#not disappointment not excitement but some other third thing

[deardev0teddelicate]

Tommyxfem reader Jackson era! She asks him to help fix something in her house and he fucks her against the counter🥰

hi, friend! so sorry it took like,, a month,, but i'm out of finals fuckin finally so i had time to write this up

i hope it's what you were wanting!

also thank you @ohhoneypascal for looking it over for me i hope you and all the other tommy lovers out there enjoy it!

"Shit," you muttered to yourself. You were squatted on the floor of your kitchen looking at the pipes under your sink and the puddle of water under them. When you returned home from patrol in the evening, you almost slipped on the slick floor of the kitchen where water had leaked out. Following the trail of water in the cabinet, you located the problem to the sink pipes.

And that's about the extent you could do. Practically growing up in an apocalypse made you a stranger to home owning. The first place you could call your own that you had to take care of was the small home you were assigned to in Jackson. You didn't know the first thing about taking care of a house.

Looking up, you debated on what you should do; fix it yourself and figure it out, or go to your next-door-neighbor, Tommy, for help. You had seen him around town working on construction projects with some of the others and had seen him come home late at night, covered head to toe in sweat and dirt. He seemed like he knew how to fix a leaky pipe. Couldn't hurt to ask, right?

Slipping on your coat you walked into the snow covered streets, making your way to his house next door.

You knocked on the door, and to your dismay, there was no answer. You knock again, and let out a disappointed huff of air when, like before, there was no answer. Turning away from his door, you trudge to the only other place where you've seen him this late at night.

Down the road, you stepped into the Tipsy Bison. Making a quick scan of the booze scented, smoke filled room, and there, you see him, with a glass one-third of the way full of whiskey in his hand while a pen rested in the other. He was sitting at the far end of the bar-top, hardly noticeable and deep in thought. You walk over to him, composing yourself. He was wearing that denim button down he always wore, only the top buttons were left open revealing a white Henley. His hair, once slicked back in a bun, now mussed and let go to just brush the top of his shoulders, patchy hair tracing his jaw.

He was messy, undone, making excitement rumble throughout your veins and in your chest. Shaking the feeling as you approached the rugged man, you sat down next to him, clearing your throat. He looked up from what looked like to be maps of the terrain surrounding Jackson. As quickly as he looked up at you, he looked back down at the map—you didn't miss the small smile that hid under his mustache.

"How can I help you, sweetheart?" His Texan drawl twined in and out of each syllable, making your breath hitch and your train of thought falter, briefly forgetting why you were ever here in the first place.

"Uh," you filled the silence while you gathered yourself, "I gotta leaky pipe in my kitchen. Don't know how to fix it, was hopin' to ask you."

Tommy looked up at you at that. "You can shoot a runner 200 yards away and ya can't fix a pipe?" His tone was teasing, playful, so you simply rolled your eyes back at him.

"Grew up on the move, hunting them for sport. Wasn't some fancy construction worker with a house in a big ol'city."

He scoffed at that, finishing his drink and folding up his papers into the inside pocket of his fleece-lined denim jacket. "Don't hear 'fancy' and 'construction worker in the same sentence usually." Getting up to leave, he paused and gestured you to follow him. "C'mon, let's go fix that pipe o'yours."

You stride over next to him, bracing the cold as he opened the door of the bar. The lights of the street highlighted his face, showing off the freckles that speckled over him like a thousand kisses. Oh, what you would give to softly connect each spot with your mouth, loving on him sweetly.

But you were shaken from your thoughts as he passed your house, leaving a frown to grace your features.

"Uh, Tommy-" You start.

"I know," he interrupted, tossing a look over his shoulder, a smirk gracing his lips. "Gonna need some tools from mine, so we'll stop there first and go to yours after." You sighed and nodded at his explanation, stuffign your cold-craked hands in the pockets of your coat. "You get any good shots today?"

At first, you're confused at his question before it dawns on you that he's asking about your patrol shift from earlier in the evening. "No, but I got a clicker yesterday. Head shot."

"Good shit."

The walk to his was quick, his tools practically in the entrance of it, as though they were waiting for him. The walk back to yours was even quicker than the walk from the Tipsy Bison to his house. You led him in, the old creak of the door breaking the silence of your space. Tommy followed you, his eyes staying on the door quizzically over his shoulder for a moment before he turned he eyes back to you. You had taken off your jacket leaving you in an old t-shirt that hugged your form, exposing your figure and your pebbled nipples from the cold.

Tommy's eyes wandered over your body, following you as you crouched down by your sink, opening the cabinets. Pointing to the leak, he shifted his attention from you to the pipes. It was a small leak, easily fixable, he thought.

He sighed, setting down his tools, "Shit, sweetheart."

You frown at him while he sat down next to you to get a closer look. Nervously, you chewed on your bottom lip. You didn't know what exactly he meant by his previous comment, which made anxiety push in on your lungs. But also, he was right there. Tommy was just inches away from you, in your home, away from the prying eyes of the outside. It was rare to be alone with him, with anybody, in a such a small town. And the proximity of the two of you made your heart race and your head spin, only amplifying the intensity of the current situation at hand.

"What's wrong?"

"Gonna have to take the whole thing apart." Your face fell, and a smile grew on his face. When you realize he was pulling your leg, you roll our eyes and smack his arm with the back of your hand playfully. He chuckled and shook his head before leaning into the cabinet with some tool you couldn't name. "Nothings wrong, a joint just get loose right here is all. Happens when the weather changes sometimes. You're just lucky it didn't freeze and bust the pipe, because that's when you'd be in trouble." He leaned back out to look at you and grab a small cloth.

You contemplated, and after a moment, you asked "Teach me?"

His eyebrow quirked up in quick surprise before he motioned you over. You leaned back down to lay on your stomach next to his broad frame, the heat from his body radiating from him making your breath catch in your throat.

"Okay, well take this then," he handed you a flashlight. "See this nut right here? This is the one that's loose, so we're gonna take this wrench and just tighten it up a bit. Rightie tightie 'n all that. Can ya turn on the faucet for me?" You stood up to do as he asked. "Yeah, there was just a loose pipe, wasn't tightened all the way." He stood up next to you, and you looked at his eyes shadowed by his brow.

"Thank you," you whispered to him.

"Don't gotta thank me, sweetheart, it wasn't anything." He packed up his tools in his bag and placed it on the counter top before he faced you again. He practically towered over you, looking down his nose, his chest almost pressed against yours. Just looking at him made your thighs clench involuntarily, your body craving his touch. "Besides, there are other ways I could think of for you to thank me, anyway." He whispered lowly.

"That so?" You asked, eyes flicking down to his lips. He stepped closer, bringing a hand to your jaw, thumb brushing over your lower lip. "Well, I think that could be arranged." His eyes shifted at your soft spoken words when you reached up to connect your mouth to his. He accepted you, kissing back, his eyelids fluttering shut. Pulling you in by the waist, his bulge pressed against you, eliciting a moan from your throat that slipped past your lips into him. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue into you, claiming you as his.

Tommy had one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your neck, holding you to him, walked you till your back hit the other counter top. Your hands rested on his chest, inching closer and closer to his neck and shoulders. With you sandwiched between the counter and him, you felt him grow harder against your clothed front, heat building up under your skin. As your lips meshed together, your moans swallowed by him, you let a hand slowly drag it's way up to the base of his throat putting hardly any pressure, just resting. He groaned into you, his rhythm faltering just a little before his eyes opened and he pulled away from you, his grip on your neck pulling you back so he could look you in the eyes.

"Oh, baby," he smiled, his voice sickeningly sweet. "No, no, no, no. We ain't gonna do that. Not tonight, at least. Y'hear me?" You looked at him, his voice sending a rush of arousal to soak your clothed cunt.

You looked him over once again, biting your lip. You shouldn't, but you just smirked as your eyes flitted back to his eyes and giving his neck a little playful squeeze.

"Why not?" You asked him with feigned innocence.

His eyes went dark and hazy before he clicked his tongue in disapproval. Practically manhandling you, he flipped you around so you wouldn't be facing him, leaving him out of your reach while you remained in his.

"Fuck, sweetheart, this what you wanted all along? You just pretend not to know how to fix the pipe to get me to fuck you in your kitchen?"

You whimpered as the cool counter pressed against your chest while he hissed in your ear. Kicking your knees apart, he pulled your pants down just low enough to give him access to you. He felt around, sliding two fingers up and underneath your panties gathering up your slick. He groaned, "Fuck, sweet girl, you're fucking soaked. This all f'me?" You just nod your head in response, shimmying to give him better access. His fingers slipped inside of you, just past your entrance, teasing you as he scolded, "Uh uh, answer me."

"Yes," you sigh, breathless from the state he had you in. "All f'you."

"That's a good, sweet girl," It only took a moment longer for him to make you tremble under his touch, moving his fingers in and out of you, hitting spots you never could reach on your own. His thumb brushed against your clit, drawing a gasp from you at the intense pressure it brought. He chuckled at that and kept his thumb on that little bundle of nerves, rubbing heavy circles.

"Tommy, wait, please—fuck," you exhale with effort, trying to get the words out in one try, but ultimately failing. "Fuck, please—just fuck me."

"Fuck you? Hmm," He pretended to contemplate, removing his hand from your sopping cunt. "I don't know, maybe I should save that for the next time you need me to come over and fix something. Maybe, when I come over to fix that window in your room? The one that's either broken or you purposely leave open so I can watch you fuck yourself on your fingers at night?" Your eyes widen and you look over your shoulder at him. The bastard was smirking, his mouth drawn up to one side before he said, "Oh, sweetheart, don't act so surprised. I know you put on those little shows for me. Yeah?"

He sent his fingers back into you, full force, his pace quickening. He was right, though. You did leave your window open for him to watch sometimes, but the thought of him actually doing so sent a gush of arousal around his hand, beginning to drip down your thighs.

"Fuck, Tommy," you muster up all your remaining strength to quip back at him, "Didn't take you for a tease and a perv."

"Yeah, you fuckin' love it though, baby." With his fingers deep in your pussy and his thumb circling your clit, you felt yourself begin to falter and clench around him, your release just on edge. "Shit, sweet girl, y'gonna come f'me? Need you to come all over my fingers." He whispered, his head resting on your shoulder as he panted and placed hot, open mouthed kisses across the skin of your neck.

"Tommy," you moaned, air being forced past your lips every time he pushed in his fingers just a little further. "Tommy, fuck, I'm gonna come."

"Soak my hand, sweet girl. You're being so good f'me, just finish all over me and I'll give you my cock." You let out a high-squeaked moan at his filthy words in your ear. "Fuck, you want that, sweetheart?" You nodded a soft uh-huh, your release practically imminent now. "There, you go, such a good, sweet girl f'me."

You let go, bands of white hot pleasure thrummed in your core and your head fell forward as you struggled to hold it up, struggled to breathe under his intense pressure and attention he paid you.

"Would'ya look at that?" He muttered in awe as he drew his hand from you, your cum coating his fingers in a sheen. "Fuckin' beautiful, sweetheart, I bet you taste so sweet." He brought his fingers to his mouth, languidly sucking his fingers clean of you, tasting the pleasure which he brought you. He let go with a loud pop, humming softly, before you heard him speak over the quiet clink of a belt buckle. "And wha'd'ya know? I was right."

"You're teasing," you whine at him, praying that he'll just fill the ache in your core, despite your release just moments ago. You just wanted to feel him entirely, feel him deep. He tsked once at your impatience, but he must've been impatient too, because before you knew it, he sheathed himself in you all the way to the hilt, in one long stroke. You gasped at his sudden presence, and he groaned lowly at the feeling of your cunt choking him up. The soft sounds of your noises mixed with the delicious sound of his skin slapping against yours.

"Fuck, Tommy," you groaned, eyes flickering back in your head as the waves of pleasure he offered you consumed your body. You found a new gratefulness for the counter top that you were rested on because the tremble in your legs was growing stronger, weakening support for your body. Sensing your trouble, Tommy moved his hands to grip your hips, steadying you—and also giving him easier access into your cunt.

"Shit, sweetheart, you're so fucking wet f'me. Like you were fuckin' made for me," he stuttered through shaky breaths as he pistoned in and out of you. His cock was fully enclosed in your pussy, pushing up into your stomach, and filling you out. Feeling him brush against your front walls sent you reeling into your next orgasm, still sensitive from the first. "Yeah, that's a good fuckin' girl. My sweet girl takin' me so well, that right?"

"Fuck, Tommy—Tommy," your breathing is coming out in pants now, and your heart beat is thundering in your ears mimicking the clench around his dick. "Tommy, it's too much, wait—"

"Oh, sweetheart, you can take it. You've been so good f'me," his pace faltered as he quickened, nearing his own release.

You mumbled out something unintelligible, drooling pooling from your lips.

"Yeah, you can fuckin' take it," he groaned into your neck, hips faltering. "Fuck, fuck, sweetheart."

He stilled, breathing heavily, while you felt yourself pulsate around him, thick ropes filling into you to the brim.

"Fuck, baby," he sighed, calming himself from the exertion of energy. Breathing in deeply, heartbeat still pounding, you pull up from your counter ever so slightly to look over your shoulder. Just to catch a glimpse of Tommy, as if you didn't it might've been all a dream.

But sure enough he was there. Sweat gleaming on his brow, his hair even more so disheveled than earlier. He looked utterly fucked out, as you surely did as well. You smiled up at him.

"So you look at me through my window, huh?" You chuckle at the pink that tinges his cheeks.

"So you leave open you window on purpose when you change?" He countered, smiling back at you. "Dangerous game you're playin' there."

"Well, maybe you'll just have to come back and fix it then."

[painted-bees]

A quick, sloppy little comic about Magritte

[OC's]

(image description under the cut)

[Image Description: It's a vertical comic strip of 14 panels arranged one under the other. The style is realistic, done with sketchy lines in a dark burgundy. It is not colored or shaded and there is no background. The comic features the interactions of a couple, Magritte (also called Margie) and Rafael (also called Raf). Magritte is a young woman, she is wearing a baggy armhole tank top with a tight fitting black top underneath, shorts and boots. She has a messy bun and a small messenger bag slung over her left shoulder. Rafael is her partner, wearing baggy pants, sneakers, fingerless gloves, V-neck t-shirt and an open button-up jacket with a hoodie and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair has short side with long top bangs and a short goatee.

 (First panel): There's only Magritte visible from the waist up. Off screen, Raf says to someone else: “Magritte has our tickets.” Magritte is excited, looking straight forward. Her left hand in on her bag's strap, her right hand rummaging inside her bag. Magritte says: "Yeah! Even made sure to put them in my wallet so that I wouldn't- uh..."

 (Second panel): She is beginning to look concerned, now with her face turned to her back, both left hand holding the lip to open the bag wider and her right hand still rummaging inside. Magritte says: "wouldn't forget.... Hang on, it's not on it's usual pocket. Haha." The last is a nervous laughter.

 (Third panel): Magritte is kneeling on the ground. Rafael is standing to the side and behind her, only his feet visible. Magritte looks frantic, searching inside her bag. Her right arm is forearm deep digging in her bag. Magritte says: "It's definitely here-! It's the one thing I never forget 'cus I never take it out of my bag!" Rafael says, firmly: "Margie, when you took it out to put the tickets in, did you put the wallet back in the bag?" The letters are bolded, with the word "back" underlined for emphasis. Magritte says: "Give me some credit, there's no way I'm that stupid." The last three words are underlined for emphasis.

 (Fourth panel):  The scene has changed and now Magritte and Rafael are in a car. We see them from the passenger's side. Rafael is driving, looking straight ahead at the road. Magritte is hunched forward, hugging herself with the left hand. Her right hand is holding her head. She is looking out the passenger window, avoiding Raf.

 (Fifth panel):  Rafael turns slightly to look at Magritte.

 (Sixth panel):  The point of view is now a side profile view from the drivers side. Rafael has his left arm leaning on the open window, his right hand on the wheel. Magritte is hunched over facing the passenger window. Rafael says: "I'm not mad at you, if that's what you're worried about." Magritte says: "I can literally feel your disappointment."

 (Seventh panel): Back to the passengers side, Rafael is looking at the road. Magritte is frustrated, no longer leaning her head against her right hand and instead her hand is palm upwards. Rafael says: "Well, yes. It is a disappointing situation, but-" Magritte interrupts: "You'd think I'd be able to do the one thing I was asked to do-! That I'd at least learn from the last billion times I forgot shit. Rafael says, quieter: “that's not where I was going with this...”

(Eighth panel):  Magritte has her right hand holding her face with the palm on her cheek, left hand placing the tips of her fingers on her left temple and eye brows. She is frustrated and angry. Magritte says: "It's not like I've got anything more important rattling around in my brain.  But, for some reason, if it's not my music, or like.... food or something, then it's just not a priority. I can't make myself care enough to make it a priority!"

(Ninth panel): She now has both hands in front of her, elbows bent, finger extended in a vague hand gesture as if there was something in front of her. Magritte says: "I'm an adult in my 20s and I still manage my responsibilities like a child. I'd be more dependable if I could just stop and think for a second, but I'd probably forget to even breathe if it weren't for the..."

 (Tenth panel): Her frustrated expression turned to confusion. Her hands are still in the air in the same position as before. Magritte says:"... why are we parked?" Her noticing this stopped her rant.

(Eleventh panel): Magritte straightens up and faces the window entirely, left hand crossed over her body to lean on the car door. Rafael, off screen: "Margie." Magritte says: "Oh." Magritte's inner thoughts are written around her. "He stopped the car to scold me. No, not ‘scold’. Don't be a child about this. He's disappointed and just needs to make sure you understand so you can do better next ti-"

 (Twelfth panel): Magritte is still looking out the window, but now with a shocked expression. Rafael reached with his right hand, and its now resting gently on her upper back. Rafael interrupts her inner monologue with "I need you to stop repeating the shit your parents and teachers and such yelled at you growing up. They were wrong, and nothing you just said makes sense."

 (Thirteenth panel):  The perspective switches back to the driver's side profile. Rafael says: "A poor memory isn't synonymous with poor priorities. Nor does it speak to a lack of maturity. The priority was there, we just have to build a better habit of checking things before we leave the apartment. Both of us. It's gonna take time. You afford everyone else a ton of patience, all the time. Can you please afford some for yourself? The situation sucks, we were both looking forward to this. But it's not the end of the world. We didn't forget things on purpose. So let's take it easy and try to end the day on a good note. Alright?" Magritte says: "Okay... c-can we um...."

 (Fourteenth panel): Magritte has turned to face Rafael and her eyes are filled with tears and they're running down her cheeks.  Rafael looks startled, lifting his arm off Magritte's back. Magritte says: "Can we get some ice cream on the way back?" Rafael says: "O-of course!" End of description.]

This description was written and provided by Hiwi.

[finelinefae]

safety [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: harry is always there to help bambi, always.

word count: 5.4k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), harry meets the family, crybaby reader lowkey

a/n: apologies for this taking so long. I've moved into university and switched courses within three weeks so I've had to do a lot of adjusting! But I hope you're doing well, thank you so so so much for all the love on the first part of bambi and being so patient with this part <333

this is part 2 of bambi, read part 1 here

. . .

Y/N sighed as she stepped into the living room, her heart sinking at the sight of her mother passed out on the couch. It was Friday night, and her mom was still in her work uniform, one shoe barely hanging from her foot while the other lay haphazardly across the room. A wave of frustration and sadness hit her hard. She had begged her mom to take the day off to watch the boys so she could go on her date with Harry tonight—the date she’d been looking forward to all week.

This was supposed to be their third date, just before she started working with him at Pleasing this weekend. Their last date had been simple—strolling hand in hand by the river, talking about everything and nothing. But tonight was different. Harry had told her to dress up; he had something important to ask her and was taking her somewhere special. Y/N had been buzzing with excitement ever since.

Glancing at her phone, she felt the sting of tears. Halfway through her makeup, she now realized it didn’t matter—she’d have to cancel. With her mother out cold and no babysitter available at such short notice, the responsibility fell on her. And it was ruining everything.

She opened Harry’s contact on her phone, staring at the little pink heart next to his name. Her thumb hovered over the call button as doubt crept in. What if he never wanted to see her again after this? Cancelling last minute was embarrassing, and she dreaded how angry or disappointed Harry might be.

Her thumb pressed down, the ringing growing louder with each second. Anxiety gnawed at her as she picked at the skin around her nails.

Suddenly, the call connected, and Harry’s voice, smooth and soothing like a lullaby, poured through the speaker. “Bambi? Was jus’ about to pick y’ up. You missin’ me already?”

Her lip trembled, and a tear slid down her cheek as she sniffled. “Harry…” Her voice cracked.

��Hey, what’s wrong, love?” Concern filled his voice instantly, and the warmth of it made her chest tighten.

“I-I can’t go on our date tonight,” she confessed, her voice shaky.

“What d’you mean? Don’t be silly, is something wrong?” His slight panic was clear, making her feel even worse.

“No, it’s not like that. It’s just… my mom came home late, and she’s, um, not able to watch the boys, so I have to stay and babysit. I’m really sorry, Harry. I wanted to go tonight, I swear. I understand if you’re mad or—if you never want to see me again—”

“Woah, woah, Bambi, baby, stop panickin’. I don’t hate you, not at all. It’s closer to the opposite, so calm down, yeah? ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice still thick with emotion. “Y’promise?”

“Five pinkie swears, baby,” he chuckled softly, making her giggle through the tears. “It’s alright. These things happen. But are you okay? Need me to grab you anything? Have y’eaten today?”

His kindness made her heart swell. “N-No, but we’ve got stuff in the freezer I can heat up. Maybe we can reschedule?”

“Bambi, I’m already on my way to your house.”

Her breath hitched. “What? But, Harry, I can’t—”

“You think I’d let a little change of plans stop me from seein’ you? Been needin’ to see m’Bambi all day. How ‘bout this: you help your mum, and I’ll come by and make dinner for all of you. Sound good?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Was he real? Was he really this thoughtful, this willing to come over despite everything?

“Harry, you don’t have to—”

“I want to. Now, go get in some comfy pjs, and I’ll stop by the store to grab snacks. Maybe we can watch a movie later. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice lighter now. “That sounds perfect.”

“Alright, I’ll be over in thirty minutes. Take a deep breath for me, Bambi.”

Immediate relief washed over her at the idea of having an extra pair of hands to help her with something that she’d normally be left alone to and better yet it was Harry who was coming to help her. So, she did exactly that - breathe. 

. . . 

Y/N was pushing clothes into the washing machine when she heard the doorbell ring. Her heart skipped a beat or possibly maybe two when she heard it. She forced the door shut on the machine and walked to the front door. She frowned the closer she got when she could already hear Harry’s voice but that was soon followed by the voice of her younger brother. 

“I know jujitsu, you know,” Archie announced, his small five-foot frame blocking the doorway.

“You take classes?” Harry asked, bemused.

“No, I learned it on Roblox,” Archie replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve heard of that one before. You’ll have to show me sometime,” Harry said with a grin.

Archie snorted. “You could just be saying that to get into our house and rob us.”

Y/N’s face heated with embarrassment as she approached the door, ushering Archie out of the way. Harry’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw her. “Y/N, this pizza delivery guy is trying to break into our house,” Archie said. Y/N looked to see Harry holding two pizza boxes and a plastic bag.

“Archie,” Y/N gasped, “this is not a pizza delivery man. This is Harry.”

Harry smiled, clearly trying not to laugh, and offered Archie a small wave. It did nothing to ease the suspicious look on Archie’s face. “Who’s Harry?”

Y/N froze, unsure of how to answer. Harry was both her boss and the man she was dating, but she couldn’t exactly explain that to her little brother. “He’s... my special friend.”

Archie looked between them for a moment, then shrugged and wandered off. Y/N’s shoulders sagged with relief as she turned to face Harry, who was still grinning at her. He looked incredibly handsome in his matching brown suit, his curly hair tousled in that familiar way. Her heart sank a little, knowing he had dressed up for their date.

“H-Harry, I’m really sorry—” she began, but before she could finish, Harry set the pizza boxes down and pulled her into a tight embrace. She breathed in the fruity scent of his cologne as he gently rubbed circles on her back.

“Bambi,” he murmured with a soft sigh, “I missed you.”

She smiled against his chest. “You just saw me the other day, and we FaceTimed last night.”

Harry pulled back slightly, cupping her cheeks with his large hands. “Kiss?”

Her cheeks flushed, as they always did when he asked for a kiss. She stood on her toes, meeting his lips, savouring the softness of his touch and the faint taste of peppermint from his lip balm. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmured against her lips. “I brought pizza.”

“You didn’t have to,” Y/N sighed softly. “I was just going to throw something in the oven.”

“Hey, Bambi.” She looked up, meeting his gaze already fixed on her. “I wanted to. I’m here to help, okay? Now, why don’t we eat this before it gets cold? You grab some plates, and I’ll set the table.”

“O-Oh, okay.” She nodded, a bit flustered. “Just so you know, my brothers can be… intense.”

Harry smiled, his expression easygoing. “It’s okay, I’ve got a niece. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Y/N led him into the living room where her little brothers were scattered. Archie sat in the corner, hunched over the computer, likely playing the game he had mentioned to Harry earlier.

“Who are you?” a small voice piped up. Harry glanced down to see a boy around six or seven, looking at him curiously.

“That’s Y/N’s special friend,” Archie chimed in without even turning around from his game.

“Weren’t you the guy making out with my sister the other night?” The eldest of the three boys, who looked about fourteen, spoke up from where he was watching TV. Despite his age, there was a maturity in his tone that caught Harry off guard.

Harry chuckled, feeling Y/N stiffen beside him. He gave the teenager a polite smile. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“Sammy go and get the plates from the kitchen, Harry bought us pizza.” Sammy huffed, pausing the tv and doing exactly as his sister said. 

“Jack, can you grab an extra chair?” Y/N asked the youngest boy, her voice gentle but firm. Harry watched as the boys immediately followed their eldest sister’s instructions without question. A small pang tugged at his chest—part of him felt for her, having to shoulder the responsibility of looking after three growing boys. He didn’t know every detail of her family life, but seeing the way they interacted was enough to tell him they’d had to adapt quickly.

They all gathered around the table, two extra-large pizzas laid out in front of them. Harry chuckled at the sight of the boys eyeing the food like it was a rare treasure.

“Calm down,” he murmured with a grin, leaning close to Y/N. “Y’ so stiff, Bambi.”

Y/N blushed, fidgeting slightly. “Sorry, I just get so—”

“So?” Harry interrupted, smirking as he tried to coax her into a fluster. “So what, baby?”

“So nervous,” Y/N huffed, her cheeks burning as she realized he was toying with her.

A throat cleared from across the table, and Y/N suddenly felt three pairs of eyes locked onto them. Jack and Archie looked disgusted by the couple’s banter, while the eldest boy, Sammy, was glaring at Harry with an intensity that made Harry suppress a laugh.

“How old are you?” Sammy asked bluntly, his gaze sharp and protective.

Y/N choked on her drink. “Sammy! You can’t just ask people that—it’s rude!”

Harry chuckled, raising a hand to calm her. “No, it’s alright,” he said, amused. “I’m thirty.”

“Whoa, you’re old!” Archie blurted out, eyes wide with surprise.

“Archie!” Y/N gasped, mortified, while Jack burst out laughing.

“I guess it is kind of old,” Harry shrugged playfully, glancing at Y/N with a wink.

“Are you rich?” Sammy pressed, undeterred.

Y/N’s face flushed even more, praying the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

“I do well,” Harry replied, keeping his tone light. “I own a fashion company.”

“That means he’s rich,” Archie chimed in, eyes lighting up. “Do you have a sports car?”

Harry leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, “I own three.”

Archie gasped, his face a picture of awe. “No wonder you can afford two extra-large pizzas!”

“If you think that’s cool, wait till you hear what else I brought,” Harry teased.

“Candy?” Archie’s eyes grew even wider, filled with excitement.

“Better.”

“Ice cream?”

Harry nodded. “Ice cream, candy, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles... you name it.”

Archie looked as though he might pass out from pure joy. Sweets after dinner weren’t a common occurrence in their house unless it was a special occasion.

Harry’s smile softened as his eyes flicked to Sammy, who was still watching him with guarded suspicion. “What do you want from my sister?” Sammy finally asked, his tone sharp.

Y/N cringed, wishing she could disappear like Jack, who was contentedly munching on pizza, completely oblivious to the tension. Her cheeks were already burning before she’d even taken a bite.

Harry’s hand found its way to her knee under the table, a silent reassurance that he knew exactly how she was feeling without her having to say a word.

“It’s still early,” Harry said honestly, his gaze meeting Sammy’s without faltering. “But I really, really like your sister.”

Sammy seemed to relax at that, but not without a final warning. “You’re not allowed to like her as much as we do.”

Y/N’s heart squeezed at the words. Despite the challenges, the boys were her world, her best friends.

Harry smiled warmly, his voice sincere. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

. . .

"Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!" Archie came barreling into the kitchen, his face smeared with chocolate and whipped cream from the ice cream sundaes they’d made earlier. Y/N was bent over the washing machine, pulling out clothes to hang on the makeshift line by the window.

"Harry says he's gonna take us to the indoor waterpark in the city for my birthday! Isn't that awesome? And he beat Sammy's score on the new game he bought us!"

Y/N glanced up, smiling softly at Archie's excitement. The boys had been glued to the computer for hours after Harry surprised them with a game they’d been begging for. The sound of their wild laughter had echoed through the house all afternoon.

Footsteps approached the kitchen, and she looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Harry, I was just telling Y/N about the waterpark you’re taking us to," Archie said eagerly.

Harry’s eyes flicked to Y/N. "Ah, yes," he said, smiling at her. "I heard there’s a certain someone’s birthday coming up soon."

Archie's birthday was still a month away, and Y/N had only planned a simple celebration—movies, takeout, and cake. As Archie bolted from the kitchen, beaming about the waterpark, Y/N’s smile faded slightly.

Harry noticed the shift immediately. "What’s wrong?" he asked, stepping closer and reaching for her hand. "Did I mess something up?"

"N-no," Y/N replied quickly, shaking her head. "You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just... Archie's birthday isn’t for another month."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "So?"

Y/N hesitated, her words stumbling over themselves. "I just don’t want to make promises, you know, in case… I mean, what if…" She trailed off, struggling to find a way to express the growing anxiety in her chest. She adored Harry, more than she could articulate, but a part of her couldn’t help worrying about the future—the uncertainties that came with letting someone new into their lives.

"Bambi," Harry’s voice was soft as he cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Where’d you go?"

She blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

His lips quirked into a gentle smile. "Y’ do this thing where you space out, like your mind drifts off somewhere else ‘cause you're thinkin’ too much."

"I do that?" she asked, surprised.

"Mhm," he murmured, his thumb tracing the little furrow in her brow, the touch sending warmth through her. "I like you an awful lot, Bambi. I plan on stickin' around for a long time."

"You do?" Her voice was small, almost disbelieving.

"Yes, I do. And I really like your brothers—they’re a credit to you."

Y/N opened her mouth to deflect, as usual. "Oh, you mean my mom—"

"No," Harry interrupted gently, shaking his head. "I mean you."

Her lips parted in surprise, her eyes misting over. She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear those words. Without thinking, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, a kiss filled with the gratitude she couldn't quite express in words.

She was about to pull away, but Harry held her close, his hands gripping her hips as he deepened the kiss. His soft, warm lips made her head spin, and for a brief moment, the world around them disappeared.

That is, until Sammy’s voice rang out from the hallway. "I’m coming in, so you better not be swapping saliva in there!"

Harry broke the kiss with a chuckle, glancing over his shoulder. "Alright, alright, we’re behaving," he teased, winking at Y/N before moving to the sink. "Let me help you," he offered, turning on the faucet to start washing the dishes from dinner.

Y/N watched him for a moment, her heart swelling with warmth. The words he’d spoken earlier echoed in her mind—words that had already begun to feel familiar, but only when they came from him.

. . .

Y/N woke up the following morning, not from the alarm she’d set for 6 a.m., but from the rapid thumping of her heart. Anxiety rippled through her, making her stomach twist with nerves. Today was her first day working at Pleasing, her first day officially under Harry’s employment. She was excited, of course, but that didn’t stop the butterflies in her belly from multiplying.

She stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, taking slow breaths to calm herself. Her phone buzzed softly on the nightstand, and she reached over, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the message.

Harry: Morning, Bambi 🌞 There’s a car on its way to pick you up. No need to stress, yeah? I’ll be waiting for you at the office. You’re gonna be amazing x

A small smile crept onto her face despite the nerves. Harry’s words were like a warm hug on a cold morning, making her feel just a little bit braver. She couldn’t help but appreciate how he seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear, right when she needed to hear it.

She quickly typed a reply, her fingers still shaky.

Y/N: Thank you. I’m a little nervous but I’ll do my best. See you soon 💕

Y/N got out of bed and went through her morning routine, trying to focus on each task to stop her mind from spiraling into all the things that could go wrong today. She picked out an outfit she hoped said “professional but approachable,” taking extra care to smooth out any creases in her clothes. When she was finally dressed, she checked the time—6:45 a.m.—the car Harry sent should be arriving any minute.

She stepped outside, the cool morning air doing little to ease her racing thoughts. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. The street was quiet at this hour, and she couldn’t help but feel like the only person awake in the world.

Just then, a sleek black car pulled up in front of her, the driver rolling down the window with a friendly nod. "Y/N?" he asked, and she nodded in response.

“That’s me,” she said, her voice a little shaky. She climbed into the backseat, clutching her bag on her lap as the driver started the journey to the office. She stared out the window, watching the familiar streets blur by, and tried to give herself a little pep talk.

You can do this. You’re ready. Harry believes in you, so believe in yourself, too.

Her phone buzzed in her hand again, another message from Harry.

Harry: Also going on a coffee run, do you want anything? x

Bambi: Isn’t that my job today? x

Harry: It’s my job to take care of you everyday

Y/N didn’t realize how wide her smile had grown until she caught her reflection in the glassy screen of her phone. A soft blush crept onto her cheeks as she tried to compose herself, glancing out the window to distract from the giddy feeling bubbling inside her. She watched as the quiet suburbs melted into the bustle of the big city, her heart thudding against her ribcage. 

Slowly, the car pulled up outside Pleasing. The building was elegant, with an arched doorway and a clean awning that had the brand's name in bold letters. Through the large glass doors, Y/N could see a glimpse of the bright, stylish interior. Her heart pounded as the car came to a stop, her mouth opening with a desperate plea to leave, to turn back and retreat home where she could hide away—but then she saw Harry, and her words fell away for an entirely different reason.

She’d seen Harry in a suit before, but seeing him in full CEO mode was something else. He wore a flawless black-and-white suit, cufflinks gleaming at his wrists. His eyes were stern, his entire demeanor unshakeable—until he looked her way, and his whole form softened.

“You’re here,” His voice was warm and inviting. She wanted to leap into him and hide herself within him but she wanted to be professional.

She stood in front of him, not wanting to get any closer to her new boss, “Good morning, Mr Styles.”

The corner of Harry’s lips quirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Good morning,” he replied, savoring her formality. He took a step closer, his gaze gentle yet focused. “Ready for today?”

“Y-yes,” She said but it wasn’t all that convincing.

Harry grabbed her hand, “You’ll be just fine Bambi.” He murmured the nickname just for her to hear. 

The warmth of his hand around hers steadied her, but it also set her pulse racing. His fingers intertwined with hers, and he kept their joined hands subtly hidden between them as they walked through the grand entrance and into the lobby. Y/N’s nerves started to quiet, replaced by a growing excitement.

As they stepped into the elevator, Harry’s thumb brushed gently over her knuckles. She looked up at him but his eyes were looking ahead. Her eyes fixated on his sharp jawline and smooth, freshly-shaven face; he looked even more polished, clean-cut and distinctly professional since she’d last seen him.

When they reached his office floor, Harry led her down a sleek corridor and into an airy, open workspace with views of the city skyline. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and a few team members looked up with welcoming smiles.

Just ahead, a woman in her mid-thirties with shoulder-length auburn hair and an easy smile approached them. Her professional but warm demeanor put Y/N at ease almost instantly. Harry released Y/N’s hand as he greeted her.

“Lindsey, this is Y/N,” he said, glancing between them. “She’s starting with us today. I thought you might help her settle in and get familiar with everything.”

Lindsey extended her hand warmly. “Oh is this-”

Harry’s gaze lingered on her with a slight, unreadable intensity, prompting Lindsey to pause mid-sentence. Then, noticing Y/N, she broke into a bright smile.

“Y/N! It’s so nice to meet you.” She laughed lightly, her eyes flicking to Harry with a teasing glint. “I have to admit, I’m a little curious why anyone would sign up to be his assistant—he can be a real pain most days.” She shot him a playful look. “But don’t worry, just don’t enter his office at midday - he can get real hangry.” 

Y/N giggled and Harry’s eyes brightened at the sound, ““Y/N,” he said, his voice warm, “you’re in very good hands.” He turned to Lindsey. “Make sure she gets a proper introduction to everything, but don’t overwhelm her.”

Lindsey chuckled. “I’ll keep it light for today, boss. We’d be here all day getting into your list of demands everyday.”

Harry rolled his eyes, and with a final look at Y/N, said, “I’ll see you later, then.” His words were simple, but the small smile he gave her was anything but. As he walked away, Y/N felt the anticipation return, wanting him to come back and be the one to show her around. She wasn’t the best with meeting new people. She was shy and nervous and fumbled over her words too often but Harry had great faith in her so she would try her best to do good. 

“Alright, let’s get started,” Lindsey said, gesturing to an open desk area near Harry’s office. “First things first—coffee? I’ll show you the best spot, and then we’ll make our way through the to-do list Harry sent this morning.” 

. . .

Y/N liked Lindsey a lot. 

She was funny and gentle. Whenever Y/N made a mistake—like earlier when she accidentally printed everything in pink instead of black and white—Lindsey would correct her kindly, reminding her that mistakes happen. Y/N wasn’t used to this kind of patience; her old boss would snap or hiss at even the smallest error. Here, it felt nice to breathe a little easier.

Lindsey spoke warmly about her two little boys, whom she cared for while her husband was away with the military. She had once been a stay-at-home mom, but over time, the isolation began to weigh on her; she craved more than just the role of mother and wanted to be out in the world, around people. When she applied to Pleasing, she’d explained her situation to Harry during her interview, and he had offered her flexible hours so she could still make it home to her boys each evening.

Whenever Lindsey mentioned the things Harry had done for her and her family, her voice would grow thick with emotion, and she spoke of him with genuine admiration. Y/N found herself thinking of her own circumstances and the way Harry had taken her under his wing, feeling a warmth for him settle in her chest.

“Okay, Harry’s in a meeting, so we need to bring in tea and coffee,” Lindsey said, heading over to a small rolling cart neatly stocked with cups, a teapot, and coffee supplies.

She guided Y/N through the arrangement, showing her how Harry liked his tea prepared. “He’s particular about the temperature—hot but not scalding,” Lindsey explained with a wink. “Don’t worry you’ll get the hang of things.”

Y/N carefully poured the tea, her hands steadying with each instruction Lindsey offered. They finished preparing the drinks, and Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself as she reached for the cart handle.

“You’ll be fine,” Lindsey reassured her, offering a supportive smile. “Just go in, keep it simple, and make sure everyone has their drinks. You’ll be a natural at this in no time.”

“I’m going in alone?” Y/N’s eyes widened.

“It’s good practice,” Lindsey grins, “Good luck!”

Y/N squared her shoulders and pushed the cart toward the meeting room. The murmurs grew louder as she approached, but her nerves eased slightly upon catching Harry’s eye. His expression softened for a moment before returning to its professional coolness, a small signal just for her.

As she entered, she was met with the sight of a large glass table surrounded by men in sharp suits, all eyes shifting toward her. Taking a breath, she rolled the cart around and placed the cups in front of Harry and the others. Just as she reached for the teapot, a slight tremor ran through her hand, and she felt a sudden rush of panic.

In an instant, she lost her grip. The teapot tipped, sending hot tea spilling across the table and splattering onto a crisp white shirt belonging to one of the men. The room fell silent, and every gaze shifted from her to the angry figure, whose face flushed crimson.

““Watch where you’re going!” he barked, rising from his seat. “Do you even know how to serve properly?”

Y/N’s heart raced, the color draining from her face. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, a surge of anger rippled through the room.

“Do you think it’s okay to talk to a woman like that?” Harry murmured, his voice laced with malice.

“She stained my shirt! She’s lucky I’m not making her pay for it,” the man continued, and Y/N could see the discomfort on the faces of the other attendees, their expressions telling her they knew he’d crossed a line.

Harry’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them. He reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out a checkbook and a fountain pen. With swift strokes, he began to scribble before turning to Y/N. “Y/N, would you mind delivering this to Mr. Smith?”

Y/N nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she accepted the check, its weight feeling both significant and heavy.

Mr. Smith snatched the check from her hands, glancing down at it with a scowl. Written across the page was Harry’s signature alongside a mere fifty dollars. “Your final check—enough to cover the shirt, I assume? I think I saw the same one in the TK Maxx sale rack.”

“Final?” Mr. Smith asked, incredulous.

“Correct,” Harry replied nonchalantly.

Mr. Smith’s face burned bright red. He huffed, rising from his seat and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The room fell silent. “Meeting adjourned,” Harry announced, and everyone flooded out, eager to escape the awkward tension.

Y/N stood in the corner, barely able to look up. Embarrassment washed over her; she wondered if she could do any job right. Her eyes watered as she bit down on her lip to keep from crying.

Suddenly, two polished shoes came into view, and big hands cupped her cheeks, gently forcing her to meet his gaze. “Are you okay?” Harry asked, concern etched on his face.

She wanted to say yes, to express pride in her efforts and how well she had handled the day, but instead, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his shirt. “I feel like I can’t do anything right,” she admitted, her voice muffled.

Harry sighed, his arms encircling her as he rubbed the back of her head soothingly. “You did nothing wrong.”

“You can’t fire people because of me, Harry.”

“Don’t worry about him. We’ve wanted to get rid of him for ages—just a sexist prick. Turns out you’re a pretty good assistant for giving me an excuse to fire someone on the spot,” he chuckled lightly.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart fluttering as his hand held her cheek, his thumb brushing beneath her eye. “These eyes,” he whispered.

A smile broke through her sadness. “I’m sorry for ruining your meeting.”

“Don’t care, Bambi.” He was so much taller than her, nearly a foot difference, so he had to lean down to brush his nose against hers, their lips ghosting against each other. “You actually made it better.”

“I did?” she whispered, her mind suddenly forgetting the man who had yelled at her.

“Mhm,” he hummed, and then, gently, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and lingering, sending a warm flutter through Y/N that chased away the remnants of her earlier embarrassment. She melted into the moment, her worries fading as Harry’s lips brushed against hers. 

“Okay, what the hell happened?” Lindsey barged into the room, causing Y/N to leap away from Harry, her cheeks flushing.

“Wow, Lindsey,” Harry said, rubbing a hand over his mouth, both of them flustered as Lindsey glanced between them. “Try knocking next time, yeah?”

“Since when have I ever needed to knock?” Lindsey shot back, her eyebrows knitting together as she assessed Y/N, whose face was now bright pink.

“Since now,” Harry replied. Clearing his throat, he added, “If you’ll excuse me…” He brushed past her, leaving the tension lingering in the air.

A laugh escaped Y/N’s lips, even as embarrassment tinged her cheeks; it was the first time she’d witnessed him so flustered. Lindsey arched an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping onto her face. “So, are you two like…?”

“No,” Y/N replied, the denial tumbling out a bit too quickly.

Lindsey shot her a knowing look but chose not to press further. “Might want to let him know about that lipstick stain on his upper lip,” she added, rolling the cart out of the room and leaving Y/N feeling distinctly warm and flustered.

. . .

Harry kissed Y/N with the lights off on her front porch after dropping her home. Y/N melted against him, her fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened. She felt a rush of warmth spread through her, the sweet taste of his breath mixing with the fresh night air. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting perfectly together. “Bambi,” He slurred against her lips.”

“Hm?” She hummed, unable to stop herself when she pulled him closer. 

“I was thinking,” He murmured, pulling away but his hands still firmly gripping her waist, “Maybe this weekend y’ could come to my place and stay the night.”

“The night?” She’d never had a sleepover before let alone one at a boys house. 

“Yeah… Would you be okay with that?” 

“Y-Yeah, I think so.”

“Y’ think so?” Harry grinned, “Are y’ sure?”

She smiled, “I’d like that.”

“Well, alright then,” he murmured, leaning down to place one last, soft kiss on her lips. “Goodnight, Bambi.”

“Goodnight, Harry.” Y/N barely suppressed a smile as she watched him walk to his car, a flutter in her chest as he turned back for a final wave.

Before she turned to step into her house, her phone buzzed and a text came through from Harry.

Harry: I think we have to get better at this whole sneaking around thing

Y/N: Tell yourself that, you kissed me first!

Harry: Can’t help it Bambi 

Harry: I’m obsessed with you

. . .

taglist ~~

@ravenclawmarvel @noididnotsignupforthis @comicalivy  @boomitsallie1 @hazzarules @squirreljoe @c3lline0 @harry2121 @lizsogolden @its-his-dimples @tchalametishot @youngpastafanmug @awritingtree @reidsblessing @idontcareforausernamesblog @madstyles3204 @cherrys4suckers @lomlolivia @tenaciousperfectionunknown

[woniedarlin]

The Price of Perfection

pairing: Academic Rival! Jake x fem! reader

synopsis: You are always first. The one everyone expects to win. Confident, prideful, and untouchable. People admire you, envy you, resent you. But it doesn’t matter because in the end, you always prove them right. Then you go home. And first place isn’t enough. Second is unacceptable. Third is a disgrace. Anything less is failure. But then there’s Jake. Jake, who wins because he loves to. Jake, who has everything you don’t.

And the moment he looked past the perfect image you built, everything began to change.

warnings: This story contains themes of parental neglect, emotional abuse, academic pressure, and self-doubt. It covers on inadequacy, angst, and emotional breakdowns, but also slow-burn romance and comfort. Read at your own risk.

author's note: This story is deeply personal to me. It’s the first time I’ve poured so much emotion into something. If you relate to any part of this, please remember: you are enough. Always. Thank you for reading.

permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n @layzfy @firstclassjaylee @ijustwannareadstuff20

The cameras flashed. The medal's weight around your neck was heavier than it should’ve been. Gold, cold, undeserved. Applauses were loud.

You smiled. Of course you did. It was the expression expected of a champion. Graceful, composed, proud. You had practiced it enough times in the mirror, so much so that it no longer hesitated. You let the corners of your lips go upward just right, enough to appear humble but not so much that you seemed arrogant. Enough to sell the illusion that this victory was yours to enjoy.

Your parents stood at the front of the crowd. Their hands clapped the loudest, and their smiles stretched the widest. They shook hands, nodded in gratitude, and took every compliment thrown their way as if they were the ones who had spent sleepless nights preparing. As if they were the ones who had earned this. “We’re so proud,” they had said when your name was announced. “You did it.”

Did what, exactly?

You stood there as the flashes went off, the cheers rang in your ears, and your parents continued to receive congratulations on your behalf. You stood there and dared to look down.

Second place was crying.

Not just the silent kind, not the polite, quiet tears of someone accepting defeat, but the kind that came from deep inside, that cracked a person open. Their shoulders trembled as they looked down at their silver medal, fingers curling around it so tightly you thought it might shatter.

And then there were the others. The ones who had fought, who had given everything, who had wanted this much more than you ever did. Some stood stiffly, disappointment carved into their faces, blinking back the loss with forced indifference. Others stared blankly at the floor, avoiding your gaze because looking at you only deepened the wound.

It didn’t feel good.

It never did.

Taking something that wasn’t yours to take, crushing someone’s dreams just because you could. It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel right.

And maybe it wouldn’t have felt so hollow if this had been your dream. If you had wanted this as badly as they did. If you had fought, struggled, and clawed your way to the top because it was something you couldn’t live without. But that wasn’t the case.

You had never wanted this.

But you won anyway.

And that was the worst part of it all.

🪢

The hallway was full of students moving in clusters. Conversations were overlapping, and lockers were slamming shut. Same faces, same voices, same excitement over things that would be forgotten by next week. You walked through the center of it all, and people noticed you without needing to say anything. Whispers followed you, talking about your latest win and how easily you had secured another first-place title. People admired you, but bitterness and jealousy were hidden behind their forced smiles.

“Look who’s finally back from their throne,” a familiar voice called out, loud enough to turn a few heads. A heavy arm slung over your shoulder before you could react. It was Seojin, one of your so-called friends, though that word had lost its meaning a long time ago. He grinned down at you, his smile wide. There was something in his face that made it clear he wasn’t celebrating you.

You scoffed, shrugging his arm off easily, adjusting your bag strap as his touch had thrown off your balance. “What, miss me already?” Your voice was light enough to remind him where you stood in this hierarchy. “You should get used to it. Winners are always busy.”

Laughter spread through the group gathered around you. A few people exchanged glances, nodding as if they agreed with each other, truly believing you were unstoppable. Seojin laughed and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Busy collecting more trophies, huh? I have to say, it must be tiring being the best at everything.”

You smirked. “Wouldn’t know. It comes naturally.”

Immediately, the group reacted with a chorus of “oohs” and chuckles. Another voice joined in. “You looked like you belonged on that stage. I mean, holding that trophy, you seemed made for it.” Jihoon added.

For just a moment, your smile faded a little.

“Made for it.”

Those words should have felt like a compliment but instead felt like a reminder. A cage.

But you couldn’t let them see that. So, you laughed easily, like every other lie. “Of course I did,” you said, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “I make everything look good.”

More laughter followed. More voices joined in. More noise.

You kept up this act because it felt natural now. This confident version of yourself, who never had doubts. This group, these people, this constant game of who could seem the most untouchable. It was tiring.

And none of them were even your friends.

They were here because your name meant something. Because standing next to you made them look better. Because being associated with a winner was better than being another nameless face in the crowd.

Some people called you cocky.

Maybe they were right.

Or maybe you just played the part because it was the only thing you knew how to do.

The moment you stepped into the next hallway, the energy shifted. The laughter, the background noise of your so-called friends. It all faded into something heavier. Because there he was.

Sim Jaeyun, or Jake as most would call, was the person who never treated you like a high-status figure. He didn’t feel any pressure from your name. He was a real threat and didn’t even have to try. While you acted like a confident champion, enjoying victories you didn’t care about, Jake was different. He truly wanted this, and that made things more complicated for you.

Unlike you, he was genuinely passionate. He stayed up late studying, not to keep up his image, but because he loved learning. He was brilliant but never showed off. He made people feel comfortable around him. Your presence was sharp and demanding, while he was warm and easygoing. Your so-called friends stuck to you for your status. In contrast, Jake’s friends liked him for who he was, not his achievements. His parents didn’t take credit for his success. They supported him and celebrated his efforts, not just the results.

You had everything. Yet somehow, he had everything you wanted.

And maybe that was why you hated him.

Or maybe you didn’t.

Maybe you didn’t know what to do with him.

Jake looked up as you walked toward him. His face was hard to read. You both seemed very different. You wore an arrogant smirk, surrounded by people who only stuck around when you won. He stood there relaxed, with his friends laughing at a joke you hadn’t heard.

But you needed to keep up your image.

“You seem pretty relaxed for someone who lost yesterday.” You said.

Jake paused his conversation and looked at you, his friends noticing you too. He met your gaze, and his smile was small and genuine momentarily, not bitter or angry. It made you feel like entering a game without knowing the rules. “And you,” he replied, “look a bit worried for someone who won.”

For a moment, your confidence almost falters. Almost. But you quickly kept your expression smooth. “Worried? Not at all. I barely broke a sweat.” You let out a short laugh and raised an eyebrow. “Honestly, you put up a good fight. I almost thought you had a shot.”

Jake kept looking at you. He didn’t react the way others usually did. Instead, he took his time before responding. “Almost, huh?” He spoke as he was contemplating your words. He studied you, and for once, you felt like the one being examined. “I guess I’ll have to try harder next time.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms, shifting your weight to show confidence. “Go ahead. We both know how this usually turns out.”

His lips turned into a slight grin, neither a smirk nor a laugh. “We’ll see.”

It wasn’t a challenge or bragging. It was just a simple statement from someone who seemed to believe that the future was unpredictable. For some reason, that feeling shook you more than anything.

People like you were not supposed to hesitate. People like you were not supposed to let doubt creep in.

But Jake Sim had a way of making you feel uncertain.

You weren’t even sure if he noticed.

🪢

The moment you stepped outside the school gates, you were still the person everyone expected.

You smiled, laughed, and stood tall.

Your so-called friends hung around you, stretching out their goodbyes. They gave half-hearted compliments and exaggerated praise about your latest win. You nodded along, pretending their words mattered. You let them talk, enjoying the moment before you walked away, climbed into the waiting car, and left them behind for the day.

As soon as the car door shut, the act ended.

The silence weighed heavily. The outside noise turned into a dull hum and was muffled by the thick glass. Your confident expression finally dropped. There would be no more forced smiles or sharp comments.

Just quiet.

Your older brother, Jay, was already in the backseat, sitting comfortably with his long legs stretched out. He looked calm, as usual. When you settled beside him, he glanced up from his phone and met your eyes. “Hey,” he said, relaxed.

You hummed back, leaning against the seat and feeling your exhaustion set in.

“How was school?” Jay asked. He asked because he always wanted to hear it from you, even if he knew the answer.

“It was alright,” you replied. It was the most straightforward answer.

Jay didn’t respond right away. He studied you momentarily, his fingers tapping his phone, deciding whether to call you out on your lie. In the end, he didn’t press you. He never did.

The car started moving away from the school, and with it, the image you had kept up faded. You watched the students outside continue their laughter and conversations. What felt suffocating just moments ago now seemed far away.

No one at school knew this version of you.

You didn’t speak unless someone spoke to you. You didn’t fill silences with witty remarks or smug comments. You didn’t carry the weight of expectations. You didn’t feel like you were performing.

At school, you were never quiet. You were always loud and talking, making sure everyone noticed you. Being quiet meant giving others space to think and see through you.

But in the car, you didn’t have to fill the silence.

In the car, you could just be you.

So, you let the quiet settle. You relaxed your shoulders. You stared out the window, watching the city blur, knowing you could just be yourself for the next twenty minutes.

Jay didn’t say anything else. He lets you sit in silence and take it in. And that was enough.

🪢

The moment you stepped into the house, you already knew something was wrong. The air was too tense. Too quiet. You barely had time to take off your shoes before your mother called your name. You could tell something was wrong. You always knew when it was.

Your father was already in the living room, which made it clear there would be no discussion. Your mother stood next to him, looking exhausted and grim. “You didn’t sign up,” she said. It wasn't a question or an accusation. Just a fact. They already knew the answer before you walked in.

Your stomach dropped. Of course.

You had tried not to mention the competition and hoped they wouldn't notice when the deadline passed. You thought, maybe for once, they would let it go.

But they didn’t.

“You didn’t even try,” your father said sharply with his piercing gaze. “We had to call them ourselves. We begged them to let you in after registration closed.”

Begged.

That word felt heavy and suffocating. Your well-respected parents had to use their influence and name because you didn't do what was expected. Your mother sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Do you know how embarrassing that was? Do you even care?”

“I just won a championship,” you replied. You didn't raise it or show your fatigue, but it was hard not to let it show. “Why does it matter if I skip this one?”

Your father shook his head in disbelief. “Why does it matter?” he repeated, astonished that you would even ask. “Do you think success ends with one win? That one victory is enough?”

Your mother stepped forward, her face showing disappointment and frustration. “Do you realize how many doors this could open for you? How many people would do anything for a chance like this?”

You knew because you had seen those students who wanted it badly. They cried when they lost and studied late into the night, chasing something that was handed to you.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re competing,” your father said firmly. “End of discussion.”

There it was. They made the decision for you, as usual.

Your mother sighed and rubbed her temples. “We already submitted your name. The least you can do is show some gratitude.”

Gratitude.

You swallowed the bitterness rising in your throat.

There was nothing left to say.

So, you nodded. You nodded because it was easier than fighting. Because no matter what you wanted, it never really mattered.

Because, at the end of the day, this was the life you had been given.

And no matter how much you wanted to, you could never escape it.

“I’m sorry,” you said with the words barely escaping past the tightness in your throat.

Your father scoffed, turning away because your apology wasn’t worth acknowledging. Your mother sighed before walking past you, her hand lightly brushing against your shoulder, not as a sign of comfort but as if she were dismissing you.

And just like that, the conversation was over.

Because in this house, your choices didn’t matter.

Only the results did.

🪢

Everything in the dining room was arranged perfectly. The food was carefully portioned. It looked beautiful, but it tasted like nothing to you. You sat still, your back straight, moving your fork absently, pushing the food around rather than eating it. The conversation between your parents was casual, even. But you knew where this was going before they even said it.

Then, there it was.

“Jake placed first in the regional math competition,” your father said as he cut into his steak. “I spoke to his father earlier today. Apparently, he not only won, but he beat last year’s champion by a huge margin.”

The muscles in your jaw tightened. You knew better than to look up.

Your mother hummed, sipping her wine before delicately setting the glass down. “I’m not surprised,” she said, dabbing with a napkin at the corner of her lips. “Jake’s always been a hardworking boy. So polite, too. His mother told me he spends extra hours studying every night without being told. He even tutors younger students in his free time.” She sighed, shaking her head, almost wistful.

“You could learn a thing or two from him.”

You knew it was coming.

That didn’t make it any easier to hear.

Your grip on your fork tightened, your fingers pressing into the cool metal. You didn’t lift your head. Didn’t argue. Didn’t say anything at all.

Your father continued, “Jake doesn’t have everything handed to him,” he said, placing his knife down with a soft clink. “And yet, he’s still doing better than you.”

The words sat heavy in the air, heavier than the food sitting untouched on your plate. Jay, who had been quiet up until now, let out a sharp exhale. He placed his utensils down with more force than necessary, the sound cutting through the tension in the room. “You’re acting like she’s not already winning every other competition,” He spoke calmly, but you could hear a tension in his voice that only you noticed. “Maybe, instead of comparing her to someone else, you should acknowledge what she had done. Instead of acting like it’s never enough.”

Your mother shook her head, seeing what he said was unreasonable. “That’s not the point, Jay,” she said sharply.

“Then what is the point?” Jay shot back. He looked directly at them. “That no matter how much she achieves, it’s still not enough for you?”

Your father turned to him. He didn’t get angry. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said as if that was the end of it. As if that was all that needed to be said.

And just like that, the discussion was over.

There was no room for argument. There is no room for anything.

Your parents continued eating, their conversation turning to something lighter, meaningless, as if the weight of their words hadn’t just settled in your chest like a stone. It was as if they hadn’t reminded you once again that you were still not enough. You forced yourself to take a bite, chewing slowly, swallowing past the lump in your throat.

Jay glanced at you from across the table, his expression softer now, but he didn’t say anything else.

Because he knew, just as you did, that there was nothing left to say.

🪢

Jake didn’t think about you much. Not in the way others did.

To everyone else, you were a name that carried weight, a student who stood at the top without fail. People whispered about you in the halls. Some with admiration, some with jealousy. You had everything. The grades, the reputation, the influence. And you knew it. You walked through the school like it belonged to you, like everyone else was just a step below, trying to catch up.

Jake never had to catch up.

He had always been fine where he was. He worked hard, he did well, and that was enough. He didn’t need to stand on a podium to prove anything. His parents were proud whether he won or not. His friends didn’t care if he was in first place or fifth. His achievements were his, not something for others to measure their worth against.

That was the difference between you and him.

You acted like everything was a competition. Every test, every ranking, every moment you could use to remind people where you stood. It was almost entertaining sometimes. The way you smirked when your name was called first, the way you barely spared a glance at the people below you.

People always assumed the two of you were enemies. The belief that academic rivals are destined to despise each other. But Jake never really hated you.

He didn’t respect you either.

Because arrogance didn’t impress him.

So, when he passed by you in the hallway, watching as you threw an arm around your so-called friends, laughing too loudly, standing too tall. He didn’t feel envy. He didn’t feel admiration.

He just felt nothing.

And if you ever turned your gaze his way, lips twisting into that confident smirk, daring him to try and take your place at the top. He only ever smiled back, easy, unbothered.

Because, unlike you, he had nothing to prove.

🪢

The room was silent except for the clicking of keyboards and the scratch of pens against paper. The weight of expectation pressing down on your shoulders. Your fingers flew across the page, solving, calculating, writing. Each answer had to be perfect. Each step is precise.

You couldn’t afford to be slow.

You glanced at the timer. Two minutes left.

Your heartbeat pounded fast. Your breathing was shallow. You could hear the clock ticking. It's louder than it should be. Your grip on the pen tightened until your knuckles turned white.

One last question.

Your eyes looked at the numbers on the screen. You ran through the calculations in your head, fingers trembling as you wrote them down on the paper.

Something didn’t feel right.

You double-checked. No, no, no. This wasn’t what it was supposed to be. You rewrote the equation, erasing and correcting. The answer wouldn’t come out right. The numbers blurred together, your mind racing faster than you could keep up.

Your hands were sweating.

One minute.

You swallowed hard. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t-

Your hand slipped. The pen streaked across the page, ink smudging. You cursed under your breath, hastily fixing the mess, but-

Thirty seconds.

Shit

Shit

Shit

Your breath hitched. You were running out of time. You forced yourself to write down the answer, even if you weren’t sure. You couldn’t leave it blank. You couldn’t-

Five seconds.

Your eyes darted to the scoreboard.

Jake’s score was higher.

Your stomach dropped.

No.

The timer beeped.

The competition was over.

Jake had won.

🪢

This is what it feels like.

To be second.

The cameras flashed, but they weren’t for you this time. Your lips twitched, struggling to form the familiar, practiced smile. It was supposed to be easy. You had done it a thousand times before, in every victory and moment you stood at the top.

But this time, you couldn’t.

You stood there, trophy in hand, a step lower than ever. A step below Jake.

Jake, who stood on the podium above you, smiling. Genuine, effortless, like he belonged there. His name was called, his score announced, and the crowd cheered. His parents were among them, their voices the loudest, their pride so clear. His friends clapped, laughing, celebrating with him.

You swallowed hard.

Your eyes looked to where your parents sat.

They weren’t clapping.

They weren’t smiling.

They weren’t doing anything.

Their faces were blank, unreadable, but that only made it worse. It would have been easier if they were angry, if they scolded you, demanded answers, questioned why you weren’t standing where you were supposed to be.

But they didn’t.

They just watched.

And somehow, that silence crushed you more than any words ever could.

You turned back to Jake, forcing yourself to look. He was still smiling, still happy, still surrounded by people who were happy for him.

You had never been jealous of him before.

But now?

Now, you wished you knew what it felt like to win and actually deserve it.

🪢

The medal was cold against his skin. But his heart was warm.

Warm from the embrace of his parents, their arms wrapped tightly around him, their voices with nothing but pride. Warm from his mother’s teary smile as she cupped his face, whispering you did so well. Warm from his father’s hearty laughter, the way he clapped him on the back and said, we knew you could do it, son.

Warm from the cheers of his friends, their voices overlapping, already talking about celebrating, about how Jake had earned this.

It felt good.

Not just winning. But knowing, truly knowing, that he deserved this moment. That the people around him were happy for him, not because of what he had achieved, but because it was him. “Excuse me for a second,” Jake murmured, offering them a smile before stepping away. The main hall was busy with flashing cameras and loud applause. He just needed a breather, a moment to let it all sink in.

But as he walked toward the quieter side of the building, his steps slowed.

He saw you.

And it wasn’t at all how he expected.

Your father stood in front of you, voice low but strict. Your mother was beside him, her arms crossed, her words quieter but no less cruel.

You didn’t look at them.

Your head was bowed, your hands clasped so tightly in front of you that your knuckles had turned white.

Jake stopped in his tracks.

For as long as he had known you, you had never looked like this before.

You, who always carried yourself with that arrogant smirk. You, who always made everything a competition, never settling for anything less than first. You, who always acted like winning was your right.

Now, you looked-

No. You didn’t look like anything at all.

Your face was blank. Your shoulders stiff. Like you had frozen in place, unable to move, unable to fight back.

And then-

Your father exhaled. “Embarrassing.” His voice was something worse than anger. More like disgust. “Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for us?”

“Second place?” Your mother scoffed. “Do you think that’s acceptable? After everything we did for you?”

Jake clenched his jaw.

It was the way they spoke. Like you had failed them. Like coming in second was the same as losing entirely. Like you were nothing more than a disappointment.

And then it happened.

Your father reached forward, fingers gripping the silver medal around your neck. Without hesitation, without a second thought-

He ripped it off.

The thin ribbon snapped. The medal clinked against his wedding ring, slipping from his fingers-

Into the trash.

Jake felt sick to his stomach

You didn’t move.

Didn’t react.

Didn’t even look at it.

Like it wasn’t even there.

Like it never mattered.

Your parents didn’t wait for you. They turned, walking away, their faces unreadable, like this was routine. Like they had done this before.

And you-

You followed.

Quiet. Expressionless.

Like you weren’t even there.

Jake couldn’t move.

His hands tightened into fists. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what he had just witnessed.

Was this… normal for you?

Had this been happening every time you lost?

No. Jake knew you. He knew your pride, your arrogance, the way you carried yourself with confidence.

But was it ever real?

Jake had never questioned what was behind your smirks, your constant need to be first.

Not until now.

🪢

Your bedroom was dark. You sat at the edge of your bed, staring at nothing.

You should be crying.

Shouldn’t you?

But you felt nothing.

Not anger. Not sadness. Not even disappointment.

Just… numbness.

Jay knelt in front of you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. His warmth covered your skin, but it didn’t reach the coldness inside. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just held you, like he always did when things felt too heavy, when you came home and locked yourself away, and when the weight of expectations became too much to carry alone.

His embrace was the only thing tethering you to reality.

And it hurt.

Because Jay was all you had.

The only person who saw you for more than just a name. The only person who didn’t care if you were first or second or last.

The only person who stayed.

“…I’m proud of you,” Jay whispered. His voice was calm, but there was something fragile in the way he held you. He was afraid you’d shatter. “No matter what, I always am.”

Your hands clenched the fabric of his sweater, but you still didn’t speak.

Because what was there to say?

That you never wanted any of this?

That winning had never been your dream?

That you were tired. So, so tired of being the person everyone expected you to be?

That when your father threw your medal away, he wasn’t just throwing away an award. He was throwing away you.

Jay pulled back slightly,

“Get some rest,” he murmured. “Please.”

You knew you wouldn’t.

Because even with your eyes closed, the weight of it all would still be there.

Pressing. Crushing.

Never letting go.

🪢

You had been walking through life on autopilot for as long as you could remember.

Winning, smiling, shaking hands, collecting medals like they meant something. Like they made you something. It was a routine now. Just another thing you did because it was expected. Because that was who you were supposed to be. And yet, standing at the podium while staring at Jake Sim of all people, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Exposed.

You weren’t sure why you were still here. The hallway was empty. The competition had ended yesterday. The results had already been burned into everyone’s minds.

Jake won. You didn’t.

Simple as that.

But it wasn’t simple. Not when you could still hear the sound of your father’s voice slicing through your ribs, carving up whatever was left of you. Not when you could still see the silver medal at the bottom of that trash can.

Jake’s voice cut through the silence.

“You don’t look happy.”

Oh, he’s here too.

You scoffed. “You sound surprised.”

“I thought winning was everything to you.”

Your fingers twitched at your sides. “Yeah, well. First time for everything.”

“You don’t seem that upset about losing.”

That made you look at him. He wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t smug. He was just… watching. Like he had been watching all night.

“What are you getting at, Sim?”

Jake looked at you. “I saw what happened.”

The world around you blurred.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What?”

“Outside. After the competition.” He tilted his head. “I saw your father.”

“I saw him throw your medal away.”

You wanted to laugh. To brush it off. To say so what? But the words wouldn’t come.

He continued. “That wasn’t the first time, was it?”

You swallowed, “Mind your own business, Jake.”

He didn’t back down. “I see you now.”

Your nails dug into your palms. “And what exactly do you think you saw?”

“Someone who’s exhausted.”

A slow, bitter smile appeared on your lips. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But I know what it looks like when someone’s been forced to win their whole life. And I know what it looks like when they finally realize they don’t want to anymore.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, before you could stop yourself, before you could shove the words back down. Your voice slipped out, quieter than you intended.

“What would you have done?”

Jake blinked. “What?”

You clenched your jaw. “If you were me. If you had my parents, my life, my expectations. What would you have done?”

His expression changed. Softer. Almost… sad.

“I don’t know.”

You huffed out a bitter laugh. “That’s what I thought.”

Jake didn’t argue. He just watched you like he was waiting for you to say something real.

But you didn’t.

Because you didn’t know how.

So instead, you did what you always did.

You turned and walked away.

🪢

The sun was beginning to set. Jay had just stepped out of a convenience store, a cold soda in hand, when he heard someone call his name.

“Jay?”

He turned, barely catching a glimpse before an arm wrapped around his shoulder in a quick bro hug. “Jake, man!” Jay grinned, giving him a solid pat on the back before stepping away. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Jake smirked. “Yeah, I was just passing by. You headed somewhere?”

“Nah, just grabbing something to drink before going home.”

Jake glanced at the can in Jay’s hand and grinned. “Still hooked on soda, huh?”

“Still better than your overpriced coffee addiction,” Jay shot back.

Jake let out a laugh. “Fair.”

They found a bench nearby and sat down, cracking open their drinks. “Man, feels like forever since we just sat down like this,” Jay said, taking a sip. “Like when we were younger. Back when drinking soda made us feel cool.”

“Still does,” Jake replied, and they both chuckled.

The conversation was easy. They talked about random things. Old friends, stupid childhood memories, how fast time was passing. But then Jake’s playful energy in his eyes dimmed just slightly.

“Jay… can I ask you something?”

Jay raised a brow. “Since when do you ask permission?”

Jake didn’t laugh this time. His fingers tapped against his can. “It’s about your sister.”

Jay’s smile faded.

“What about her?”

Jake hesitated, just for a second, but long enough for Jay to notice.

“I saw…” Jake paused. “Never mind.”

But Jay already knew.

The way Jake wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Jay set his drink down, voice calm but firm.

“What did you see, Jake?”

Jake didn’t answer right away. He looked like he was deciding whether to speak at all. Jay didn’t rush him. Finally, Jake continued. “After the competition… I saw her with your parents.”

Jay didn’t react, not outwardly. He just kept his gaze on Jake. Jake hesitated, but now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. “I didn’t mean to listen, but I—I heard what they said. What they did.” He clenched his jaw. “Jay, they threw away her silver medal.”

Jay’s expression didn’t change. He simply took another sip of his drink,

“Is that all?”

Jake frowned. “Jay-”

“No, really,” Jay cut in. “Is that all you saw?”

Jake stared at him confused. “What do you mean?”

Jay scoffed, shaking his head. “If you think that’s bad, then you haven’t seen anything yet.”

Jake felt something cold settle in his stomach. He had always known Jay’s family was strict, but this… this was something else.

“How long has it been like that?” Jake asked quietly.

Jay leaned back against the bench. “Since forever.”

Jake’s grip tightened on his soda can. “Why don’t she say anything?”

“Because it wouldn’t change anything.”

Jake hated how casually Jay said it, like it was just a fact of life. Like it wasn’t something that should make someone furious. “I don’t get it,” Jake admitted. “Why did she still… play along? Why act like everything is fine?”

Jay finally looked at him tiredly. “Because that’s the only choice she have.”

Jake didn’t know what to say to that. For the first time, he regretted knowing. Because now, he couldn’t unsee it. He couldn’t forget the way you had stood there silently and not moving, as your father discarded your achievement like it was nothing. He couldn’t forget how you had walked away, your shoulders heavy, your head bowed. Not out of shame, but out of exhaustion.

He had always thought of you as arrogant, competitive, impossible to break.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

“You know, she’s always been quiet,” Jay said suddenly.

Jake looked at him confused. “Quiet?”

Jay nodded. “Yeah. Like, really quiet. Always has been. Since we were kids.”

Jake frowned, trying to piece that together with the girl he knew. “That doesn’t sound like her.”

Jay chuckled. “Yeah, well, that’s because you don’t know her like I do. People think she’s all confidence and competition, but that’s just what she lets them see. You strip all that away? She barely says a word.”

Jake stayed silent, letting that sink in.

“She was always the quietest one in the room,” Jay continued. “Never talked much, never caused trouble. Just did whatever was expected of her. I think people used to forget she was even there sometimes.”

Jake found that hard to believe. “So why the change?”

Jay shrugged. “Didn’t change. Not really. She still doesn’t talk much when she doesn’t have to. Just learned how to play the part when she needs to.”

Jake tilted his head, thinking back to all the times he had seen you surrounded by people, laughing, teasing, always in control of a conversation. And yet, he couldn’t remember a single time you had actually talked about yourself.

“So all that confidence-“

“Not her,” Jay cut in. “But, she’s still quick-witted, still kinda funny when she wants to be. But when she’s not ‘performing’ for people? She’s quiet. Always has been.”

Jay stretched his legs out. “You know, you should at least try to be friends with her.”

Jake raised a brow. “Friends?” He let out a small laugh. “Pretty sure she’d rather choke than let that happen.”

Jay smirked. “Yeah, she’s dramatic like that. But she’s actually really funny when you get to know her.”

Jake gave him a confused look. “Funny?”

Jay nodded. “Like, in a really deadpan way. She doesn’t even try, but it makes it worse because she says stuff so seriously. And she’s good at keeping a straight face too, so people never know if she’s joking or not.”

Jake thought about it. He had seen glimpses of that before, the way you could make a single remark and have people either dying of laughter or questioning their entire existence. But he had always assumed you did it on purpose, as part of the persona you carried.

“You’re telling me that under all that arrogance, she’s just… quiet and funny?”

Jay grinned. “Yep. Oh, and she also eats weirdly. She cuts everything so neatly.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Jay chuckled. “It’s weird. She won’t just bite into a burger. She’ll actually cut it first. Like, who does that?”

Jake laughed.

Jay continued. “But seriously. She’s not as impossible as you think. Just… don’t be an idiot about it.”

Jake stayed quiet. He didn’t know why, but the idea of getting to know you, really know you, stuck with him longer than it should have.

🪢

The wind was pushing against you like it wanted to knock you over. You welcomed it. The cold, the force of it, it was the only thing that felt real right now.

Footsteps.

You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“You always come up here when you’re pissed off,” Jake said.

You exhaled through your nose. “And yet you always follow me. Should I start calling you my shadow? ”

“If it gets you actually to talk, sure.”

You huffed a dry laugh. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

Jake didn’t say anything. He just walked forward, stopping beside you, mirroring your posture as he leaned against the railing. For a while, neither of you spoke. “You lost back there,” he said finally. Not taunting, not victorious. Just a fact.

You closed your eyes briefly before reopening them. “Yeah. I did.”

A pause. Then, softly, “And? ”

You swallowed. “And… it’s funny.” Your voice was quieter than you intended. “Because I didn’t even want to win.”

Jake turned his head toward you, but you fixed your gaze on the skyline. You couldn’t look at him. Not now. “Then what do you want? ” His voice was gentle.

You opened your mouth. Then closed it.

What did you want?

The question pressed against you. You’d spent your whole life running, fighting, and competing. Chasing after a finish line someone else had drawn for you. You were always trying to get ahead and be the best. Not because you wanted it but because you were expected to. So then… what was left when all of that was stripped away?

Jake was still watching you, waiting. But you had no answer.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I don’t know.”

He didn’t respond right away. When he finally did, his voice was quiet. Almost… sad.

“You know, for all the years I’ve known you… I don’t think I’ve ever really known you at all.”

Your throat tightened. You finally turned to look at him.

“Let me help you figure it out,” he said.

And for the first time in your life, you wanted to let someone try.

The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

“How?”

It wasn’t arrogant. It wasn’t with the usual sharpness you carried. It was… quiet. Uncertain. Real.

Jake was caught off guard. Maybe he had expected you to scoff, to push him away like you always did. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

You were tired.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw as if thinking. “We start small,” he said finally. “We talk. We stop pretending to know everything about each other when we don’t.”

Your fingers loosened around the railing. “And then? ”

“And then we figure it out.”

You stared down at your hands. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not.” Jake studied you. “But it doesn’t have to be impossible either.”

You swallowed. “Why do you even care? ”

He was silent for a long time, long enough that you almost regretted asking. But when he spoke, his voice was softer than you had ever heard it.

“Because I saw you that day,” he said. “With your parents. I saw the way they looked at you. The way they spoke to you. And I realized… you’ve never had someone who listens to what you want, have you? ”

No. You hadn’t.

You didn’t even know what you would say if someone ever asked.

You turned away from him, your grip tightening against the railing again. “I don’t need your pity, Jake,” you murmured, but even you didn’t sound convinced.

“It’s not pity,” he said. “It’s just the truth.”

The truth.

You let out a bitter laugh. “You act like it’s that easy. Like suddenly, because you noticed, something will change. It won’t.” You inhaled sharply. “My parents won’t. I won’t.”

“Then let’s stop talking about them,” Jake said. “Just for a second. Forget them. Forget all of it. Just tell me. What do you want? ”

There it was again. That question.

“I…” Your fingers trembled. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay.” His voice was steady. “Then we start there.”

You turned to look at him, and for the first time, you didn’t see Jake as your rival. You didn’t see the boy who beat you, who had everything you didn’t. He was just looking at you.

And for once, that was enough.

🪢

The crisp rustle of paper snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Here you go,” your professor said and slid a registration form onto your desk with a smile. “I assumed you’d be competing again this year. You wouldn’t want to waste your momentum, right? ”

You stared at it. The words are printed at the top. Bold, formal, suffocating. It felt heavier than it should.

“Right,” you muttered and forced a smile as you picked it up.

Of course. Of course, they’d assume. Because that was who you were. The star student, the prodigy, the competitor. Even if you hadn’t breathed a word about joining, people just knew. Your parents must have already whispered it to the right ears. You walked out of the classroom, staring at the form in your hands. It felt like holding a contract with no escape clause.

And then, before you could process it, the paper was gone.

“What’s this? ”

Your head snapped up. Jake. Standing in front of you, turning the paper over in his hands.

“Give it back,” you muttered, reaching for it, but he took a step back.

“Are you actually signing up for this? ” His tone wasn’t mocking, but something about it irritated you.

“It’s not like I have a choice,” you said flatly. “They expect me to.”

Jake’s face didn’t change. “And do you want to? ”

You scoffed. “Why do you always ask me that? ”

“Because you never answer,” he said.

Your fingers twitched at your sides. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“It should.”

He was so sure. So convinced. You almost envied him for it.

“Then tell me, Jake,” you said. “If I say no, if I throw this form away and never look back. Then what? ”

Jake didn’t hesitate. “Then I’ll be right there with you.”

“What-”

“If you don’t sign up, I won’t either,” he said. “If you want to walk away, then let’s walk away. Together.”

Is he being serious right now?

“Why? ” you whispered.

“Because I told you. I want to know you. The real you. And if that means letting go of some dumb competition, then so be it.”

You had never felt so seen in your entire life.

🪢

The aluminum can was cold in your hands. You stared at it, confused, before glancing at Jake.

“…Why? ” you asked as your brows furrowed.

Jake only shrugged. Popping open his own can with a hiss. “You looked like you needed one,” he said simply and brought the soda to his lips.

You eyed him for a moment longer before taking a small sip. The carbonation fizzed against your tongue. It gave you something to focus on. Something other than the boy sitting beside you. Jake leaned back against the bench, his arm resting casually along the backrest. “Jay was right,” he said. “You really are quiet.”

You paused mid-sip. Lowering it just enough to glance at him.

“Huh? ” You weren’t sure what he meant by that.

Jake didn’t look at you right away. Giving you space to process his words. “I mean… when you’re not performing. When you’re not playing the role everyone expects. When you’re not competing or surrounded by people who only care about your name.” He finally turned to you and smiled. “You don’t say much at all.”

You pressed your thumb against the can’s surface. “And that’s a problem? ” Your tone was neutral.

Jake shook his head. “Not at all,” he said steadily. “Just… different.” He took another sip of his drink before adding, “I think I like this version of you more.”

That was strange. You weren’t used to being seen like this. To someone noticing the parts of you that existed outside of competition, outside of expectations. You didn’t know how to respond. So, you didn’t. Instead, you took another sip of your soda, letting the taste of artificial sweetness and carbonation sit heavily.

“I’m jealous of you.”

The words left your mouth before you had the chance to second-guess them. They weren’t said with bitterness or anger. Just exhaustion. A quiet sort of truth. Jake didn’t react at first. He was processing your words. “Jealous? Of me? ” His voice held genuine surprise.

You let out a breath while your shoulders sagged. “Yeah.” You turned the can in your hands again, staring at the condensation gathering on the surface. “You have everything I don’t. A supportive family. Friends who actually care. You don’t have to prove yourself every second just to be worth something.”

Jake stayed quiet, listening. He always listened.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be me,” you continued, voice quieter now, but no less raw. “To have people around you, but still feel alone. To have a name everyone respects but never be sure if anyone actually likes you. To constantly win, but never feel like you’re allowed to lose.” You let out a dry chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “And the worst part? I don’t even want to win.”

Jake’s face was showing understanding. Or pity. You weren’t sure which one was worse.

“Then why do you? ” His voice was gentle.

You opened your mouth. Then closed it.

Because you didn’t have an answer. Or maybe you did, but you weren’t ready to say it out loud.

Jake leaned forward slightly. “I don’t know how you feel,” he admitted. “I won’t pretend I do. But… you don’t have to be alone in it.”

You scoffed. “And what? You’re going to save me? ”

“No,” Jake said simply. “But I can listen. If you let me.”

You had spent so long keeping these thoughts buried. Locked behind walls built too high for anyone to climb. But somehow, he had found his way through.

“Jay is the only thing I have,” you admitted.

Jake stilled beside you. “What do you mean? ” he asked, though you could tell he already had an idea.

“He’s the only one who really knows me. Who doesn’t care about the name, the rankings, the medals. If he wasn’t there…” Your throat tightened, but you forced the words out. “I think I’d have nothing.”

Jake didn’t speak right away. His eyes on you. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than before. “You know that’s not true, right? ”

You laughed bitterly. “It is.” You gestured vaguely. The proof was all around you. “Everyone else only sticks around because of the reputation. Because it benefits them. I see it. I know it. And my parents-” You stopped yourself. “They only care about the success, not the person behind it.”

Jake was quiet for a moment. “That’s not how it should be.”

“Yeah, well.” You forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Not all of us get to have what you have, Jake.”

Jake frowned. “And what do you think I have? ”

“Everything.” The word was heavier than you expected. “You have people who support you. People who love you. Who don’t just see you as a title or an achievement. You don’t have to fight for their approval, because you already have it.”

Jake held your gaze. Then, slowly, he set his can down beside him and leaned back on his hands. “I don’t think that means I have everything,” he murmured. “Not if it means you have nothing.” Then, he stretched beside you. “You know, I never thought I’d see the day where you admitted you were jealous of me.”

You shoved his arm lightly. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I won’t. I’ll just make sure to remind you every chance I get.” He grinned. “‘Jake, you have everything,’” he mimicked in a terrible impression of your voice. “‘Jake, you’re so humble, so talented, so-’”

You shoved him harder this time. “I take it back. I’m not jealous of you. I pity you.”

Jake only laughed, catching himself before he could tip over. “Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your lips turned upwards despite yourself.

“So,” Jake finally said while tapping his fingers against his knee. “Since we’re being honest today. What do you actually like? You know, aside from crushing your opponents in competitions.”

You raised a brow. “Who says I like that? ”

“You sure act like it.”

“I don’t know.” You hesitated. “I guess… I never really thought about it. I’ve just been doing what’s expected of me.”

Jake hummed thoughtfully. “Well, maybe it’s time you start.”

You glanced at him. It was unsettling how easily he could be both annoying and unexpectedly kind in the same breath. “And how exactly do I do that? ” you asked.

Jake shrugged. “Figure it out. Try something new. Do something for yourself instead of everyone else.” He paused, then smirked. “Like, I don’t know. Maybe getting ice cream with your ‘rival’ after school?”

You narrowed your eyes. “That sounds suspiciously like a date.”

“Call it what you want.” He stood up and stretched. “But I’m getting ice cream either way, and I won’t stop bragging about it if I go alone.”

🪢

After classes, you two went to a nearby ice cream shop. The ice cream was cold against your tongue. You sat across from Jake at a small outdoor table, absentmindedly tapping your spoon against the cup. “You know,” you started with your voice flat, “this is the first time I’ve eaten ice cream without the crushing weight of expectations looming over me.”

Jake snorted. “Wow, what a tragic backstory.”

“It is,” you deadpanned. “Every bite before this was accompanied by the echo of my parents’ disappointment.”

He stared at you for a second before bursting into laughter. “God, you’re so dramatic.”

“Am I? ” you asked, still completely serious. “I think it adds depth to my character.”

Jake shook his head, taking another bite of his own ice cream. “Jay was right. You really are funny in the weirdest way possible.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, still expressionless.

“It wasn’t meant to be one.”

“Too late.”

Jake just chuckled, shaking his head. The conversation carried on like that. Quick exchanges, half-serious jokes, and you, testing the waters of what it felt like to simply be. No competitions, no expectations, just sitting here, eating ice cream with the one person you never expected to share something so normal with. And when you looked at Jake, mid-bite, you realized something else…

Maybe this was what it felt like to have a friend.

🪢

For the next few months, something unexpected happened.

At first, it was a small change. Jake started waiting for you after class. The two of you walking together, sometimes in silence, sometimes bickering over the smallest things. He would flick your forehead whenever you made a dry joke, and you would roll your eyes when he got too philosophical about life. Then, there were the study sessions, the shared lunches, and the exchanged texts that started out about assignments but eventually turned into things that had nothing to do with school.

Somewhere along the way, “rival” wasn’t the right word.

You still competed, of course. Old habits were hard to break. But there was a difference now. When you turned in your test papers, you didn’t feel like you had to prove something to him. When you saw his name next to yours on the scoreboard, it didn’t feel like an attack on your worth. Jake had a way of existing so effortlessly, like he belonged wherever he stood, like he had nothing to prove. And for some reason, being around him made you feel like you didn’t have to prove anything either. One afternoon, as the two of you sat on the school rooftop. “I think I’m forgetting how to be competitive.”

Jake looked at you. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, thinking. ‘’It’s not.”

🪢

The moment the results were announced, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding.

Third place.

For a second, the world seemed to slow. The crowd cheered, cameras flashed, and the weight of all the past competitions pressed against your chest. But instead of disappointment. There was…

Relief.

You turned your head and saw Jake standing on the highest podium. He was smiling, beaming, and when his eyes met yours, his expression softened. He wasn’t just happy for himself. He was proud of you. And strangely, you felt proud too. The old you would’ve hated this. Would’ve obsessed over the what-ifs, convinced yourself that third place meant failure. But now, standing there, you just smiled. Genuinely smiled.

Jake stepped down from his podium before the ceremony was even over, ignoring the announcer’s call. In a second, he was in front of you, eyes searching, until you opened your arms. And then, he pulled you into a hug. It wasn’t brief or hesitant. It wasn’t a victory embrace, not in the way you used to think about winning. It was steady, warm, something unspoken but understood.

“You did amazing,” he murmured.

You let out a small laugh. “You did better.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point” he squeezed your shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

You swallowed. For once, you didn’t brush it off. You didn’t argue.

You let yourself believe it.

🪢

The moment you stepped out, the harsh light from the parking lot made the situation feel colder than it already was. Your parents were already waiting for you by the car. Their faces were tense. They didn’t even look at each other before they started in on you.

Your father’s voice was low. “You’ve failed again.” His words hung in the air. “How many times do we have to do this? We put you in the best position possible. I thought you’d learned something after last time, but all you’ve proven is that you can’t handle the pressure.”

You stayed quiet, your hands at your sides, unwilling to look up. There was nothing you could say that would make them understand. Not now. Not ever.

Your mother spoke, her voice a little softer but still sharp. “We give you everything, every advantage, and you still can’t manage to bring home the result we expect. You got third place. Third. Why? Because you didn’t care enough. Because you were distracted. Because you-” She stopped herself.

You wanted to say something, anything, to defend yourself. But you knew it wouldn’t matter. Your words would fall on deaf ears. No matter what you said, it would never be enough.

“I thought you’d work harder. But it’s clear now. You don’t care about winning. You never have,” your father added with his voice cold now. Then, there was silence, and it was unbearable. You could feel the tears welling up behind your eyes. You fought them back. You had to. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you break. And just as you thought you might snap, you heard a voice from behind you. Calm. Steady. Unshakable.

“That’s enough.”

Jake.

You didn’t turn to look at him, but his presence was like a wall between you and your parents now. He stepped forward, his shoulders straight, eyes hard as he looked at your father. “With all due respect, sir, that’s not fair.” Jake’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried. “She tried. You can’t pretend that she didn’t. I’ve seen her work. I’ve seen how much she puts into this. You can’t just tear her down like that because she didn’t win. That’s not how this works.”

Your father’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t used to being challenged. Not by anyone. Certainly not by someone like Jake. Your mother, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes. “You’re out of line. This is a family matter, Jake. You don’t know what we’ve sacrificed to give her everything she needs to succeed.”

Jake’s eyes softened, but there was still a firmness to it. “I’m not saying you didn’t sacrifice. But you’re hurting her. You’re not giving her a chance to breathe. To be more than just the next win on your list of expectations. She’s not a machine.”

You could feel your heart racing now. This wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want Jake to defend you like this, not like this. You didn’t want to be the center of their conflict. But you also couldn’t help the way his words felt so protective and heartwarming. Your father’s voice cracked this time. “You have no idea what it’s like to be responsible for someone like her. You think this is easy for us? ”

Jake didn’t flinch. “I’m sure it’s not easy. But that doesn’t mean you can break her every time she doesn’t meet your expectations. She’s already carrying a burden you don’t understand.”

There was a long silence. Your parents, caught in their own frustrations, didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw your father this quiet. This is uncertain. And yet, it didn’t make you feel better. It made the pain worse, somehow.

“Go to the car.” Your father looked at you.

You didn’t move. Not immediately. You couldn’t. Your feet felt rooted to the ground. Your mother’s voice broke through the fog. “Come on, let’s go.” There was no warmth in her voice. No understanding. Just a demand, as though you were nothing more than a tool they could use to achieve their own goals.

Still, you didn’t move. But then, your father’s gaze hardened, and with a final glance at you, he turned away and started toward the car. Your mother followed without a word. They got into the car and drove off, leaving you standing there, frozen, isolated. Abandoned in the worst way possible.

The car was long gone, and the sounds of your parents’ angry voices were still in your mind. You were left in the cold, standing at the edge of the competition venue, a place that was supposed to celebrate achievement, yet all you felt was an unbearable emptiness. You didn’t know how long you stood there, paralyzed by the weight of it all, until you felt a presence behind you.

Without saying a word, Jake came up behind you and pulled you into him, his arms wrapping around you in a way that was protective and almost desperate. For a moment, you stayed completely still, not knowing how to react. You tried to suppress the tears that threatened to break through, but the more you tried to stop them, the more they came. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to fall apart like this, but the pain, the frustration. It was all too much.

Jake didn’t say anything at first. He just held you. Your body shaking against him. His hand ran through your hair gently. After a long silence, his voice broke through the quiet.

“I love you.”

You froze. You weren’t ready for this. You didn’t expect it, not like this, not in this moment of raw vulnerability. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could do was cry harder, the pain in your chest intensifying with every breath you took. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t need to explain. His arms around you were all the explanation you needed.

And then, in the most fragile, broken voice, you managed to choke out, “I love you too, Jake.”

Your voice cracked as the words left your mouth, the reality of it all hitting you harder than anything else. It wasn’t just the weight of your parents’ disappointment. It wasn’t just the competition. It was everything. The years of trying to prove yourself, the years of hiding your pain, of pretending you were okay. But in that moment, with Jake holding you, all the walls you’d built around yourself crumbled.

You didn’t know how to explain it. You didn’t even know what it all meant. But you knew that in this moment, you weren’t alone.

🪢

It was late in the evening. The sun had long since set. You and Jake were at the same spot, the one you’d found yourselves in countless times before. It had become a place of understanding, where the noise of the world couldn’t reach you, where nothing else mattered except the moment you were sharing. Jake leaned against the railing, one arm crossed. You sat next to him, just a little distance apart, but the space felt non-existent.

It had been a few weeks since everything had changed between you two. Since the “I love you’s.”

“You know,” Jake said, breaking the silence, “I never really thought about how much I’d come to care about you. I think I spent so much time trying to figure you out that I missed how much I wanted to just… be with you.”

You didn’t say anything at first. The honesty in his voice hit you harder than you expected, and for a brief moment, you felt exposed. “I never really let anyone get close,” you admitted quietly. “But… with you, I don’t know. It just feels like it’s easier.”

Jake’s gaze softened. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide anything with me,” he continued. “You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to be anything you’re not. I only want to be here for you.”

You finally turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. Without thinking, you leaned in, the distance between you two shrinking with every heartbeat. And then, without a word, Jake mirrored your movement, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he closed the space.

When his lips met yours, it was like everything had clicked into place. It wasn’t forceful, nor was it with frantic energy. It was gentle, careful. You pulled back slowly. Jake’s smile was soft, and when he opened his eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he said quietly.

And when you smiled back at him, it was different. It wasn’t the kind of smile you gave anyone else. It was for him. For everything you were beginning to understand about him, and about yourself, too.

🪢

You don’t know why you agreed to meet them. Maybe some part of you still wants to believe they’ll listen this time. That they’ll understand. You sit across from them at the dining table in your family’s home. Your father is the first to speak. “Are you done being distracted? ” His voice is calm but sharp. “We gave you time to sulk after your loss. Now it’s time to get serious again.”

Your mother looked at you with disappointment. “Do you know how humiliating it was for us to see you standing there in third place? After everything we’ve done for you? ”

You don’t flinch. Not this time. “I was proud.” Your voice is steady. “For the first time, I was actually proud of myself.”

Your father scoffs. “Proud of what? Settling for less? ”

“Proud that I didn’t hate myself.” The words come out before you can stop them. And for the first time, silence fills the room.

Your mother’s expression tightens. “Where is all of this coming from? Since when did you start talking like this? ”

You grip your hands under the table. “Since I realized I could breathe without trying to be perfect. Since I stopped believing that my worth was tied to a trophy. Since Jake.” But you don’t say any of that out loud. Instead, you swallow and meet their gaze. “I’m not going to keep chasing something that makes me miserable just because it makes you proud.”

Your father’s hand slams against the table, making the dishes rattle. “You think you know better than us? You think you can just throw away everything we built for you? ”

“You built it for yourselves. Not for me.”

Your mother shook her head. “Ungrateful. We gave you everything. And this is how you repay us? ”

Then your father delivers the final blow.

“You’re making a mistake.” His voice, ice. “And when you fail, don’t expect us to be there.”

Something inside you cracks. Maybe it had already been breaking for years. You stand up. Your chair scrapes against the floor.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

And with that, you turn and walk away.

🪢

The months pass, and so do the expectations that once weighed you down. You’re still you. Still sharp, still competitive when it matters, but you’re no longer fighting a battle just to prove something. There’s no more need to mask everything behind arrogance. No more need to win just to feel like you deserve to exist. People notice the change. You’re quieter now, but not in the way that feels like suffocation. You’re reserved, but not closed off. And most importantly, you’re kinder. Not just to others, but to yourself. Jay is the first to point it out one day, laughing as he nudges you. “You used to act like you had to be the smartest person in every room. Now you actually let people speak.”

You roll your eyes. “I never did that.”

“Oh, you definitely did.” He grins. “But look at you now. I’m proud of you, you know? ”

You pause at that. It’s not something you hear often. But from Jay, it’s real.

You shrug. “Took me long enough.”

And then there’s Jake.

He’s always there, not in a way that feels like an obligation, but in a way that feels natural. Like you were always meant to meet him at the finish line, no matter where it was. You sit beside him on the rooftop as always. After a moment, he glances at you, eyes warm. “So, do you regret it? ”

You tilt your head. “Regret what? ”

“Letting go.”

You don’t answer right away. You think about everything you lost. The approval you once desperately sought. The expectations you’ll never meet. The people you had to walk away from.

But then you think about everything you gained.

You think about Jay’s laughter, about the way he never left your side. You think about Jake, about the way he looks at you as someone he chose to stay with.

For the first time, your answer is certain.

“No,” you say. “Not even for a second.”

Jake smiles. And when he reaches for your hand, you don’t hesitate before taking it.

Because for the first time in your life, you don’t need to win. You don’t need to be the best.

You just need to be here.

Extra Scene:

You and Jake sat on his bed, legs stretched out, backs resting against the headboard. “No, seriously,” Jake said, chuckling as he shook his head. “You were the most terrifying person I’d ever competed against.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. You make it sound like I was some villain.”

Jake laughed and looked at you for a moment. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. You knew what he was thinking. A comfortable silence passed between you before he suddenly reached over to his nightstand, pulling open the drawer. You didn’t think much of it at first, but then his fingers brushing over something inside before carefully pulling it out. Your breath caught in your throat.

It was the silver medal.

The same one your father had ripped from your neck that night after the competition, thrown carelessly into the trash.

But here it was, resting in Jake’s hands.

The thin ribbon that had once been torn off had been stitched back on. Messily, but carefully. The fabric wasn’t perfect, the stitches uneven, but it was there.

Whole again.

“You…” You swallowed as your eyes looked up to his. “You took it?”

Jake exhaled a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I saw it in the trash that night. Just sitting there, like it didn’t mean anything.” He paused, turning the medal between his fingers. “But it did mean something. Maybe not to them, but to you. So, I took it.”

You reached out, your fingers brushed over the uneven stitches.

“You fixed it,” you whispered.

Jake smiled. “It was never broken,” he murmured. “It was just… waiting for the right person to hold onto it.”

You looked at him then, pressing a soft kiss against his lips.

Being around him felt like peace.

[sweetshuga]

ⓘ content warnings: smut ⋆ +18 ⋆ age gap ⋆ raw doggin’ ⋆ big dick!matt ⋆ semi-public sex ⋆ (kinda) rough sex ⋆ daddy kink ⋆ partial bondage (wrists) ⋆ breeding kink (?) ⋆ creampie ⋆ praise kink ⋆ (slight) degradation kink ⋆ dacryphilia (?) ⋆ overstimulation ⋆ use of safe word + more.

He isn’t supposed to feel this way.

Matt knows he isn’t supposed to feel this way about his student, but the way you speak to him with your voice all soft and smooth – as if you know what that does to him – or the way you look at him with those damned fuck-me eyes like you want him to sport a hard-on in the middle of the lecture—was making it hard to keep things professional.

He had previously put boundaries between you and made it clear that he isn’t ready to make whatever you had going on more than it already is.

Despite being the one to initiate the stop to your physical relationship, he felt disappointed when you didn’t even complain or beg like he thought you would.

Matt sighed deeply, shaking his head subtly as if that’d get rid of the distracting thoughts he was having in the middle of a lecture.

As he droned on about the topic he is supposed to go through today, he couldn’t help but notice how distracted you were, blatantly flirting with some guy in the third row from the front, batting your eyelashes and smiling so sweetly as you listened to the guy talk.

A muscle in Matt’s jaw twitched, his eyes narrowing when he saw the guy lean in close, his hand casually coming to rest on your arm.

‘Snap out of it Matthew.’ He mentally scolded himself.

But he simply couldn’t focus on teaching with you sitting there, giving fuck-me eyes to some other guy who... is probably more suitable for you than a divorced dad like him.

He was starting to overthink, his anxiety taking over for a split second until you looked his way, your eyes locking with his and your lips curling up with a barely there smirk – in a way that almost seemed like you were taunting him – before you looked back at the guy.

Matt’s eyes darkened when he understood that you were deliberately trying to push his buttons, trying to make him jealous, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t affected.

He was burning with jealousy.

He texted you during a lull in the lecture – where students were either taking notes from the slideshow or doing their own thing – and his mood soured further when you acted like a damned brat.

«read the text messages»

Your breath hitched in your throat as you read his messages and you could see how genuinely pissed off he was even through text.

Your heart pounded against your ribcage as you walked towards Matt’s office, your panties already soaked through due to the way he looked at you during the lecture.

You simply wanted to have fun and see if Matt would care if you flirted with a guy – since he wanted to end their arrangement – but now you wondered if you did the right thing.

A shaky breath full of nerves and excitement exited you as you finally reached his office and slowly opened the door to find him sitting at his desk, his jaw tight, eyes dead and dark.

“Lock the door, sweetheart.” Matt’s voice was low, controlled and eerily calm.

Seeing him so calm had you thrown completely off, and you decided to play it safe and drop the attitude, complying with his request as you closed and locked the door of his office before turning around to face him.

More arousal pooled in your panties from the way he was watching you with those intense, blue eyes of his.

“Come here.”

Your legs moved on their own as you walked towards his desk, feeling like you were fully exposed due to how intensely he was looking at you—shamelessly raking his gaze over your body as if he was undressing you in his mind.

“Sit on my lap.” His expression was unreadable as he spoke, giving way to nothing.

You could be a brat and say no and that he was being unfair, but the way his words flowed out of his mouth so smoothly like honey had your knees weak.

You lowered yourself onto his lap without any complaint, your bare thighs on each side of his hips and your pleated skirt riding up due to the position, showing more of your thighs.

Matt’s hands immediately placed themselves on your thighs, caressing them in a borderline possessive manner that had you feeling like your whole body was burning with desire.

“Did you have fun?” He suddenly asked, catching you off guard and eliciting a confused “what?” from you.

Matt’s lips curled up with a ghost of a smirk, finding your confusion endearing despite the anger and jealousy still lingering in him.

“Did you have fun shamelessly flirting with that guy? Was it exciting to have him eating right out of your fucking palm the moment you gave him those fuck-me eyes?” His jaw muscle ticked at the mere reminder of the guy.

His hands trailed higher up your thighs, making your breath hitch.

“And that damned attitude... Jesus.” Matt chuckled mirthlessly, his grip on your thighs tightening as he leaned forward until your faces were inches apart.

“Should I just fuck it out of you? That bratty fucking attitude of yours?”

Your mouth opened and closed but nothing came out—too stunned by his sudden demeanor to say anything.

He was usually more gentler than this but clearly your attempt to make him jealous affected him more than you thought it would.

“Y-yeah...” You managed to breathe out, not knowing what exactly you were saying yes to but your body screamed for his touch – almost starving for it – which made it difficult to think straight.

Matt’s smirk widened slightly at your shaky agreement, his pupils dilating further. His length strained painfully against the fabric of his jeans, pulsing against your clothed pussy.

His hands confidently trailed up from your thighs to just below your tits, his thumbs grazing the underside of them through your shirt before trailing his hands back down, this time gripping your hips tightly to pull you closer.

“You gonna be a good girl for me? Let me fuck you right here in my office?”

His words had your stomach doing somersaults, and you found yourself nodding, whispering a needy “please, prof”.

A slow grin made its way onto Matt’s lips when he saw your desperation, finding your needy plea equal parts amusing and sexy.

The moment you sank down on his cock, Matt’s hands gripped your hips almost painfully—no doubt leaving marks as he began to lift you up and down repeatedly while thrusting up into you.

“Wearing such a slutty little skirt to class... Did you want me to fuck you like this?”

He panted harshly, his hold on your hips tightening slightly as he used you as he pleased, going so deep it bordered on painful due to his tip pounding against your cervix.

“N-no- didn’t mean— f-fuckk!”

You barely held back a scream as Matt changed his angle, the slight curve of his cock helping him hit that sweet spot inside your gummy walls.

His hips pistoned up into you at an impressive speed, burying his length deep each time.

Matt gritted his teeth, grunting in exertion and looking like a vision in his sexy red sweater and slight scruff that screamed dilf.

Your hand slid down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts as you got closer, your eyes rolling back briefly as your mind flooded with pleasure.

Matt saw the action and his eyes darkened, his jealousy rearing its ugly head.

Only he could touch you.

It was an absurd thing to think, but in this moment everything made him jealous, even your own clothes for always being wrapped around you.

Matt stopped abruptly, causing you to stop moving too.

You stared at him in confusion as he took his belt – which was placed neatly on his desk – and bound your wrists behind your back.

You were slightly taken back, but you were definitely not against it.

“Kinky,” you teased, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“Shut up.” He snapped.

“Safe word.” Matt looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to tell him a word, but you just stared at him, confusion etched on your face.

“Safe word?” You repeated dumbly.

“Tell me a safe word... because I don’t know if I can stop myself from ruining this sweet pussy for anyone else.”

He was dead serious—and that had your body shuddering in excitement.

“My lecturer is hot.”

His brows furrowed at the sentence, but then a lazy, dangerous grin spread across his lips.

“You’re not taking this seriously.” His words were eerily calm, almost like he was taunting you for being so stupid—like he knew he’ll reduce you to nothing more than whimpers and moans.

Oh you were so so naïve.

Matt was fucking you so hard that you were seeing literal sparks behind your eyes every time he went deep.

“Oh fuck! I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum-- daddy, fuuuckk—”

Your thighs trembled as you began moving your hips in time with his thrusts, chasing after that sweet release.

“What did you just call me?”

Matt suddenly stopped moving, eliciting a needy whine of protest from you. His voice dropped an octave lower when he spoke again, becoming huskier, giving way to how much your word affected him.

“Daddy? Is that what you just said?”

“S-sorry, it just slipped out... I-”

You breathed heavily, your chest heaving with ragged breaths. Your whole body felt like it was on fire and the pressure that was building in your abdomen slowly subsided due to lack of stimulation.

Matt couldn’t believe how much you calling him daddy turned him on and he needed to hear you say it again.

He began to fuck you in earnest, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist to keep you from squirming as his tip kissed your cervix with each hard thrust.

His free hand tangled in your hair and pulled you down into a heated kiss—all tongue and teeth.

Matt pulled back and whispered harshly against your lips, his voice deeper than usual.

“Call me that again.”

And you did.

“Daddy—ffuuckk--”

You chocked back a moan when he began to fuck you faster, his hips slapping against your thighs and creating loud wet smacks.

Matt groaned low in his throat when he heard your desperate mewls and whimpers, the sounds of your pleasure only making him fuck you harder.

“M’gonna-” Your breath hitched, “Cum-- Matt, sh-shit—shit!”

Your whole body tensed – mouth opening in a silent scream, back arching – as the first wave of your orgasm crashed over you. Warmth spread in your tummy, pleasure coursing throughout your whole body.

Your mind blanked with pleasure, zeroing in on the feeling of his cock still plowing in and out of you, hitting your sweet spots.

He fucked you through your orgasm, relishing in the sight of your eyes rolling back in pure, unadulterated, bliss as tears of pleasure streamed down your cheeks.

“Oh, fuuckkk, you’re squeezing my dick soo good.” Matt groaned, feeling himself growing closer thanks to the feeling of your inner walls spasming around his sensitive shaft.

The sight of your tears was making his balls draw tight, his climax approaching quickly.

“Gonna cum,” Matt warned, “Need to fill up this pretty pussy and stuff you full of my cum— fuuck--”

His movements became jerky and uncoordinated as he got closer to the edge, fucking you in sharp, deep thrusts.

His hips stuttered as he came deep inside you, eyes rolling back briefly before closing shut, mouth opening in an "o" shape. His load painted your velvet walls white as you milked his cock dry.

But Matt didn’t stop there.

His need to make you his and knock you up were too strong.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he growled softly and his eyes snapped open—blue orbs basically black with desire.

“Need more... You can take more, can’t you sweetheart?”

You found yourself unable to say no even though you were too sensitive—his words and the primal look in his eyes had you feeling like you might as well just let him knock you up.

Watching you nod, Matt lips curled up with a satisfied smirk.

“Good girl.” He whispered, fingers gripping your hips so tightly that you were sure you’d have bruises tomorrow.

He fucked you through your fifth orgasm – having cum thrice himself – not letting you catch your breath. You felt your nerves burning with overstimulation—your body overwhelmed by the pleasure he was giving you.

“l-lecturer—mmh-ah—is hot... my lecturer- my lecturer is hot!” You cried out, feeling yourself trembling with overstimulation.

Matt snapped out of it at the sound of your trembling voice, his gaze softening profusely when he heard you struggling to say your safe word.

“Should’ve picked a shorter one.” He murmured breathlessly, a hint of teasing in his tone. He slowed down before stopping completely, pulling you into a surprisingly gentle kiss.

Matt pulled out slowly – hissing softly against your lips at how sensitive you both were – before gently freeing your wrists from the makeshift handcuffs he made out of his belt, rubbing your reddening wrists.

He pulled you closer and your body immediately melted into him, making him hold you tighter against his chest as he nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling your sweet scent mixed with your perfume and the musky scent of sex.

“Good girl,” Matt whispered against your hair, “My good girl.”

✰ english is not my first language! || wc: 2.2k ✰

Isa’s rambling ۶ৎ My bad for taking so long to finish this fic but your girl was having a hard time writing for some reason like I didn’t have an ounce of motivation, but I finally finished it and I feel like I kinda rushed the ending ’cause I wanted to post it today.

⟢ lecturer!matt taglist: @blahbel668 @ribread03 @sturniologals @annedebeijer @sleazy-1 @m0r94n @cherryswifeyy @lvrsturniolo @iluvnicksturniolo @sturniolosluttt @sophand4n4 @squishybxg @matts-247 @lifecansmd @zokhlyxo @v33ang3l @jibitzlesscrocs @oopsiedaisydeer @shortnsweetsturnz @sagesturns @corspebridedelrey @anonymouslyachrisgirl @heartsforvin @lvrsturniolo @poolover123 @trustinsturniolos @mattsturnsgirlie @riannas-stuff @sturnboos @whore4-chrissturniolo @crazy4weeed @chrismoans @chlosallow @juless-is-elsa @nai2two @natesfavoritehoe @ineedchrisbadly @l0s3rhaha @fwsecret @lyingbymalcom

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Quite Elementary

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x GN!Reader

Summary: For Career Day, you invite your boyfriend to talk to your students about what he does as The Falcon.

Joaquin Torres Masterlist

Every year, Career Day is something well-received among your students. However, this year is extra special because you recruited your own boyfriend, Joaquin, to take part in it.

It's during lunch time when he as well as several other people come in to set up for their Career Day presentations.

Parents, relatives, and members of the community all file in, setting their things in the back, introducing themselves to each other. You can't help but smile with pride when a few are a little starstruck when they see Joaquin. You know that Joaquin is also loving the attention.

You huddle the group together and give them the rundown, "Alright, folks! First off, thank you for setting time aside in your busy schedule for my students. It's a pleasure to have you all today. I know my kiddos are very excited to hear what you all do. I just ask that you try to keep your presentations to about five to seven minutes long. I'd like to make sure each presenter has enough time for the Q&A portion. Any questions?"

The group shakes their heads, "Alrighty! I'll go grab the kids and bring them back. There's some coffee and pastries for you by my desk!"

You give them a nod and head out into the hallway. You hear footsteps following you and you stop. You look at your boyfriend with a playful smirk, "Need something, Captain Torres?"

He smirks back and chuckles, "Come on, angel, don't be like that. You barely looked at me when I came in."

"I'm at work, Joaquin. I need to be professional."

"Fine, fine, just a little kiss though?" He juts out his bottom lip and gives you a puppy dog look.

You giggle, "Fine," you lean in and peck his lips, "I love you, I'll see you in a few."

"Love you too, angel," he replies to you and then heads back into your classroom.

______________________

All of your students gasp when they file into the classroom. They begin to whisper with each other and point at Joaquin, who switched into his Falcon suit.

"One, two, three, eyes on me!" to call out to grab your students' attention.

"One, two, eyes on you!" The respond back.

You smile, "Perfect. Now, as you can see, we have some very special guests. So if you all could take a seat at your desks, we'll begin with the Career Day presentations!"

Your third graders all rush to their seats, all exuding excitement. Once everyone was settled in, you announced the first speaker, "Alright. First, let's welcome Roberto Dominguez who will talk about being a chef and running his own restaurant. Everyone let's give him a hand!"

Your students all applause and Roberto stands at the front of the class.

You make your way to the back with the other guests. Joaquin immediately wraps and arm around your waist, "They're so excited," he whispers in your ear.

You nod, "I know. It's adorable. I love to see how interested they get."

"When am I going up?"

"Best for last," you give him a wink, "Don't disappoint."

He scoffs, "I got this, angel."

__________________________

The second to last speaker, just finished up their presentation by providing little pocket art kits to each student.

"Let's give another big thank you to Caden for their presentation and for the little gifts."

"Thank you, Caden!" the students holler out.

"You're very welcome!" They respond with a wide smile.

"Alright, last, but certainly not least, we have Captain Joaquin Torres, also known as The Falcon!"

Joaquin breaks out into a wide smile when the children's applause and hollers outshine the previous presenters.

Joaquin laughs and holds a finger to his lips, "Alright. Settle down. Can't let anyone else know that we're having a lot of fun here, right?"

He claps his hands together, "Okay. Hi, everyone. I'm Captain Torres or The Falcon. Whichever, I don't mind," he smiles as he looks at the group of children.

"So I'm in the Air Force and what we do is fly airplanes, go on missions, and help protect the country. Me, specifically, I'm part of the ISR. That's the Intelligence, Surveillance, and Reconnaissance division. So I help gather information about anyone who is trying to hurt us or the country. And, I also help Captain America with his missions too, as you all might've seen." He says the last part in a very cocky manner that you can't help but roll your eyes to.

"Who has some questions for Captain Torres?" you ask your class and just about everyone's hands shoot into the air.

You giggle, "I'm not surprised. Okay. Amrita, you first."

The young girl smiles brightly at Joaquin, "Do you fight bad guys every day?"

"Not every day. I fight them a lot, but definitely not everyday. Sometimes I'm just on base, sitting at a desk gathering information."

You pick your next student, "Jacob, go ahead."

"When you fell into the water at Celestial Island, did you die?"

You give your student a stern look, "Jacob, that's not an appropriate-"

Joaquin interjects, "It's okay, ang-I'm mean Teacher Y/N. I can answer it." He clears his throat, "I almost died, but because of the amazing work of doctors, like Doctor Iqbal who spoke earlier, they saved me. Because us heroes aren't anything without the great healthcare workers that patch us up whenever we get hurt."

You give Joaquin a nod of approval and then turn back to your class, "Okay. We have five more minutes before school is over so I'm picking three names from the name jar."

Your class groans in disappoint but Joaquin speaks up, "Ooooor I can come back again and you can ask me questions next time!" The children nod their heads eagerly in response.

"Fine. But I'll still pick three people to ask the final questions." You go to the name jar and pick out three popsicle sticks. You read out the names, "Joanna, Diego, Alida."

Joanna stands as she asks her questions, "Are you and Captain America best friends?"

"I'd say yes, but he'd say no. Regardless, we're very good friends."

Diego goes next, "Can you show us your wings?"

"Unfortunately, no. It's not safe, but trust me, I tried to convince Teacher Y/N to let me bring them."

Lastly, Alida asks, "Are the Avengers coming back?"

Joaquin takes a second to think on his answer and he softly smiles, "We're working on that."

"And that's it for Career Day. Let's all give a big 'Thank You' again to everyone who presented today!"

"THANK YOOOUU!" your class exclaims.

"Alright. Everyone do your clean up tasks and gather your things." As your students scatter around the classroom, you and Joaquin head to the back near your desk where the adults resided.

You shake hands with each of them, "Thank you again so much for coming. The children and I really appreciate it. Please, take any left over pastries, if you'd like."

Joaquin leans against your desk as you clean up, "So how'd I do?"

"Great! Although you really didn't have to answer Jacob's question."

He shrugs, "It's fine. I think it's also important for them to know that my job can be dangerous."

"Yes, but-oh. Did you need something Marcus?" you ask when you see one of your students at your desk.

Marcus holds up a drawing to Joaquin he had probably been working on during the presentations. It was seemingly a drawing of him and Joaquin and a Mexican flag.

Joaquin kneels to be at eye level with your student, "¿Es esto para mí?" Is this for me?

Marcus nods, "Quiero ser igual que tú." I want to be just like you.

You don't see Joaquin's face, but you're sure he's smiling, "Muchas gracias, Marcus." Thank you very much, Marcus.

"Buen dia!" Good day!

"Igualmente!" Likewise!

You and Joaquin watch as Marcus as well as the rest of your students exit the classroom at the sound of the bell. Once you and he were alone, Joaquin begins to tear up.

"Hey, what's up?"

He shakes his head, "Nothin', it's just," he looks down at the drawing he was given and holds it up, "This is what I wanted, what I hoped to achieve one day. For kids like Marcus to see me and be inspired."

You wrap your arms around his waist, "Many do, Joaco. I hear and see them talk about you and pretend to be you on the playground."

"I just hope I continue to make them proud."

"You will," you kiss his cheek, "Let's head home."

[luvkinich]

my everything

warnings + notes: phainon x reader, fluff, 1,1k words, phainon is whipped for you, minor spoilers to his lore?? i think + my third fic on this account IM CRYING WTF how have i only made 3 fics here art by shenteita on twt

tags: @somniachant

Phainon's past haunts him like a ghost. Memories of losing his family, friends, and hometown keep coming back to him every night he sleeps. Perhaps that’s why he’s unwilling to forge new relationships with people.

However, despite his past haunting him, Phainon finds himself in a predicament. You, a flower shop owner in Amphoreus, catch his attention. You and your passion for flowers make Phainon feel safe and comfortable. Your flower shop isn’t huge like the other famous shops in the city, but it is cozy enough that you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

The flowers are also one unique aspect of your shop, being the only flower shop in the city. Though, you must say, not that many people like to buy flowers anymore (not even for courting someone, which shocks you to your core).

The door to your shop flings open just as the clock strikes 3 pm, and you see the familiar white-haired figure walk into your shop. It’s a routine for Phainon to visit your shop every evening. Sometimes, you wonder to yourself why a Chrysos Heir would make daily visits to your small flower shop without buying anything, but you can’t bring yourself to question him over something like that.

“Good evening, Y/N,” Phainon gives you a smile, one that melts your heart instantly. “How has your day been?” That’s another thing with Phainon - he always asks about how your day went, and to be honest? You don’t find it bothersome at all. Usually, you find it annoying when people pester you about your day every five minutes, but with Phainon, you find it endearing.

“Good evening, Phainon,” you greet him back. “My day has been… okay, I think? I didn’t have that many customers today, but it doesn’t really bother me that much. Business has been slow for a couple of weeks now that Valentine’s is over.” You look back at your notebook, one that you keep to track customers and sales. “But I still have my regular customers coming in to pick up their flowers. How about you? How’s it going with the Chrysos Heir?”

“Ah,” Phainon lets out a small laugh. “Never been better, I think? Mydei and I had a little sparring match this morning, and of course, I won.” You have a small inkling he might be lying, but you don’t comment on it. “And then I spent the rest of my day in my room. Boring, huh?”

“No, I don’t think so,” you reply. Phainon looks at you, confused. “I mean, ever since the disaster started, you barely got any sleep, right? So I think it’s good you were doing nothing today.”

“Huh,” Phainon says. “Never thought of it that way.” He smiles at you again. “Oh, right! Back to the matter at hand, I need some flowers.”

You blink, surprised. Phainon buying flowers? Now, that’s new. “Oh, what kind of flowers? Are you planning on confessing to someone today?” you tease, hoping it’s not true.

“Um, actually… yes.” Phainon’s response shatters your heart.

Oh… so you do have someone you like. You think to yourself, and you quickly mask your hurt with a shocked expression, not wanting Phainon to feel guilty. “That’s new! So, who’s this lucky person?”

Phainon blushes, and you can't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. “You’ll see later. Now come on, what are some flowers I can buy?”

“Hmm,” you hum, flipping through your notebook containing flower meanings (yes, you still rely on notes; you have a terrible memory). “How about red tulips?” You walk over to the tulips, pick out a bouquet, and hand it to Phainon. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

Phainon’s eyes shine with excitement. “Ah, they’re definitely gorgeous. What do they symbolize?”

“Endless love,” you state. “I think it’s perfect for you and that lucky person.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Phainon mutters, staring at the flowers as he envisions giving them to the person he loves. “How much are they?”

“They’re on the house,” you reply, and Phainon is about to protest, but you cut him off. “They’re on the house, Phainon. Don’t argue with me now,” you repeat, huffing to mask the hurt. “Now go and confess already!”

Phainon blinks a couple of times before smiling brightly. “Okay, thank you, Y/N. Truly.” He leaves, and as soon as he’s out of sight, you sigh. Another crush of yours failed.

The rest of your day passes more slowly than usual. As expected, no one else comes in after Phainon leaves, so you decide to close the shop early.

As soon as everything is locked up, you’re surprised to see Phainon standing behind you, still holding the red tulips you gave him. “...Phainon? What are you doing here? Oh no, did the confession not go well? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Um,” he starts a bit sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t confess yet, actually.”

“Huh? Why?” you ask, confused. “Did they not show up?”

“No… they’re actually right here,” Phainon says, and when you don’t catch on, he lets out a small laugh. “Y/N, I’m saying I was waiting for you to close the shop so I could confess to you.”

“Oh,” you say, and then it hits you, causing you to gasp. Your cheeks turn red as you cover your mouth. “Wait- huh?!”

“I like you, Y/N-”

“No, wait, stop!” You turn around, covering your face. “I wasn’t- I thought-”

“Was this a bad time...?” Phainon asks innocently, making you turn back around. “Sorry-”

“No, don’t be sorry! I just- I wasn’t expecting this! I really thought you had a crush on someone else, so I felt hurt, and that’s why I gave you those flowers for free, so I wouldn’t have to see you all smiley about them!” you ramble, stopping only when Phainon bursts out laughing. “What’s so funny?!”

“You’re adorable, Y/N,” he says. “So that’s why you made me leave so quickly.” He stretches out his hand holding the flowers towards you. “So? Will you accept me as your boyfriend now that you know this is for you?”

“Phainon, you big dummy,” you sigh, laughing at your own foolishness. “Yes, yes I do.” Phainon smiles so brightly it almost blinds you. You take the flowers from his hands, and even though they're from your own shop and garden, you accept them as if they're from somewhere else. Aeons above, Phainon looks so cute smiling at you like that.

“Since you decided to close the shop early tonight, want to go on a mini-date? We can take a stroll around the city if you’d like,” Phainon suggests. Normally, if anyone else suggested this to you, you'd decline immediately, wanting to go home and tend to your growing plants. But this is Phainon, your boyfriend (you let out a giddy laugh in your head).

“Of course,” you agree. “Where do you want to take me?”

“Hmm, I think we can stop by your favorite restaurant first for some dinner, and then we can go to…” Phainon starts listing almost every date spot in Amphoreus, and you can only look at him with adoration in your eyes.

[heartysworld]

The third wheel // LN4

Lando Norris x Female Reader

In his attempts to make you feel less lonely, Lando ends up being the one who feels neglected.

W.C: 1.5k

Feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Feel free to send requests or other questions if you happen to have any! Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

You wake up to the soft sounds of Milo’s tiny yawns and the gentle rustling of the covers as you carefully slip out of bed. Blinking against the sunlight streaming through the curtains, you stretch and cradle the little furball close to you. The puppy that Lando got you for your birthday has been your constant companion, especially during those long weeks when he’s away racing and you're unable to join him.

Milo has filled a void in your life that you hadn’t fully realized was there. His playful antics and loyal presence have made Lando’s frequent absences more bearable. Today, though, Lando is finally home for the summer break, and you’re both excited to spend some quality time together.

You move around the bedroom, getting ready for the day. Milo follows you everywhere like a shadow, his tiny paws padding softly on the floor. You pick out a casual dress and head to the bathroom to freshen up. As you brush your hair, you glance at Milo in the mirror. He’s sitting obediently, watching you with his big, adoring eyes, his tail thumping against the floor.

“Are you ready for a walk, handsome?” you ask, smiling at him as you lean down to give him a loving scratch between his ears and earning a small lick of your wrist.

From the bedroom doorway, Lando’s voice chimes in. "Yeah, just about," he replies, his tone filled with warmth and excitement.

You laugh softly, realizing that Lando thinks you were talking to him. Turning around, you see him standing there, grinning at you. "I was actually talking to Milo," you say, giggling.

Lando’s smile falters slightly, but he quickly recovers and laughs along. “I see how it is.” he mutters playfully, though there's a hint of real disappointment in his eyes.

You walk over to him and give him a quick kiss. “Oh, come on, Lando. You know I love you too. Ready to go?”

The three of you step out into the sunlit streets of Monaco, Milo trotting happily between you. The morning air is fresh and crisp, and you can’t help but feel a sense of contentment. As you walk hand in hand with your boyfriend, you two chat about everything that’s happened while he was away.

“Did you see the photos I sent you from when we visited that new café?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Yeah, it looked amazing. We should go there together.” Lando replies, squeezing your hand.

You nod enthusiastically. “Definitely. They have the best pastries and even offer pup cups for pets!”

Milo tugs on his leash, eager to explore as the mention of his second favorite thing reaches his floppy ears. You laugh and let him lead the way for a bit. Every so often, he stops to sniff at something or chase a fluttering leaf, and you can’t resist bending down to pet him and tell him how cute he is.

Lando watches, a soft smile on his face, but you notice a hint of something else in his eyes. Is it jealousy? You brush the thought aside, focusing on enjoying the walk.

Later, you stop by a little café for a quick breakfast. You find a table outside, and while you and Lando sip your coffee and nibble on croissants, Milo sits at your feet, looking up at you expectantly.

“Do you think he wants some?” Lando asks, pointing to Milo.

You chuckle. “Probably. He’s always hungry.”

Lando tears off a small piece of his croissant and hands it to Milo, who gobbles it up with a wagging tail. “Good boy, Milo." Lando says, ruffling his fur.

As the day goes on, you visit a few shops, picking up some treats for Milo and a couple of things for the house. Everywhere you go, people stop to admire Milo and comment on how adorable he is while your worldwide famius boyfriend is waiting on the side. You beam with pride, feeling like a proud parent.

Back at home, you and Lando prepare dinner together. As you chop vegetables and he stirs the sauce, you talk about your plans for the rest of the summer break.

“I was thinking we could take a trip somewhere,” Lando suggests. “Maybe a weekend getaway?”

“That sounds perfect,” you agree, smiling at him. “Where do you have in mind?”

“Maybe the south of France? It’s not too far, and we could take Milo with us.”

You nod, your excitement growing. “I’d love that. Milo would too, I’m sure.”

As you finish preparing the meal, you notice Lando watching you with a thoughtful expression. “What’s on your mind, handsome?” you ask, setting the table.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You know, sometimes I feel like Milo is the man in this relationship,” he says with a half-smile.

You pause, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he gets all your attention. I feel like I’m the one begging for it,” he admits, trying to sound light-hearted but clearly feeling a bit left out.

You laugh softly, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his waist slowly making their way up to the base of his neck, something that you know makes Lando melt. “Lando, you’re always going to be my number one. Milo is just... well, he’s our little baby. It’s different.”

Lando chuckles, pulling you closer. “I guess I’ll have to get used to sharing you.”

The following race weekend, you’re at the Dutch Grand Prix accompaning Lando with Milo safely by your side. As Lando talks with some of his friends and fellow drivers, he shares his feelings about Milo taking over the house. They laugh, nodding in understanding.

“I know exactly what you mean,” says Carlos. “When we got our dog, I felt the same way. But trust me, it gets better. You just have to find a balance.”

Charles chimes in, “Yeah, and sometimes, it’s nice to have a little competition for their affection. Keeps things interesting.”

Lando grins, feeling a bit more reassured. The camaraderie with his friends helps ease his worries.

During the race, you and Milo cheer Lando on from the sidelines. Milo barks excitedly whenever Lando’s name is mentioned, and you can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm.

After the race, Lando comes over, sweaty and tired but grinning from ear to ear. He scoops Milo up into his arms and gives you a kiss. “We did it!” he exclaims, pulling your body closer to his.

“You were amazing out there,” you say, beaming at him. “We’re so proud of you.”

That evening, back at the hotel, the three of you curl up on the couch. Milo is snuggled between you, his little head resting on Lando’s lap. You lean against Lando’s shoulder, feeling content and happy.

“You know,” Lando says softly, “I think Milo might be growing on me. He’s not so bad.”

You smile, reaching over to stroke Milo's fur. “See? We’re a perfect little family.”

Lando chuckles, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Yeah, we are.”

As the night settles in, you all cuddle closer, enjoying the warmth and comfort of being together. In that moment, everything feels just right. The love and connection between you, Lando, and Milo create a perfect harmony, making every moment together special.

MASTERLIST

If you wish to be added to my upcoming taglist, please leave a comment!

[twisted-broth]

Any of the boys you want do a challenge where (they aren't dating yet) but they are at a fair and they win a bear or a prize and s/o gives them a kiss on the cheek for how many they win and s/o says if they win 10 or more they will give them a kiss on the lips and spend a week together with just them (maybe show like if some did get the kiss and how they would react?) I thought this was cute lol

This has been sitting in my drafts for like a year so I just figured I would post the parts of it that were done.

Leave it to Crowley and Grim to get you into this situation. “Every dorm has to have a booth at the fair, prefect! Maybe you’ll even earn enough money to make some renovations to that shoddy old place!”

Crowley failed to take into consideration how making a carnival attraction costs money to be any good. Any cafe service would need more money and supplies than you could afford, a show would need more than two people, and a game would need prizes.

Grim is not one for bright ideas, but it would seem there was no other solution that wouldn’t cost all your food money for the month. So this is what it came to.

“Knock down all the pins and win a kiss on the cheek from Ramshackle’s prefect! Hit all three targets and he’ll give you a kiss on the lips!!!!”

It was probably in your top five most embarrassing moments of your life as your cat basically prostituted you at the top of his lungs. Surely no one would actually be enticed by a prize like that, right?

Trey

"You always manage to find a way to keep things interesting, don't you? For once I'm glad to be at a school mandated event."

Feels bad. Plays anyway.

No hard feelings, right?

He tells you that you have nothing to worry about, he's really a lousy shot anyway (as if he's not the best spelldrive player on Heartslabyul)

He easily knocks down the first two stacks, but misses the third

Maybe he missed, maybe he found it in his heart to show you mercy

He not-so-subtly implies that he's sure he could find a different way to win the "grand prize"

Despite his big talk, he still has a noticeable blush when you give him a kiss on the cheek

He would also keep an eye on your booth for the rest of the day to make sure not too many people are winning

For your sake, of course

Jade

“It would seem you’ve found yourself in quite the situation there, prefect. Please find it in your heart to forgive me if I take advantage.”

This is the funniest shit Jade has ever seen

How stupid do you honestly have to be to get yourself into this predicament?

Of course he’s playing the game. The scowl on your face when he trades in his tickets to Grim for three baseballs fills him with unbridled delight

His aim is a little wonky and you sigh in relief when his first three balls miss the target

He feigns disappointment before handing over another few tickets to the cat and grabbing the balls again

Of course he was hustling you. He let you think that even for a second you would be safe from this menace. For shame

Each ball is thrown with such force that pins from the first stack fly into the other stacks, easily ensuring that Jade clears the game with ease

He calls it beginners luck. Asshole.

Has the biggest shit eating grin on his face as he leans down to your face to claim his prize

Rook

"Mon amour, what a dastardly situation you've been resigned to! Not to worry sweet dame, I shall save you from the beasts at your heels!"

You knew you were in trouble the minute Rook’s gaze happened to fall on your stall

His eyes narrow and he smirks as he makes his way over to the stall

He's visibly holding back his excitement as he trades his tickets in to Grim

His idea of "saving you" is to hog the game- and the prize- for himself

He hits every stack with effortless accuracy, game after game

The second all three stacks have been knocked down, he prances over to you and leans down for his kiss. You can practically see the flower emojis radiating off his satisfied smile

This will continue until Grim gets fed up with him scaring away customers, or Vil comes to drag him away

You got so used to kissing him that you almost do it again the next time he leans down to talk to you

[sasahuaa]

Four times omega!Leona tried to hint that he wanted a relationship (and one time he succeeded)

gn!reader; this is pure fluff and sfw; wc: 1796; no warnings just almost accurate lion behavior regarding mating in some parts

1

As much as Leona prided himself in his ability to read people and their intentions, it seems that his intended mate does not thrive in this subject. Leona is pretty sure that he is being obvious right now, but you do not grasp his desires at all.

After school hours weren't always Leona's favourite, he was bothered by students rustling around and being noisy, some of his sleeping spots getting too busy for comfort, and mostly the time that he was forced to retreat to his room if he didn't want to deal with his peace being disturbed.

But recently, Leona became fond of this moment of the day, because that is the time when he can snatch you up to himself. Sending some Savanaclaw underclassman to ask for you and demanding for your companion is now a routine since he decided to pursue a courtship.

And as much as he would like to initiate it quickly, he guesses that he couldn't expect a human from another world to know beastmen's ways of courtship, especially when it's so vast according to each kind of beast. The thing is, although Leona wants to be reassured of his place beside you, he is not entirely willing to court in a way that he doesn't feel in a courtship.

It's not as burdensome as he would expect, though. He can be patient when the moment asks for it, besides, the hunt is always entertaining.

“Hmm” you squinted your eyes, copying the omega's movement and leaning your head to the side, rendering your neck exposed.

Foolish herbivore.

Leona advanced forward, his lips enclosed the juncture between your neck and shoulders, he bit and pulled the skin in the middle of his teeth, it didn't break, for he would never give a mating mark without consent.

“Ah, Leona!” you startled and pushed him by his shoulders, laughing while you forced him to lay on his back, hovering over him. For a second, he thought you understood him, his pupils dilated as he leaned his head back, expecting a bite in return to evidence that both of you are on the same page.

But it never came, he looked up to assess the situation. being met with your confused expression which he growled at, disappointment filled his chest before he delivered another bite to your shoulder.

2

Perhaps Leona needed more forward tactics, that's what the Savanaclaw dorm leader put in his head to proceed with his courtship.

A show of strength, to prove that he is able to protect. It's a rather antiquated courting method, but still practiced by the nobility in Sunset Savanna. His brother did the same thing before marrying his wife, and they have been a happy couple since then.

“Enlighten me, Leona, what are you doing?” you hissed under him, showing teeth in defiance, his legs encasing yours while one of his hands rendered your arms useless, his other hand holding your chest down.

“I am stronger than you” Leona purred, his tail flicked in excitement, finding rest while encircling your ankle. You simply huffed in protest, though there was no fighting to try to take him off of you.

The omega's scent overpowered the flowers from the botanical garden. He was in his deserved place, all around you and so close, his heart palpitated and warmed, fluffy thoughts steering him to cuddle with the acquiescent alpha under him.

“Yield” the omega commanded, he lowered his body until your noses touched, bringing his face down to nuzzle your cheek and jaw. Leona delighted in the smell of your skin, purring louder and scenting you back, the mix of your scents feeling just right.

Your mischievous laugh sent chills down his spine, and before he knew it, you took advantage of his oversight and freed your hands, attacking his sides with tickles.

Leona is not ticklish, but he is too astonished by the childness of the situation to keep going.

3

By his third attempt, Leona guessed that more… leaning human courting habits was the most efficient method. Don't get him wrong, though, he still will continue with beastmen practices, however maybe being lenient and adaptive will bring results sooner.

Admittedly, the omega is starting to become a little impatient.

This time, Leona decided that he would present himself as a provider. He called you to Savanaclaw in the afternoon, with Ruggie's help, he lent the hyena money to buy food for dishes common in Sunset Savanna, and when Ruggie was back, he was tasked to cook.

It was supposed to be a simple dinner, first for appetizers was a couple of fruits, grapes, mangoes, papayas and pineapples covered the table, Leona is not a big fan of fruits, but he supposes that they can set a romantic mood for couples.

And he can't deny he is enjoying himself, you picked a piece of mango with a toothpick, moving it close to his mouth. And indeed, even if the taste was underappreciated by him, the setting made his heart flutter.

You smiled softly as he swallowed, choosing another fruit and stabbing it with the same toothpick, bringing to your own mouth this time. He released a sounding purr at the action, satisfied with the intimacy, he headbutted your jaw gently to show his appreciation.

And next, jollof rice, a popular dish of his land, he could only hope that you would like it, because if things went smoothly between you two, it was expected that you would be eating it more oft-

“Oh!” your surprised tone cut through his thoughts “I… this…” you wagged in the direction of the food, which was moving strangely, he moved closer to inspect it, speaking a resounding growl when he found the culprit.

“Prefect, this food is so good! Why didn't you tell me that you were having dinner? You left me all alone!” Grim appeared in front of both of you, swallowing a mouthful of rice. Leona advanced forward, catching the weasel by the collar. “Hey! You dare to touch the Great Grim? If my henchman can eat, so can I!”

“From what I remember from my invitation, you were not includ-”

“It's okay, Leona.” you patted his shoulder, giving him a soft smile while guiding him back to his seat “There is space for more, besides, Grim gets huffy when he is left empty stomached”

The omega huffed but sat back, it's just one thing that he needs to be aware of, the thinks to himself, you becoming part of his family and culture from Sunset Savanna, means that he also becomes part of yours.

4

Since accepting his feelings, Leona puts effort in attending his classes, he is still as uninterested as before, already knowing the subjects by heart. His motivation is you, if he gets out of the bed, if he walks through the correct halls, then the omega can see you more.

It's also a good way to mark his territory, he can't drench you in his scent yet, not with you unaware of his courting, but it will linger on your sleeves when he touches you, on your pants as his tails flicks and curls around your legs. Besides that, letting other omegas see him on your side is a clear sign for them to stay away.

“Ah!” you gasped when you almost slipped “Ace, Deuce and Grim were sent to detention, something about destroying a toilet stall, and Crowley requested them to cleaning duties, I think it's this corridor is one of the places, can't believe they forgot to put the wet floor signs up” you murmured, slowing your pace.

And although Leona was also being careful, the trio was uncareful, leaving soap soaking the floor. You both slipped, holding onto each other to prevent collapsing, your hands snaked around him, and Leona pulled you until his back hit the wall for support.

You were laughing in disbelief, and Leona couldn't help but want to carve the scene in his brain. The sunlight shining behind you made you look ethereal, and your faces were so close, just a bit closer and your lips would touch.

Leona reasoned, you didn't look uncomfortable, you were still hugging him, you had a delighted expression. An ideal hunter always bides their time, to catch their prey at the most opportunistic moment, but maybe risking now wouldn't be so bad, for you never had a negative reaction towards him.

The omega threw his arms around your shoulders, getting his face closer slowly to gather your response before making a move he couldn't take back. You paused your laugh, focusing solely on him, Leona grinned as he received your attention, knowing that lately it's the thing he desires the most.

“Prefect!” a sharp wailing tone made Leona's ears twitch in pain “I was looking for you everywhere!”

"Grim! You need to learn how to wipe the floors correctly” and just like that, your attention diverted from him, but Leona comforted himself by the fact that you maintained your arm around his waist, your bodies touching side by side.

+1

Ever since getting used to your company, Leona permitted your presence in his room more frequently. Honestly he is indulging himself, from the point that you and Grim had to stay in his room during the Octavinelle repercussion, he became obsessed with your smell mixed with his, especially in his territory.

When the sun is going down and you are relaxing with him is the perfect ending of the day, and he mourns that you never spend the night. Sometimes you both play together, or just talk, or are in a situation like now, when he is laying in bed and you are sitting next to him, rubbing his tummy.

Leona purred and leaned his head back, affection warming his body. To have all his vulnerable parts exposed is an immense sign of trust, and he did, so much that it burns.

“You know, since the rice incident I started to research your culture a bit more” you whispered, your hand touching the skin of his stomach and tracing circles, the beastman closed his eyes with the soft feeling “I am quite fascinated”

“Are you? What were you interested in?”

You chuckled with mischief, fingers pinching his sides.

“I could show you”

You lowered your face to his neck, kissing his collarbone before delivering a bite in the junction of his neck and shoulder, nuzzling your cheek with his after releasing his skin. Your eyes met his when you finished scenting the scent glands by the side of his face.

“Biting the neck, shoulders and back, without leaving a mark, is a form to show desire in courtship in beastmen culture, right?” you muttered “Would you be willing to accept me?”

“Idiot” the omega bit you back in retaliation “I did that weeks ago, can't believe you just noticed now”

Leona couldn't hold himself back from scenting his alpha now, the courtship being established in his nation's culture made him all fuzzy. He would hold the alpha responsible for it for as long as he could.

[w2beastars]

Waezi2′s thoughts on “Beast Complex” chapter 25

So, I know we were all disgusted by the freak South who dated a lizard who was the same species as him(ewww). So I am happy to tell you all that we are going back to some good ol' freaky furry romance.

Better yet, this chapter is about Haru and Legosi!

The main couple of Beastars now practically live together since their universities are pretty close to each other. Haru is doing her third year in college and Legosi, now with a clean criminal record, is doing his first year in college, studying entomology.

Good for you, Legosi :) It is never too late to get back to school!

So, the wolf and the rabbit has been together for three years now and (for the most part) live together. You know what that means...

Oh yeah! They sleep together!

... In separate beds! There is no sex whatsoever!

Haru asks the same question as the rest of us: HOW?!?!?

Well, the first night Haru spent at Legosi's place, the ussual happened:

Like most wolves, Legosi makes small bites when he gets overly exited. Haru didn't get hurt, she got a scratch behind her ear, it's not the end of the world.

But afterwards, their relationship has been... well, casual.

There is no sexy atmosphere between them since the biting incident. They still spend their free time together, but it is almost like they are a middle-aged married couple where they brush their teeth together and everyday stuff like that. It bothers Haru a great deal since she is a college girl and it makes her feel old, makes the two of them feel old. She would like to get wild while she is still young... But to be fair, don't you think you had plenty of fun already, Haru?

I'm not slut-shaming or anything, just saying.

Anyways, Haru contacts Juno. Yep, everyone's favorite queen wolf is back!

Two things I noticed is that Haru now calls her "chan", implying a bit more friendly relationship between the two of them. Second is that even though Juno is here to give Haru input and advise about wolves, we don't get to learn anything about what her life is like right now.

YOU ARE KILLING ME, PARU!!! YOU ARE TORTURING ME SPECIFICALLY BY NOT LETTING US LEARN WHAT HER LIFE POST-LOUIS IS LIKE!

As I was saying, Haru wants Juno to give her advice to kick Legosi's wolf instincts into high gear. Juno is unsure if that's such a great idea(no duh!) but share what would normally make a male wolf... excited.

There is just one problem... Legosi is... well, Legosi.

He is a terrible mix of extremely polite, concerned and dense.

Nothing Haru does triggers Legosi, he misreads the signals completely and Haru starts to wonder if they have simply lost their spark.

Then, one night as Haru goes to bed disappointed that she haven't unleashed the beast so to say, she sees that Legosi is awake.

It's full moon, and Legosi can't help it but to stay up and watch it. Even if it is bogus that the moon should somehow affect wolves, Legosi and his fellow canines are still emotionally attached to it. Haru says she can relate to this to some degree, probably because rabbits have a religious connection to the moon.

This is possibly the first thing their species have in common. So the two of them goes for a late night/early morning stroll, enjoying the beautiful moon.

The two of them just enjoy each other's company, it's nice and quiet. They are not tired from class or trying to study or doing everyday tasks, meaning they can actually connect on a emotional level.

And then we get the twist:

As stated earlier, Legosi accidentally scratched Haru's ear when he got "excited" and Haru assumed it killed the vibe between them. But this seems to imply that he was waiting for the wound to heal completely.

Or maybe it is because they are both relaxed that Legosi feels less anxious.

Either way, they don't spend this night in separate beds.

I'm gonna be honest, it was not the best Haru x Legosi story I read, I would have liked a bit more of the classic Paru insanity. But I very much enjoyed it, and this specific story shouldn't have that much crazy because it is about the lack of insanity in the wolf and rabbit's life. We get to see that Legosi can finally get a real career and even achieve his dream of working with insects and how much they have evolved as an actual couple, not just furry angst and tension between the rabbit and wolf. It also feels like Paru is ending Beast Complex for real this time to focus more on her other projects, and if that's the case then this was a nice way to end it.

I'm Waezi2, and thanks for wasting time with me.

[onlinesuzie]

‘we shouldn’t be doing this’ ⊹ ࣪ ˖⟡ ݁₊ .

words: 4k ⭑.ᐟ

‘infidelity, hamzah smut, f!reader’

feeling distant from your long-distance boyfriend, jake, you turn to his close friend, hamzah, for comfort.

based of this clip

── ⊹ ࣪ ˖♡˖ ࣪ ⊹ ──

You sit on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, staring at Jake’s message: “Can’t talk tonight. Work’s crazy. Miss you, though.” The words feel hollow, a pattern that’s become all too familiar. It’s the third time this week he’s canceled. The hope you’d been holding onto fizzles out. With a heavy sigh, you toss the phone onto the bed, the sound barely registering as it bounces off the pillow.

You stand and walk cautiously toward the mirror, your footsteps soft on the carpet, as if afraid to disturb the quiet. As you reach the mirror, your eyes meet your own reflection, but it doesn’t feel like you. It’s almost like you’re staring at someone else—an older, future version of yourself, worn down by disappointments like this.

Your hand rises instinctively, running through your hair in a familiar, comforting gesture. But this time, it doesn’t help. Your lip begins to tremble, betraying the storm of emotions you’ve been trying to keep buried. You bite down on the corner of it, trying to regain control, but it’s no use. The quivering only intensifies.

And then you see it—her. The version of you that you’ve been trying to ignore. Her face—your face—scrunches up, eyes brimming with tears you’ve been holding back for too long. The feelings you’ve been shoving down, the doubts, the loneliness, all come rushing to the surface.

For a brief moment, it’s like you’re watching someone else, but then it sinks in—she’s not some stranger. She’s you. This is who you are now. This is the you that you've been trying not to acknowledge, and suddenly, there's no escaping it.

A year ago, you would have never imagined feeling this distant from Jake. Back then, everything was easy—casual dates, late-night talks, and plans that didn’t involve long stretches of silence or missed phone calls.

When he first got the job offer in another city, you were nothing but supportive—proud, even. It was a huge opportunity, a chance for him to grow, and you both believed you could make long-distance work. In the beginning, it wasn’t so bad. He made an effort, calling regularly and visiting whenever he could. You could still feel the connection, the excitement in his voice when he talked about his new life.

But as the months passed, things started to shift. His job began to consume more of his time and energy, and slowly, the calls became less frequent. The visits, fewer. Little by little, the relationship stopped being about staying close and became more about pretending you still were. The connection that once felt so strong started to feel more like an echo of something you used to have, fading with each passing day.

A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts, snapping you out of the haze you’ve been lost in for who knows how long. You sigh, dragging yourself up from the bed and making your way to the door, not really in the mood for company but too curious to ignore it. When you open the door, Hamzah is standing there, leaning casually against the frame. In one hand, he’s holding a six-pack of your favorite drinks, the kind you only treat yourself to on rare occasions. In the other, his phone dangles loosely from his fingers, like he’s just texted someone and barely cares for a response.

His eyes meet yours, and that familiar, laid-back smile spreads across his face, effortless as always—like he’s walked into a room full of sunshine and not the quiet mess of your evening. There’s something comforting about the way he stands there, completely unfazed, as if he’s somehow known exactly when to show up, without being asked. For a moment, you forget the weight on your shoulders, caught up in the ease he carries with him.

“Thought you might need some company,” he says, stepping inside as if he’s been here a hundred times before. You smile, grateful for the distraction, and motion for him to follow you into the living room.

Hamzah and you have always existed in a quiet ease, a comfort that came naturally. As Jake’s closest friend, he’s been there from the very beginning, like a constant thread woven through your life. Over time, your friendship grew, effortless and warm, a steady presence you could rely on. But recently, something has shifted, subtle yet undeniable.

The space between you feels different now—heavier. You catch yourself watching him, eyes lingering just a moment too long, your breath catching in your throat before you force yourself to look away. His laughter, once part of the background noise, now pulls you in, and you find yourself laughing with him a little too easily, a little too hard, as if his words have suddenly gained new weight.

It’s in the silences, in the moments where nothing is said but everything is felt, that you notice it most—the quiet pull between you. It hums softly, growing stronger with each glance, each accidental touch. And though you try to push it aside, pretend it’s nothing, the truth sits quietly in the back of your mind: something between you has changed, something deeper, something that wasn’t there before.

You hand Hamzah a drink and settle beside him on the couch, the cushion sinking under your weight. The familiar ease of his presence wraps around you, comforting and safe.

The first few sips of your drink go down easily, the alcohol warming you from the inside, softening the edges of the day. For a while, conversation flows like it always does—effortless and light. You talk about work, the lives of mutual friends, stories from your past that spill out without much thought. It’s the kind of chatter that fills the spaces between you without demanding anything more, but with each passing moment, the tension in your chest begins to unravel, loosening its grip.

Your laughter, once cautious, comes more freely now, bubbling up between sips. You can feel the weight of the evening lifting, his presence anchoring you.

“So, what’s going on with Jake?” Hamzah asks eventually, his voice gentle but curious. He doesn’t push; he never does. That’s part of what makes him so easy to talk to.

You hesitate, unsure of how much to share. “He’s… busy. Work’s just been taking up all his time. I don’t even remember the last time we had a proper conversation,” you admit, your voice dropping. You look down at your drink, swirling it around in the can, avoiding Hamzah’s eyes.

He nods, listening closely, his eyes steady on yours as you speak. He doesn’t interrupt, his silence offering you space to pour out your thoughts without feeling pressured. It’s the kind of silence that feels intentional, like he’s holding the moment open just for you. “He’ll come around,” Hamzah says after a moment, though his tone is more hopeful than certain. There’s a pause before he adds, “But… you seem pretty distant yourself lately.”

You glance at him, surprised by his observation. “I guess I just… I don’t know. It’s hard to keep pretending everything’s fine when it doesn’t feel that way.”

The conversation shifts after that—lighter topics, old memories, shared jokes—and for a little while, you forget about your worries. Hamzah’s laughter is contagious, the way it always is, and every time you laugh, you find yourself leaning a little closer to him, your hand occasionally brushing against his arm as you gesture or fidget.

At one point, after an especially funny story, you’re both doubled over with laughter, your hand instinctively reaching for his arm to steady yourself. Your fingertips linger there just a little too long, resting against the warmth of his skin. You feel the heat of the contact pulse through you, and when you realize how long your hand has been there, you start to pull it away, but Hamzah doesn’t move. If anything, his arm tenses slightly under your touch.

You glance up at him, catching his eye. For a split second, you think about pulling away, about creating some distance between you. But you don’t. You stay there, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body.

Another drink later, and the distance between you has all but disappeared. Hamzah leans back into the couch, turning slightly so he’s facing you, his knee brushing against yours. You feel the light pressure of his leg against yours and the buzz of alcohol making your head just a little light. You try to focus on the conversation, but all you can think about is how close he is—how close his hand is to yours, how you can feel his eyes on you, the tension thickening between you with every second of silence.

And then it happens— that disappearing moment when laughter gently fades, and the room falls into a gentle hush. The air shifts, the warmth of shared jokes now a distant memory. You turn to Hamzah, and your eyes meet his, catching him in a gaze that holds an unspoken truth. His smile has disappeared, replaced by an expression so intense it feels almost sacred, as if it taps into something beyond the everyday, something only the heavens might grasp.

In his eyes, you see a silent understanding, a raw vulnerability that makes you feel seen in a way you’ve rarely experienced. The space between you grows distant, the silence now a living thing, pulsating with the weight of what’s unspoken. The laughter that once filled the room seems like a distant echo, leaving behind a poignant stillness that amplifies the closeness between you. Each second stretches into eternity, and you find yourself enveloped in this heavenly feeling.

The tension, the feeling—it’s like something’s been building between you for weeks, maybe months, and now it’s come to a head.

You clear your throat, trying to shake the feeling. “I should probably head to bed soon,” you say, though part of you doesn’t want the night to end. Part of you doesn’t want this moment to end.

Hamzah hesitates, his gaze still locked on you, then nods slowly. “Yeah, it’s getting late.” But neither of you moves. The silence stretches on, thick and tense, and you realize just how close he’s sitting next to you. Too close.

Before you can stop yourself, the words escape. “Do you ever think…” you start, but the sentence dissolves, leaving the thought unfinished. You struggle to find the right way to complete it. Do you ever think about me the way I’ve been thinking about you?

Hamzah turns to face you completely, his eyes locked onto yours with a searching intensity. “Think about what?” he asks softly. Yet, in the depths of his gaze, you sense he already knows where your thoughts were leading, as if the question has been hovering in the space between you all along.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but the words don’t come. Instead, you swallow it down, hoping only you can taste the tension burning in your throat.

But Hamzah leans in, moving slowly as if to give you every chance to pull back. His approach is cautious, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you might want him to stop. He pauses, close enough for you to feel his breath against your skin, his gaze darting between your eyes and your lips, weighing whether to close the distance or hold off.

You feel an almost magnetic pull, an irresistible urge that makes it impossible to move away. The closer he gets, the more intense your own desire becomes, pushing aside any doubts. You want this—more than you should, more than feels reasonable.

His lips brush against yours, a whisper of warmth, hesitant and gentle, as if he's waiting for you to retreat. But instead, you lean in, and the kiss deepens, a cascade of heat unfurling through you. His hand glides to your face, his fingers cradling your jaw with a scorching touch.

The kiss grows richer, more intense, each movement burning with a feeling that makes the room feel as though it's closing in around you. The intensity of his touch, the urgency of his lips, meld together to create a symphony of feeling-an outpouring of passion. Every lingering second becomes an expression of all that has been silently yearned for, flowing freely.

You pull back slightly, breathless, and whisper, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Hamzah's eyes are dark, You've never seen them that way before. He hesitates for a moment, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek, and then he confesses, "I know we shouldn't... but fuck, I want you so bad."

His words penetrate through your fears, the last the walls of doubt crumbling. You know you should stop. You know this isn't right. But the way he looks right now, his dark eyes almost whispering and pleading for you. His tan skin decorated with a thin sheen of sweat. These feelings. They are too strong to ignore, now all you can think is how much you want him. How good he would feel above of you.

Hamzah's lips are soft and warm against yours, and as they touch again, a rush of heat floods through you. Everything else-the distance with Jake, the guilt, the confusion-fades into the background. His hand moves to the side of your face, his thumb brushing gently along your jawline, while his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer. It feels like he's been holding back as much as you have, and now, in this moment, neither of you can resist.

Your heart races, your skin tingling everywhere he touches you. It feels like your body has come alive, like you've been craving this closeness for so long without realizing just how much you needed it.

Breaking away for air, you leaned your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily. "Hamzah, I need you. Fuck… I think I’ve always needed you" you whispered, your voice hoarse. Hamzah's hands traveled down your body, tracing the curves of your waist before resting on your hips, pulling you closer.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are," he murmured against your lips. "I've been dreaming of touching you, of feeling every inch of your skin." His words darting through your body, and you couldn't help but compare this moment to your experiences with Jake, your boyfriend. You'd never felt this desired, this wanted, not even in the early days of your relationship.

Hamzah's hands slid beneath your shirt, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your back with a feather-light touch. The warmth of his hands against your bare skin made you instinctively arch into his touch, a shiver of pleasure dancing through you.

"I want to make you feel good, so good that you forget about him” he murmured, his voice a low promise as his breath fanned over your neck, sending a trail of heat across your skin. His lips followed, planting a trail of kisses down your throat. When his lips reached the delicate spot where your neck meets your shoulder, he pressed gently, sucking with a tender, deliberate intensity. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and you gasped, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as if anchoring yourself against the wave of pleasure. The room seemed to shrink around you, leaving only the intimate space where his touch and your response melted in perfect harmony.

Guiding you backwards, Hamzah led you towards the bedroom, his kisses trailing down your body as he went. He knelt before you, his fingers softly unbuttoning your shirt, revealing your bra covered breasts, taking it off. "You're breathtaking, Jake doesn’t deserve you" he whispered, looking at you through his eyelashes, as he gently cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, making them harden against the cool air.

You let out a soft moan, feeling a rush of pleasure between your thighs as Hamzah's mouth claimed one nipple, his tongue swirling and sucking gently. His hands traveled down, tugging at your pants, sliding them down your legs until you stood before him in just your underwear.

His gaze lingered on you with as if he were beholding something otherworldly. Every curve and contour of your body seemed to draw his attention like a work of art displayed in a hallowed temple. His eyes traced your form gracefully. Each glance was a silent prayer, each sigh an acknowledgment of the divine grace he saw in you. In his eyes, you were not just flesh and bone, but a living embodiment of something ethereal.

"Lie down," he instructed, his voice blending urgency with tenderness. You complied, your heart abusing your ribcage with its intensity as you watched him remove his clothes. Each movement was purposeful, revealing a physique crafted with an artist's precision. His chest glistened with sweat under the soft light.

He joined you on the bed, his body’s warmth contrasting with the cool sheets. His hands, free from the confines of fabric, reached out with a gentle touch. Fingers traced the curve of your thighs with a gentle grace, as if mapping an uncharted secret world. Slowly, deliberately, he spread your legs. His touch, firm and tender. Each caress, each shift of position, forced a sound to push its way out of your lungs.

"I want to taste you," he whispered, his hot breath spilling over you. "I want to make you come with my mouth." With that, he lowered his head, his tongue tracing your slit through the cotton. You whimpered, feeling the damp fabric against your sensitive clit, and then he pulled the fabric aside, exposing you.

Hamzah's tongue descended into your wetness, rough and insistent. He licked and tasted everything that was softly spilling out of you, his lips sucking gently on your swollen clit. You squirmed beneath him, your hands tangling in his curly hair, pushing him in deeper. He moaned against you, the vibrations forcing your legs to shake.

"Oh God, Hamzah," you cried out, your hips bucking against his mouth. He continued to feast on your pussy, his tongue flicking and probing, discovering every inch of you. You were so close, so close to reaching a rush of ecstasy, when he suddenly stopped, leaving you gasping and desperate.

"Please, don't stop," you begged, your voice quivering.

"I want you to come with my cock inside you," he growled, his deep eyes blazing with desire. He rose looking down at you with an insatiable need. His attention was almost primal. Positioned over you with an assertive dominance, he seem consumed by an urgent hunger. There’s an unsettling edge—an impatient urgency that brushes aside any sense of gratitude. He positioned himself between your thighs, his hard length pressing against your entrance. You feel him against your clit, your body responding with uneven gasps of air. With one smooth thrust, he filled you, stretching and filling you in a way you'd never experienced before.

Hamzah began to move, his hips snapping forward as he set a relentless pace. He plunged into you again and again, his cock hitting far deep within you, stretching you far beyond what you thought was possible. You cried out, your body on fire, every nerve alight with euphoria.

"You feel so fucking good," he exhaled forcefully, his voice shaking slightly. "So fucking good..."

His words echoing in your head as you met his thrusts, wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing him even deeper. You felt that rush of pleasure in your belly, tighter and more intense than you'd ever experienced.

"I'm close," you whispered, your voice breathless. "Oh God, Hamzah, I'm so close..."

He reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing circles as he pounded into you. The combination of sensations pushed you over the edge, and you cried out his name as your orgasm erupted through you. You clenched around his cock, draining him as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body.

Hamzah groaned, his body stiffening as he exhausted himself deep within you. He collapsed onto your heaving chest, his breath warm against your sensitive nipples. You lay there, entangled in each other's arms, your hearts racing and your bodies glistening with sweat.

The room is quiet now, the air thick with the weight of everything that just happened. You lie beside Hamzah, the warmth of his body still lingering on your skin, your mind spinning in a thousand directions at once. The adrenaline from earlier has faded, replaced by a strange sense of calm, like the world has paused for a moment to let you catch your breath. But even in the silence, the reality of what you’ve done echoes heavy between you.

Hamzah lies on his back, one arm wrapped protectively around you, drawing you close against his chest. His other hand moves with a gentle, absent-minded rhythm, tracing soothing circles on your bare shoulder. The room feels almost too still, the darkness pressing in with an oppressive quietness, and in this silence, your thoughts begin to churn once more.

You shift slightly, resting your head against his chest, finding reassurance in the steady, reassuring cadence of his breathing. For what feels like an eternity, neither of you speaks, both caught in the reflective pause. As the minutes stretch into an uneasy quiet, the weight of reality—the consequences of what has happened—begins to press in, casting long shadows over the fleeting warmth and intimacy you once felt.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whisper, your voice barely audible in the quiet room. The weight of the situation presses down on you—Jake, your relationship, what this means for everything.

Hamzah tightens his grip around you. He tilts his head down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. His lips linger there for a moment before he whispers, “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.”

His voice is soothing, but it’s not enough to stop the growing anxiety building inside you. How can you not worry? Everything has changed now. You didn’t just cross a line—you shattered it. And as much as you want to stay in this moment, wrapped up in Hamzah’s warmth, you can’t ignore the reality that waits outside this room.

But for now, you let yourself sink into the comfort of his embrace, trying to quiet the noise in your head. You close your eyes, trying to let yourself believe, if only for a few more minutes, that everything will be okay.

And then your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

The sound cuts through the quiet room like a blade, pulling you back to the present. You freeze, your heart in your throat as you reach for the phone, dreading what you might see on the screen.

Your hand trembles as you pick it up, and your breath catches in your throat when you see Jake’s name flash across the screen.

“I’m outside. Can we talk?”

── ⊹ ࣪ ˖☆˖ ࣪ ⊹ ──

notes: i’m quite proud of this fic and i hope you guys love it!! comment any suggestions for what you liked and i’ll make a note of it!! :]

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Not alone • Harry Potter x f!reader

Pairing: Harry Potter x f!reader

Summary: After spending some time with your crush Harry, and while on your way to Hogsmeade, you decide you don't want him to be alone.

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: Fluff, English is not my first language!

A/N: Had this idea (which was supposed to be a drabble but oh well) while watching the third movie yesterday. Harry and y/n are supposed to be in their third year (to stay true to the books) but feel 100% free to imagine them being older if it makes you more comfortable. Enjoy! Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated :)

The one thing new third years in Hogwarts were looking forward to the most was the fact that, after hearing their elders talking about how awesome all the shops in Hogsmeade were and all these rumors about the Shrieking Shack, they were finally allowed to go too. When you received your permission form, you immediately went to your parents so they could sign it. Soon, your friends wrote to you about how fun the trips to the village would be, and you answered , genuinely, that you were just as excited. 

So when it was time for the new year to start and to get inside the Hogwarts express, your friends were already talking about it while looking for a compartment. After a while, you ran into three people, and you recognized them immediately, not only because they were in your year, but also because of them was your crush - Harry Potter. You immediately felt your heart beating faster and your cheeks becoming hotter, especially when, when he was about to enter a compartment after Hermione, he turned his head towards you, and seeing you, waved.

“Hi, y/n.”

You cleared your throat, trying to pull yourself back together, and managed to smile back.

“Hi, Harry.” 

He gave you one last smile before going into the compartment, and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Your friends didn’t know you had a silly crush on the Boy who Lived, as you knew they wouldn’t stop teasing you about it if they did know, so you kept your disappointment - and hope of the dark haired boy truly noticing you - to yourself. He talked to you sometimes, and you two were sometimes paired together for group projects which all ended in a very good grade - and even a correct one with Snape - and he was nice and friendly, but you felt like he acted the same with most of your classmates, which made you believe that your crush wasn’t reciprocated. 

The next month, the visits to Hogsmeade started, and you and your friends were just as excited as the other students. The day before the first visit, you went to the common room sometime after class and found Harry there, a book open before him - but it was obvious he wasn’t reading it, as he looked lost in his thoughts. There were only you two here, and you didn’t know whether you should go and talk to him or not. Gathering up some courage, you walked up to him.

“That book seems fascinating,” you teased.

Coming back to reality, Harry raised his head towards you and smiled.

“Oh, hum, yes,” he said. “We’re supposed to read it for Binns and write something about it.” 

“Ah, yeah, that one. I planned to do it tonight, too.”

And before you realized what you said, Harry answered.

“Oh. Well, we can do it together if you want?” 

You looked at him, incapable of speaking, and after a while, Harry cleared his throat. 

“I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want to, I know you have good grades in that class…”

“No!” you almost screamed. “I mean, of course we can do it together. I’d love to.” 

“Cool,” Harry said, nodding slightly. “Well, you should take a seat.” 

“Oh, of course, sorry.”

You felt yourself blushing, feeling horrible for being so awkward around him, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. The two of you started doing your homework, but soon started to talk about other topics like Quidditch or Professor Hagrid’s classes, not noticing the people coming and going. You guys laughed a lot too, and for the first time, it felt easy to talk to him. You still managed to finish the homework, and when you did, it was already time for dinner.

“Maybe we should go, don’t you think?” Harry asked. 

“Yes,” you nodded.

You two went to put your bags in your respective dorms before meeting again in the common room a minute after, and went together to the Great Hall. Here, you saw your friends as well as Hermione and Ron, and wondered if Harry would decide to rather stay with them than with you, but you ended up sitting next to him, and actually talked a lot with him, inadvertently forgetting about your friends. After dinner, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, you and Harry walked together back to the common room, still chatting. 

“y/n?”

You turned your head and saw your friend Parvati.

“Sorry to interrupt, but it’s time to go to bed.” 

“Oh.”

You looked around and saw that the rest of the Gryffindor house had already gone to their dorms.

“I guess you’re right.” you said before turning back to Harry. “Well, good night, Harry.”

“Good night, y/n.”

The next day, everyone in your class was talking about going to Hogsmeade, which made you realize you maybe should have asked Harry if he was going.  The afternoon came, and you rolled your eyes when hearing Draco Malfoy brag about whatever new expensive thing his father had bought him, and went to the courtyard to join the students who were allowed to go to the village. After giving your signed permission form to Filch, you saw Hermione and Ron, and looked for Harry, who usually wasn’t far away, and saw him talking to Professor McGonnagall. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but seeing Harry’s face, it couldn’t be something positive. You saw your Professor shaking her head, and after walking away a bit, going back to him and petting him on the shoulder in a compassionate gesture. You wanted to go and talk to him, feeling sad for him, but Professor McGonnagall gently touched your elbow.

You followed Parvati into the dorm you shared, and fell into an easy sleep, dreaming of a boy with green eyes and a scar on his forehead.

“Let’s get going, Miss y/l/n.” 

You nodded, and turned back your head. Harry was still here, and your eyes met before he turned on his heels and went back inside the castle. Your friends actually waited for you, so it was easy to catch up with them, but as you approached Hogsmeade, you couldn’t help but think how Harry and how alone he must be feeling at this moment. Pondering whether you should go back to stay with him and if he wanted you to stay with him, you decided on the second option. Ignoring your friends’ confused questions and calls, you turned and ran back to the school, and, catching your breath, you went to look for the boy you had your heart. You started looking in the common room, but there was only the kind Neville. 

“Neville?” you asked. “Have you seen Harry?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “I saw him minutes ago, he was going to the library.” 

“Thank you,” you smiled.

You almost ran to the library, and found him sitting alone, a fist holding his cheek. He saw you when you came closer to the table, still a bit breathless.

“y/n? You’re not in Hogsmeade?” he asked, confused.

“I was going, but…” you gulped and had a small smile. “I…I didn’t want you to be alone.” 

Harry looked at you, not speaking a word, and after a moment, his silence made you doubt if you made the good decision.

“I mean, hum…I’d understand if you wanted to be alone, though? I…I can leave.” 

Feeling like you were gonna die of embarrassment, you quickly turned around to leave but you heard a chair moving and, seconds after, a hand on your arm. 

“y/n, wait!”

You stopped your pace, and when you turned around to face Harry, his hand was still on your arm.

“I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you to come back for me. I…Maybe we can go eat chocolate by the fireplace in the common room?” 

You smiled, and felt your heart beater faster than ever.

“I’d love that very much.” 

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[exqorcism]

SALVATORE ━ father charlie mayhew 𒋲ㅤ͏

PART 1.・ PART 2 (coming soon)

summary. in search of understanding and compassion, y/n finds herself growing fond of her new priest and teacher, father charlie mayhew.

a/n: holyyy i'm so excited for this! it is based off a request that i can't find atm, anon u know who u are :D as always feedback is deeply appreciated & requests are open ♡

tw. blasphemy; subtle touches; slight praise?; father charlie is a teaseeeee! (basically, nothing too extreme just yet) | wc. 2862

Y/N was sitting in the schoolyard, pen moving against the page of her journal swiftly as she lost herself in the little world she created in her head. The feeling of grass on her bare legs somewhat comforting, taking off some of the stress blooming in her chest.

It was almost finals season in the catholic university she went to. Every few seconds she could hear the other girls' worried voices, discussing the importance of the finals, almost as if their lives depended on it.

Y/N leaned against the tree, deep sigh leaving her mouth as she closed her journal, fingers brushing against the cover almost lovingly. She looked around, the sun almost hiding behind the stone brick walls. A few groups of girls were scattered around the yard, girls she barely spoke to. It wasn't that they weren't kind, she just didn't feel like fraternising with any of them.

She was just... different. Slightly older than most of them, although no one besides the nuns and teachers knew that. And she wasn't really a believer. Her parents were. made her go to the church every sunday, pray every night. They did everything to make her the perfect daughter, but they failed.

It was probably a form of self defence; some kind of a protest against everything her family wanted her to be. She became a sinner. Got drunk, took drugs, smoked, and even slept with a boy or two. The last one made her parents so angry and so disappointed that they made a decision to send her to a catholic college. A catholic, girls' only college. The loneliness she felt in the place almost made her regret everything she's done in the past.

Y/N got up from the grass and straightened her skirt when the big clock on the wall struck a quarter to six. She had a mass to attend to, and it was obligatory to pass the semester.

Some of the girls looked at her when she passed, some greeted her with a smile. their souls so pure, so untouched, she almost felt jealous.

She entered the church soon after, the soft clicking of her Mary Janes against the marble floor disturbing the quietness of the temple. The smell of incense filled her nostrils, so familiar yet so distant at the same time. The church was still empty as she sat in the third row, staring down at her hands. Goosebumps covered the skin of her legs, the cold air making her shiver slightly. She folded her hands in a prayer, kneeling and focusing on the cross behind an altar.

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time, accepting hardship as a pathway to peace, taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world as it is, trusting that You will make all things right if I surrender to your will, so that I may be reasonably happy in this life, and supremely happy with you forever in the next", she chanted, voice quiet, eyes closing involuntarily.

She made the sign of the cross, feeling somewhat better after the short prayer. Her eyes opened, and she looked at the cross behind an altar, a small smile adoring her face. It was almost as if she could feel His presence next to her.

"I don't mean to interrupt", a low, yet soft voice came from behind her, and she was quite surprised at the fact she couldn't recognise it. Y/N turned her head, and her breath hitched at the sight of a young man in a cassock. His dark hair slicked back perfectly, and oh lord, he was so handsome, all of him. He looked more like a personal trainer of some sort than a priest. She could see his muscles even through the thick material of his gown. He walked towards her slowly, hands behind his back, pink mouth turning upwards, offering her a kind smile. "That was beautiful. It's rare to see someone so dedicated to prayer these days. Especially someone as young as you", he continued, now standing next to her as she kept wide eyes on him, his much bigger form towering over her. She cleared her throat, heart pounding in her chest. Y/N's cheeks burned as she realised he was waiting for an answer, playful glint in his eyes at the sight of her abashment.

"Excuse me, I don't mean to offend you..." the words word came out unsure, his intense gaze focused on her face, as if he was trying to memorise every detail about her. the young man nodded, meeting her eyes, and something dangerous sparked in his dark irises just for a moment. "I haven't seen you around here before".

"Of course. I should've introduced myself sooner, forgive me. I'm Father Charlie Mayhew", he clarified, the way his name rolled off his tongue made Y/N shift uncomfortably, hands shaking on her lap.

"I'm Y/N", she retorted quickly. "I'm so sorry for the directness, Father... but you are so young for a priest".

He chuckled softly, shaking his head, and Y/N couldn't help but smile, body finally starting to relax.

"And you seem too old to be a third year student, yet here you are", he noted playfully, sitting next to her on a wooden bench. Y/N gasped in disbelief at his sarcastic comment, the urge to laugh too strong now as she pressed her lips together in attempt to stop it.

She crossed her legs, the already short skirt riding up her thigh, and Father Charlie wasn't oblivious to that. She didn't notice the way his jaw tightened, shaky breath leaving his mouth, gaze lingering on her bare skin for a little bit too long.

"I must admit, Father", she started, leaning back against the cold wood, eyes focused on the altar, hands back on her lap in order to warm herself up. "I haven't confessed in ages. And never of my own accord", she spoke softly, the weight of her sins unbearable now, her head tilting to look at him, "And I'm not a saint. I've done a lot of things i'm not proud of. i still do", she admitted, the last sentence coming out as a whisper. She expected to see disgust in his eyes, maybe some signs of pity; yet all she found was an understanding going deeper than she would've expected. Father Charlie nodded, deep sigh leaving his mouth. He cocked his head, and Y/N couldn't help but notice the way his jaw clenched uncontrollably, the air between heavy, weird tension rising between the two.

Her eyes followed his every single move, unable to look away, mesmerised by his angelic presence.

"We are all sinners, Y/N", Father Charlie met her eyes, yet he looked absent, as if there were other things bothering him at the moment. "If you ever feel the need to talk, about anything, I will be more than happy to help. Come to me anytime", he reached for her leg, never breaking eye contact as he traced his thumb over her thigh softly. His words seemed so ambiguous, so wrong, almost blasphemous, considering his position. Yet she nodded her head politely, her gaze landing on his lips, need beginning to consume every single part of her body.

In that moment, she felt like she could trust him with her life. His presence so intimidating yet comforting, like a warm hug that she oh so desperately needed.

"I will keep that in mind. thank you, Father", Y/N pressed her thighs together, licking her lips nervously. He nodded, squeezing her thigh for the last time before standing up. Y/N shivered at the sudden coldness surrounding her, thigh burning from his soft touch. Charlie's eyes running over her form for the last time before he turned away and left.

Y/N exhaled, gripping at the edges of the pew tightly, and she swore she could hear her own heartbeat in the quietness of the church.

Lust. Yet another sin to add to the already long list. The very thing that made her parents send her to a catholic school, yet here she was, desire consuming every part of her body as she saw Father Charlie in the back of her mind, the memory of his warm hand on her thigh making her head spin. She felt pathetic at having such unholy thoughts about a freaking priest, the old version of her, the sinner, buried deep inside, beginning to set her body aflame, and it scared her.

She almost laughed hysterically at the ridiculousness of her current position as she looked at the altar again. The cross behind it almost mocking her, it's as if she could feel the disappointment of her Lord as she gazed at it blankly, the image of Father Charlie's smile appearing in her head yet again.

A few days passed, and it was as if Father Charlie vanished into thin air. It made Y/N wonder if he wasn't all an illusion, some sort of manifestation of her desires. Ever since the rather unusual encounter in the church, she hasn't seen him. His words echoed in her mind pretty often. "Come to me anytime". He had to be real. She actually contemplated reaching out to him, going into the church fifteen minutes before the mass started in hope of seeing him again.

Yet he never came. And she was disappointed; she grew fond of him, even though they only talked once. Loneliness sparked in her chest yet again, now more than ever. Yet she continued with her classes, being as perfect as ever, never letting anyone see through her. The only thing she could think of was his him, a devilishly handsome priest, whose eyes haunted her even in dreams.

When Y/N woke up that morning, sun shining through the curtains, an image of Father Charlie appeared in her mind once again. She hated herself for thinking about him so often, yet his smile seemed to be stuck in her head, his voice echoing through her head like some sort of a dreamy psalm.

It was Wednesday; which meant there was a hard day ahead of her. Bible reading classes with Sister Megan, whom she adored, very much, but her presence felt melancholic, as if she was sucking the life out of Y/N. She was so pure, as every single girl in the university, and it made her angry. Angry because she couldn't relate to any of them, angry because the only person who seemed to understand her was Father Charlie. Father Charlie who disappeared as quickly as he appeared.

She groaned at the thought of him, rubbing her eyes slowly, stretching, dramatic yawn leaving her mouth.

The air felt hot on her skin, smile appearing on her face nonetheless, eyes squinting involuntarily as she took in the weather outside the window. It was such a beautiful day, summer air making her feel better as she got up slowly, starting to get ready for the day.

It was ten past eight as she left her room, locking it before walking down the hallway to leave the residence hall, her heels clicked against the wooden floor as she walked, the silence almost suffocating, a musky smell of the antique building filling her lungs. She took a left and walked through the classroom door confidently.

"Good morning, Sister", she looked at the spot behind the teacher's desk, expecting to see Sister's Megan contagious smile, yet she was met with Father Charlie's intense gaze.

She inhaled softly at the sight of him as she stopped in the middle of the class, heart throbbing in her throat. She was mad that, once again, he looked absolutely breathtaking; not wearing a cassock this time, instead there was a black suit that cling perfectly to his muscular body. His ring glistened in the sun as he drummed his fingers against the desk, back pressed against the back of the chair comfortably, legs spread wide, almost inviting her to come in between them, and her heart throbbed with longing at the sight.

"Well, good morning, Y/N", he smiled and looked her up and down shamelessly, his gaze making her feel small as she returned his smile hesitantly.

"Cha- Father", Y/N breathed, chewing on her bottom lip, unsure what to say. He was the last person she expected to see, but she was relieved to see him. "Is Sister Megan sick?"

She walked to the front desk slowly, putting her bag down on the wood, eyes never leaving his form.

"No need to worry. Sister Megan is perfectly fine. Although I will be the one to conduct the Wednesday classes from now on", he explained, flashing his white teeth at her as he smiled. She thought that he looked really happy to see her; happiness bloomed in Y/N's chest, body starting to get warm, heat lingering in between her thighs.

"Good", she breathed a little bit too enthusiastically, the excitement obvious in her voice. "I wanted to come and see you, Father, but it seems as if you were... absent", she wet her lips, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt mindlessly, battling her eyelashes. The gesture made Charlie twitch in his seat; her faked innocence was adorable, her body and eyes betraying her true intentions right away.

"Yes, I was quite busy", he sighed, getting up abruptly. "Why did you want to see me? Did something happen?", Charlie asked, genuinely curious as he walked over to Y/N, standing right in front of her crossed legs. Her breath hitched as she looked up, meeting his gaze, tensing at the closeness.

"I...", she hesitated, "I don't know".

A lie.

He half-smiled as y/n uncrossed her legs, gripping the edges of the desk until her knuckles turned white. Her chest heaved with uneven breaths, yet she never looked away from his eyes, tension inside of her stomach ready to snap anytime now.

"Y/N...", he leaned in, "Lying is a sin".

Charlie took a step back, his gaze hardening, almost becoming demanding as he clenched his jaw.

"Luke, 8:17", his voice almost taunting as he challenged her, dangerous glint in his dark irises.

Her palms became sweaty as she chanted: "For nothing is hidden that will not be made manifest, nor is anything secret that will not be known and come to light".

Charlie's smile almost predatory, adoration taking over his features as he tilted his head, hand reaching out to put a strand of Y/N's hair behind her ear. The girl's eyes fluttered shut as she exhaled through her mouth, the feeling of his warm hand on her cheek so right, as if he was meant just for her.

"Smart girl", he praised, voice low and proud. He dropped his hand, backing off and she finally felt like she could breathe again. She hated herself for enjoying his touch and words so much, his position more exciting than terrifying now. Yet they both knew he shouldn't be doing this, using her submissiveness to feed his own sick fantasies, teasing her until she broke. But there was no denying the effect he had on her, panties damp from the arousal coating them, embarrassment and guilt heavy on her chest, yet the lust blooming in her stomach stronger.

The air around her felt cold, even though it was hot outside. She so desperately wanted him to touch her again, but she woke up from the trance quickly, clearing her throat as the clock struck eight thirty.

"I'm sorry, Father", her voice barely above a whisper as she fixed her hair, jumping off from the desk as she heard her classmates' hushed voices from the corridor.

Y/N sat down across from him as she lowered her gaze, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, face flushed as she tried to maintain her balance. Charlie's appearance as perfect as before as he sat back on the chair casually; disappointment bloomed in her chest at his stoic posture, thinking that it didn't affect him at all.

"You need to confess before the weight of your sins crushes you, Y/N", his voice dangerously low yet steady, spark in his dark eyes, before he greeted the other students as they walked in. Professional look on his face, the one she hasn't seen before, as he started the class, his words inaudible as she followed his every move with curious eyes.

Father Charlie was not just a priest. Something about him made her crave for him, all of him. He seemed to understand her so well, even though they barely spoke. She found comfort in his demanding yet affectionate manner, the way he praised her, touched her softly, almost as if he expected her to break if he pushed too hard. Heart filled with longing as she followed the movement of his lips, the way his silver cross necklace glistened in the sunlight. Dimples appearing on his face when he smiled at something her classmate said, dark eyes that kept on meeting her own.

So divine yet so cruel.

So tempting yet so forbidden.

━━━━━━━━━━

2024, hoffmansgirl ©

nicholas alexander chavez masterlist ✿ | about the author

[zaczenemiji]

Hello Dearest Writer! I have read the Shattered Pride that you wrote which I like it! and I hope you don't mind me requesting ^^. I wanted to request for a lil' bit angsty Kenji Sato x Reader, where kenji & reader have a heated argument that leads to reader with tears streaming down her face from kenji's hurtful words and attempted to remove her engagement ring and proposed to end things for the better and kenji got scared and regret everything he said, so he asked for forgiveness, convinced her to stay and makes it up for her. Thank you so much, Writer! I hope you have a nice day!

Second to None

Kenji Sato x Reader

Word Count: 2,076

Genre/Warning: Angst, Character Development, Drama, Established Long-Term Relationship, Heartbreak, hurt/Comfort, Redemption

Author’s Note: My works are becoming longer lately 🤧 Is that a good thing or not?

MASTERLIST | Shattered Pride

The reservation; a special menu and a gift sat neatly wrapped beside your plate. Your eyes dart to the door every few minutes, eagerly yet anxiously anticipating Kenji’s arrival.

The minutes turned into an hour, each second becoming agonizingly longer than the last. Your discomfort became noticeable to those who arrived before and after you.

Some couples came in pairs. Others also waited but the arrival of their beloveds was only half as long as the duration of your waiting.

The waiter approached with a sympathetic smile. “Would you like to order now, miss?” He asked gently.

"Not yet," you replied, forcing a smile. "He should be here any minute." You smoothed down your dress, avoiding any more contact with someone who isn’t Kenji.

“Are you on your way? Our reservation was at 7,” your message long showed as delivered, but still, no reply, and all your calls went straight to voicemail.

Your heart sank as the waiter returned, his expression more apologetic than before, "Shall I bring you a drink while you wait?"

"Yes, please," you answered, trying to mask your growing disappointment. You chose a glass of your favorite wine with Kenji, hoping the familiar taste would bring some comfort.

It was your fifth anniversary together, a milestone you had been looking forward to for weeks. Yet just like last year, it seemed like this would be a missed one too.

The first years of your relationship were pure bliss. The years that followed were less exciting but more comfortable. Yet from last year til today, some things were never the same.

At first, it felt like it was just because both of you had gotten used to each other. But as time progressed, it started seeming like your relationship was just a background—a television turned on not for the sake of watching, but for the sake of not being alone.

It started with last year’s missed anniversary; he said that it was an important out-of-town game that he couldn't skip. "I'm so sorry, the game went into extra innings and I missed the last train back. I'll be home late.”

He went home the next day.

You reminisced your first anniversary, a weekend getaway, a brief escape from your busy lives. The second, you had gone to a cozy little restaurant. The third had been a quiet dinner at home.

The fourth anniversary was marked by absence and loneliness; as this year’s. It wasn't the first time Kenji's baseball career had come between you, but you had hoped that anniversaries would be different.

You started to wonder if you would always come second to his dreams.

Another hour passed and the restaurant began to empty as the night grew older. "Kenji, I'm still here. Please call me." But still, there was no response.

Finally, your phone buzzed, "I'm so sorry, practice ran late and then we had a team meeting. I’ll try to get there as soon as I can."

You stared at the message, a tear slipping down your cheek. You heard similar apologies countless times before, each one chipping away at your patience and hope.

You signaled the waiter and asked for the check. You couldn't sit there any longer and pretend that everything was fine.

You walked out into the cool night, clutching the small gift you had brought for Kenji. The streets were quiet, the city's usual buzz dulled by the lateness of the hour.

You felt a profound loneliness, one that wasn't just about this night but about the accumulation of missed moments and broken promises.

When you finally got home, the flat was dark. You placed the untouched gift on the table and changed into more comfortable clothes.

You were too drained, emotionally, to even wait for Kenji in case he’d come over. You lay down on your bed, more than willing to sleep off the pain you just can’t get used to.

As your consciousness was being tugged to sleep, your phone buzzed again. It was Kenji, calling. And for the first time, you decided to put yourself first and slept.

Morning came and you sat at the dining table, a half-empty glass of wine in front of you. It was far too early to be drinking, but the remnants of last night's disappointment and loneliness still clung to you, and you needed something to numb the ache.

You swirled the wine in your glass, your mind replaying the evening over and over. The beautifully wrapped gift lay discarded on the coffee table.

You immediately slept last night but somehow, you hoped that Kenji would walk through the door with some grand gesture, some sign that he valued your relationship as much as she did. But he never came.

The sound of the key turning in the lock pulled you from your thoughts. Kenji walked in, looking exhausted and worn. His eyes immediately found yours, and he saw the wine glass in your hand.

"You're drinking this early?" he asked, concern laced with surprise. You didn't respond, just took another sip.

The silence was heavy, filled with all the words you wanted to say but didn't know how to begin. You set the glass down and met his gaze.

"Do you even realize what day it was yesterday, Kenji?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "Of course, I do. I'm so sorry. Practice ran late and then there was an unexpected team meeting. I—“

"You always have an excuse,” You cut him off, your voice rising. “Do you know how many times I've heard 'practice ran late' or 'there was a meeting’? I'm tired of it!"

"I know," he said, trying to calm you down. "I really wanted to be here, but you know how important baseball is to me."

"And what about me, Kenji? Am I not important to you?" you snapped, tears welling up in your eyes. "I've sacrificed everything for you! I left my career, my family, my friends, everything to come to Japan and support you! And for what? To be stood up on our anniversary again?"

His face tightened, "It's not like that. You knew what you were getting into when you decided to come with me."

You took a step back, your voice dropping to a whisper. "So, it's my fault now?” You asked. “I chose to support you because I believed in us. But it feels like I'm the only one making sacrifices here."

"That's not fair," he retorted, frustration creeping into his tone. "I work hard for us. I'm trying to build a future for us."

"But at what cost, Kenji?" you shot back. "Every time I need you, you're not there. Every important moment, every milestone, you're always somewhere else. Do you even understand how lonely that is?"

He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words, "I'm doing my best. It's just... baseball is my dream. I can't give that up."

"And what about my dreams?" you cried, your voice breaking. "I had a career I loved, a life I was proud of! I gave all that up for you, believing that you would be there for me, that we would support each other. But it feels like I'm the only one who gave anything up!”

He took a deep breath, his own anger rising. "I never asked you to give up your career!” He said. “You made that choice!”

Your eyes widened in shock and pain. "I made that choice because I loved you—because I thought we were building a life together,” you said, voice softening and heart breaking. “But it seems like I'm the only one who sees it that way."

There was a long silence as you two stared at each other, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between you. Slowly, you reached for your engagement ring, your hands shaking.

"What are you doing?" Kenji asked, panic creeping into his voice.

You struggled to remove the ring, tears streaming down your face. "Maybe we're fooling ourselves, Kenji,” you said in between sobs. “Maybe this isn't working. I can't keep feeling like I'm second to your career. Maybe it's better if we end this now."

His heart raced, panic surged through him, and his voice trembled with desperation. "No, please don't," he said, stepping closer, his hands reaching out but hesitating to touch you. "I'm sorry for everything I've said. I didn't mean it. I love you, and I can't lose you."

You looked at him, the ring held loosely in your hand. "Do you really love me, Kenji?” You asked. “Or do you love the idea of me being here, waiting for you, always understanding and never complaining?"

He stepped closer, his eyes pleading. "I love you. I know I've been an idiot, and I know I haven't been there for you like I should. But I promise I'll do better. Just please, don't leave me."

His eyes filled with tears as he dropped to his knees in front of you, the weight of his regret crashing down on him. "I love you," he said, his voice breaking. "I know I've been an idiot, and I know I haven't been there for you like I should. Every time I chose baseball over you, I was wrong. I see that now.”

“Please, don't take off that ring. Don't leave me,” he pleased. “I can't imagine my life without you."

You looked down at him, your own tears blurring your vision, “How can I believe you, Kenji?"

He reached out, taking her hands in his and holding them tightly. "Because I can't bear the thought of losing you,” he said. “I'll do whatever it takes to prove to you that you're the most important thing in my life. I'll talk to my coach, I'll cut back on practice—anything. Just please, give me one more chance."

You hesitated, the pain and love warring within you. His eyes were filled with genuine fear and remorse, and you could feel his hands trembling. "One more chance, Kenji,” you said. “But things have to change. I can't keep feeling like this."

He nodded fervently, pulling you into a tight embrace, his heart pounding with a mix of relief and fear. "I promise, things will change,” he said. “I'll make it up to you, I swear. I love you more than anything. Please, believe me."

The next morning, Kenji came over early and made you breakfast, a small but heartfelt gesture to start making amends. He took the morning off practice and thought of having breakfast together.

Over the next few weeks, Kenji made noticeable changes. He began to prioritize your time together, making sure to balance his demanding baseball schedule with moments that were just for you two.

One evening, as you sat on the couch watching a movie, Kenji turned to you with a serious expression, "I talked to a few people, and I found a way for you to continue your work here in Japan.”

You looked at him, curiosity and hope in your eyes, "What do you mean?"

“There are some production companies interested in meeting with you,” he said. “I want you to have your career back, to have something that's yours."

Tears welled up in your eyes, this time from gratitude and joy. "Kenji, that's... I don't know what to say. Thank you."

He took your hand, squeezing it gently. "I want you to be happy. I want us to build our lives together, supporting each other's dreams,” he said. “I'm sorry it took me so long to realize how much you were sacrificing."

True to his word, Kenji began to make your relationship a priority. He surprised you with small dates, like picnics in the park or quiet dinners at home. He even started learning a bit of Japanese cuisine to cook your favorite meals.

Kenji made it a point to never miss another important moment, attending every event and celebration that mattered to you. He cheered you on as you restarted your career, eager to see you shine.

In the end, you both learned that love required effort and compromise from both sides. It wasn't always easy, but you faced your challenges together, knowing that your love was worth fighting for. And with each passing day, you both found yourselves more deeply in love, more committed to the life you were building together.

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[swivi]

Be warned. This is my first time writing something like this, so it may contain some errors. I was actually quite stressed while writing this and didn't want to disappoint anyone so..if you have any suggestions. Feel free to send them to me. Just no hate please and thank you..enjoy🩷

The almighty k'uhul Ajaw is tired of you both being oblivious.

It started as a joke, Ajaw would see you both being close and then proceed to mock kinich about how obvious his crush was for you. Now it was just tiring. It was safe to say the Almighty k'uhul Ajaw was at his limits.

First strike

You both had decided to hang out with each other at a new resturant and ajaw had to come along because of this stupid contract with Kinich...Oh the humiliation he thought. Having to watch you both throw "secret" glances at each other was actually driving him insane. "How much longer?" Safe to say Ajaw could not find his appetite that day. It was true torture for the poor pixel dragon lord.

Second strike

You both getting jealous easily. Whether it was from him talking to mualani and {{name}} getting jealous or you talking to the traveler and him getting jealous. It would never end..The almighty k'uhul was actually close to his limit.

It was another day at the Scions of the Canopy and the traveler and paimon had decided to come over for a visit. While on the way, they bumped into both you and Kinich, who both seemed to be happily walking away..well you were doing the talking while he listened.

As the two walked closer, paimon couldn't help but speak. "Hey..doesn't Kinich seem a little more softer when talking to {{name}}? It's actually quite funny..", The traveler nodded along seemingly getting her point. As the two slowly made their way over to the two people talking. Seeing the traveler and paimon, you quickly waved them over with a smile.

Quickly forgetting about what you were walking about as you conversed with the traveler. It was quite obvious that kinich was glaring at the two and paimon couldn't help but sweat nervously floating over to the traveler. "H-hey...Paimon thinks we should go..", Paimon nervously whisperied to the traveler. The traveler seemed confused at first, before finally feeling the glare as they glanced over, some of the passing tribe members also seemed to be quite scared as they throwed nervous glances at something. The Traveler slowly turned around and, there and behold stood Kinich. He seemed rather calm, but something about how he was staring at the two without blinking was actually quite scary. It basically screamed "Leave before I make you."

Safe to say the two quickly made a excuse to quickly go. Leaving a confused {{user}}, a seemingly happy Kinich and a frustrated Ajaw that had to witness the entire thing.

As the traveler and Paimon walked off, Paimon finally broke down. "That was so scary..Paimon thought she was gonna die!". Paimon yelled in slight fear and panic. For the first time, the traveler seemed to agree as they both scurried away for their lives

Third strike(Final strike)

Everyone has their limits..even the small Pixel dragon that claims to be a god.

Kinich had finally decided to ask you out on a date after 7 long months. To which you agreed to, excited yet nervous at the same time. The date was meant to be on a nearby cliff, when the sun was going down and the world fell almost completely silent. And completely silent it was as none of you had gotten the courage to talk to each other, leading the setting to be quite awkward. That's when he finally had enough, even watching a group of ants would be more entertaining than watching two awkward adults.

Ajaw was practically bright red, as he finally went on a rant. "God! Can you both be anymore dense!? Kinich likes you, he thinks about you every night and almost every thing he sees reminds you of him. And you...", Ajaw turned his pixel body to you. "Your both so obvious that even the saurians probably know you like him! The almighty k'uhul Ajaw is tired of this you hear me tired! He deman-" As quickly as he appeared, the pixel dragon was now nowhere to be seen clearly put in time out as a small sigh escapes Kinich's lips.

A tense silence filled the air around you both, with only the occasional sounds of the wind and birds flying off to god knows where. After what felt like forever. Kinich finally broke the silence, clearing his throat with a light blush present on his face. Kinich turned to you, for the first time...he actually looked quite nervous. Which was surprising. He was always to composed and calm time. As kinich turned to meet your eyes, he finally found it in himself to speak.

"I'm sorry about Ajaw..he can be quite annoying at times, although what he said was true..I've been quite tired of hiding my feelings for you and the truth is, I really like you {{name}}. I know I'm not one with words..and I can be quite blunt at times, but what I speak is only the truth. I really liked you..for quite a while now." Kinich spoke, his voice holding a unusually soft tone to it.

A few minutes later had passed, and it was obvious what had taken place as you both we're now sitting closer to each other. His hands holding yours, as you both looked off into the distance. Maybe having ajaw wasn't too bad, for the first time Kinich thought.

In another space

Ajaw was seen practically fuming with anger as he cursed Kinich in the darkness

"Curse you kinich! Just you wait...the almighty k'uhul Ajaw will have his revenge soon!" Ajaw yelled off in the darkness.

To be continued

"Next chapter: Ajaws plans of revenge"