightly, conscious to keep your teeth out of the way. 

“Oh– fuck,” Josh moaned. He called your name as his fist tightened in your hair, not pulling or pushing, just holding on. You were dimly aware of a gust of air that followed the removal of his own shirt, and you peered up at his body, fully naked, glowing, and as beautiful as ever. 

As you began to pump Josh into your mouth, you slid your other hand from his hip up his abdomen until it was resting just below his sternum. He wasted no time in pressing his own hand against yours, holding it there, against his heaving body. 

“I– I can’t… fuck me. I’m gonna cum, I’m sorry! I–” Josh whimpered, body trembling. You eagerly continued your movements, knowing he’d been waiting long enough for his own release, revelling in the way he fell apart at your hands. 

A string of explicit curses left his lips in whines and moans and his legs trembled, hips tight in an attempt not to buck, before you felt him cum inside your mouth, warm and salty. You eased your movements, letting him finish while he whispered incoherent incantations under his breath, before you pulled yourself off him, swallowing his release and smiling up at him shyly. 

When your eyes found Josh’s, he held you in a stare so enraptured in awe, that your own breathing stuttered. In a moment, Josh had dropped himself to his knees in front of you, face so close that you could feel his breath fan against your cheek. 

His eyes darted between your own, and he wore an expression of pained adoration. 

“Can I please kiss you?” he asked, fingers reaching up to trace your jaw. You only got in one nod before his lips came crashing into yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and he on yours, as you both let your passion take over completely. Kissing Josh was familiar, and you found yourself in your prom dress again, Josh in his tux that was slightly too big for him, kissing in the dark parking lot in a place where no one could see. 

When you pulled away for air, Josh stared at you as if you’d hung the moon. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he whispered, tongue gracing his bottom lip as if he couldn’t stop tasting you. 

“Me too,” you admitted, blushing manically. “Will you stay the night?” you asked bravely. 

Josh nodded quickly. “Yes– yeah, of course.”

With a shy smile, Josh stood, and helped you stand too, now a little awkward as you stood before each other completely naked, save for your bra. Josh cupped his softening dick, anxiously looking for his boxers in the mess of the room, and you shamesly watched his round, perky ass as he bent over to retrieve them, before slipping them up his toned thighs and over his pelvis. 

You retrieved a pair of underwear and some light pajamas to wear for the night, finding it amusing how Josh maintained a respectful gaze as you changed, eyes on the floor as if he hadn't just brought you to orgasm with his mouth. 

“We should probably talk about… everything that just happened,” you suggested as you stepped into your small ensuite to brush your teeth. 

Josh followed behind you and stood against your back as you stared into the bathroom mirror, resting his head on your shoulder. “We should, but can we wait until tomorrow?” he pouted.

You smiled and coated your toothbrush and the spare he always left in your bathroom for emergencies with toothpaste and shoved it into his mouth. 

You both brushed your teeth in silence, stealing silly glances at each other in the mirror and giggling around your toothbrushes. This was the most absurd situation you’d ever found yourself in. 

Once done, you made your way to your bed. Josh had stayed over before, and you'd certainly shared a bed before too, but never had just been only in his boxers doing so. Never had you gone down on each other either, but there you were. 

Josh slipped under the covers beside you, and waited until you were situated before he switched off your bedside lamp. You could feel the heat of his body, not far from yours, and cautiously reached out your hand for him to hold. 

He took it quickly, and squeezed comfortingly. You turned on your side, mimicking his position so that you were facing him. Josh smiled a little, the outlines of his face illuminated by the moonlight.

“Whatever happens tomorrow, I…I would really like to, um– to do that with you again… If you would like to, too.”

You smiled lazily at him, “I’d like that.”

His expression lifted, “So I did good?” 

You shrugged with a sarcastic lift of your brows, “You got there in the end.”

Josh shuffled closer, “Hmm… I guess we’ll need to try again then. ‘Got there in the end’ isn’t quite the response I was going for,” he teased.

You smiled, “A bit more practice couldn’t hurt.”

꧂

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[mingi-s-dimples]

Study buddy or... fuck buddy? - Yeosang

KINKTOBER DAY 8- REQ. BY anon

~"yeosang x reader; please add squirt and virgin reader?"

pairing: yeosang x fem!reader

genre: 18+, college au

summary: anatomy lessons weren't this.. practical in the past.

wc: 2.7k

warnings: college au, friends with benefits, protected sex (we cheered !), cumming, squirting, first time sex, yeosang is a lil gentle boi at first, gets a lil bit rougher throughout the moment, he's a damn tease, aftercare, unedited, completely consensual, making out, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: Hm. I liked writing this one. Was a lil bit harder at first cause I didn't quite have ideas for the plot but.. the ironic situation was that I got this idea while actually studying anatomy... sigh, to be fucked senseless while in break from studying... slams desk. Anyways! My loves, hope you like it!! 🙂‍↕️💖

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The soft hum of fluorescent lights filled the classroom, the buzz faintly drowned by the chatter of students packing up their bags. Another long day of classes had come to an end, and the weight of exhaustion was heavy in the air. You let out a slow sigh, stretching your arms over your head as you leaned back in the chair. Mind buzzed with information from the anatomy lecture—complex structures, nerves, and muscles all swirling together in a chaotic mess.

Being a medical student was no joke. Between the countless hours of lectures, labs, and the never-ending stream of exams, it felt like there was hardly time to breathe, let alone focus on anything outside of school. Relationships? That was out of the question. Who had time for the emotional rollercoaster of commitment when you could barely keep up with the textbooks?

"Hey," came a familiar voice from beside you.

You turned your head to see Yeosang slipping into the seat next to you, his expression as calm and composed as ever. His light blonde hair fell just slightly into his eyes, and he pushed it back with an absent-minded flick of his hand. Even after hours of classes, he still looked effortlessly put together, which was more than you could say for yourself.

"You surviving?" he asked, his lips quirking into a small smile as he dropped his bag onto the floor.

"Barely," you chuckled, rubbing your temples. "Today was brutal."

Yeosang nodded in agreement, leaning back in his chair. "Tell me about it. Anatomy’s kicking my ass. I don’t know how you’re managing to keep up with all of this."

You shrugged, trying to play it off even though you knew the material was just as hard for you. "You just do what you can, I guess. It’s not like we have a choice. We’re all drowning in the same boat."

He smirked, his eyes drifting toward me. "Lucky I have you to help me stay afloat."

It was a lighthearted comment, but it carried the familiar tone of your casual dynamic. Yeosang and you had developed this strange, unspoken arrangement over the past few months. Friends with benefits, no strings attached, no drama. You both agreed early on that neither of you wanted anything serious. Medical school was already overwhelming; the idea of adding the complications of a relationship into the mix felt like an unnecessary distraction. And honestly, it worked. You kept things simple, fun—just two people who got along well, enjoyed each other's company, and let off steam when the stress of school became too much. You never had sex with him tho. With no one. You thought it would interfere with the feelings between two people, hence you and Yeosang only had make out sessions for now. And he was okay with it. Tho, it was about to tkae a 180 degree turn..

"Yeah, I guess you’re lucky," you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

His grin widened, and he gave you a playful nudge back. "Speaking of which, I was wondering if you were free tonight. You need help with some of this anatomy stuff. We’ve got that exam coming up, and I’m seriously struggling."

"Anatomy?" you raised an eyebrow. "That’s not exactly light studying."

"I know, I know," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But if I don’t get this stuff down, I’m screwed. You’re better at this than I am, and I could use the help."

You hesitated for a moment, considering your options. It had been a long day, and you were tempted to just go home and crash, but the thought of studying alone didn’t sound appealing either. Plus, you knew Yeosang needed the help. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t mind spending time with him—especially in a more relaxed setting.

"Fine," you finally agreed, gathering your things and standing up. "But you owe me coffee or something for this."

"Deal," he said, standing up as well, his smile genuine. "I’ll make sure to have some at my place. You’ll need it."

---

Yeosang’s apartment wasn’t far from campus, and the walk there was peaceful, the evening air cool and crisp as you made your way through the quiet streets. When you arrived, he unlocked the door and ushered you inside, the familiar scent of his place hitting you immediately. It was clean, minimalist, the kind of space that felt uncluttered and calm—perfect for someone like him, who always managed to maintain that same composed demeanor no matter how stressful school became.

"Make yourself at home," he said, tossing his bag onto the couch as he headed toward the kitchen. "I’ll grab us some coffee."

You dropped your things on the dining table, already pulling out the anatomy textbook and notes. It was a massive textbook, the kind that seemed to weigh as much as all your collective stress, but you flipped it open, scanning through the sections you knew you'd be covering.

Yeosang returned a few moments later, setting two mugs of coffee on the table before sliding into the seat besides you. He leaned back casually, watching as you flipped through the pages, his eyes following the movement of your hands.

"So, where do we start?" he asked.

You took a sip of the coffee, the warmth of it soothing after a long day. "Let’s go over the musculoskeletal system first. I know that’s usually where people get tripped up."

For the next hour or so, you worked through the material, explaining the finer points while Yeosang asked questions here and there. Despite the subject matter being dense, the atmosphere between you was relaxed, easy. It was always like this with Yeosang—no pressure, no tension. Just a comfortable rhythm.

But as you moved through the material, you couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze lingered on you a little longer than usual, the way his hand would brush against yours when he reached for his pen or the way his knee pressed lightly against yours beneath the table. It was subtle, but it was there. Familiar.

Eventually, you leaned back, stretching your arms above your head and letting out a long sigh. "Okay, I think we’ve covered enough for now. You should be good for the exam."

Yeosang didn’t respond right away. Instead, he shifted in his seat, his eyes watching you with that same quiet intensity you'd seen before—when the interactions had veered into something less academic, something more physical.

"You’re a lifesaver," he finally said, his voice lower, softer than before. He leaned in just a little, his arm brushing against yours as his eyes locked onto you. "I really don’t know how I’d get through this without you."

There it was—that shift, that unspoken tension that had always existed between the two of you, just beneath the surface. You felt it too, the pull between, the way your casual arrangement had always felt so effortless, so natural. No strings, no complications. Just the two of you, in moments like this, where the lines blurred between study partners and something more.

You met his gaze, heart rate picking up slightly as you saw the way his expression had changed. His hand, warm and sure, moved to rest on your thigh, fingers gently tracing small, lazy circles there. It wasn’t aggressive, just a quiet, deliberate touch that sent a shiver through your body.

"Yeosang," you began, voice trailing off as his hand moved a little higher, his touch firm but not demanding.

"We’ve been studying for a while," he murmured, his voice low and smooth as his thumb grazed the inside of your thigh. "Maybe we should take a break."

"I-" you stuttered, not knowing what to do. You wanted to.. have sex with him, that's for sure. He was a good guy, whom could be even better in bed, you thought. But was it ethical? to fuck your.. best friend? Without being in a serious relationship? Well, in reality, friends with benefits is known for exactly that thing but at first you omitted that detail.. You loved how good you get along with him, all the intimate moments you had, without the proper sexual part. You were a virgin after all..

and you always thought that you'd never fuck him. But was it the same today...?

You never told him this, yes.. You remembered. You never told him you never had sex, either. The reason you were still "friends with benefits" if you could even call making out that, was that he was damn patient with you. You loved that about him.

"W-what do you wanna do?" you asked, seemingly confused but you knew where this was going.

"I mean.. just the usual, if you don't want something more" he said.

There it was. His patience running thin but never actually doing something about it. He was patient. Now, it was up to you. He was contently looking into your eyes, waiting for any sign from you.

Your hand went for his biceps, looking in his eyes. Then, he slowly went in for a kiss, not wanting to startle you. The kiss was needy, lustful, like it has always been. Tongues interlocking and touching, his hands were all over you.

He'd always get turned on from kissing and touching you. It was partly sexual, after all. And he always also got slightly hard, but he'd take care of it by himself later that day. It was.. sketchy, how patient he was. Seconds later you acted on instinct and impulse, but where did the action come from? Your right hand went from his biceps to his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch.

Yeosang stopped for a moment and looked at you, surprised. "Hm? Tell me sweetie, what do you wanna do?" he said, cupping your face. "Tell me" he murmured in a soft tone.

"I-uh" you stuttered.

"Hm?"

You didn't continue your words but you still answered his question. Your hand rode up his thigh, even closer to his crotch. Then, almost acting on instinct, your hand unbuckled his pants. He smirked at your action and leaned in for a slower, sloppier kiss. He smiled against your lips, sending shivers down your spine. He took you in his embrace and placed you in his lap, still kissing you. His hands went traveling, slowly making their way up to your breasts, to which you flinched for a short second.

He stopped.

"Hey, we don't have to do this if you don't feel comfortable with it. We can do the usual" he said in a reassuring tone.

"N-no" you said. "I wanna do this."

"Then.. may I?" he asked.

"Yes " you firmly said, kinda excited for what was gonna happen next.

You went in for a kiss again, your hands carresing his back softly. As you embraced him you started taking off his shirt, his muscles leaving you speechless. He saw your expression and giggled, finding you cute. He also took off your shirt, then he nodded, asking you if he can also take your bra off. You nodded affirmative and he left your chest bare in front of him.

Yeosang embraced you and put you on the desk, pushing away all the anatomy books you were supposed to have started studying by now. He took off your scrubs slowly. Yes, you had a practical that day and you were too damn lazy to go home and change yoursekf befoee going over at Yeosang and you also went right after classes. On the other note, he was wearing jeans cause he had only anatomy classes today. As soon as he took care of your clothes he also took care of his, both of you being left in only your underwear. His cock was already straining against the briefs, where your eyes spent a little too much time to stare at. He didn't say anything, even tho he probably saw you.

He took of your panties and threw them on the floor and looked contently at you. His rifht hand rode up your thigh and went for your folds, being really patient wirh you. He was looking you in your eyes to see any discomfort or sometning. But as soon as he saw that you were okay with it, he used two of his fingers to thrust them in. You moaned softly at the sensation, arching your back in response.

After he prepped you for a couple of minutes, basically already making your legs slightly tremble, he took you in his embrace and took you to his room where he put you on the bed. He softly pushed you back as he kneeled halfway on the edge of the bed. He took his briefs off and his cock sprung out, leaving you agape. He climbed on tbe bed right between you, feeling his length right against your folds.

"WAIT, wait." you suddenly shouted.

"Hm? what happened?" he said confused.

"I have to tell you something-"

What? Tell me" he sounded a bit worried avout what you'd say.

"It's just that, uh- Ah fuck it. I haven't had sex... never." you finally told him. "So please.. be gentle with me...?" you whispered.

Yeosang giggled. "Seriously? This is what you've been stressed about? Don't worry, I'll take good care of you, silly." he giggled and continued.. "May I? I want to make sure you're comfortable and all.." he whispered.

"Y-yes." you shyly said.

He looked at you and observed your expression. He knew you were turned the fuck on. Your folds literally dripping on the mattress, legs slightly shaking from only his fingers and eyes wide to see what he eas about to do.

"You don't know just how much I've wated this... but I care too damn much about you to have pushed the note or make you do something. Thanks.. for trusting me" he smiled against your thigh.

Yeosang stroked his length for a couple of times, then opened the drawer besides the bed. He took a condom out and put it on, making you feel even safer with him. He looked you in the eyes and nodded, to which you nodded back and he slowly pushed himself in. Your back slightly arched under his action, eyes teary and your hands holding onto his hands. He started slowly thrusting, watching you contently.

"Does it feel good to you?" he asked, hands holding your waist thightly.

"Y-yes!" you soflty shouted.

"Then.. mind if I go a little.. rough?" he bottomed down. "You gotta get a taste of how you'll be fucked in the future, sweetie"

You smiled. The little.. joke? you thought of it as a joke, yes, made you smile. He took that as a yes and as soon as he started thrusting a little bit faster, your chest rose up, soft muffled moans could be heard. You started to feel your core getting thighter and thigtber, you kinda new what that feeling was. To be true to yourself.. you haven't had sex with anyone but.. you fingered yourself at least twice since the semester started.

"Yeosang I-" you stuttered.

"Hm?" he was out of it.

"I'm.. c-close" you finally said.

"Me too" and as soon as he finished his words he raised your back up and took you in his embrace. You were now on your fours, back arching against his chest with every thrust. Kisses started trailing along your spine and shoulders, sending shivers down your spine. Within a couple more thrusts you finished, clenching onto him harshly. Surprised, he stopped for a short moment then started fucking you again, even more forcefully. It hurt but oh god... you were right when you told yourself he might be goon in bed. All sort of thoughts were running through your head, your chest slowly falling on the mattress.

He lifted you up.

"I'm not done... yet" his thrusts became sloppier and heavier, panting softly in thr nape of your neck, leaving kisses all over. As soon as his hands found their way to your breasts and pinched your nipples, you moaned loudly and.... squirted all over the place. Yeosang found that damn hot and came as soon as your moan revebrated through his body. He softly fucked you through his high, then came to a stop.

He slowly put you down and pulled out, throwing the condom away. He covered you with the weighted blanket he'd always had in his bed and hugged you thightly.

"...hey. How was.... it?" he spoke first in a soft tone.

"..A-amazing" you said, head still dizzy. "Though.." you continued.

"Hm?"

"I didn't quite expect to.. you know. Squirt..?" you giggled. "You're really something, Yeosang"

A smile rose on his face, "and this is not even everything that I can do" he laughed, teasingly.

"I bet"

"Hah, come on now. Let's get you washed up." he lifted you up and carried you to the bathroom.

NETWORKS:

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[csuitebitches]

Book Review- The Wealth Elite: A Groundbreaking Study of the Psychology of the Super Rich, by Rainer Zitelmann Notes

I came across this book because I was looking for psychology books. I found the first of the book rather boring and too textbook-y. The second part is much better.

The author interviewed like 45 millionaire - billionaires. These were his findings.

—

48% stated that real estate was an ‘important’ source of their wealth, and one in ten described real estate as the ‘most important’ aspect of their personal wealth-building. And a total of 20% described stock market gains as an ‘important’ factor in wealth-building, although in this case only 2.4% stated that this was the ‘most important’ factor in building their wealth.

‘Creative intelligence’ is key to financial success. The following is a comparison between the percentage of entrepreneurs (and in brackets the percentage of attorneys) who agreed that the following factors played a decisive role in their financial success: seeing opportunities others do not see: 42 (19); finding a profitable niche: 35 (14).

The role of habitus

* Intimate knowledge of required codes of dress and etiquette

* Broad-based general education

* An entrepreneurial attitude, including an optimistic outlook on life

* Supreme self-assurance in appearance and manner.

He identifies a key quality that is essential for any prospective appointee to the executive board or senior management of a major company: habitual similarities to those who already occupy such positions.

Skillset of Entrepreneurs

* The ‘conqueror’. The entrepreneur has to have the ability to make plans and a strong will to carry them out.

* The ‘organizer’. The entrepreneur has to have the ability to bring large numbers of people together into a happy, successful creative force.

* The ‘trader’. What Sombart describes as a ‘trader’, we would more likely call a talented salesperson today. The entrepreneur has to “confer with another, and, by making the best of your own case and demonstrating the weakness of his, get him to adopt what you propose. Negotiation is but an intellectual sparring match.”

Entrepreneurial success personality traits

* Commitment

* Creativity

* A high degree of extroversion

* Low levels of agreeableness

Entrepreneurial success personality traits

* Orientation towards action after suffering disappointments (the entrepreneur remains able to act, even after failure)

* Internal locus of control (the conviction “I hold my destiny in my own two hands”)

* Optimism (the expectation that the future holds positive things in store)

* Self-efficacy (the expectation that tasks can be performed successfully, even in difficult circumstances).

constant power struggles with their teachers in order to ascertain who would emerge the stronger from such confrontations.

Secret of selling

* Empathy

* Didactics

* Expert knowledge

* Networking.

Conscientiousness is the dominant personality trait. Extroversion is also very common among the interviewees. Openness to Experience is very common

A high tolerance to frustration is one of the most characteristic personality traits of this group.

exceptionally high levels of mental stability.

primarily characterize entrepreneurs as being prepared to swim against the current and make their decisions irrespective of majority opinion.

“No, I never did that (lost my temper). I never get loud. But I can be resolute and say: “That is unacceptable.” And then you either have to go your separate ways or make a decision that the other party might not like. It’s the same in negotiations. I was always described by other people as a bit of a toughie.”

Having the courage to stand against majority opinion is probably a prerequisite for making successful investments, as this is what makes it possible to buy cheap and sell high.

Many of the interviewees spoke about their ability to switch off and direct their focus, even in the event of major problems. The interviewees consistently referred to their ability to focus on solutions, rather than torturing themselves with problems.

At least in the initial phases of wealth creation, most of the interviewees rated their own risk profiles as very high. This changes during the stabilization phase, when risk profiles decrease. In this phase, the hypothesis of moderate risk does apply.

Conscientiousness was the interviewees’ most dominant personality trait. It is important to remember that the Big Five theory’s definition of conscientiousness does not just include qualities such as duty, precision, and thoroughness, but also emphasizes diligence, discipline, ambition, and stamina.

[we-are-inevitable]

am i in the frame from your point of view? // javid

"Katherine Pulitzer."

"David Jacobs," Katherine says, not even looking up from the Essential Journalism textbook she's currently hunched over. She looks like hell, her red curls all over the place, chunky-framed glasses perched on the tip of her nose, and she's wearing an old navy-colored hoodie that reads Trinity School on the front. Dead week has claimed another life, or something. David thinks she could use a break.

Which is why the next words that come out of his mouth, just three seconds after he very abruptly sat in front of her at her table in the library, are: "Remember how I told you I was swearing off men?"

This catches Katherine's attention, clearly, because she looks up at him, her blue ink pen falling limp to the table. "Oh, David, no. Who is it?"

"Look," He starts, defensive. He takes a breath as he pushes his own glasses up, absentmindedly dusting stray cat hair off his own plain black hoodie. "It's not my fault. I say I'm swearing off men, and suddenly my dream guy walks into my life. I'm dying."

"Who is it?" Katherine asks, shifting in her seat; she brings one knee to her chest and tucks the other foot underneath, folding herself like a pretzel in the uncomfortable wooden chairs of the library. "Do I know him? Do you know him? Or is it another barista?"

David rolls his eyes. "He's not a barista, I don't think," He says, then glances away for a fraction of a second; when he looks back, she already has a knowing look on her face. "And yeah. You know him."

Katherine raises a brow expectantly. "Who is it?"

And David regrets starting this conversation now, a little bit, because he doesn't want to admit it. He wanted to string her along a little. Wanted to tease it out, but she's looking at him like she'll strangle him at any moment if he doesn't tell her, and David knows his sister well enough to know that she only dates girls capable of violence. Katherine fits the bill.

Which is why, when he starts speaking again, he braces for impact before she can try anything. "You can't expect me not to fall in love with your hot friends, okay? It wasn't—"

"Oh my God!" She yells, a little too loud for the library's second floor. "You little slut! You like Jack?!"

"It's a pipe dream," He says immediately, throwing his hands out to his sides dramatically. "He's— okay, he's cute, alright? I can't help it!"

Katherine is grinning wildly at him now, textbook forgotten as she raps her hands against the wooden table. "You like Jack! I knew it! I knew you would like Jack!"

"Oh, please, no you did not," David says with a scoff.

"Uh, yes I did," She says, shooting him a look. "He's, like, exactly your type, Dee."

"I don't have a type."

"He's a goofy beefcake with brown eyes and muscles and curls, and he makes you laugh, and he listened to you talk about your mom's dog, and—"

And to her credit, she keeps listing off things, and to David's chagrin, she's not wrong.

When Katherine mentioned a party at her apartment, David was all for it. Despite his typical "I don't like people" front, David did enjoy the company of the six friends he could tolerate- Katherine, Charlie, Racer, Albert, Spot, and Sarah. Well, five friends, technically, since he's known Sarah since she was thirteen minutes old and he was, well, zero minutes old. Still. Six people.

And then Katherine said there would be a seventh.

A guy named Jack.

The lore there, she explained, is that all of them knew each other from community theater back in the day. Jack, Kath, Charlie, Race, Al and Spot- they've always ran in the same circles- outside of school, at least. Apparently, Kath's dad wasn't too happy that he was shelling out thousands of dollars for private school and she decided to make friends elsewhere, but there was really nothing he could do. Sarah was added to the group when she and Kath started dating in freshman year of college, and David was added not too long after that, but until now, Jack has just been... a story. A story about this funny guy with a megawatt smile and a heart of gold, who packed up and went to college in Santa Fe for college. He's been in town a few times since then, apparently, but David had never met the guy until Katherine's birthday party last weekend.

And he can't stop thinking about him.

Literally. David isn't an artist by any means, but thinking about this Jack Kelly guy- this 5'9 guy with with rich brown skin and bright eyes, with the laugh of a lion and a smile that made David want to throw up- has made David want to etch his "I go hiking in the mountains and bathe in the rivers" body in stone and write a symphony just to capture the sound of his voice singing Happy Birthday purposely off-key. It's maddening, and—

"Hellooo? Earth to David?"

David blinks, then groans and takes his glasses off, haphazardly dropping them in a clatter onto the wooden table as he rubs his eyes with the heels of his palm. "I'm fucked, Kath."

She cackles, loudly, like David's misery is the funniest shit she's ever seen. "Oh, you poor thing. Didn't he follow you on Instagram at the party?"

David responds with another guttural groan.

He can practically feels Katherine roll her eyes. "Okay, dumbass. Text him."

"He's your ex," David says, like this is a crucial detail, like she should hate the fact that David is into him on the basis of we used to date and it's fucked up that you're telling me how much you like my ex, like Katherine and Jack weren't lounging on top of each other all weekend, like they don't FaceTime every other day, like they're not as close as can be. "And he's in fucking New Mexico. I'm not getting attached."

"He's coming back next month, y'know," Katherine points out. She picks her pen back up, twirling it between her pointer and middle finger. "He's graduating a semester early. Next weekend, actually, and then he's moving back."

David finally removes his hands from his face. "You're shitting me."

"I'm not! I swear it." Katherine picks up her phone, and David watches as she swipes through her text messages before sliding the phone across the table. "See? He's moving back on the twenty-third. He's surprising Medda for Christmas."

"Oh, fuck," David frowns. "That's cute. He needs to stop being cute."

"He's moving in with Charlie, so, I mean," She shrugs, "you'll be seeing him a lot soon."

"You're making this worse."

"He has a job lined up already. School counselor for one of the middle schools."

"He likes kids?"

"Loves 'em."

"Fuck me," David sighs, rubbing his forehead as he slides the phone back to Katherine. "So, you're saying I have two weeks to get over him?"

"No, David," Katherine says, deadly serious despite the smirk on her face, "I'm saying you have two weeks until your future husband is permanently in your vicinity."

"He doesn't like me like that," David says, crossing his arms. "You're being a bad friend. You're completely feeding my delusions."

Katherine purses her lips and grabs her phone again, silent. David gulps as he leans forward, trying to watch her screen through her glasses; he can tell she's scrolling through her photos, but after a few moments, she stops. When she slides the phone back, David sees an image on the screen.

An image of a video from her birthday. Paused with David and Jack on screen. David's eyes are wide, and his mouth is open and his lips are quirked, and his eyebrows are raised and his hands are splayed in front of him, and he's obviously mid-sentence about something important (or not important; he doesn't remember much after his fourth drink, but remembers talking about Pokémon and Sabrina Carpenter and the fall of the Catholic church, so the possibilities are truly endless).

Despite the animated, ugly, passionate look on David's face, though, what draws his attention is Jack.

Jack, sitting sideways on the couch with his elbow on the back and his cheek resting against his palm. Jack, his other arm draped, barely holding his bottle of beer. Jack, his gaze soft, staring at David like he's completely enraptured in whatever the fuck he's saying.

David takes in a deep breath, slides the phone back to Katherine, and says, "I want him."

She just grins and responds, "You got two weeks, tiger. This is so happening."

[assriels]

gravity

pairing: lucien x reader

summary: falling in love with lucien felt like trying to resist gravity and realizing it’s a futile pursuit. slowly, and then all at once.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: none/mostly fluff!

a/n: i played around a little bit with my writing style and i really enjoyed it :’) also i’m only capable of writing fluff for lucien i think lol

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune !

lucien: derived from the Latin root word lux, meaning light. 

When you had first felt yourself falling for Lucien Vanserra some odd years ago, you had been keeping a watchful eye on him — per Rhys’s request — upon his initial arrival to the Night Court under the guise that you would help him research ways to persuade the human queens to your cause against Hybern. 

Initially, it had been just that. A favor for your High Lord, your friend. 

But what had once felt like a vague indifference for the youngest Vanserra brother quickly devolved into a genuine appreciation for him. The more time you spent with Lucien, the more you glimpsed the light peeking out from beneath his guarded exterior.

(You nearly laughed at how aptly Lucien lived up to the brightness belying the meaning of his name.)

It had started with friendly teasing, then secret smiles over piles of textbooks, then not so accidental touches in the quiet of the townhouse. With each evolution of your relationship with Lucien, the more and more you found yourself wanting to be around him, seeking each other out with flimsy excuses that would guarantee a day’s worth of cherished company. 

The inextricable desire you had to be near him that was growing exponentially with every subtle glance he stole had made you nervous. Wary, even. 

You were an academic – the coveted researcher for the Night Court – relying heavily on concepts you could study, could quantify. Well-evidenced theory informed much of your advice to Rhys and his court, and you were often the first point of contact when anyone had any questions about…anything; your wealth of knowledge was endless.

But Lucien — his undeniable magnetism — was an enigma; you could never quite understand why you’d felt so drawn to him, could never formulate an accurate hypothesis for how easily he could coax a smile to your lips and make butterfly wings tickle your stomach.

But it was becoming increasingly evident that he felt the same indisputable pull that you did. He had spent much of his time in your presence, bringing you tea in the late hours of the nights you spent in the townhouse’s reading room, poring over tomes and texts that you and Amren had thought might be useful. Lucien always made the excuse that he made too much tea and didn’t want it to go to waste. 

(Later, you’d find out that he didn’t even really like the tea he brought you every night, only brewing an excessive amount of it because Feyre had offhandedly mentioned it was your favorite.) 

He was rarely there to give his opinions, merely lingering to offer his quiet companionship, situating himself in a comfortable lounge chair in your periphery as he perused the pages of his book of choice. More often than not, he’d fall asleep in what had to be a supremely uncomfortable position, untouched tea cooling on the table. 

It was in those sweet and fragile beginnings of your relationship with Lucien that you had begun to contemplate the potential cosmic underpinnings of your mutual fondness for each other, and what that could mean for you and your future. 

Orbiting each other like stars caught in the same gravitational field, you and Lucien were on a steady course of stellar collision, sure to erupt in some unexplainable astral phenomenon that would certainly result in your doom. Or your salvation. 

(It was the latter.)

The same way you could track the trajectory of an apple falling from a tree and calculate the force with which it would hit the ground, you could guess — with near one hundred percent accuracy — how hard you would fall for Lucien. It was a dangerous descent, you knew, but one that you could hardly fight against. 

Despite being quite the closet romantic — how could you not be, with the knowledge of endless possibilities at your fingertips? — you had been hesitant to pursue anything more with Lucien, wanting to preserve the innocent, lighthearted flirtations that had come so easily between you. You’d been hurt before, been wickedly tricked into the dangerous downward spiral of broken promises and fleeting loyalty of lovers past. And you’d be damned if you’d let yourself make that mistake again. 

But Lucien…

Lucien was all of things your previous paramours had not been. He was kind and gentle and genuine. Funny and insufferably sweet. He was a wonderfully fresh breath of air in an otherwise stagnant atmosphere. 

He had his darkness — he’d admitted as much to you himself. But he had never hidden it from you, had even allowed you the privilege of holding the most tender parts of his past in your hands to examine, always providing ample opportunities for you to deny him, decide that you didn’t want all the pieces of his whole after all.

You had never been afraid of the dark, though, not in the literal or metaphorical sense. It was comforting, quiet, familiar. Besides, before Lucien, you had never found a light bright enough to fear the return of the dark. 

But when faced with the sheer enormity of the warmth his light provided, suddenly you were afraid of its absence. You wanted only to spend your time basking beneath the sun you had discovered beneath Lucien Vanserra’s ribs. 

It was torturously paradoxical, how the more you chased Lucien’s light the more you were plunged into the dark unknown of what loving him would mean, and how afraid you had become. But resisting Lucien’s solar gravity was like trying to defy the very laws that governed the universe you were lucky enough to live in with him: near impossible. 

The way he so effortlessly drew you to him, enticed you to trust him, open yourself to him was something that the greatest physicists of your time could never explain. It was a mystery you weren’t sure you wanted solved for fear that once discovered, he’d be taken from you; you selfishly wanted to keep Lucien’s impossibly beautiful energy to yourself. 

He was undefinable in his unwavering loyalty and limitless consideration. Lucien’s love for you seemed to be as intrinsically written into his existence with the same certainty that you knew the sun would rise over the horizon every morning. It was with that same certainty that you knew falling in love with him was inevitable, and fighting it was a futile resistance of gravity.

So you had let yourself fall, let yourself dive deep into the unknown, praying – begging, really – to whatever gods that were listening that this wasn’t another funnel towards heartbreak. 

You fell with maddening speed and Lucien caught you – having already fallen long ago – with all of the warmth of the sun that his name promised.

If your past self had ever doubted the stability of loving Lucien Vanserra (read: you did), none of that doubt existed in you now. Especially in moments like this: skin to skin in the morning light of the first spring day in the Night Court. Three years since you and Lucien (separate) became you and Lucien (duo), you could hardly believe that you ever considered any other choice but him.

The sun was warm on your back as you lay on your side, arm tucked comfortably beneath your head as you listened to Lucien give you his annual spiel about how the springs in the Spring Court were unbeatable, though the Night Court did have some acceptable weather sometimes. You giggled at his remarkable consistency, love and fondness filling the space between your ribs, momentarily seizing your heart to flutter giddily.

“Okay, Lu,” you responded in mock exasperation. “And then in the fall –”

“Autumn,” he corrected, just to jest further.

“ – you’re going to tell me that the Autumn Court has the best autumns.”

“Naturally.” His grin was blinding as he teased you, pressing a firm kiss between your brows. 

You rolled your eyes but gave in, leaning in towards him – always leaning in towards him (that pesky gravity again).

“But I guess your court,” he continued, “has us beat as far as stargazing goes.”

“Naturally,” you mimicked, winking.

His laugh was a resounding bell of warmth and you took the opportunity to drink him in, warm skin tinted pink with joy and the heat of the morning sun. His hair was disheveled with sleep, but he was impossibly effortless in his beauty.  

The freckles on his cheeks reminded you a lot of the stars that illuminated the streets of Velaris, and you spent the next few hours of the early morning drawing constellations on his skin and fabricating stories of their origin while Lucien’s own fingers drew matching patterns onto your back.

He whispered cheesy lines about how you outshone all of the stars in your beloved Night Court, and then his cheeks dimpled — beautiful craters of mirth — as he smiled at your feigned incredulity. He kissed you then, and you once again found yourself at the mercy of his gravitational pull, your body arching almost instinctively against his in an effort to satisfy your craving for the feel of his skin against yours. 

Lucien – as always – indulged you, snaking a muscled arm around your waist to pull your body flush against his as he whispered in your ear about how he had heard once that freckles were the spots that past life lovers had kissed the most. In an act of petulant pseudo jealousy at the idea that someone had the privilege of loving Lucien before you, you spent the rest of the morning peppering his skin in a thousand kisses. 

“No need to be jealous, my love,” he said as you anchored your lips to the apple of his cheek. “I’m certain that in every life before this one, I enjoyed the pleasure of your affections. And I will continue to find you in every one after.”

Maybe that was it. Maybe the undeniable, visceral need to have him, be with him, love him was written into your bones by the infinite previous lives you spent within each others’ orbit. Your devotion to Lucien seemed as intrinsic as the laws of the universe; there was no life in which you did not feel the warmth of his yearning. 

You hummed in contented agreement, feeling as though you’ve just discovered the unthinkable as you continued your quest, reveling in the gentle shiver you earned with a well placed kiss to the junction of his jaw and neck. For a brief moment, you made a mental note to thank whatever force – physical, cosmic, celestial – that had bound you and Lucien together.

[estapa-edwards]

YOU LOOK GREAT - N. MOLDENHAUER

paring: Nick Moldenhauer x fem! reader

word count: 6.6k

requested? yes - "Sorry for borrowing your clothes" "Dont be. You look great in them" w/ nick moldenhauer

warnings: use of y/n. change of povs. 1st to third

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As I stepped onto the University of Michigan campus, I was filled with excitement and nerves. College was a whole new world, and I was eager to dive into everything it had to offer. Little did I know, one of the most impactful aspects of my college experience would be meeting Nick Moldenhauer.

Nick and I met during freshman orientation. He was a towering figure, with a friendly smile and an easygoing demeanor that instantly put me at ease. We were both assigned to the same dormitory, and as luck would have it, our rooms were just a few doors apart.

​​"Hey there," he greeted with a casual wave, his voice carrying a hint of Midwestern warmth. "You must be Y/N, right? I heard we're practically neighbors."

"Yeah, that's me," I replied, trying to match his easygoing tone. "It's nice to meet you, Nick. Looks like we lucked out with our dorm assignments."

Nick chuckled, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Definitely. Who knows, maybe we'll end up being the best of friends."

Little did I know, his words would ring true in the months to come. As we settled into our respective rooms, the proximity of our living quarters made it easy for us to strike up conversations whenever we crossed paths in the hallway or kitchen.

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One evening, as I struggled to navigate the maze of laundry machines in the basement, I bumped into Nick sorting through a pile of clothes.

"Need a hand?" he asked, flashing me a reassuring smile.

I nodded gratefully, relieved to have some company in the otherwise deserted laundry room. As we waited for our loads to finish, we chatted about everything from our hometowns to our favorite sports teams, discovering shared interests and mutual acquaintances along the way.

At first, our interactions were limited to passing hellos in the hallway or brief chats in the communal kitchen. But as the weeks went by, we found ourselves gravitating towards each other more and more.

I vividly remember one chilly October evening when Nick and I found ourselves studying in the common area of our dormitory. With textbooks spread out on the table between us and the soft glow of overhead lights casting a warm ambiance, we delved into a deep conversation about our respective majors.

"So, what made you decide to major in sociology?" Nick asked, genuine curiosity coloring his voice as he flipped through the pages of my textbook.

I shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I've always been fascinated by human behavior and societal dynamics. Plus, I figured it would give me a better understanding of the world around me."

Nick nodded thoughtfully, his blue eyes reflecting the flickering light of the nearby fireplace. "That's cool. I never would've guessed you were interested in that stuff. I always pegged you as more of a science person."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Believe it or not, I actually considered majoring in biology at one point. But sociology just felt like the right fit for me."

Our conversation meandered from topic to topic, spanning everything from our favorite books and movies to our most embarrassing childhood memories. With each passing day, I found myself drawn to Nick's infectious energy and genuine kindness, his presence becoming a source of comfort and joy in the whirlwind of college life.

Before I knew it, our interactions had transitioned from sporadic encounters to regular hangouts. Whether it was grabbing lunch between classes or meeting up for late-night study sessions in the library, Nick and I were practically inseparable.

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One chilly evening, with the soft glow of the library's reading lamps casting a warm ambiance, Nick and I found ourselves huddled together at a secluded study table, surrounded by towering stacks of textbooks and piles of lecture notes. The gentle hum of students whispering and keyboards tapping provided the perfect backdrop for our intense study session.

As I struggled to make sense of the dense sociological theories sprawled across my textbook, I couldn't help but steal glances at Nick, who was engrossed in his own set of notes, his brow furrowed in concentration. His tousled hair caught the dim light just right, casting shadows across his chiseled features, and I couldn't deny the flutter of excitement that stirred within me.

"So, what do you think about this concept?" Nick's voice broke through my reverie, pulling me back to the task at hand.

I blinked, trying to focus on the page in front of me. "Um, sorry, could you repeat that?" I stammered, feeling a blush creeping up my cheeks.

Nick chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I asked what you thought about this concept. You seem pretty lost in thought over there."

I bit my lip, trying to come up with a coherent response. "Honestly, I'm not sure. It's a bit abstract for my liking."

Nick nodded in understanding, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary. "Yeah, I get that. Sometimes these theories can feel a bit...out there."

His playful tone sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but meet his gaze head-on, the air between us suddenly charged with tension. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though we were the only two people in the world, lost in our own little bubble of shared laughter and lingering glances.

As the hours slipped by and the library grew quiet around us, I found myself drawn to Nick in a way I couldn't quite explain. Maybe it was the late hour or the adrenaline of exam season, but something about the way he looked at me made my heart race and my palms grow clammy with anticipation.

And as we packed up our belongings and made our way out into the cool night air, I couldn't shake the feeling that our study session had been about so much more than just academic pursuits.

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The anticipation buzzed in the air as I made my way to the University of Michigan hockey arena, the excitement palpable with each step I took. It was game day, and as I navigated through the throngs of enthusiastic fans decked out in maize and blue, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for my friend Nick and the rest of the Wolverines team.

As I settled into my seat, the energy of the crowd enveloped me, filling me with a sense of exhilaration unlike anything I had ever experienced. The stadium lights illuminated the ice rink below, casting a mesmerizing glow over the gleaming surface, and I found myself holding my breath in anticipation of the game to come.

And then, as if on cue, the players burst onto the ice, their skates slicing through the frozen surface with effortless grace. Among them was Nick, clad in his signature jersey and helmet, his eyes focused and determined as he prepared to face off against the opposing team.

I couldn't tear my gaze away as the game unfolded before me, each play more thrilling than the last. From bone-rattling body checks to lightning-fast slap shots, the action was relentless, keeping me on the edge of my seat with every twist and turn.

And through it all, Nick was a force to be reckoned with, his skill and athleticism shining brightly as he darted across the ice, deftly maneuvering the puck with precision and finesse. With each pass and shot, he seemed to defy gravity, his movements fluid and effortless as he propelled the puck towards the opposing team's goal.

As the game reached its climax, with the score tied and the tension mounting, I found myself cheering louder than ever, my heart pounding in time with the thunderous roar of the crowd. And when Nick scored the winning goal in the final seconds of the game, sending the arena into a frenzy of cheers and applause, I couldn't help but leap to my feet in sheer elation.

Amidst the jubilant celebrations that followed, I made my way down to the ice, eager to congratulate Nick on his stellar performance. And as he skated over to greet me, his face flushed with exertion and his eyes shining with excitement, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride for my friend and all that he had accomplished.

"Great game, Nick!" I exclaimed, unable to contain my enthusiasm as I wrapped him in a tight hug.

Nick grinned, his breath coming in short gasps as he returned the embrace. "Thanks, Y/N," he replied, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I’m glad you came.”

Nick's gratitude washed over me like a warm wave, filling me with a sense of contentment that I hadn't realized I was searching for. His words echoed in my mind, each syllable imbued with a depth of emotion that tugged at my heartstrings in the most unexpected way.

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I pulled back slightly to meet Nick's gaze. "Of course, Nick," I replied, my own voice filled with genuine affection. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. You played amazing out there."

Nick's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with appreciation. "Thanks, Y/N," he said, his voice soft and sincere. "Having you here means a lot to me. It's like having my own personal cheering section."

I laughed, the sound bubbling up from deep within me. "Well, consider me your number one fan," I declared, playfully nudging him with my elbow. "I'll be here cheering you on every step of the way."

As we stood there, basking in the afterglow of the game and the warmth of each other's company, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between us. There was a newfound closeness, an unspoken bond that seemed to transcend the confines of friendship and venture into uncharted territory.

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I fumbled through my pockets, panic rising in my chest as I realized that my dorm key was nowhere to be found. With a sinking feeling, I recalled setting it down on the coffee table in my friend's dorm room across campus earlier that evening. It was already late at night, and the thought of trekking all the way back across campus to retrieve it was daunting, to say the least.

"Shit," I yelled, frustration boiling over as I glanced at my watch, the hands ticking closer and closer to midnight. How could I have been so careless?

Just then, I heard footsteps approaching from down the hall, and before I knew it, Nick appeared in the doorway, concern etched across his features.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with worry as he took in my distressed expression.

I sighed heavily, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "I forgot my dorm key at Sarah's place across campus," I admitted, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up my cheeks. "And now it's too late to go back and get it."

Nick frowned sympathetically, his brow furrowing in thought. "That sucks," he said, his voice tinged with empathy. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt for inconveniencing him. "I don't want to bother you, Nick," I replied, my voice tinged with regret. "It's my own fault for being so forgetful."

But Nick simply waved off my protests, his expression determined. "Nonsense," he declared, his eyes sparkling with determination."I'm not letting you wander around campus alone in the middle of the night. Besides, my dorm is just down the hall. You can crash on my couch for the night."

I blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his unexpected offer. "Are you sure?" I asked, feeling a rush of gratitude wash over me.

Nick nodded, a reassuring smile gracing his lips. "Absolutely," he replied, his voice warm and sincere. "Consider it a sleepover. We'll watch some cheesy movies, raid the vending machine for snacks, and before you know it, morning will be here and you can go get your key."

His words filled me with a sense of relief, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for my friend and his unwavering kindness. "Thank you, Nick," I said, my voice soft with emotion. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Nick grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You don't have to thank me," he replied, his tone gentle. "That's what friends are for, right?"

"Right," I echoed softly, my voice tinged with gratitude. But beneath the surface, I couldn't help but feel a subtle shift in the air, a flutter of something unfamiliar stirring in the depths of my heart.

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As the movie played in the background, the dim light casting a cozy glow over Nick's dorm room, I couldn't help but notice the oversized hoodie I was wearing. It was soft and warm, the fabric carrying a faint scent of Nick's cologne that enveloped me like a comforting embrace.

"Hey, you're wearing my clothes," Nick remarked with a playful grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gestured towards the hoodie I had borrowed.

I felt a flush of embarrassment creep up my cheeks as I glanced down at myself, suddenly self-conscious under his scrutiny. "Sorry for borrowing your clothes," I murmured, feeling a pang of guilt for invading his personal space.

But Nick simply waved off my apology, his expression warm and reassuring. "Don't be," he replied, his voice gentle. "You look great in them."

His words caught me off guard, sending a rush of warmth flooding through me. In that moment, bathed in the soft glow of the TV and surrounded by the comforting scent of Nick's cologne, I couldn't help but feel a sense of closeness that went beyond mere friendship.

And as we settled back into the couch, our shoulders brushing against each other in the intimate space, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between us, something unspoken and electric that lingered in the air like static electricity.

As the movie wound down and the credits rolled, Nick stretched his arms above his head, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "Well, I think it's about time I hit the hay," he said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Got an early practice tomorrow."

I nodded in understanding, the warmth of the hoodie he lent me providing a sense of comfort as I curled up on the couch. "Yeah, I should probably get some sleep too," I replied, stifling a yawn.

Nick bid me goodnight with a gentle smile before disappearing into his bedroom, leaving me alone in the dimly lit living room. I closed my eyes, hoping to drift off into a peaceful slumber, but as the minutes ticked by, sleep eluded me.

Suddenly, a shiver ran down my spine as a vivid nightmare gripped my subconscious, sending me tumbling into a world of darkness and fear. I jolted awake, my heart pounding in my chest as I struggled to catch my breath, the remnants of the nightmare still haunting me.

Without hesitation, I sprang from the couch and made my way to Nick's bedroom, my pulse racing with a mixture of fear and desperation. I knocked softly on the door, my voice trembling as I called out his name.

"Nick?" I whispered, my hand hovering uncertainly over the doorknob. "Can I come in?"

The door creaked open, revealing Nick's concerned expression as he peered at me from the darkness of his room. "Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I recounted the terrifying nightmare that had shaken me to the core. Without hesitation, Nick pulled me into his embrace, his arms wrapping around me in a comforting cocoon of warmth and safety.

"It's okay, Y/N," he murmured, his voice soothing and reassuring. "You're safe now. I'm here."

And as we settled into his bed, our bodies pressed close together in the darkness, I couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over me

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As I blinked away the remnants of sleep, the warmth of the bed enveloping me in its comforting embrace, I couldn't shake the feeling of confusion that lingered in the air. Where was I? And why did everything feel so... different?

As I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, it dawned on me—I was in Nick's bed. Memories of the night before flooded back, the nightmare that had shaken me awake, and Nick's comforting presence as he held me close, soothing away my fears.

But as I looked around the room, I realized that I was alone. Nick was nowhere to be seen, leaving me feeling a pang of disappointment and confusion. Had it all been a dream?

Without hesitation, I reached for my phone, my fingers trembling as I typed out a quick message to my friends, recounting the events of the night before and the unsettling feeling of waking up alone in Nick's bed.

But as I made my way to the bathroom to freshen up, the sound of the front door opening caught my attention, sending a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Was it Nick? And if so, where had he been all morning?

My heart pounded in my chest as I approached the doorway, the anticipation almost overwhelming. And then, as I stepped into the living room, my eyes widened in surprise at the sight before me.

There, standing in the doorway with a sheepish grin on his face, was Nick. He was clad in a rumpled t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair tousled from sleep and a guilty look in his eyes.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted, his voice tinged with nervousness. "I, uh, didn't mean to leave you alone this morning. I had to run out for a bit, but I'm back now."

I blinked in confusion, unsure of how to respond to his sudden reappearance. "Oh," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "That's okay. I, uh, was just... surprised to wake up alone."

Nick's expression softened, a hint of regret flickering across his features. "I'm sorry," he said, his tone sincere. "I should've let you know where I was going. I just went to get your key.” 

As Nick's words washed over me, a wave of relief flooded my senses. The tension that had been coiling in my chest loosened, replaced by a sense of gratitude for his thoughtfulness and consideration.

"You went to get my key?" I repeated, my voice tinged with disbelief. "But... why?"

Nick shrugged sheepishly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I know how much you hate running across campus alone, especially at night," he admitted, his tone earnest. "And after everything that happened last night, I just wanted to make sure you didn't have to go through that again."

His words struck a chord deep within me, stirring a swell of emotion that threatened to overwhelm me. Here was Nick, going out of his way to ensure my safety and well-being, even after a night that had undoubtedly left him exhausted and drained.

"Thank you, Nick," I said, my voice soft with emotion. "I... I don't know what to say."

Nick smiled, his eyes lighting up with genuine warmth. "You don't have to say anything," he replied, his tone gentle. "Just knowing that you're safe is enough for me."

Feeling Nick's arms wrap around me, pulling me into a warm embrace, I couldn't help but let out a shaky sigh of relief. His presence was like a comforting anchor in the midst of uncertainty, grounding me and soothing away the lingering traces of fear and doubt.

For a moment, we stood there, locked in a tight embrace, our bodies pressed close together as if seeking solace in each other's warmth. And as I buried my face in Nick's shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne, I felt a sense of peace settle over me like a soft blanket.

"Thank you, Nick," I murmured, my voice muffled against his chest. "For everything."

Nick squeezed me tighter, his grip firm and reassuring. "Anytime, Y/N," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. "I'll always be here for you."

And in that moment, surrounded by the gentle rhythm of Nick's heartbeat and the warmth of his embrace, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as I had Nick by my side, I would never have to face them alone. With him, I felt safe, cherished, and utterly, unquestionably loved.

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The euphoria of victory pulsed through the air as Nick and his teammates celebrated their triumph on the ice. The cheers of the crowd still echoed in his ears as he made his way through the bustling streets of campus, the adrenaline of the game fueling his every step.

But amidst the jubilant celebrations and congratulatory pats on the back, Nick couldn't shake the feeling of restlessness that gnawed at his insides. Despite the victory, despite the adulation of the fans and the pride of his teammates, there was a sense of emptiness that lingered beneath the surface—a void that seemed impossible to fill.

So, without giving it a second thought, Nick found himself wandering aimlessly through the familiar streets of campus, the cool night air washing over him like a balm for his weary soul. With each step, he felt the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of freedom and exhilaration unlike anything he had ever experienced.

And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Nick found himself standing before Y/N's doorstep, his heart pounding in his chest as he hesitated for just a moment before reaching out to knock.

The sound of his knuckles rapping against the wood echoed through the stillness of the night, sending a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. What was he doing here? What had possessed him to seek out Y/N in the dead of night, with no explanation and no plan?

But before he could second-guess himself any further, the door swung open, revealing Y/N's surprised expression as she took in the sight of him standing on her doorstep, breathless and disheveled from the night's festivities.

"Nick?" she exclaimed, her eyes widening in shock. "What are you doing here?"

Nick's throat felt dry as he struggled to find the right words, his mind racing a mile a minute as he searched for an explanation. "I... I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I needed to see you."

Y/N's expression softened, a hint of concern flickering across her features. "Are you okay?" she asked, reaching out to gently touch his arm.

Nick nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, I think so," he replied, his voice steadier now. "I just... I wanted to be with you." 

As Y/N ushered Nick inside, a surge of tension crackled in the air between them, palpable and electric. There was a raw vulnerability in the way Nick looked at her, his gaze searching hers with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

"Thanks," Nick muttered, his voice husky with emotion as he stumbled into the warmth of Y/N's apartment. "I appreciate it."

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding in her chest as she guided him to the couch, his movements unsteady and uncertain. She couldn't help but notice the way his hand lingered against hers, the heat of his touch searing her skin even through the fabric of her clothes.

As she settled Nick onto the couch, a flood of conflicting emotions washed over Y/N—concern for his well-being, frustration at his reckless behavior, and a simmering undercurrent of something more, something she couldn't quite put into words.

"Here," she murmured, her voice soft as she handed him a bucket in case he needed it. "You should probably drink some water and try to get some rest."

Nick nodded gratefully, his gaze lingering on Y/N's face for a moment longer than necessary. "Thanks, Y/N," he said, his voice hoarse with gratitude. "You're too good to me."

Y/N forced a smile, her heart twisting with a mixture of longing and regret. "It's no problem," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just... try not to make a habit of it, okay?"

Y/N's heart clenched as she watched Nick settle onto the couch, his features softened by the haze of alcohol. She wanted to reach out, to erase the troubled lines from his forehead, but she held herself back, the tension between them too thick to ignore.

"Goodnight, Nick," she murmured, her voice tinged with a mixture of concern and hesitation. "Call out if you need anything, okay?"

Nick nodded, his eyes heavy with exhaustion as he mumbled a barely coherent reply. And with a heavy heart, Y/N turned away, retreating to the solitude of her bedroom, where she could grapple with the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to consume her.

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But just as she was drifting off to sleep, a loud retching sound shattered the silence of the night, sending a jolt of panic coursing through her veins. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Y/N bolted upright, her heart hammering in her chest as she rushed to Nick's side.

"Nick, are you okay?" she asked, her voice trembling with worry as she knelt beside him on the couch.

Nick groaned, his face pale and clammy as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I... I think I puked," he admitted, his voice thick with shame.

Y/N's heart went out to him, her own discomfort forgotten in the face of his distress. "It's okay," she reassured him, her voice soft and soothing. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Together, they worked in silence, Y/N fetching cleaning supplies while Nick slumped against the cushions, his face drawn with exhaustion and embarrassment. And as they scrubbed away the evidence of his indiscretion, a quiet understanding passed between them, unspoken but palpable.

"I'm sorry," Nick whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of running water. "I didn't mean to..."

Y/N placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her touch a silent reassurance that he was not alone. "It's okay," she replied, her voice filled with compassion. "We all make mistakes. What's important is that you're okay."

As Y/N finished cleaning up the mess, she turned to Nick, her expression soft with concern. "Nick, do you want to take a shower?" she asked gently, her voice filled with compassion. "I can go grab you some fresh clothes while you clean up."

Nick nodded weakly, gratitude shining in his eyes as he met her gaze. "That... that would be great," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a reassuring smile, Y/N helped Nick to his feet and guided him towards the bathroom, her hand a steady anchor against his trembling frame. She couldn't help but feel a surge of sympathy for him, his vulnerability tugging at her heartstrings in a way she couldn't quite explain.

"Here, I'll go grab you some clothes," she said, her voice gentle as she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Just take your time in the shower, okay? I'll be right back."

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As Y/N slipped into Nick's dorm room, the air felt charged with anticipation, her heart pounding in her chest with a mixture of nerves and excitement. She had come here with a singular purpose—to retrieve some clothes for Nick—but as she stepped inside, her gaze fell upon something unexpected.

There, sitting on Nick's desk, was a small velvet box, its lid slightly ajar to reveal the glint of polished metal within. Curiosity piqued, Y/N approached the desk, her fingers trembling as she reached out to lift the lid.

And then, as she gazed upon the delicate piece of jewelry nestled within the box, her breath caught in her throat. It was a dahlia pendant, its petals crafted from shimmering silver and adorned with tiny sparkling diamonds. It was exquisite, a breathtaking work of art that seemed to shimmer and dance in the dim light of the room.

As Y/N's eyes fell upon the exquisite dahlia pendant nestled within the box, her breath caught in her throat. The pendant glimmered in the dim light of the room, its delicate petals crafted from shimmering silver and adorned with tiny sparkling diamonds. It was a breathtaking work of art, a testament to Nick's thoughtfulness and attention to detail.

But as quickly as her eyes had landed on the pendant, Y/N felt a pang of guilt wash over her. She had never intended to stumble upon such a personal and intimate gift, and the realization that she had inadvertently invaded Nick's privacy filled her with a sense of unease.

With trembling hands, Y/N carefully closed the lid of the box, her heart heavy with regret. She had no right to pry into Nick's personal affairs, no right to intrude upon the sanctity of his space. And as she turned to leave the room, her mind filled with conflicting emotions, she vowed to keep the discovery to herself, to respect Nick's privacy and his right to keep his secrets.

Y/N reentered the room, her heart still fluttering with the weight of what she had discovered, yet determined to maintain a facade of normalcy. "I got your clothes," she announced softly, holding out the bundle she had retrieved from Nick's closet.

Nick looked up, a grateful smile spreading across his face as he accepted the clothes from her outstretched hand. "Thanks, Y/N," he murmured, his voice hoarse with gratitude.

Y/N returned his smile, though her mind was still reeling from the unexpected turn of events. She couldn't help but steal a glance at the closed box on Nick's desk, the image of the dahlia pendant etched into her memory.

But she quickly pushed aside her curiosity, focusing instead on the task at hand—helping Nick get cleaned up and settled for the night. With practiced ease, she guided him towards the bathroom once more, offering him a reassuring smile as she left him to his privacy.

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As Y/N entered the living room, her steps cautious and tentative, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease gnawing at her insides. Nick was still there, slumbering peacefully on the couch, his features softened by the light of the morning sun.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N approached him, her heart aching with a mixture of concern and affection. She couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for leaving him alone on the couch all night, but the events of the previous evening had left her emotionally drained and uncertain of how to proceed.

"Nick?" she murmured softly, reaching out to gently shake his shoulder. "Are you awake?"

Nick stirred, his eyes fluttering open as he blinked up at her in confusion. "Y/N?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "What time is it?"

Y/N checked her phone, noting the time with a furrowed brow. "It's almost noon," she replied, her voice tinged with concern. "You've been asleep for hours."

Nick groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he sat up on the couch. "Sorry," he muttered, his voice sheepish. "I must have passed out."

Y/N shook her head, offering him a reassuring smile. "It's okay," she said, her tone gentle. "You needed the rest."

Nick nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Thanks, Y/N," he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "For everything."

Y/N returned his smile, her heart swelling with warmth at the sight of him. "Anytime, Nick," she replied, her voice soft. "Anytime."

As Nick rubbed the sleep from his eyes, Y/N couldn't help but notice the fatigue etched into his features. "You look exhausted," she remarked, her concern deepening. "Did you sleep okay?"

Nick nodded, though there was a hint of hesitation in his response. "Yeah, I guess so," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I just... I've been feeling a bit off lately."

Y/N's brow furrowed with worry as she took in Nick's weary demeanor. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Nick hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering away before meeting hers once more. "It's just... everything feels so overwhelming sometimes," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I'm constantly struggling to keep up, to meet everyone's expectations. And... I don't know, I guess I'm just tired of pretending like I have it all together when I really don't."

Y/N's heart ached at the raw vulnerability in Nick's words, the weight of his struggles evident in every syllable. Without hesitation, she wrapped him in a comforting embrace, holding him close as if to shield him from the world's harsh realities.

"You don't have to pretend with me, Nick," she murmured, her voice soft with understanding. "You can be yourself, flaws and all. I'll still be here for you, no matter what."

Nick's shoulders sagged with relief as he leaned into her embrace, the weight of his burdens momentarily lifted in the warmth of her presence. "Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Y/N held him tighter, her own heart swelling with affection for the man who had unwittingly stolen it.

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As Y/N made her way to the arena, her heart fluttered with a mixture of excitement and anticipation. It was the biggest game of the season—a chance for Nick and his teammates to prove themselves before the playoffs—and she was determined to be there to show her support.

The atmosphere inside the arena was electric, the air crackling with energy as the crowd roared with excitement. Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as she watched Nick take to the ice, his determination evident in every stride.

As the game unfolded, Y/N found herself on the edge of her seat, her heart pounding in time with each pass and shot. The tension in the air was palpable, each moment filled with the promise of victory or the threat of defeat.

And then, in the final moments of the game, with the score tied and the clock ticking down, Nick seized his opportunity. With a burst of speed and skill, he maneuvered past the opposing defense, his stick connecting with the puck in a perfect shot that sailed past the goalie and into the back of the net.

The crowd erupted into cheers as the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game and a hard-fought victory for Nick and his teammates. Y/N couldn't contain her excitement as she joined in the celebration, her heart soaring with pride for the man she had come to care for so deeply.

As the players made their way off the ice, Y/N caught sight of Nick making his way towards her, a triumphant smile on his face. He pulled her into a tight embrace, his joy infectious as he spun her around in a whirl of excitement.

"We did it, Y/N," he exclaimed, his voice filled with elation. "We won!"

Y/N laughed, her own happiness bubbling over as she returned Nick's embrace. "I knew you could do it," she replied, her voice filled with pride. "I'm so proud of you, Nick."

Nick's smile widened at her words, his eyes shining with gratitude and affection. "Thanks, Y/N," he replied, his voice tinged with emotion. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words, her smile widening as she gazed up at him. There was a warmth in Nick's eyes, a tenderness that spoke volumes without him having to say a word. In that moment, she felt closer to him than ever before, their bond strengthened by the shared experience of victory and celebration.

As the crowd began to thin out and the arena emptied, Nick turned to Y/N with a serious expression, a hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes. "Y/N, there's something I want to talk to you about," he said, his voice low with intensity. "Something important."

Y/N's curiosity was piqued, her pulse quickening with anticipation. "What is it?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

Nick glanced around the nearly empty arena, his expression serious. "Can we talk after I get out of the locker room?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency. "It's... it's something I've been wanting to say for a while now."

Y/N nodded, a sense of excitement tingling in her veins. "Of course," she replied, her heart pounding with anticipation.

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As Y/N waited outside the locker room, her anticipation grew with each passing moment. She couldn't shake the feeling of nervous excitement that coursed through her veins, her heart pounding in her chest as she wondered what Nick wanted to tell her.

Finally, the door swung open, and Nick emerged from the locker room, his expression serious yet determined. Without a word, he gestured for Y/N to follow him, leading her to a quiet corner of the arena away from prying eyes and curious onlookers.

Once they were alone, Nick turned to face Y/N, his gaze searching hers with a mixture of apprehension and longing. "Y/N," he began, his voice soft but filled with emotion. "There's something I need to tell you. Something I should have said a long time ago."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the seriousness in Nick's tone, her pulse quickening with anticipation. "What is it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Nick took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers as he spoke. "I love you, Y/N," he confessed, his voice raw with emotion. "I've loved you for as long as I can remember, and I can't imagine my life without you."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she took in Nick's words, her heart overflowing with emotion. She had waited so long to hear him say those three simple words, and now that he had, she felt like she was floating on air.

"Oh Nick," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I love you too."

Without hesitation, she threw her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace as she buried her face in his chest. In that moment, surrounded by the quiet of the empty arena and the warmth of Nick's embrace, Y/N felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

And then, as they stood there together in the quiet of the arena, Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. With trembling hands, he opened it to reveal the dahlia pendant, its delicate petals gleaming in the dim light.

"I want you to have this," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "As a reminder of my love for you, and everything we've been through together."

Tears streamed down Y/N's cheeks as she reached out to take the pendant, her fingers trembling with emotion. "It's beautiful," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder.

Nick smiled, a tender expression on his face as he gently fastened the pendant around Y/N's neck. "Just like you," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

I got a little too carried away when writing this. oh well, who doesnt love moldy

[ms-snape]

Hiiii I absolutely adore your blog and your fanfics, they’re always so amazing!!!Could I request a Remus Lupin x reader fic set in the Marauders era with the classic ‘fake dating’ trope? Maybe the reader and Remus agree to pretend to date to get their friends off their backs about dating other people. But as they spend more time together, things start to feel a little too real, and they both struggle with their growing feelings. Lots of awkward, adorable moments, mutual pining, and a fluffy confession at the end when they realize they’re no longer pretending. Thank you so much! 🥰

Title: Pretend

Warning: Fake dating

Word Count:2000+

Masterlist

---

The flickering candles of the library cast warm, golden shadows across the wooden tables, where ancient tomes and parchments were scattered about like fallen leaves in autumn. Y/n Y/l/n sat at one of the corner tables, her brow furrowed in concentration as she attempted to decipher the convoluted language of a particularly dry textbook on Charms. The faint rustle of pages turning and the soft sound of quills scratching against parchment enveloped her, a welcome respite from the ever-pressing noise of Hogwarts life.

It was a typical evening, but it felt different—heavier. Perhaps it was the weight of expectations that hung in the air, the same way the summer sun hung over the horizon, refusing to set. Her best friend, Lily Evans, had been relentless in her efforts to push Y/n into the dating world. With a roll of her eyes, Y/n remembered how Lily’s voice had taken on that eager, hopeful tone just the week before.

"You need to find someone, Y/n! All of the girls are dating; it’s not fair that you’re missing out. You and Remus both refuse to find yourselves someone!" Lily had exclaimed, and Y/n had felt her heart skip, but not for the reasons Lily might have hoped.

Remus Lupin was undoubtedly one of the most intriguing boys at Hogwarts. With his kind eyes and gentle demeanor, he had an aura of warmth that drew people to him. However, Y/n had never dared to consider him beyond friendship. They had shared countless moments of laughter, late-night study sessions, and quiet chats under the stars, but Y/n could hardly entertain the idea of complicating their bond with romance.

Across the library, Remus sat at a separate table, his own textbook open but his gaze wandering. The way he absentmindedly ran a hand through his tousled hair caused a flutter in Y/n’s stomach. Little did he know that every sigh and smile was being meticulously documented in her mind, like a cherished secret she kept locked away.

But tonight, they would find solace in each other’s company, perhaps even escape the relentless pressures from their friends. It was after another futile attempt to focus that Remus finally caught her gaze, his eyes lighting up as they met.

"Y/n, are you alright? You seem distracted," he said, leaning forward slightly, his brows knitting together with concern.

"Just tired of studying," she sighed, setting her quill down. "I feel like all Lily does is nag me about finding a boyfriend. Honestly, I think she’s forgotten about her studies altogether. She’s too busy plotting my love life."

A smile broke out on Remus's face, and Y/n felt warmth spread through her chest at the sight. "I know what you mean. The boys have been hounding me about finding a girlfriend, too. It’s unbearable at this point."

"Perhaps we could just… pretend?" Y/n suggested, her voice quiet, as if the mere thought of the idea was an outrageous whim. But as soon as she said it, a spark ignited in her mind, lighting up the darker corners of her imagination. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "We could fake date. Just to get them off our backs."

Remus’s expression shifted from curiosity to amusement, a soft laugh escaping his lips. "You think that will work? It might just make them worse. They’ll be even more eager to see us together if they think we’re dating!"

"I know," she replied, suppressing a giggle. "But it might just be mad enough to work. We can be so ridiculous that they’ll drop the subject."

His eyes glimmered with mischief as he contemplated her proposition. "Alright, then. Just between us, though. No one can know it’s fake."

And so, with the flick of a wand, they forged a pact that night, nestled among the whispers of the library’s ancient walls. They would pretend to date, and maybe, just maybe, they would emerge unscathed from their friends' relentless matchmaking.

The next few days unfolded like an unexpected dream, a whimsical farce that danced through the corridors of Hogwarts. Remus and Y/n played their roles beautifully, transforming their casual friendship into something that felt tangible. The Marauders, blissfully unaware of the charade, were absolutely delighted by the new development.

"You two are adorable together!" James exclaimed one evening in the Gryffindor common room. "I knew you’d eventually get together. It was only a matter of time!"

Y/n exchanged a glance with Remus, her heart racing at the thought. His warm smile made her feel giddy and safe at once, a contrast to the tightness in her chest that came from pretending. “Thanks, James,” she said, trying to keep her tone light and playful.

Sirius, leaning back against the couch, smirked and chimed in, "You should let him take you to Hogsmeade this weekend. I can totally see you two snogging under the trees!"

"Yeah, definitely!" Remus added, trying to keep the laughter from escaping his lips. “I mean, it would be a shame to waste such a great opportunity.”

“Right,” Y/n said, fighting the urge to laugh. “Snogging under the trees sounds… lovely.”

As the days passed, the lines between pretense and reality began to blur. Each shared glance, every fleeting touch—those little moments that had once felt innocent now carried a weight that made Y/n’s heart race. She watched Remus as he helped her study for Transfiguration, his brow furrowed in concentration as he explained the complexities of the subject.

“Just picture it like this,” he said, gesturing with his hands as if crafting an invisible object in the air. “It’s all about envisioning the final product. You need to see it clearly in your mind before you can transform it.”

She nodded, her attention captivated not just by his words but by the way he animatedly expressed himself. “You make it sound so easy,” she replied, her heart thumping in rhythm with the growing tension between them.

“Only because I’ve been at it longer than you,” he said, a hint of self-deprecation in his tone. “You’ll get there in no time.”

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, Y/n found herself leaning closer to him, their shoulders brushing against one another. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, a magnetic pull that tugged at her heartstrings.

The following days brought more study sessions, each one layered with stolen glances and shared laughter. Their friends noticed the change in their dynamic, often teasingly nudging them closer together. It was during one of these moments that Y/n felt the air shift between them, a palpable tension hanging like a veil.

One evening, while they were studying in the library again, Remus accidentally knocked over a stack of books, sending them tumbling to the floor with a loud thud. They both bent down to pick them up at the same time, their heads colliding softly.

“Ouch!” they exclaimed simultaneously, pulling back and bursting into laughter.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern etching his features as he reached out to check on her. His fingers brushed against her hair, sending shivers down her spine.

“I’m fine! Just a little lightheaded, maybe,” Y/n said, her cheeks flushing as their eyes locked.

In that moment, the pretense melted away, leaving only the raw, unfiltered emotions bubbling to the surface. She realized she didn’t just like being around Remus; she was beginning to feel something much deeper.

As the weeks wore on, they found themselves navigating through the intricacies of their “relationship” with surprising ease. The Marauders often encouraged them, unaware of the truth behind the facade.

One evening, during a particularly lively game of Exploding Snap in the common room, Lily cornered Y/n. “So, what’s it like dating Remus? He’s such a sweetheart. You two are like the perfect couple!”

Y/n’s heart raced at the thought. “Yeah, he’s great,” she replied, her voice a bit higher than usual. “But it’s still new. We’re just figuring things out.”

Lily’s eyes sparkled with delight. “You know, I think he really likes you. I can see it in the way he looks at you.”

A nervous laugh escaped Y/n’s lips, her stomach flipping. “Of course, he does! I mean, we’re… dating, right?”

But deep down, Y/n felt the growing pang of guilt gnawing at her. She was pretending to date Remus while simultaneously realizing she was falling for him, a truth that grew heavier with every moment they spent together.

One crisp autumn afternoon, as leaves danced in the wind, Remus and Y/n found themselves wandering the grounds of Hogwarts, their laughter echoing off the castle walls. They had just enjoyed a delightful lunch in the Great Hall, where Sirius had taken it upon himself to declare that their relationship was a “beautiful blossoming love story.”

“Thanks, Pads” Remus had mumbled, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement coloring his cheeks.

Now, strolling under the golden canopy of trees, Y/n stole glances at Remus as they walked side by side, their fingers almost brushing. She felt the world around them fade away, leaving just the two of them enveloped in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

“You know,” Remus started, his voice soft as they paused by a gnarled oak tree, “this whole fake dating thing might actually have some benefits.”

“Oh? Like what?” Y/n asked, feigning innocence while her heart raced.

“For one, I get to spend more time with you, and you’ve managed to distract me from all the pressure my friends have been putting on me,” he said, his gaze steady as it met hers. “And, I must admit, you’re quite… captivating.”

Y/n felt her breath hitch, warmth flooding her cheeks. “I could say the same about you, Remus. You’re—”

Before she could finish her thought, a sudden rustle in the leaves caught their attention. Lily and the Marauders appeared, their laughter ringing out like chimes in the wind. Y/n and Remus quickly adopted their best couple smiles, aware that their friends would dissect every detail of their interaction.

“Hey, you two! What are you doing?” James called out, grinning widely. “Are you getting cozy under that tree? How sweet!”

“Just taking a break from studying,” Remus said, his voice light, though a hint of nervousness crept in.

“Liar,” Sirius teased, poking his friend’s side. “You were about to confess your undying love, weren’t you? Right, Y/n?”

Y/n felt her heart flutter at the mention of love, but she played along, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Of course! I can’t help but adore him.”

Remus’s eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and delight crossing his features. Y/n’s heart raced as she realized they had both said too much. But it felt… right.

As the group engaged in playful banter, Y/n caught Remus’s gaze again, and for a moment, the world around them faded once more. The warmth between them pulsed, thick with unspoken words. They were treading the fine line of friendship and something more, and neither of them seemed willing to back away.

That evening, as they returned to the Gryffindor common room, Remus pulled Y/n aside, a serious expression crossing his face. “Can we talk for a moment?”

“Of course,” she replied, her heart pounding. They moved away from the chatter of their friends, settling into a cozy corner of the room, where the warmth of the fireplace flickered invitingly.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began, running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit she had come to adore. “About us.”

“Us?” she echoed, feeling the tension in the air thicken.

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze steady but his voice wavering. “I know this started as a joke, but…”

“But?” Y/n pressed, her heart racing.

“But it doesn’t feel like a joke anymore,” he confessed, stepping closer. “I care about you, Y/n. Like really care. I didn’t expect this to happen, but I can’t pretend anymore. I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

The confession hung in the air between them, a fragile thread connecting their hearts. Y/n felt her cheeks heat up as she processed his words, realizing they echoed her own feelings. “I feel the same way, Remus” she admitted softly. “I thought I was just pretending, but I’ve started to fall for you too.”

Relief flooded his features, and a soft smile broke out across his lips, lighting up his entire face. “Really?”

“Really,” she affirmed, a mixture of joy and anxiety coursing through her.

With a hesitant but hopeful look in his eyes, Remus took her hand gently, intertwining their fingers. “So, we’re not pretending anymore?”

“No, we’re not,” Y/n replied, feeling emboldened by their shared honesty. “We’re real.”

He leaned in, his breath brushing against her skin as he whispered, “So... Can I kiss you?”

Her heart soared at the question, and she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes.”

In that moment, everything else faded away as Remus leaned in, their lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss. It was a sweet promise of what was to come, a culmination of all the moments that had led them here. Y/n melted into the kiss, feeling the warmth of his lips against hers, a sensation that sent shivers down her spine.

As they pulled away, laughter echoed from the common room, but it felt distant now, like a world apart. Remus brushed his thumb across her cheek, his eyes shining with warmth. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n’s heart raced, her lips curling into a smile. “Me too.”

Their laughter mingled as they stood in the corner, their hands still clasped together. The pressures from their friends no longer mattered. In this moment, it was just Y/n and Remus, two hearts intertwined, ready to explore the uncharted territory of their newfound love.

As they rejoined the group, the Marauders and Lily exchanged knowing glances, clearly thrilled for the couple they believed to be dating. Unbeknownst to them, their fake romance had transformed into something genuine, and as Y/n glanced at Remus, she couldn’t help but feel that the best was yet to come.

The warmth of their connection enveloped them as they navigated the halls of Hogwarts together, side by side, hand in hand. They were no longer just friends playing a role; they were two souls in a dance of love, ready to embrace whatever adventures lay ahead.