#the only thing i’m nervous about is the beach

[cloudshapedpatch]

i finally got tickets to see my all time fave music artist!!! im going to california!!!

[xhyjin]

thinking about nanami kento! (when am i not) with a s/o that is socially awkward/shy

he knew from the start that you were distant. during work parties, you never showed up, only clocking in to work and leaving once your duties were done, never lingering to chat or mingle. the rare times you did attend, you stayed in the corners, quietly observing with wide, nervous eyes and a faint blush coloring your cheeks. he couldn’t help but be intrigued, and one day, curiosity got the better of him. he approached you. your words stuttered, your face burned red, but there was something about the way you responded that made him instantly drawn to you. from that moment, you became his reason to look forward to work every day.

he began to notice the little things about you. how you stayed tucked away in your cubicle, only speaking to coworkers when necessary. how you spent your lunch breaks alone, either watching a show on your phone or quietly eating, lost in your own thoughts. and how, at the end of the day, he’d sometimes catch you smiling to yourself in the elevator, as though you’d found happiness in the smallest of things. it fascinated him how content you seemed in your own world, and after weeks of silently admiring you, he finally decided to approach you properly.

but he was careful—patient. he knew you were shy and reserved, so he didn’t want to overwhelm you. he started small, spending lunch breaks with you. at first, the silence between you both was awkward, though not unwelcome. you blushed furiously at the attention but didn’t push him away. instead, you quietly shared bits of your lunch with him, a subtle gesture that said, i’m glad you’re here. he knew you struggled with words, so he didn’t press. instead, he let his presence speak for itself, slowly building a bridge of comfort between the two of you.

when kento finally worked up the courage to ask you out, making it clear that this wasn’t just work-related but a date; you could hardly believe it. your eyes widened, and then you nodded eagerly, your happiness shining through. his heart swelled at your reaction. he had planned a simple outing, maybe a cafe, but seeing your excitement, he wanted to make it special. he made reservations at a nice restaurant, ensuring you’d have a secluded spot to enjoy your time without pressure.

the date started just as he expected. you were quiet, your voice barely above a whisper when you responded to him, sticking mostly to “yes” or “no” answers. but kento was nothing if not patient. he asked small, simple questions, easing you into a conversation, and when he mentioned something you loved, your entire demeanor changed. your eyes lit up, your voice grew stronger, and you started talking more, rambling on about your interests. you didn’t even realize how much you’d been speaking until the waitress interrupted to take your order. your face turned crimson as you sulked in embarrassment, worried you’d talked too much. but when you glanced at kento, his gaze was soft, a gentle smile on his lips, he looked utterly captivated.

ordering was its own challenge. you felt embarrassed, too shy to tell the waitress what you wanted. kento noticed your hesitation and, with a subtle nudge of his foot under the table, gave you something to focus on. you nudged him back, and it was enough to calm your nerves, allowing you to place your order. he was thoughtful like that, always finding quiet ways to make you feel at ease.

by the end of the date, you’d grown comfortable enough to start asking him questions. the two of you talked for so long that you didn’t notice the restaurant had emptied. when you finally left, the night felt far from over. kento drove you to the beach, where the two of you walked hand in hand along the shore. the sound of the waves filled the comfortable silence between you, and when you stopped to look at the moonlight reflecting on the water, he turned to you and asked, “may i kiss you?”

your heart raced, but you nodded, and when he kissed you, it was as if you were something fragile, precious. he didn’t want to rush you or make you uncomfortable, but under the glow of the moon, he couldn’t resist the beauty of the moment—or of you.

after that, the two of you continued to grow closer, going on more dates and eventually making it official. over time, you began to come out of your shell, though you still retained your social awkwardness. kento loved every part of you, from the way you stumbled over your words to the way you blushed under his gaze. to him, you were perfect exactly as you were, and he made sure you always knew it.

[mrspiastri]

✩ jam biscuits 🍪

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

cw: fluff, sickeningly sweet oscar and a slight, super little bit of angst :D

wc: 13.3k words (don’t even joke lad)

an: need to stop placing myself as y/n when i write for oscar omg

It was the first week of December, and summer had already begun in Queensland, with warm mornings, sunny afternoons, and some moderately humid evenings. Y/N had spent her first two semesters at Griffith University and had loved every minute of it.

Sure, transferring as an international student in her third year of uni wasn’t exactly ideal, but she managed to adjust amazingly and had made some amazing memories and friends after just a little less than a year.

Mae was Y/N’s first friend, and they met after the former had to knock on the latter’s door to ask if she had an extra tampon she could borrow. And cut to now, the two were basically inseparable.

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to just relax and actually enjoy your break. Especially with the very limited days off we get from uni.” Mae chided as she tried squeezing in a third pair of shoes onto her carry-on.

“Well, I can’t afford the plane tickets back home, and besides, I’m already going back in April!”

“So what are you going to do, just sit here for the next two months? In this tiny, slightly dusty, and very lonely dorm room? All by yourself?”

“I don’t really have any other choice, Mae.” Y/N stated, as she held out her friend’s shorts for her to pack.

“Then why don’t you come with me?” Her friend questioned.

“Where, Melbourne?”

“Yeah! You’re completely unoccupied, plus it’s with me! Mum has been dying to have you at home since you first met her!” Her friend grabbed her hands in an attempt to convince her.

“I don’t know; it’s the holidays, and I don’t want to intrude on your time with your family.” Y/N sighed, still very keen to spend the summer with Mae.

“Nonsense! They’d all love to meet you. And besides, you’re like family to me. So it won’t be weird.”

Knowing there was no way out of this and also eager to not ring in Christmas alone, Y/N agreed to fly back to her friend’s home city. In a way she wasn’t as nervous about it; she’d already met Nicole and Tim multiple times, and she’d spoken to Hattie and Edie on FaceTime multiple times. And quite frankly, she loved Melbourne with its beautiful beaches, sunny people, and amazing nightlife.

Four days later, while the two were seated on their flight home, Y/N was already busy reading the in-flight magazine, and Mae was texting away furiously on her family group chat.

“We’re about to take off soon, think you could put the phone away?” She teased.

“I wish, but as usual this idiot needs to make things difficult for us all.” She got a reply.

Y/N was about to ask who she was talking about, but before she could, Mae began her rant.

“I mean, you’d think he’d have planned this better, and I booked the tickets so early! He only had to schedule them on the same day as mine and at the SAME AIRPORT, and now he’s gone and messed it up for everyone!”

“Who are we talking about?” Y/N calmly asked her friend, who was close to foaming at the mouth.

“Oscar, who else would be such an idiot?”

Hearing his name made Y/N drop her magazine onto her lap.

“Oscar’s coming?” She tried to hide the nervousness in her voice.

“Well, of course; he hasn’t got any racing left to do now, does he?”

Mae continued speaking, well until takeoff, and then she fell asleep on Y/N’s shoulder, holding onto her arm like a koala hanging onto a tree branch.

Y/N, however, didn’t sleep a wink during the whole duration of the flight; the only thing floating in her mind was the newfound information she had just received.

Oscar was coming. Oscar. Oscar Piastri. Mae’s brother. Nicole’s son. Oscar. Formula 1 star Oscar. The same Oscar, she had a slight crush on. Well, not slight; embarrassingly large would be a better word.

She’d met him only once, at the Australian Grand Prix that year. It was very difficult for her to pretend she wasn’t bothered by him, because, truth be told, everything about him was difficult to ignore.

He met her, and like the polite gentleman he was, shook her hand and introduced himself. He made sure she ate something at the McLaren hospitality. He asked her about where she was from, her hobbies, and how many siblings she had, and she asked him how fast his car went and whether he was more of a chocolate person or a more vanilla person. He also shared a look of mild annoyance with her when his team whisked him away for the driver’s parade.

After his disappointing result on Sunday, she hadn’t seen him at all. She and the family came back home, ate their dinners and went off to an early sleep. He reached home late at night, and before he could say his goodbyes, Y/N and Mae had taken off for the airport.

Now after almost a year, they would meet again and would be living in the same house. It wasn’t too weird to imagine seeing him, especially because her crush on him had basically vanished. The girl convinced herself that it was just her meeting a handsome, polite, funny guy after years and naturally being attracted to him. It wasn’t weird. It wasn’t abnormal. It was okay.

She repeated those three sentences in her head over and over again, till they landed in Melbourne.

🪻🪻🪻

The afternoon sun was warm and bright when Mae and Y/N stepped out of Melbourne Airport. The December heat felt different here, less humid, more dry; and there was a comforting familiarity in the way the light touched the tops of gum trees and danced across the asphalt. Tim was waiting in the car park, waving enthusiastically at the sight of them.

“G’day, girls!” He called, striding over and pulling Mae into a one-armed hug, then offering the same to Y/N. “How was the flight?”

“Uneventful,” Mae replied, yawning as she shoved her suitcase into the back of the car. “She didn’t sleep at all,” she added, nodding toward Y/N.

“Excited to be back in Melbourne?” Tim asked with a grin, looking at Y/N through the rearview mirror once they were on the road.

“Absolutely,” she said sincerely, watching the familiar streets fly by outside. “It’s really lovely here.”

By the time they reached the house, it was well into the afternoon, and the air smelt faintly of freshly mown grass and barbecues somewhere in the distance. The front door flung open before Mae could even knock, and out tumbled Hattie and Edie, talking at a volume that could only be described as “excited shrieking”.

“Y/N!!” Edie shouted, throwing herself at her sister’s best friend in a flying hug that nearly knocked her off balance.

“You’re finally here!” Hattie added, squeezing in from the side, her hair bouncing with the effort.

Inside, the house looked exactly how she remembered it: cosy, lived-in, and full of warmth. Nicole emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel and smiling brightly. “There she is! My fourth daughter!” She pulled Y/N into a hug, then stood back to take a proper look at her. “You’re glowing. Queensland’s been good to you, huh?”

“Very good,” Y/N replied, feeling something inside her relax in a way it hadn’t in months.

Just then, the distinct sound of claws clicking against the wooden floor interrupted the moment, and in bounded Basil, floppy-eared, tail-wagging, and as chaotic as ever.

“Basil!!” Y/N crouched down and let the dog barrel into her, nearly knocking her over in his excitement. “You remember me, huh?”

“He definitely remembers,” Tim chuckled, hanging his hat by the door. “You’re the only guest who lets him sleep in their bed.”

“Guilty as charged,” she grinned, ruffling Basil’s fur as he whined happily and flopped onto his back for belly rubs.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a comfortable haze of chatter, catching up, and helping Nicole prep for dinner. The girls sat out on the back deck with lemonade while Basil napped in the shade, and Mae kept flipping through Spotify trying to find the “right vibe” for a summer evening.

As the sun began to dip low in the sky, casting long golden shadows across the backyard, Nicole called out from the hallway.

“Girls, I’m heading to the airport to get Oscar! We should be back by six, so keep an eye on the roast, will you?”

Y/N felt her heart skip, just slightly. Mae was still scrolling on her phone, unmoved. “Tell him not to whine the whole drive home.”

Nicole rolled her eyes fondly. “He’s not that bad.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, Y/N found herself staring out at the orange-hued horizon, feeling a strange flutter in her chest. It was fine. Everything was fine. She wasn’t nervous. She didn’t care that Oscar was coming. She didn’t even like him anymore.

Right?

She shook her head and went to baste the roast.

It was a little past six when the front door opened again, the soft creak of the hinges followed by Nicole’s unmistakable voice floating into the living room.

“We’re back!”

From the kitchen, Mae shouted, “Try not to crash into the furniture, superstar!”

The house erupted with the kind of excitement only reserved for a long-awaited homecoming.

“Oscar!!”

Basil bounded after them, nails skidding comically on the hardwood floor as he barked joyfully. Even Tim put down his beer and strolled over, smiling wide.

Y/N stayed where she was, half leaning against the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, a tea towel in one hand, still warm from drying the plates. She could hear the chaos, the laughter, the enthusiastic chorus of “you’re finally home” and “how was the flight?” and “do you have any gifts?”

And then, Oscar stepped into view.

He was dressed casually, in a plain white tee and black joggers, with a backpack slung over one shoulder, tugging a suitcase behind him, and looked exactly as she remembered him. No, not exactly. A little more tan, maybe. His hair was longer, a bit curlier. But the smile he gave his sisters was the same one that had made her stomach do something weird the last time they met.

He hugged Nicole first, then gave an affectionate smack on the shoulder to Hattie and Edie; he was still their annoying older brother after all. Tim ruffled his hair affectionately, and even Mae looked up from her phone long enough to roll her eyes and say, “Nice of you to finally show up.”

It wasn’t until the commotion settled slightly that he looked past them and saw her.

Y/N.

She hadn’t moved from her spot in the doorway, still holding that tea towel like she needed something to do with her hands. Her navy blue tank top clung lightly to her frame, and the grey sweatpants sat comfortably on her hips. Her hair was shorter than the last time he saw her, cut just below her shoulders now, a little frizzy from the heat, a little messy in the best way.

His heart did something. A flutter. A jolt. Something in between.

Because she looked different.

She looked even prettier than before.

He didn’t say anything right away, just took a step forward with a slightly dumbfounded smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His eyes lingered, not in a weird way, just long enough to take it all in. The way her gold necklace glinted under the light. The soft flush of her cheeks. The way her lips curved up slightly, like she didn’t know whether to say hi and possibly intrude on their little family reunion.

“Hey,” he finally said, his voice quieter than it had been a second ago.

Y/N smiled back, just a little. “Hey.”

And for a second, it was like they were the only two people in the room.

Then Basil barked, loudly and unnecessarily, jumping between them like a fuzzy exclamation mark, and Mae shouted from the couch, “We saved you a plate, Oscar. Don’t make us regret it.”

Oscar blinked, tearing his eyes away from Y/N just long enough to answer, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

But even as he sat down at the table, greeted with a roast dinner and overlapping questions about Monaco and racing and airport delays, his gaze flickered back to her. Still leaning in the doorway. Still watching him.

Dinner in the Piastri household was as lively as ever. The table was overflowing with food, laughter, and the kind of chaotic joy that came with a full house. The roast smelled incredible, the salad was freshly dressed, and the potatoes were crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, just the way Y/N remembered from the last time she visited. There was a warm hum of voices, dishes clinking together, and the occasional shout from one of the girls trying to be heard over the rest.

Y/N followed Mae into the dining room, clutching her glass of water and scanning the table quickly. Her first instinct was to sit next to Mae, hoping for the comfort of a buffer between her and any potential awkwardness. She picked up her pace just slightly, trying to reach the chair before someone else did.

But Hattie, quick and always one step ahead, slid into the seat before Y/N could get there.

“Beat you,” Hattie said smugly, already reaching for a bread roll.

Y/N’s eyes darted around, searching for another spot. Nicole was already seated at the head of the table with Tim on her left. Edie had claimed the seat next to her dad. Every chair was taken except for one.

The one right next to Oscar.

Mae caught her eye from across the table and smirked. “Guess you’ll have to brave it.”

Y/N forced a small smile and tried not to let her nerves show. “Guess I will.”

She took a quiet breath and slid into the chair beside him, keeping her movements calm and collected. Her heart, however, was anything but calm. She could already feel the warmth of him beside her, close enough that their elbows might brush if they were not careful. She focused on unfolding her napkin and placing it on her lap like it was the most important task in the world.

Oscar turned to her, offering a friendly smile. “Hey again.”

His voice was soft, a little different from the boisterous way he had been talking to his sisters moments ago. She glanced at him and smiled back, her voice a little quieter than usual.

“Hey.”

Dinner began in full force as plates were passed around and everyone dove into their food. Nicole asked Oscar how his flight was, Tim jumped in with a question about something racing-related, and the girls were all chatting about school, their upcoming summer plans, and who had stolen whose sandals last week.

Y/N relaxed into the rhythm of the meal, laughing at the girls’ stories and chiming in now and then. It was warm and familiar, and for a moment she forgot that sitting right next to her was the same guy who had casually made her stomach flip with a simple smile.

It was only when things had quieted slightly and everyone was focused on eating that Oscar turned to her again.

“So,” he said, picking up his fork and turning toward her just a little, “how’s uni been treating you?”

She looked up at him, a little surprised he had remembered. “It’s actually been really great. I finished my first year at Griffith last month.”

“That’s on the Gold Coast, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah, not too far from the beach. The weather’s incredible, but it’s full of tourists most of the time. And if I have to see another surfboard-themed smoothie shop, I might scream.”

He chuckled, the kind of quiet, genuine laugh that made her stomach do a tiny somersault. “Sounds like a bit of a postcard dream. But I guess anything gets old if you live in it long enough.”

“Exactly,” she said, smiling. “But I’ve managed. And Mae’s been great. She’s helped me settle in a lot.”

Oscar gave her a teasing look. “Is she behaving herself? Not talking through your lectures or stealing your snacks?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “She’s mostly well-behaved. Although she does have a tendency to hog the mirror for forty-five minutes every morning.”

“I do not,” Mae called out from across the table, having clearly overheard. “You’re just too impatient.”

“You take your hair way too seriously,” Y/N replied, grinning.

“Excuse me for wanting to shine,” Mae said with a dramatic toss of her head.

Oscar leaned in slightly, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. “She’s always been like that. Even when we were kids, she’d spend an hour trying to pick out the right headband.”

Y/N giggled, biting back a laugh as she looked down at her plate.

Oscar glanced at her again, taking her in properly now. Her hair was shorter than it had been the last time he saw her. It curled slightly at the ends, soft and light around her shoulders. She wore a simple blue tank top and grey sweatpants, nothing fancy, but she still looked different. Or maybe not different. Maybe just even prettier than he remembered.

“You cut your hair,” he said gently, still studying her face.

Y/N looked up at him, surprised again. “Yeah, a few months ago.”

“It looks really nice,” he said, his voice softer now. “It suits you.”

For a moment, the rest of the table faded away again. She felt her cheeks warm, and tried to act like it was just from the heat of the roast dinner. She looked down, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Oscar smiled and returned to his food, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. He was not really listening to Tim’s latest comment or Mae’s quip about the gravy. All he could think about was the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, the curve of her smile, and how it was already becoming very clear that this summer was going to be a little more interesting than he expected.

And Y/N, though she tried very hard not to, caught herself sneaking a glance at him, wondering the exact same thing.

🪻🪻🪻

The house had gone quiet, the hum of the evening slowly settling into the kind of stillness that only came when everyone had finally gone to bed. Doors had clicked shut one by one. Tim’s voice had faded into a sleepy goodnight. Nicole had turned off the porch light. Even Basil had given up begging for table scraps and curled into his usual spot on the mat near the back door.

But Y/N was still awake.

She sat at the kitchen counter, laptop open in front of her, the soft glow from the screen casting a blue light across her face. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail now, and she had slipped into one of Mae’s oversized sweatshirts that almost reached her knees. The silence was comforting, broken only by the quiet tap of her fingers on the keyboard.

She was so focused that she did not hear footsteps until they were almost in the room.

Oscar padded in quietly, barefoot and looking a little dazed. His hair was a mess, slightly flattened on one side like he had tried to sleep but had given up halfway. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt and grey shorts, and he looked more like a normal twenty-something guy than the Formula 1 driver plastered on magazine covers.

Y/N looked up, surprised, and gave him a small smile. “Can’t sleep?”

He leaned against the counter across from her and nodded. “Jet lag, probably. My body still thinks it’s 10 a.m.”

She closed her laptop halfway and stretched slightly. “Yeah, that’ll do it.”

He tilted his head. “What about you? Burning the midnight oil?”

“Just catching up on some coursework,” she said, shrugging. “Uni break or not, some things don’t wait.”

He smiled, watching her for a moment. “You always work this late?”

“Only when the house is too loud during the day,” she said with a small laugh. “I love your family, really, but it’s like living inside a sitcom.”

He chuckled softly, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Guilty as charged.”

Y/N stood up and walked to the pantry. “Do you want something to help you sleep?”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well”, she said, rummaging through a shelf, “I remember from last time that you’re not a tea person.”

“Correct,” he said, leaning against the counter with a smirk. “And coffee keeps me awake for three days straight.”

She pulled out a tin and turned to him. “Hot cocoa it is, then.”

He watched her as she moved around the kitchen, quiet but comfortable. She worked like she had done it a dozen times before, which she had. The milk warmed in a pot on the stove, and the scent of chocolate filled the air. She poured the drinks into two mismatched mugs—hers had a faded cartoon sun on it, and his said World’s Okayest Driver, which Mae had clearly planted for her own amusement.

She handed him the cup and leaned back against the counter again. “There. Chocolate and sugar. The perfect sleep potion.”

Oscar took a sip, then made an exaggerated face. “Wow. You’ve outdone yourself.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That better be sarcasm.”

“Definitely not. This might be the best hot cocoa I’ve ever had at 1 a.m. in a quiet kitchen in Melbourne.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Glad to add that to my résumé.”

There was a beat of silence as they both sipped their drinks, the house still and dim around them. The soft buzz of the fridge and the low hum of the street outside were the only sounds.

Then Oscar looked at her, his expression thoughtful. “So… Have you got someone waiting for you back on the Gold Coast?”

Y/N blinked, a little caught off guard. “You mean like a boyfriend?”

He nodded, swirling the cocoa in his mug.

She shook her head. “Nope. No boyfriend.”

Oscar looked a little too pleased with that answer. “Surprising.”

She gave him a look. “Is it?”

“Yeah. You seem like someone who’d have to beat the guys off with a stick.”

She laughed softly, not flustered but clearly amused. “Well, either I’m intimidating or I’ve just mastered the art of being unapproachable.”

He grinned, resting his elbows on the counter. “I don’t buy that for a second.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “What about you? Anyone special waiting in some glamorous European city?”

Oscar shook his head. “No girlfriend. Just me and my suitcase.”

She gave a small nod and took another sip of her drink.

There was another pause. Not awkward. Just quiet. Comfortable.

Oscar stayed where he was, leaning against the counter like he had no plans to move anytime soon. His mug sat half-full in his hands, the steam curling in soft spirals into the air. Y/N perched next to him, her bare feet dangling just slightly above the kitchen tiles, her laptop now closed and forgotten beside her.

“I still can’t believe you remember that I don’t drink tea,” he said, glancing at her with a lazy sort of amusement.

She gave him a sideways look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” he said, swirling the last of his cocoa. “I just figured you’d have more important things to remember than my weird beverage preferences.”

Y/N shrugged, playing with the hem of her sleeve. “I remember little things. That’s how my brain works.”

“Dangerous”, Oscar said softly, teasingly. “Now I have to be careful what I say around you.”

“Probably,” she replied, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I have an excellent memory.”

He looked at her a second longer than necessary, then tilted his head slightly. “So what else do you remember about me?”

Y/N let out a short laugh, but there was a flicker of awareness in her eyes. “You want a list?”

“Obviously,” he said, grinning. “How else will I know what kind of impression I made?”

She pretended to consider it, taking a sip of cocoa for dramatic effect. “Alright. You always double-knot your shoelaces. You hate olives. You hum when you’re trying to concentrate. And you only ever wear black socks, even with your team kit.”

Oscar blinked, genuinely surprised. “Okay, wow.”

“You asked,” she said with a small shrug, like it was no big deal.

“I don’t even think Mae would get that many right,” he said with a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s… kind of impressive.”

She just smiled again and said nothing.

A comfortable quiet settled between them for a few moments, and Oscar found himself watching her again—how the low kitchen light caught the tips of her lashes, how her sweatshirt sleeves were pulled halfway over her hands, and how calm and natural she looked in this space that was technically not even her home.

“You seem really settled here,” he said quietly.

Y/N looked up, a little surprised by the softness in his tone. “Here in Melbourne?”

He nodded.

She thought about it for a moment. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not permanent or anything. But for now? It feels... good.”

He nodded slowly, watching her fingers tap gently against her mug.

“You kind of blend right in,” he added. “Like you’ve always been part of the house.”

She gave a soft laugh, looking down. “That’s sweet.”

“It’s true,” he said, not looking away. “I think Mum’s more excited about you being here than she is about me.”

“Maybe because I don’t leave my laundry in the hallway,” Y/N teased.

“Harsh, but fair.”

She looked up at him again, and this time their eyes met and held for a beat too long. Something unspoken flickered in the air between them, light but unmistakable.

Oscar cleared his throat and gave her a crooked smile. “So, no boyfriend. Great taste in cocoa. Impressive memory. Still no idea how you’re single.”

She laughed, but her voice was quiet. “That’s a very smooth line.”

“It wasn’t a line,” he said, nudging her foot gently with his. “Just an observation.”

“Well”, she said, standing up and rinsing her mug in the sink, “you might need to work on your delivery.”

Oscar watched her from where he stood, smiling to himself. “Noted.”

Y/N turned off the stove light and looked over her shoulder at him. “You should try to get some sleep.”

He stretched and nodded. “I’ll give it another shot.”

She passed by him on the way to the hallway, but he reached out gently and tapped her hand as she went by. Just once. Just a soft touch.

“Thanks for the cocoa,” he said.

She turned and gave him a small smile. “Anytime.”

Then she walked down the hall, her footsteps soft against the floorboards, leaving Oscar alone in the kitchen, still smiling into his mug.

🪻🪻🪻

The days leading up to Christmas passed in a kind of warm, slow haze. The house was always alive with the sound of laughter, soft music, and Basil’s occasional barking at whatever poor delivery person had dared approach the front door. Y/N had become an easy part of it all, drifting comfortably from kitchen tasks to movie nights, helping wrap presents or keeping Edie entertained while Nicole prepared the next day’s to-do list.

It was a few days before Christmas when Y/N stood in the kitchen with Nicole, both peering over a nearly full shopping list that had been updated and revised a dozen times.

“I can run to the store if you want,” Y/N offered, tying her hair up and reaching for the notepad. “You’ve been juggling way too much all week. I don’t mind grabbing a few things.”

Nicole gave her a grateful smile. “Are you sure, sweetheart? There’s a lot on here, and the shops are chaos this week.”

Y/N nodded. “I’ll survive. I’ll just go early and get in and out.”

From behind them, Oscar’s voice drifted in, casual but firm. “I’ll drive her.”

Y/N turned slightly, surprised. “You don’t have to.”

Oscar shrugged as he reached for a glass from the shelf. “You shouldn’t have to deal with the parking and crowds on your own. Besides, I could use a break from the house.”

Nicole looked amused. “What, already tired of your family?”

Oscar gave her a look that didn’t hide the fondness behind it. “Just trying to stay useful.”

So it was settled. An hour later, Y/N found herself buckling into the passenger seat of his car, grocery list in one hand and her phone in the other. The sky was bright, the air warm but breezy, and the hum of the suburbs buzzed quietly in the background.

She glanced over at him as he adjusted the mirrors. “You really didn’t have to come.”

He didn’t take his eyes off the road as they pulled away from the kerb. “I wanted to.”

They drove in comfortable quiet for a while, the windows down just enough to let in the scent of eucalyptus and the sound of cicadas. Y/N scanned the list again and made a soft noise of disapproval.

“What’s wrong?” Oscar asked, glancing over.

“Nicole wants five different types of cheese. Who needs five types of cheese?”

He grinned. “Mum takes Christmas grazing boards very seriously.”

They made it through the first store with surprising efficiency. Y/N navigated the aisles with purpose, Oscar trailing behind with the basket and throwing in the occasional snack that definitely wasn’t on the list. She didn’t scold him for it, though—just raised an eyebrow and kept walking.

The second stop was a little shop tucked on the corner of a quiet street, where Nicole had said they’d find the last-minute decorations she wanted. The place was already picked over, but Y/N managed to find most of what they needed. Oscar wandered off to a shelf filled with novelty ornaments.

He held up a small kangaroo wearing a Santa hat. “This one feels like it belongs on our tree.”

Y/N looked up from the tinsel. “It’s horrifying.”

“Exactly. A classic.”

They left with the ornament anyway.

On the drive home, Y/N reached into the paper bag between them and pulled out a small packet of chocolate-covered almonds.

“Want one?” she asked, holding it out.

Oscar took one, then another, flashing her a small smile as he leaned back against the seat. The car was quiet again, filled with the soft whirr of the air conditioning and the distant chatter of holiday traffic.

As they drove through the winding suburban streets back toward home, the bags rustling gently in the backseat and sunlight warming the dashboard, the conversation drifted again. This time, Oscar was the one to start it.

“You know,” he said, one hand steady on the wheel and the other resting loosely against his thigh, “Christmas always felt bigger when I was a kid. Not because of the presents or anything, but just… the way the house felt.”

Y/N looked over at him, her cheek propped on her hand. “What do you mean?”

He smiled, just a little. “It was always loud. Like, properly loud. Mum would have the radio on full blast, Dad would be outside trying to hang lights in the worst spots, and Mae would be arguing with someone about tinsel. But the best part was going to Nonna’s.”

Y/N’s expression softened. “Your grandma?”

Oscar nodded. “Great grandma, actually. She lived about an hour from us. Every year, without fail, we’d drive over on Christmas Eve, and she’d have already been baking for days. You could smell it before you even got out of the car.”

“What did she make?”

He let out a small laugh. “Everything. Tiramisu, cannoli, almond biscuits that were somehow both soft and crunchy at the same time… and these little jam-filled thumbprint cookies. I used to steal like five before dinner, and she’d pretend not to notice.”

Y/N smiled at the picture of it. “Sounds like something out of a movie.”

“It kind of was,” he admitted. “The house was tiny and always packed with cousins and uncles and someone’s screaming toddler. But I never wanted to be anywhere else.”

He paused for a moment, watching the road. “She passed away a few years ago, and Christmas felt different after that. Not bad, just quieter.”

There was a silence after that, the kind that felt respectful, not heavy.

“She sounds like someone I would’ve loved to meet,” Y/N said softly.

He glanced at her, grateful. “Yeah. She would’ve liked you too. Especially if you showed up early and helped in the kitchen.”

Y/N smiled again, reaching into the almond packet and handing him another. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He took it from her fingers, just grazing her hand. “You should. Nonna was tough to impress.”

They fell into a quieter rhythm again, the car humming along and the breeze through the window stirring a few strands of hair across Y/N’s face. She pushed them back behind her ear, and Oscar caught himself glancing at her longer than necessary before turning back to the road.

“Do you ever try baking any of her recipes?” she asked.

“Sometimes,” he said. “Not the same though. Mum tries now and then, but even she says it’s never quite right.”

“We could try one,” Y/N offered. “If you remember the ingredients.”

Oscar gave her a sidelong look, the edge of his mouth lifting. “You want to make jam biscuits with me?”

“Sure. We’ll call it quality bonding time,” she replied, tapping her fingers on the receipt in her lap. “Though I can’t promise anything close to perfection.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “You’re already winning points with the whole family. You don’t need to be a baking prodigy too.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Am I?”

Oscar didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. You are.”

Her gaze lingered on him for a beat, the words settling in her chest more warmly than she expected. She turned her eyes back to the road ahead, trying not to let the small smile tugging at her lips show too much.

🪻🪻🪻

Christmas Eve at the Piastri house had a sort of chaotic charm. Nicole was buzzing between the kitchen and the living room, organising everything with a calm precision that only years of hosting could produce. The tree was glowing softly in the corner, carols playing in the background, and the smell of pine needles and cinnamon floated through the air.

Y/N had offered to help wherever needed, but most tasks had already been claimed. Mae and Edie were wrapping the last of the presents upstairs, Tim was dealing with the outdoor lights that had come undone in the wind, and Nicole had just finished the prep for dinner. That left the kitchen temporarily unoccupied and the perfect window of time for the little plan Oscar had floated earlier in the day.

“You serious about baking Nonna’s biscuits?” Y/N asked as she pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail, already rolling up the sleeves of her linen shirt.

Oscar was flipping through an old, slightly worn recipe book on the counter. “Very. I found her original notes. If we mess it up, at least we’ll have tried.”

“High stakes”, she teased. “Don’t worry. I work well under pressure.”

He smiled, a little crooked, then placed the handwritten card down between them. “All right, chef. Let’s do this.”

They set to work side by side, gathering ingredients, measuring flour, and cracking eggs. There was flour on his cheek within five minutes and sugar dusting the counter like snow. Oscar snuck pieces of dough when Y/N wasn’t looking. She caught him the third time and flicked a bit of flour at him in mock offence, and he responded by dabbing a smear of butter across the back of her hand.

Somewhere between chilling the dough and shaping the little rounds for the baking tray, Oscar leaned back against the counter and said, offhandedly, “You know what would go perfectly with these?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she gently pressed her thumb into a biscuit to make space for jam. “What?”

“Homemade vanilla ice cream.”

She blinked. “That’s very specific.”

He grinned. “I used to make it with my dad when I was younger. Thought I’d hate it because it was vanilla, but turns out, it’s kind of unbeatable when it’s done right.”

There was a moment of quiet as she looked at him, then smiled. “All right. Let’s do it.”

Oscar found the ice cream machine tucked at the back of a high cupboard. Y/N prepped the egg yolks and sugar while he handled the cream and milk. The kitchen turned golden in the afternoon light as they stirred the custard base together, laughing over whether it was thick enough, too sweet, or too runny. Y/N insisted on adding an extra splash of vanilla bean paste “for good luck,” and Oscar didn't argue.

As the biscuits baked and the ice cream slowly churned, they stood at the counter, licking spoons and talking quietly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever baked with someone like this before,” Y/N said after a while, her voice soft as she washed the last mixing bowl.

Oscar passed her a clean towel. “Same. It’s kind of nice.”

She nodded, drying her hands, then glanced up at him. “You look like you’ve done this a hundred times.”

He chuckled. “I usually had Dad to boss me around.”

“You don’t seem like the ‘bossed around’ type.”

“Depends on the person,” he said, eyes meeting hers for a beat too long.

And just like that, the door swung open with the cheerful jingle of keys and a gust of cooler air.

Oscar’s grandparents had arrived.

“Smells like heaven in here,” his grandfather announced, stepping into the kitchen with a loud sigh of satisfaction. “Who’s doing all the baking?”

Oscar turned with a grin. “Y/N and I made Nonna’s almond biscuits. We’re trying to do them justice.”

The older man stepped closer, peering over the trays and then at the two of them standing side by side in aprons, slightly flushed from the warmth of the oven and from something else too.

He gave a teasing smirk, eyes twinkling. “Ah, to be young and in love again. Just like your grandparents used to be.”

Y/N felt the heat flood her cheeks so fast it made her dizzy. She glanced at Oscar, who looked equally caught off guard.

From behind them, Mae’s voice cut through with a flat, “Ew. Like that would ever happen.”

Oscar shot her a look. “Thank you for the support.”

Mae smirked. “Just keeping you humble.”

Y/N laughed it off, brushing flour off her jumper, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes after that. The comment had been said so casually, and yet it settled in her chest in a way she didn’t like. Maybe Mae thought of it as a joke. Maybe she didn’t mean anything by it. But still, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling as she turned back to the biscuits that if Mae ever found out about her quiet crush on Oscar, it might not be met with encouragement.

Oscar must’ve sensed the shift in her mood. He leaned closer, voice low, “Ignore her. She says that about everyone.”

Y/N smiled again, smaller this time. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

Oscar quickly introduced his baking partner to his grandparents, who simply adored her even more when they found out she was best friends with Mae.

Christmas Day at the Piastri household unfolded in a way Y/N had never quite experienced before. Back home, Christmas had always meant frosty mornings, wool socks, and cups of spiced cider. But here in Melbourne, it was all golden skies, the scent of sunscreen, and the distant hum of cicadas.

She’d woken up to the sound of Nicole bustling in the kitchen and Basil’s paws clicking excitedly against the hardwood floor. Mae had dragged her out of bed half-asleep and handed her a Santa hat before she’d even brushed her teeth. The backyard had already been transformed—long tables set up beneath a shade cloth, fairy lights strung across the fence, the esky filled with cold drinks, and platters of fresh prawns, mango salad, and pavlova lined up on the counter.

It was, without a doubt, a proper Aussie Christmas.

By midmorning, the house was filled to the brim with extended family—cousins running through the garden with water balloons, uncles gathering around the barbecue, aunts clinking glasses of bubbly and cooing over Basil, who wore a little green bow tie just for the occasion.

Y/N had barely had a moment to breathe. Nicole’s sisters had taken a liking to her almost immediately, dragging her into their conversations and insisting she try their famous trifle. Oscar’s younger cousins kept offering her candy canes and showing her TikToks. And at some point, his Nonno took her aside and told her, quite seriously, that she had “the best hands for biscuit-making he’d seen since his wife”.

She laughed through all of it, genuinely enjoying the chaos, but she couldn’t help noticing that she hadn’t really spoken to Oscar at all.

He was everywhere and nowhere all at once, carrying chairs out to the backyard, refilling drinks, and helping Mae untangle a string of stubborn lights. Each time their eyes met across the yard or the kitchen, there’d be a look, gentle and knowing, but before either could cross the distance, someone would pull one of them away again.

By the time the sun dipped low enough for dinner to be served, the sky turning lavender above the rooftop, everyone was hungry, sun-drenched, and a little sticky from the heat. The tables were filled with roast chicken, glazed ham, more prawns, and colourful salads, while bowls of cranberry sauce and gravy were passed around in between laughter and clinking glasses.

Y/N emerged from the kitchen, carrying a basket of dinner rolls, scanning for a seat.

Oscar was already at the table, but instead of being deep in conversation like usual, he was oddly… quiet. More specifically, he was guarding the empty chair to his right like it was a national treasure.

Aunt Sandra tried to sit down beside him, but he quickly shook his head. “Sorry, this one’s taken.”

“By who?” she asked, lifting a brow.

He just smiled. “You’ll see.”

When Y/N finally made her way toward the table, Oscar stood up immediately.

“Here,” he said, taking the basket from her hands and pulling out the chair beside him, holding it in place as she sat down. She gave him a small, amused look but didn’t say anything, brushing her hair behind her ear as he slid the chair in.

“Smooth,” she murmured under her breath.

Oscar just gave her an exaggerated shrug. “I try.”

The moment was subtle, almost too casual to be noticed.

Almost.

Because, of course, his grandfather noticed.

“Would you look at that?” he said from further down the table, his voice warm and just loud enough to carry. “Back in my day, if you pulled a chair out like that, it meant you were trying to impress someone.”

Oscar glanced up, startled. Y/N froze mid-reach for the water jug.

The table erupted into laughter.

Mae groaned, practically sinking into her seat. “Can we not do this again?”

Y/N, cheeks burning, stared down at her napkin. Oscar rubbed the back of his neck, muttering, “Thanks, Grandpa,” under his breath, but he was laughing too, albeit a little shyly.

Nicole, ever the peacemaker, clapped her hands. “All right, enough teasing, everyone. Let them eat in peace.”

But the mood had already lightened, and the glances between Oscar and Y/N carried a new weight. They both focused on their plates, on the ham and potatoes and fresh salad, pretending nothing had happened.

Yet under the table, their knees brushed lightly, once, then again. Neither moved away. And even as the chatter resumed and the plates emptied, neither of them stopped smiling.

However, one thing still replayed in Y/N’s mind, like a broken record: Mae didn’t like the idea of them together, and it really freaked her out.

🪻🪻🪻

The house had quieted in that soft, comforting way it only does after a long, perfect day. Dishes were done, leftovers packed away in foil, lights dimmed one by one until only the faint golden glow of the fairy lights strung across the backyard remained.

Y/N stepped out through the sliding door, barefoot, a sweater draped loosely over her sundress. The grass was cool beneath her feet, and the air carried the gentle scent of eucalyptus and the last whispers of roast and cinnamon. She hugged her arms around herself as she crossed the lawn to the two chairs that sat under the gum tree, just far enough from the house to feel like a secret.

Oscar was already there, holding two steaming mugs in his hands.

“I figured you’d still be up,” he said, standing to pass one to her. His voice was low, warm in the still night.

“You know me so well,” she teased, accepting the cup. Her fingers brushed his briefly.

“Hot cocoa”, he added, sitting back down beside her. “Didn’t trust you not to spike anything.”

Y/N smiled softly. “Appreciate the thoughtfulness.”

They both leaned back in their chairs, sipping slowly, letting the quiet settle between them. The stars were bright above, clean and clear, and the moon hung low and heavy in the sky. From somewhere far off came the low hum of cicadas and the rustling of a breeze through the trees.

“You had everyone wrapped around your finger today,” Oscar said, glancing at her with a soft smirk.

Y/N laughed, tucking her knees up onto the chair. “I think your aunt wants to adopt me.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. You crushed the trifle review.”

They sat in easy silence for a while. Basil wandered out briefly, tail wagging, before curling up on the deck, content.

“You were really good with your little cousins,” she said eventually. “That little girl, Isla? She thinks you’re a superhero.”

Oscar chuckled, looking down. “She thinks I drive rocket ships.”

“Don’t you?” she teased.

“Something like that.”

There was something in his smile that lingered, gentle and almost private. Like he was looking at her in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to earlier in the day.

Y/N shifted in her seat, the cocoa warming her from the inside. Her eyes flicked toward him, then away. “It’s kind of crazy,” she said softly, staring at the grass. “Just how welcome I’ve felt here. Even with everything. It’s not something I’ve always been used to.”

Oscar didn’t say anything immediately. She turned to look at him and found him already watching her.

The intensity in his gaze stopped her breath for a second. His mug rested on his thigh now, forgotten.

“What?” she asked, a half-laugh escaping her throat.

He shook his head a little. “Nothing. Just listening.”

But he wasn’t just listening. His eyes flicked over her features, soft and slow. The curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw, and the way a curl of hair rested against her collarbone. She felt it, like the world had narrowed to just this moment.

Still, some part of her hesitated.

Mae’s voice echoed again, that dismissive, teasing “Ew. Like that would ever happen.” And maybe she hadn’t meant anything; maybe it was just her way. But it lodged itself somewhere in Y/N’s chest like a quiet warning.

Oscar leaned in a little, resting his elbow against the arm of the chair so his face was closer to hers. His voice was quieter now.

“Do you know how hard it was to get two minutes alone with you today?”

She blinked. “You didn’t exactly try.”

“I did,” he said. “You just had a very persistent fan club.”

That made her laugh again, and something shifted in her chest, loosening.

“I liked watching you,” he added. “With my family. You fit here.”

She felt her breath hitch a little, just barely.

“I’ve never really fit anywhere,” she murmured.

“You do here.”

She looked at him again then, fully, her features soft in the pale light. “You’re staring,” she whispered, her voice unsure, almost teasing.

He didn’t answer. He just leaned forward more slowly now, giving her time to stop him, to pull back.

She didn’t.

And then, just like that, the air between them snapped.

He leaned in without hesitation this time. His hand came up, brushing her jaw with a tenderness that made her skin burn. Their lips met, not gently, not cautiously, but with weeks of tension unravelling all at once.

It was a kiss that stole her breath.

His other hand found her waist as he leaned closer, their cocoa mugs long forgotten in the grass. Her fingers curled around the front of his shirt, tugging him toward her without thinking, only feeling. Her whole body hummed with something between relief and wanting.

The way he kissed her, it was like he’d been waiting, aching, trying to be patient for too long. It was all unspoken things and sidelong glances, bottled up until now, pouring out with the press of his mouth on hers.

When he finally pulled back, it was just enough to breathe. His forehead rested against hers, and his chest rose and fell like he was trying to steady himself.

“I’ve wanted this,” he said quietly, almost like a confession. “Since the moment I met you. I didn’t even know why, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Y/N blinked at him, stunned, her lips still tingling, her heart slamming against her ribs.

Oscar looked at her again, and then he kissed her like he meant to imprint her into memory.

This one was hungrier. His hand slipped up, tangling into her hair, and she let out a soft sound against his mouth before pressing closer, her fingers dragging across the back of his neck. His touch was warm and steady, his lips moving against hers with a certainty that made her dizzy.

When they finally slowed, breathless and flushed, she pulled back just far enough to see his face. His lips were red, his hair tousled from her hands, and his eyes—God, his eyes—were still locked on her, like nothing else existed.

Because somewhere in the haze of it all, Mae’s voice returned. That thoughtless laugh, the sarcastic scoff. “Ew. Like that would ever happen.” And now, in the silence following the kiss, it pressed down on Y/N’s chest like a stone.

Oscar's hand was still cradling her jaw, his thumb brushing just beneath her ear. His forehead rested gently against hers, his breathing slowing in tandem with hers. He hadn’t let go, hadn’t stepped back. He still looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

But her heart was thudding in panic now, not just from the kiss.

She pulled back a little. Just enough for him to notice.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, brows knitting together.

Y/N took a step back, eyes downcast. “I can’t… we can’t… I’m sorry.”

Oscar blinked, still frozen in place, clearly not understanding. “Wait, what do you mean?”

She shook her head, already hating the words she hadn’t even formed yet. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself, more from protection than cold. “I just… It’s not possible. You and me.”

He took a hesitant step toward her, his voice quieter now. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” she whispered. “God, no. You’ve been… amazing.”

“Then why—”

“I just… I can’t explain it,” she said quickly, voice breaking. “I wish things were different, Oscar. I really do. But they’re not.”

And she turned.

She walked back toward the house with quick, uneven steps, her hand trembling as she slid the glass door open. The cocoa mugs still sat abandoned on the grass.

Oscar didn’t follow right away. He stood there in the dark, lips parted like he was about to say something but didn’t.

Y/N’s feet padded across the kitchen tiles. Her throat was tight, eyes already stinging. She didn’t stop until she reached the guest room door. She slipped inside, turned the lock, and leaned her back against it, letting the tears fall.

It wasn’t loud. No sobs. Just silent crying, like all of it had built up behind her ribs and now had nowhere else to go.

She slid down the door, knees tucked to her chest, and pressed her palm against her mouth to muffle the sound.

She had kissed him. She had wanted him. And now she had walked away.

Because Mae’s voice still rang in her head. Like that would ever happen. Because she didn’t know what it would do to Mae if something did happen. Because she didn’t know if she could handle being the girl who ruined things.

On the other side of the door, Oscar stood in the hallway, staring at the wood between them. He could hear nothing. No movement. No breath. Just silence.

And it hit him: whatever had just happened out there, however perfect it felt, it wasn’t just about him.

He leaned his forehead against the door once, gently. His heart ached with confusion, with disappointment, with that slow bloom of rejection that felt heavier because it hadn’t been angry. It had been sad.

Neither of them slept that night.

🪻🪻🪻

The house had shifted into a strange sort of quiet in the days following Christmas. The tree still sparkled in the corner of the living room, tinsel and baubles glittering with the last golden traces of the holiday season, but the warmth that had filled the air was now threaded with something quieter. Something heavier.

Y/N hadn’t spoken to Oscar since that night in the backyard.

Not a word. Not even a glance that lasted longer than a second.

She couldn’t trust herself to do it. Every time she even felt his presence in the same room, her chest tightened and her stomach sank. Because it wasn’t just guilt anymore. It was missing him, aching for something she’d told herself she wasn’t allowed to have. Wanting to talk to him, laugh with him, and just be near him without everything falling apart in her mind. But she knew herself too well. She wouldn’t survive another soft look or tender word from him, not when she had already chosen to walk away.

Oscar had tried, at first. His knock on her door that morning, the way he stood near her in the kitchen a few times hoping she’d say something, anything. But when it became clear she was holding back—not out of anger, but something else entirely—he gave up. Or maybe he just stopped hoping she’d let him in.

He never confronted her about it. Never pushed. That was the worst part. Because he had only ever been gentle with her, patient even when she didn’t deserve it.

So instead, they moved around each other like ghosts in the same house. Close enough to feel, far enough to pretend.

Now, it was New Year’s Eve, and the afternoon sun burnt bright and high over the roof. The windows were open, letting in a breeze that barely cooled the warmth lingering through the halls. Upstairs, the girls had started getting ready early, even though they wouldn’t be heading out until much later.

Y/N sat cross-legged in front of Mae’s vanity, curling her hair in slow, careful motions. Her lips were tinted with a soft gloss, her makeup half done. The room smelt like dry shampoo, vanilla-scented body mist, and faint anxiety.

Mae, applying glittery eyeliner in the mirror, paused and glanced at her.

“You okay?”

Y/N blinked, startled out of her thoughts. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Mae raised a brow, clearly not buying it. “Tired, my ass. You’ve been walking around like a Victorian widow all week.”

Y/N laughed under her breath, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Mae didn’t press, but she did turn around and sit cross-legged behind her on the bed. “Alright. Then I’m officially dragging you out with us tonight. You need to dance. Or at the very least, wear something sparkly and drink something fruity.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “You just want me to be your buffer again.”

“Obviously. But also, it’s New Year’s. If I have to spend it pretending to enjoy bad house music and overpriced drinks, you’re doing it with me.”

Y/N gave a quiet nod, letting herself lean into the distraction, grateful that Mae cared enough to try.

Down the hallway, Oscar sat in the living room, one leg bent under him on the couch, phone forgotten beside him as he stared out at nothing.

His ears caught the distant buzz of a hairdryer and the muffled laughter of Mae singing along to a song he couldn’t quite make out. But what he noticed more than anything was her voice. Y/N’s voice. Soft, quieter than the others, but unmistakable. It sent a dull ache through him every time he heard it, every time he remembered the way it had broken when she told him they couldn’t.

And yet, he couldn’t help himself.

He rose from the couch, walked quietly to the hallway, and leaned against the doorframe to Mae’s room, keeping out of sight.

She was sitting in front of the mirror again, now smoothing a shimmer of eyeshadow across her lids, her lips slightly parted in focus. The way she held herself had changed in the last week, shoulders more guarded, smile less easy. But she was still beautiful. Devastatingly so. And when she tilted her chin up to fix a strand of hair behind her ear, Oscar felt that familiar twist in his stomach.

God, he missed her.

It wasn’t just the kiss or the way her fingers had felt against his jaw. It was her voice in the kitchen in the mornings. Her smile when she teased him across the dinner table. The comfort of just knowing she was around.

And now she was right there, just metres away, but unreachable.

Mae laughed suddenly, tossing a sequin dress at Y/N’s lap, and Oscar stepped back quickly, careful not to be seen.

He retreated to the kitchen, hands deep in his hoodie pocket, his expression blank. When Nicole passed him a bowl of fruit to cover with cling film, she frowned softly at the faraway look in his eyes.

“You’re not going out with the girls tonight?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Not really in the mood.”

She didn’t ask why.

Upstairs, Y/N slipped into her dress and stared at herself in the mirror. She looked fine. She looked like herself. But nothing about tonight felt right. Not with Oscar staying behind. Not with his face flashing through her mind every time she blinked.

Still, she picked up her clutch, put on her earrings, and forced another smile when Mae called her beautiful.

Because what else could she do?

Some hearts break loudly. Hers was breaking in quiet.

🪻🪻🪻


The music thumped hard enough to rattle Y/N’s chest, the pulse of the club vibrating under her feet as lights strobed across the packed dance floor. People were everywhere, laughing, shouting, drinking, and clinking glasses. Couples kissed with abandon in dark corners, arms wrapped around each other like the year wouldn’t end unless they were holding tight enough. The air smelt like perfume, sweat, and champagne.

Mae was in her element. She was already on her second drink, dancing with a group of strangers who had somehow become friends in the space of three songs. Edie and Hattie were nearby too, shouting lyrics and twirling each other around.

But Y/N just stood by the bar, fingers wrapped around a glass of soda water that had long gone flat. She was trying. She was dressed up, surrounded by music and energy and friends, trying to shake the weight that had taken root inside her all week.

It didn’t work.

Everywhere she looked, people were celebrating. Holding hands. Kissing cheeks. Whispering things in each other’s ears that made their faces light up. And all she could think about was the look on Oscar’s face in the backyard. The way he’d whispered, “I’ve wanted this for so long.” The way her name had sounded in his mouth like it meant more than just a name.

She missed him.

God, she missed him in a way that felt too big to carry. But she had convinced herself there was no other way. That she had made the right choice for Mae. For herself. That nothing could come from it, not when it risked someone she loved like family.

And still, she couldn’t stop aching for him.

She set her drink down and excused herself from Mae’s latest attempt to drag her to the dance floor and moved toward the patio of the club where it was quieter and cooler. The stars blinked above in the inky summer sky, and in the distance, she could already hear people counting down the minutes until midnight.

She leaned against the railing, taking a shaky breath, wondering if it would ever stop hurting.

Back at the house, Oscar sat on the couch, a bowl of popcorn beside him and some rerun playing on the TV. He wasn’t even sure what it was—some sitcom with terrible lighting and actors with too-white teeth talking about missed chances and how sometimes life didn’t give you more than one.

He’d barely touched the popcorn.

The house was too quiet without the girls around. Too still. Even Basil had fallen asleep at the foot of the couch, unmoving.

Oscar’s gaze lingered on the television, but his thoughts were miles away.

March. He kept thinking back to March.

The first time he saw her. She had been sitting under that striped McLaren umbrella, sipping water and looking a little overwhelmed by the noise of the paddock. He had walked up to her and introduced himself, and she had blinked up at him like she wasn’t sure if he was real. And then she’d laughed at one of his dumb jokes and asked him if he liked chocolate or vanilla better. It was stupid, really. But it had stuck with him.

All of it had.

Her voice. Her smile. Her ridiculous obsession with cheese toasties. The way she always triple-checked if Basil’s water bowl was full. The quiet way she listened when other people spoke. The loud way she laughed when she forgot to hold back.

He hadn’t just liked her.

He might’ve fallen in love.

And now she was out there. With someone else, maybe. At some crowded club with too many people and not enough space. Counting down the seconds until midnight, surrounded by strangers, and he wasn’t there.

He looked back at the TV. One of the characters was staring out a window, whispering something about not letting another year pass without trying.

Oscar blinked.

Then he stood up.

The keys were still on the side table. He grabbed them.

Basil lifted his head just as Oscar passed, like even the dog could tell something was happening.

He didn’t know what he was going to say when he saw her. Didn’t know if she’d even let him get close. But he wasn’t going to let the year end without trying.

He started the car, heart pounding, hope rising like a tide in his chest.

She had run away from him once.

But he wasn’t letting her go again.

The club was buzzing when Oscar stepped through the doors, the thrum of bass hitting him like a wave. The lights danced across the crowd, glittering off sequins and sweat, and the air inside was thick with the scent of cheap cologne, spilt drinks, and anticipation.

He hadn’t been in a place like this in a long time; he hated how impersonal it felt, how loud, how messy, but his eyes swept over every face, every corner, every cluster of people in search of one thing. One person.

Then he saw her.

Across the room, under a gold streamer banner that read HAPPY NEW YEAR, she stood leaning lightly against a high-top table, a half-finished drink in her hand, her eyes slightly distant, like she was there but not really. Her hair had curled softly from the humidity, and the string lights overhead gave her skin a soft glow that made Oscar stop for just a second to catch his breath.

But then he saw him.

Some guy, tall and cocky in that lazy, beer-fuelled kind of way, swaggered over to her, clearly emboldened by liquid confidence. Oscar couldn’t hear what he said over the music, but he saw the way the guy leaned in too close, flashing a grin like he thought he had a chance.

Oscar’s heart sank, a strange tightness pulling across his chest.

She smiled back. Polite. Patient.

Then she gently shook her head.

The guy tried again, saying something else, maybe asking her to dance. But she just gave him that same tired smile, soft and apologetic, and held a hand up in a small wave that clearly meant no, thank you. He said something else with a shrug, but she turned away, facing her drink again, her smile fading the moment her back was to him.

Oscar exhaled, his body loosening slightly. He hadn’t even realised he’d been holding that breath.

Just then the DJ’s voice rang out through the speakers, booming and excited.

“Alright, folks, we’re five minutes out! Five minutes to midnight! Find someone to kiss, hold on tight, and say goodbye to the old year in style!”

The lights dimmed to a soft amber glow, bathing the room in warmth.

People started pairing off, couples laughing and clinking glasses, pulling each other closer. Friends gathered in circles, already starting countdowns and toasts. The energy shifted to something more tender, more electric.

Y/N stood in the middle of it all, alone with her drink, her eyes downcast.

Oscar didn’t hesitate.

He wove through the crowd, dodging people, bumping shoulders, his eyes never leaving her. His pulse thundered in his ears with every step. He didn’t care that he was wearing old sneakers or that he’d probably broken at least three traffic rules getting there. All that mattered was the girl standing there looking like she didn’t realise how much she was being missed.

By him.

As the countdown to midnight crept closer, he finally reached her, his voice quiet but sure as he said her name.

She looked up at the sound of her name, startled. Her brows lifted, and for a second her lips parted as if she weren’t quite sure he was real.

“Oscar?”

He was slightly out of breath, cheeks tinged pink from the rush, hair a little windswept. He looked completely out of place in a room full of sequins and stilettos, wearing a black tee and jeans, holding the weight of too many unspoken words in his eyes.

“I came here to talk to you,” he said, stepping closer so she could hear him over the hum of the music and the building excitement around them.

Her eyes darted around, at the crowd, at the people who were slowly gathering in pairs as the countdown ticked nearer. She shook her head, her voice strained. “You shouldn’t have come. You should go. Please.”

He stepped closer, brows furrowed, confused. “Why?”

“Because this… this is exactly what shouldn’t happen,” she said, words tumbling out before she could stop them. “Because Mae—Mae would hate it. She’s your sister. She’s my best friend. This whole thing would just make everything messy and weird, and I know she joked about it like it could never happen, and I laughed too, but it’s not funny; it’s not okay. Even if I liked you—”

She froze.

Oscar tilted his head slightly. “Even if you what?”

Her mouth opened and closed, but it was too late to backpedal.

“Even if I liked you,” she repeated, quieter this time. “It wouldn’t matter. Because it wouldn’t work out. Mae matters too much. You matter too much. And I’ve already ruined things enough, haven’t I?”

The confession hung in the air, raw and unguarded, and the weight of it pulled at both of them.

Oscar let out a slow breath. He took another step forward, close enough now that she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes.

“I don’t care,” he said simply.

She blinked. “What?”

“I don’t care,” he said again, firmer. “Not about the rules you think exist or what you think Mae might say. You think she wouldn’t want me to be happy? Or you to be? You think she wouldn’t understand, eventually, that two people who care about each other might be worth it?”

Y/N’s lips parted, but no words came.

“I’m not going,” he said simply. His tone wasn’t loud, but it was steady. Clear. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oscar…” she began, but he was already speaking again, like if he didn’t let it out now, it might crush him from the inside.

“I know you said it couldn’t be anything. I know you said it wasn’t possible. And maybe it isn’t; maybe you’re right. Maybe there are rules, or loyalties, or whatever it is that made you run that night. But I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t go into another year pretending I don’t feel what I feel for you.”

She stood there frozen, mouth slightly open, her glass hanging limply in her hand.

He swallowed, hard, the emotions in his chest crowding his words. “I’ve liked you since the second I met you. Since March. Since you looked at me with those eyes and asked me if I would do a shoey if I won. It sounds stupid, but I think I knew then. And every day since, it’s only gotten worse. Or better. Depending on how you look at it.”

The crowd had started to buzz louder now, the final stretch approaching, but he didn’t care.

“I can’t hide it anymore. I don’t want to. I want to spend New Year’s with you. Every New Year’s. And Christmas. And practically every other holiday. I want to wake up knowing I get to talk to you. I want to hear about your classes and your ridiculous overuse of Google Docs. I want to bring you cocoa when you’re working late and listen to you hum when you’re concentrating and fight over the last biscuit even though I’d always let you have it.”

Her eyes were shining now, lips parted, chest rising and falling with every shaky breath.

“I don’t care how messy it is. I don’t care what we have to work through. All I know is I don’t want to spend another year, another day, another second pretending I’m okay not loving you.”

And then, quieter, just for her:

“Because I do. I love you.”

The countdown erupted around them.

Ten… Nine… Eight…

He looked at her, really looked, like she was the only one in the room. Her eyes glistened, wide with disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.

Seven… Six… Five…

He took a step closer.

Four… Three…

“If you tell me to walk away, I will,” he whispered. “But I’ll still mean every word I just said.”

Two… One…

The room burst into cheers.

Confetti shot into the air. Champagne fizzed. People screamed and kissed and laughed and danced.

As the clock struck twelve and the club burst into noise and glitter and the metallic scent of fireworks, she didn’t say a word.

Instead, she kissed him.

She dropped her drink onto the table behind her without even looking, stepped forward, and reached up to pull him down to her. And when their lips met, it was nothing like the soft, hesitant brush from that night in the backyard. This was immediate. Fierce. A collision of everything they had held back for too long.

Oscar kissed her like he’d been waiting for this exact moment since the day they met. His hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him as her fingers curled into the back of his neck, drawing him down further, deeper. It was like they were making up for lost time, for all the stolen glances, the almosts, the words neither of them had dared say.

She clutched at the front of his shirt, and he smiled into the kiss, only pulling back for the briefest second, his forehead pressed to hers, breathless. “Took you long enough.”

Y/N swatted at his chest, trying not to grin. “Shut up.”

He kissed her again, more playful this time, his thumb brushing along her jaw. The air around them buzzed with music and confetti and cheers, but it all melted away, like they were existing in a bubble of their own.

“I’m not letting you disappear on me again,” he murmured against her mouth.

“Good,” she whispered back, her voice trembling from how much her heart was racing. “Because I don’t think I want to.”

His hand slid down her back, teasing, familiar, and she gasped against his lips.

“You sure about that?” he teased, dipping his head to kiss the edge of her jaw, slow and deliberate.

Y/N gave a breathless laugh, tugging him back up by the collar. “I’m the one kissing you, aren’t I?”

“More than kissing,” he murmured, pressing another slow, dizzying kiss to her lips.

It was everything they hadn’t let themselves feel. All the tension and affection, the pining, the wonder of something forbidden finally coming undone in the loudest, most beautiful way.

And as confetti fell around them and strangers kissed and danced in celebration of the new year, Oscar held her like she was the only resolution he ever wanted to make.

🪻🪻🪻

The university lawn buzzed with excitement, the late-afternoon sun casting a soft golden glow over rows of folding chairs, cameras flashing, mortarboards flying, and families cheering far too loudly for their own good.

Y/N stood off to the side with Mae, both of them in their gowns and tassels, clutching their degrees and grinning from ear to ear. Their faces were flushed from the heat and from the sheer emotion of it all. They’d done it. They’d actually done it.

Oscar stood just a few steps away, surrounded by his parents, sisters, and even Y/N’s mum and dad, who had flown in a few days earlier and were now deep in conversation with Nicole about travel itineraries. Everyone had hit it off so well it felt almost suspiciously easy.

When Oscar caught Y/N’s eye, he gave her the biggest, brightest grin; lifting his camera to snap yet another picture. She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, her cheeks hurting from how much she’d been doing that all day.

Mae bumped her shoulder. “If he takes one more photo of you, I swear I’m staging an intervention.”

Y/N laughed. “He’s just excited.”

“He’s obsessed,” Mae corrected, mock-gagging. “Which, like, ew—but fine, I’ll allow it. I guess the two of you have grown on me or whatever.”

After that night, after the confetti and champagne and all the unspoken feelings finally pouring out, everything shifted. But not in the overwhelming, terrifying way she once feared. Instead, it had felt natural, like tipping over into something she had been dancing around for far too long.

Oscar had made it easy. He had been patient with her, never pushing too far or too fast. They’d taken their time, quietly and confidently building something real between the ordinary chaos of uni life and the occasional chaos of his travel schedule. He visited her on campus, brought her snacks during study weeks, sat with her on the library floor when her laptop crashed mid-assignment, and FaceTimed her from hotel rooms when he was away.

She met his friends. He met hers. She attended all the race weekends she could manage, and when Oscar ended up on the podium for each of them, she claimed it was because she was his lucky charm.

They went on little weekend trips when they could, explored sleepy towns along the coast, and fell into a rhythm that made sense to no one more than it did to them.

By April, she had introduced him to her parents. He had been nervous, visibly so, but won them over within an hour, probably somewhere between helping her mum with the dishes and chatting cricket with her dad. Her parents adored him, and even her younger sister, who never liked anyone, had declared Oscar “cool enough”.

And as for Mae, well, Mae had taken some time. At first, she had reacted with a theatrical gasp and an intense interrogation session that included far too many threats. But somewhere between seeing them steal each other’s fries and catching them watching late-night movies on the couch in matching socks, Mae slowly began to soften. Now, she tolerated their PDA with exaggerated gags and pointed stares, but she also always had a smile behind it.

From a few feet away, Oscar called out, “Can I steal the graduate for a second?”

Mae lifted her hands in mock surrender. “All yours, lover boy.”

Y/N walked over, but Oscar met her halfway, reaching for her hand and pulling her gently toward the quieter edge of the lawn, near the rows of flowering jacaranda trees.

Once they were alone, he came up behind her, looping his arms around her waist and resting his chin gently on the top of her head. She exhaled slowly, leaning back into him.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi,” he murmured, his voice warm and soft. “I’m so proud of you.”

She felt his chest rise and fall behind her, steady and grounding. She closed her eyes, letting the moment settle between them.

“You’ve worked so hard. I’ve seen every late night, every panic spiral, and every twelve-hour study session with no breaks. You did it. And you still managed to be the most incredible person I know while doing it.”

She turned slightly to look up at him, only just, her heart swelling at the earnestness in his eyes.

“I love you,” she said, voice barely more than a breath.

His arms tightened around her. “I love you too,” he said without hesitation, without doubt. “So much.”

He kissed her softly, letting the words settle between them, and then—

“Ugh! Do you guys have to do that here?” Mae’s voice rang out from across the lawn, disgusted and familiar.

Y/N pulled back, about to laugh and move away, but Oscar grinned and said, “Oh, we absolutely have to.”

Then he kissed her again. Deliberately. With both hands cupping her face and enough drama to make Mae start gagging theatrically.

“You’re the worst!” Mae yelled through her hands. “There are children around!”

“We’re twenty-two, Mae,” Y/N called back between giggles, “You’ll survive.”

Oscar just laughed and kissed her forehead before taking her hand in his.

They made their way back to the group, where Nicole had already pulled out her phone to snap more photos and was pretending not to notice the dramatic sighs Mae was letting out, but Y/N didn’t care.

A year ago, she never would’ve imagined this. But now? Now it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Her heart was full. Her degree was in her hands. And Oscar was right beside her, exactly where she wanted him.

jeepers. we’ve really done it now mr. krabs. hope u loved the req anon, and as always send any more whenever you’d like!!

[milkteabinniechan]

♡Sweet Like Honey - Chan

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: husband! Chan x fem! reader

summary: As if meeting your husband for the first time at the altar wasn't nerve-wracking enough, now you two are on your tropical island honeymoon and you still haven't told him you're a virgin!

warnings: fluff, virgin reader, heavy kissing, cunnilingus, beach sex, insecure reader, soft Chan

Chan sleeps peacefully for a while longer before finally stirring, his eyelids fluttering open. As he sits up, he rubs his eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of his nap. His gaze falls upon his new wife, sitting nervously in a beach chair. “Hmm, you're still here.”

You turn your attention from the ocean waves to Chan’s face, giving him a curious look. “Did you think I'd run away?”

“I was half expecting you to.” He chuckles, his voice gruff from sleep. “Considering we barely know each other, and the fact that this was all arranged.” He shrugs. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

You let out a long sigh of relief. “That's good.” You whisper as you turn your attention back to the sand, mindlessly drawing different shapes and patterns with your finger.

Chan watches you for a moment, studying your profile. He finds himself intrigued by your quiet demeanor and the way your fingers move absently in the sand. After a while, he speaks up again, his voice softer this time. “You know, we should probably talk about some things.”

Your shoulders tense as he speaks but you keep your face turned away from him. “Like what?”

“Like the fact that I’m a bit of a workaholic.” He grimaces. “And I snore when I sleep on my back.” He ticks off his fingers as he lists his quirks. “And I’m a bit of a clean freak.”

You chuckle softly, your shoulders already falling a bit as you begin to relax more and more by the second. “Well, I can be a tad messy at times,” you confess, “and I don't eat very well.”

Chan smiles at your response. “Okay, fair enough.” He pauses for a moment before broaching the subject he’s most nervous about. “And how about...physical matters?” He swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Have you ever...?” his voice trails off but his honest eyes tell you what he's thinking without saying it. 

You shake your head slowly. Something squeezing your heart as you try to get the words out. “I've never had sex.”

His eyes widen slightly at your confession, a flicker of surprise and something else - perhaps understanding or even a touch of nervousness - crossing his face. He takes a deep breath before responding. “I see. Well, that's...okay. It's nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I'm not ashamed.” You respond quickly. And that was true. You had never been ashamed of waiting until your wedding day. But now that the day has finally arrived… “I'm just nervous.”

He nods, his expression gentle. “I understand. It's natural to be nervous about something so...intimate.” He sits up a bit straighter, his arms wrapping around his knees as he looks out at the ocean. “We can take things slow, okay? There’s no rush.”

You turn your body towards Chan. You were desperate to look into his eyes and search for any hint of malice or deception. “You mean that?” You whispered.

He turns to look at you again, his dark brown eyes meeting yours with sincerity. “I absolutely mean that.” He reaches out to gently take one of your hands in his. “This marriage may be arranged, but that doesn't mean we can't build something real together.”

Your heart swells at Chan's words. The honesty within them coats you like a warmth you had never felt before. Before you could catch yourself, you start to move towards him, your mouths just inches from one another. His breath hitches as you lean in, his heart pounding in his chest. The air between the two of you seems to still, the only sound is the distant rhythm of the ocean waves. Gently, he closes the distance, your lips meeting in a soft, exploratory kiss.

The first kiss you shared was at the altar when you said “I do.” It was so formal and uniform. But this kiss was different, more intimate. Like it was leading somewhere new. Chan deepens the kiss slowly, his hands coming up to cradle your face. His touch is gentle yet firm, coaxing you to open up to him. As the kiss becomes more passionate, he pulls you closer, so that you're sitting on his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck. Soon your hands move from his neck to his hair, letting your fingers tangle and comb through the dark locks. Your hips start to grind and move involuntarily against his lap. He breaks the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. His arms tighten around your waist, stilling your hips with a low chuckle. "Easy there, sweetheart," he murmurs, nuzzling your neck. He nips gently at your neck, soothing the sting with another soft kiss. His hands roam up your back, tracing the curve of your spine through the light fabric of your nightgown. His voice is low and gruff as he speaks against your skin. “We should…”

“Yeah…?” You mumble against his neck.

“Go inside...” He trails off as your hips move against him once more, his body instinctively reacting to the innocent gesture. He groans, his forehead dropping to rest against your shoulder. “Before this goes too far on the beach.” He pulls back to look at you, his pupils dilated with desire.

You turn your head to either side, scanning the now deserted beach. The moon is now the only source of light for miles around. “Well, there isn't anyone else here.” You smirk. Your eyes were full and hopeful that Chan would get the hint. The sight of your king sized bed in that luxury suite was almost too much to bear. The thought of “performing” for the first time in a bed felt like too much pressure. But the beach…

He lets out a low laugh, his body shaking slightly beneath yours. He captures your lips in another deep kiss, his hands slipping down to your backside, squeezing gently. As the kiss deepens, he lays you back against the sand, covering your body with his own. You let out a soft whimper as your still shaking hands move across Chan’s broad chest. He captures your wandering hands in one of his own, bringing them up to his lips to place a soft kiss on your knuckles. His other hand trails down your side, fingertips grazing the edge of your nightgown. "We can stop at any time," he murmurs, his eyes searching yours.

You take a deep breath. Your eyes flicker from his lips to his eyes as the two of you breathe in unison for a moment. “I trust you.” You murmur.

Chan smiles softly at your words, a genuine warmth in his eyes. Slowly, he tugs at the hem of your nightgown, pulling it up and over your head. He takes a moment to admire your form in the moonlight, his hands skimming reverently over your dips and curves. “Beautiful.”

Your face turns a deep shade of red as Chan’s eyes roam over your naked form. Your hands move to cover your face almost reflexively.

"Don't," he says softly, gently pulling your hands away from your face. “Don’t hide from me, my love. You’re absolutely beautiful.” He leans down to capture one of your rosy peaks in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bud. Your back lifts up and off the sand at the new sensation. Your legs already begin to spread apart from the heat that is growing. He lavishes attention on your breasts, alternating between soft suckles and gentle nips. His hand trails down your stomach, fingers splaying across your lower abdomen. He kisses a path down your body, his destination clear as he settles between your thighs. "I want to taste you,”

You bite your lip and nod your head softly. “No one has ever…”

Chan looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire and tenderness. "Then let me be the first, and the last." He dips his head, his tongue parting your folds in a slow, deliberate lick. He groans at your taste, the sound vibrating against your most sensitive flesh. He takes his time exploring you with his mouth, learning every inch of you, committing your responses to memory. He focuses on your clit, circling the bud with the tip of his tongue before suckling gently. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he pleasures you.

Your head falls back and presses into the sand beneath you. Your moans mix and mingle with the sounds of the waves crashing. He continues his sensual assault, alternating between long, slow licks and quick flicks of his tongue. He can feel you tensing, your thighs beginning to quake around his head. He doubles his efforts, determined to bring you to your peak. “That's it, my love…”

Your hips move in a new and unexplored rhythm against Chan's face as you work to ride out your orgasm. He holds you steady as you ride out your high, his tongue lapping up your release. He gentles his touch as you come down, placing soft kisses on your inner thighs. He crawls up your body, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He lets out a low groan as your heat presses against the hard ridge of his arousal still confined in his pants. He reaches between your bodies to unfasten his pants, shoving them down his hips. He lifts your hips, positioning himself at your entrance. He captures your gaze, his eyes seeking yours.

Everything stopped for a moment. Even the waves seemed to silence. Like the entire world was waiting to see what you would do next. The sand still felt warm beneath your head and the towel brushed against your skin as you opened your legs wider. An open invitation for Chan to take you to that new place. For him to be your first and your last. With a gentle yet firm thrust, he buries himself inside you, stretching you in ways you never thought possible. He pauses for a moment, savoring the feeling of being completely inside you. Then he begins to move, his hips rocking against yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm. “Mine.”

You lie still at first, your entire body unsure of what was going to happen next. But the familiar sensation of pleasure washed over you again. The waves crashed against the sand again. Chan kisses you tenderly, his touch becoming slow and languid. He takes his time, his hands caressing your body as he moves inside of you with slow, deep thrusts. Two souls once separate we're becoming one. The cool air danced around you as the two of you, bathed in moonlight, found a new home within each other.

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[cherryrikis]

EVERYTHING BUT NOTHING

PAIRING football captain bf jake x fem reader

WARNINGS swearing, arguments, jake makes a singular joke about killing himself

GENRE angst

SYNOPSIS jake is just the nicest guy, everyone knows that. and he’s even sweeter as a boyfriend rather than an acquaintance. even after an argument, you could never stay mad at him for long. but you question that when you hear him talking about you after school.

read part 2 here ?

“are you gonna talk to jake? i know that argument was pretty intense, but you’ve gone a week with no contact.” yuna asked as she tilted her head, standing by your locker while she waited for you to grab your belongings.

“eventually, yeah. i was thinking today after school. the thing with jake though, he either shuts down, or acts like it never happened whenever i want to talk about an argument.” you sighed.

it’s true. as open as jake may appear to be, it’s all but factual. you could never have a real talk with your boyfriend, because he hated confrontation. avoided it entirely.

typically, you don’t let arguments get in the way of your relationship. especially since living together is hard if you’re having frequent conflicts. it wasn’t too much of a problem now though, since he’s been staying at jay’s. but when you brought up the fact that he’s been spending too much time at practice, and that he always forgets your dates, jake let it all out.

it shouldn’t have been as big of a problem as it was. you just wanted to talk. but he finally argued back.

“i get it. sohee is exactly the same! don’t stress though. i know jake is a good guy, he’ll come around.” she smiled. “now let’s go to class? passing period is almost over, and yizhuo has been saving our seats.”

the lecture seemed to go by faster than usual. you were nervous as you steadily approached jake’s locker, which was directly outside his last class.

but when you heard his oh too familiar voice, you stopped in your tracks. you felt your heart sink to the floor as your stomach dropped.

“god. guys, don’t ever get a girlfriend. i’m bounded to long walks on the beach and dinner dates till i die. y/n’s demanding too much of me. i might just kill myself one day.” jake sighed.

“okay but dude, your girlfriends cool and all yet she’s lowkey uptight.” you heard heeseung say as he slapped jake’s shoulder.

“yeah man, you’ve been missing too much practice for your dates now. coach is getting upset. i saw yours and y/n’s texts the other day, and she micromanages you a lot. blink twice if you need help.” sunghoon joked as the three of them laughed out loud.

“i know, i know. i love y/n, but i cannot with her lately. thank god jay let me crash at his after the argument, because i couldn’t live with her constant nagging. she’s so fucking annoying.” he snickered. but, all their faces fell once they saw you.

you slammed jake’s locker door shut with so much force, your hand turned bright red. him and sunghoon flinched harshly, while heeseung and jay had no reaction.

your face ran hot, you felt it as you tightly closed your eyes, holding back the urge to burst out crying. the glass tears threatened to roll down your cheeks.

but one look at his desperate eyes filled with regret, and you tipped over the edge. your salty tears spilled out, past your lashes.

you sniffled as you continued to cry uncontrollably, staring at their flustered faces. jake reached out to wipe your face, but you pushed his hand away, wiping the tears yourself.

“you fucking asshole.” you whispered. “i came here to apologize. but you can’t leave it be.”

“y/n..” his eyes softened, voice faltering as his words were laced with regret and shame. he reached out for you once more, but you stepped back.

the distance between you two physically and emotionally only continued to grow. “baby, just let me talk. like you wanted.” he pleaded, begging, almost.

“i.. hate you.. how could you ever talk about me like that? i never once would even think about saying something like that about you, like you did me.” you scoffed, looking behind him as you finally realized his friends left the scene.

you watched as his eyes watered, with one last attempt of trying to reach you. but he knew you were untouchable in this moment.

“sweetheart?” he watched as you began to walk backwards, away from him.

but you didn’t let up, still hurt. you shook your head, silently telling him no.

with every step you took backwards, jake moved forward, before finally grabbing your wrists tightly so you can’t leave him.

“it costs nothing to be a sweet guy, like the version everyone sees of you. but it takes everything to be an asshole.” you mumble, before pushing him away, finally and surely leaving out the school’s glass doors.

and jake remained there, his regret suddenly transferred into anger. he kicked his locker, watching the metal rattle.

he hated how his such childish and immature words cost nothing yet everything.

“fuck..” he muttered.

“fuck!” jake said once more, but louder, yelling it out loud.

he watched out the window as you walked towards the parking lot, before getting into your car and leaving without a second thought.

“please don’t leave me.” he whispered as his vision turned blurry.

“please don’t leave me..”

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗙𝗜𝗙𝗧𝗬 𝗕𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗦, 𝗬𝗘𝗦 charles leclerc x girlfriend! reader (fluff) chapter summary . . . Charles has been nervous all week, trying to make everything perfect. But when he finally gathers the courage to get down on one knee, your reaction nearly gives him a heart attack (866 words)

( main master list | more of charles leclerc ) ( requests )

THE SUN HUNG low in the sky, painting the horizon in streaks of gold and soft lavender as the waves kissed the shore. The sand was warm beneath your bare feet, the salty breeze ruffling Charles’ hair as he walked beside you, his hand brushing against yours with each step.

You had noticed all week—how he had been fidgety, more distracted than usual. Charles was always thoughtful, always affectionate, but this time, there was something deeper in his silence. You had caught him staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking, his lips pressed together like he was trying to hold something in.

Now, as the two of you wandered down this quiet, secluded beach in rural Monaco, the tension in his shoulders hadn’t eased. He was nervous. You just didn’t know why.

Charles suddenly stopped walking. You took a few more steps ahead, expecting him to catch up, but then—

"Chérie."

Something in his voice made you pause, made your heart kick up. You turned back, only to find him down on one knee, his blue eyes locked on yours with nothing but love and devotion.

Your breath hitched. Your mind blanked.

And before you could even think, the word flew out—

“No!"

You slapped both hands over your face, jumping up in shock.

Charles’ face drained of color. His mouth opened, then closed, like he wasn’t sure if he should say something or just crawl into the sand and disappear.

Your heart clenched. You dropped your hands, eyes wide, shaking your head frantically. "No—wait! I didn’t mean no-no—I meant—I can’t believe this is finally happening!"

His lips parted slightly, his confusion evident as his brows furrowed.

"Fifty billion times, yes, Charles!" You were already tearing up, waving away the tears as you tried to catch your breath. "I want to marry you, yes! Yes! I just—" You sniffled, laughing through your tears. "I just got overwhelmed."

Charles let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing as a small, amused smile curved his lips. "Mon amour," he chuckled, shaking his head. "You scared me. I thought you were rejecting me before I even got to ask. I worked really hard on my speech."

"I'm so sorry! Please keep going. Do the whole thing. I promise I'll react properly this time." You clasped your hands together, standing still, eyes locked on him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. Because he was.

Charles exhaled a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair before standing up, his hands finding your waist as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear.

"Don't scream no this time, amour," he whispered teasingly.

You let out a watery laugh, nodding quickly. "Go ahead, mon amour. I’m listening."

And then—he spoke.

"Three months ago, you stayed the night at mine. You were the first thing I woke up to in the morning, tangled in my arms, half-asleep and complaining that I stole the blanket. We made breakfast together—well, you tried, but I had to save the pancakes from burning." He chuckled softly, thumb brushing against your cheek. "That was the moment I knew. I knew I wanted to wake up to you every morning, to have you in my arms, stealing my blankets, burning our breakfast, laughing with me."

His smile grew as he reminisced.

"I knew even before that. On those late-night drives through Monaco, when you'd reach over to mess with my playlist because you hated my song choices. The way you’d sing—terribly, by the way—and dance in the passenger seat like we weren’t driving through the most expensive streets in the world. I’d be trying to focus on the road, but all I could think about was how beautiful you looked when you were happy."

His voice softened, full of adoration.

"And then there was that time you convinced me to try baking with you. We ended up covered in flour, the kitchen a complete disaster, and somehow, you still looked at me like I was the best thing you’d ever seen."

Charles swallowed, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly.

"You make my world brighter just by existing, mon amour. I don’t know how I ever lived without you. And I never want to find out again."

Charles pulled back just enough to look at you, opening the velvet box with slightly trembling hands.

"Will you marry me?"

With one smooth motion, he opened it, revealing the ring as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. His free hand came up to wipe away the tears that spilled down your cheeks, his thumb tracing your skin with the softest touch.

But you weren’t looking at the ring.

You were looking into his eyes, trying so hard not to cry, failing miserably.

Your lips parted, voice shaky but filled with so much love it made Charles' heart ache.

"So . . . does this mean I’ll be Mrs. Leclerc?"

Charles smiled, his forehead resting against yours. "If you'll have me, chérie."

You let out a breathless laugh, nodding, your hands trembling as you cupped his face. "Fifty billion times yes. Like . . . all the numbers. Infinity times infinity. Yes!"

Charles laughed against your temple, holding you just as tightly as you held him, the waves crashing in the distance, the sun melting into the horizon.

[dreamdragonkadia]

hello! may I request completely whipped percy x oblivious reader with just pure fluff? and they kiss at the end? tysm!!

Yes, yes! Of course! Thank you so much for your patience! p.jackson x reader

“This one is perfect too!” you murmured, eyes alight with excitement as you took the seashell from Percy’s outstretched palm. Your fingers brushed his in the handoff, just a soft touch, but it was enough to make his breath catch and his fingers twitch—like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to curl them around yours or pretend he was only shaking off leftover sand.

You didn’t seem to notice.

Instead, you turned the shell over in your hands with a soft hum of appreciation, already tucking it carefully into the little pouch you’d slung around your hips “Thank you,” you added without looking up, your attention already on the next wave to roll in, eyes scanning the foamy edge for another treasure.

Honestly, Percy still wasn’t sure how he ended up here, ankle-deep in saltwater and grinning like an idiot just because you’d asked if he “wanted to come find shells.” Of course, he’d said yes. He would’ve said yes to anything you asked. Jump in the ocean? Sure. Hold this slippery sea cucumber? Why not. Spend hours combing the beach just to help you with a craft project he didn’t entirely understand? Absolutely.

You had this way of saying things like they were the most important thoughts in the world, and Percy... well, he was helpless to resist.

“You always find the nicest ones,” you said suddenly, glancing over your shoulder with a warm smile that made his heart stutter in his chest. “It’s like they just wash up for you.”

He gave a sheepish laugh and shrugged. “Maybe they just know they’re gonna end up with you. So they try harder.”

You blinked at him, not quite catching the implication. “That’s kind of a weird thing to say, but cute. Thanks.”

He looked away, trying not to smile too hard. Gods, you really had no idea.

Another hour passed, and your bag grew heavier with little pastel shells, spirals and fans and chipped little half-moons you swore had “personality.” Percy didn’t even care what you were going to use them for. He just liked listening to you talk about them like they mattered. Like he mattered.

The sun had just begun to dip lower on the horizon when you sat down in the sand, patting the spot beside you without even looking. He dropped beside you without hesitation, brushing off his hands.

“I think we did good,” you said, holding up a shell to the light. “You’re really good at this, y’know.”

He let out a soft laugh. “I’m just good at following you around.”

You turned toward him with a puzzled look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Percy hesitated, a small grin tugging at his lips—but before he could answer, a loud voice carried through the calm of the beach.

“Yo! Dinner time!” one of the younger campers shouted from the top of the dunes, waving at you both. “Chiron says if you’re late again, you’re on clean-up duty!”

You blinked, the moment breaking like a bubble, and Percy let out a small sigh before pushing himself up.

“Saved by the bell,” he muttered dryly, brushing the sand from his shorts.

You chuckled, still clutching the little pouch of shells to your chest. “I guess we’ll have to finish this later.”

“Yeah,” he said, glancing at you with something soft in his eyes. “Later.”

The walk back to the dining pavilion was filled with the usual chatter and easy laughter, just like always—but Percy kept stealing glances at you, wondering if maybe—just maybe—you had some idea of what he'd been about to say.

You didn’t.

Not that evening, anyway.

It wasn’t until the next day that you finally found him alone again, leaning against the railing by the canoe dock, skipping stones across the lake with absent aim.

“Hey,” you said, walking up with your hands behind your back.

He turned to you, and whatever teasing smile he had ready vanished when he saw the look on your face. It was… shy. A little nervous. Kind of excited.

“I, uh—I made something,” you said, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “From yesterday.”

Before he could ask, you brought your hands around and held it out: a simple but beautiful bracelet made from the shells you’d picked together, strung together with careful knots and braided cord. It looked a little uneven in spots, like you’d redone it more than once, but it was undeniably you—and clearly made with a lot of heart.

Percy stared at it, stunned.

“For me?” he asked, voice quiet.

You shrugged, trying not to fidget. “Well… yeah. You helped me find them. It felt right. Plus, I mean, it’s not enchanted or anything, but I figured it could be your good luck charm? Or… just something to remind you of the beach.”

Percy didn’t say anything.

He just stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you without warning, pulling you into a tight, warm hug that made your breath catch.

“You’re the best,” he mumbled into your hair. “Seriously. You have no idea how much I love this.”

You laughed softly against his chest. “You haven’t even put it on yet.”

He pulled back only enough to slide the bracelet onto his wrist, holding his arm up like he was showing off a medal. “Perfect fit.”

Your smile stretched wide across your face. “Good. I kinda guessed the size.”

“I’d wear it even if it cut off my circulation,” Percy said, dead serious.

You looked down at the bracelet on his wrist, then up at his face—and froze. Percy was already looking at you.

Not the casual, teasing look you were used to. Not his usual smirk or one of those lopsided grins. This one was soft. Unshy. Quiet in a way that made your heart stumble in your chest.

“What?” you asked, barely a whisper.

He smiled, but it wasn’t a deflection this time. It wasn’t hiding anything. “Nothing,” he said. “Just thinking I really, really like you.”

The words slipped out so gently you almost didn’t hear them. Almost.

You blinked. “You—you what?”

Percy’s ears flushed pink, but he held your gaze. “I like you,” he said again, steadier this time. “A lot. I think I’ve liked you since the first time you made me hold a crab so you could sketch it.”

Your mouth opened—then closed again, brain suddenly struggling to keep up. “Wait. You like me? Like—Like-like me?”

A laugh escaped him, warm and a little breathless. “Gods, you really had no idea, did you?”

You shook your head slowly, still processing. “I thought… I mean, I didn’t think you were just tagging along to be nice, but I didn’t think it was like that.”

“It’s definitely like that,” Percy said. “It’s so like that.”

He was standing so close now you could see the specks of blue in his sea-green eyes. And suddenly you weren’t sure what you were waiting for.

So you leaned in.

Just a little at first. Barely enough to count.

But Percy met you halfway, one hand coming up to gently cup your cheek as he kissed you—soft and certain, like he’d been waiting forever for the chance.

You didn’t pull away.

When he finally did, just enough to breathe, he was smiling. “Took me forever to work up to that,” he murmured.

You were still close enough to feel the warmth of his breath. “Worth the wait.”

And this time, when your fingers brushed his, he didn’t hesitate.

He laced them through yours like he’d been meaning to all along.

[prefrontal-bastard]

I’m not sure if this is permitted in other countries, but here in the US, advertisers are allowed to use any kind of malignant psychology they want in their ads so long as those ads fit within the allotted time-frame.

Back in high school, my class watched a video on how a certain Coca-Cola advertisement was made. You may have seen it, but for those who haven’t: The ad featured a cinematic montage of a crowded beach with smiling thin white people enjoying their leisure time and drinking Coca-Cola out of a common plastic bottle.

The big takeaway from this video was that the ad wasn’t actually advertising Coca-Cola. It was advertising a lifestyle. By associating Coca-Cola with a desirable lifestyle (as well as qualities associated with desirability) it plants the association of “Coca-Cola” with “happiness” in people’s subconscious minds.

This becomes clear when you consider who the ad was meant for. The target audience wasn’t the smiling thin white people that the ad featured, but instead it was people who wanted to be smiling thin white people. This was an ad for the Gen X mom of three kids who worked full-time, who relied on shelf-stable foods to keep everyone fed, and whose nervous system was chronically fried from the stress of never having adequate time for herself.

If she was at the grocery store, and saw the very same bottle of Coca-Cola featured in that ad, she’d be far more likely to pick it up than she was before watching it. If she didn’t anticipate finding relief for her stress, then she could at least drink up the idea of it.

Of course, the thing about ads is that they stop working. Eventually, people’s minds grow wise to the fact buying a certain product doesn’t actually grant them the lifestyle associated with them.

But there’s a lot of other tricks ads employ beyond this.

The reason why Geico is the first company you consider when thinking about buying car insurance is because of the calm, consistent nature of their ads and the fact they’re ubiquitous enough to be familiar. Their mascot forms a kind of parasocial rapport with the audience, so Geico already feels familiar to you by the time you’re looking to buy insurance.

Cereal brands use cartoon-character-like mascots to make their product memorable to kids who can’t read. The reason why so many cereal mascots exhibit such frenetic, possessive behavior is to teach kids to emulate that behavior to compel parents into buying them the cereal, especially if they saw that behavior rewarded in the ad (with the cereal).

You only really see ads for apps on an app-based devices for a reason.

Then there are the ads that don’t look like ads, but look like people on TikTok sharing a new secret product with their audience using the only communication format we regularly trust: word-of-mouth.

And let’s not forget the sheer magnitude of ads that exist. I can’t go outside without seeing them. I can’t watch videos online without exposing myself to ads that wants to skewer my emotions within 10 seconds.

There’s no reprieve from it unless I wall myself off from our culture entirely.

Ads are parasites to both culture and to cognition, and they must be regulated.

[shaiyasstuff]

intimacy | rafayel

synopsis : He’s the perfect man for you, sweet, caring, a little aloof but he’s also very good at making you safe. However, he’s never initiated contact with you beyond just a kiss. One girl talk later, you find yourself wondering if it was time to give it a try. content : smut(well it’s more romance than actual smut), first time, no pull out, a little bit of awkward ness, rafayel x non-mc!reader, Shaiya is an OC, fluff, MDNI

You’ve been dating Rafayel for over a year now.

You first met him at the amusement park one evening, when you overheard a particularly dramatic sulk-fest about a missing cotton candy.

Apparently, some kid had “stolen” it from him.

You later found out his lady hunter friend had given it away.

Willingly and with a smile.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. Out loud. Before you could slap a hand over your mouth, it was too late.

Two pairs of eyes landed on you.

One, vaguely confused and highly entertained.

The other, hopelessly love-struck.

He asked for your number five minutes later, pressured—or really, bullied—by his lady hunter friend, who gave him a not-so-subtle jab in the ribs and whispered something that sounded suspiciously like “grow a pair.”

The next day, he brought you to the sea.

Just a chill, no-pressure, totally-not-romantic beach date.

Until he asked you to be his girlfriend with all the nervous energy of a schoolboy confessing to his crush behind the gym.

And things just… took off.

You had café dates where you tried, and failed, to beat him at Kitty Cards.

You endured constant third-wheeling by his lady hunter friend, who took it upon herself to be your official ship captain—teasing the both of you mercilessly and often.

Despite the chaos, you were genuinely happy.

Life was good.

You had a boyfriend who was equal parts adorable and infuriating, and a new best friend who always had your back when said boyfriend decided to be a lovable idiot.

Then came the day it hit you.

Like a truck.

Or a surprise test.

You were lounging in your living room with Shaiya, legs tossed over your couch arm, when she peeked at you over a bag of chips and asked with a smirk, “So… have you two done it yet?”

You choked on your drink. “Excuse me?”

But before you could even mount a proper comeback, something clicked.

Wait.

Hold on.

In the ten months you'd been dating Rafayel, he hadn’t initiated anything even remotely intimate.

You gasped. “…No…”

The horror in your voice only made it worse.

That was all the invitation Shaiya needed. Your loveable—albeit infuriating—lady hunter friend burst into laughter, clutching her stomach as she doubled over.

“Don’t laugh!” you hissed, watching her wipe away tears from the corners of her eyes.

“I was just asking for fun,” she said with a smug grin. “You’re the one who took it seriously. That’s one point for me, zero for you.”

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “You’re right. He’s sweet. He’s an adorable puppy when we’re out and about, but I’ve never… thought of that.”

Her laughter softened, and so did her expression.

“Maybe it’ll happen soon. Don’t let it get you down.”

You threw her a half-hearted glare. “Now I’m insecure.”

That set her off again.

She laughed, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “I’m sorry! But it’s part of my job, being your personal third wheel and emotional instigator. Besides,” she leaned in slightly, her tone more sincere now, “if I don’t talk to you about this, who else will?”

You paused. She wasn’t wrong.

There weren’t many women in your life you could talk to like this. And the old lady who sold potato sticks outside the café definitely didn’t count.

You let out a quiet sigh. “I just… never really thought about that.”

Your voice dropped as the weight of the thought settled.

Shaiya reached out and rubbed your shoulder gently. “Hey. I’m sorry if I went too far.”

You gave her a faint smile. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…”

Your words drifted off.

It wasn’t like you actually wanted Rafayel to be intimate with you.

Well. Maybe you did.

But it had never been the point.

You liked the playful arguments. The way he curled around you on the couch when you were sick or too tired to move.

The quiet comfort of simply existing beside him while he just… was.

And somehow, that had always felt like more than enough.

A knock tapped gently against the doorframe.

Both you and Shaiya looked up.

Rafayel stood there, casually leaning against the wood, his dusky purple hair slightly tousled, a paint-stained jacket slung over one shoulder.

His mismatched eyes flicked to you, then to Shaiya, one brow raising with practiced laziness.

“Well, well,” he said, voice smooth and low, “should I be worried, or flattered?”

Shaiya grinned. “You’re always worried and flattered.”

“I prefer revered, personally.” His gaze settled on you, softer now. “Everything alright?”

Your heart hiccuped.

You nodded quickly, too quickly. “Yeah. Just… girl talk.”

“Dangerous territory.” He stepped in, the scent of charcoal and citrus trailing after him. “I could feel the emotional tension from the hallway.”

Shaiya laughed. “I should go before I get accused of emotional arson.”

She rose and headed to the door, whispering as she passed you, “Think about what we said.” Then she tossed a wink at Rafayel. “Be gentle with her.”

He gave a mocking bow. “Always.”

When the door clicked shut, silence settled between you two.

Not uncomfortable, but charged.

Rafayel stayed near the door for a moment, watching you.

Then he crossed the room and lowered himself beside you with a graceful kind of stillness, the way he always moved when he wasn’t performing for the world.

“She meant well,” he said, voice barely above a murmur. “But she rattled you.”

You looked at your hands. “She just… made me think about things I wasn’t ready to think about.”

His fingers brushed yours. “Things like me?”

You didn’t answer. He didn’t push.

Instead, he leaned back slightly, eyes searching your face—not with judgment, but a quiet kind of curiosity, as if trying to see what you were protecting.

“I never expected you to be ready,” he said finally, “but I’m not going anywhere.”

There was no playful smirk now. No lazy swagger.

Just Rafayel, stripped of all the performative charm. Just him—deep and devastating and completely real.

And in that stillness, something shifted.

Maybe it was the way he didn’t demand anything. Or the way he offered the truth so gently.

But maybe—just maybe—you were starting to think about him after all.

“Well…” you began, turning to face him slowly, unsure where the words would land.

“I mean… we’ve kissed. A few times.”

He tilted his head, watching you with that same unreadable calm, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. “Yeah…?” he said. “That’s normal, isn’t it?”

You nodded too quickly, then froze, your thoughts catching up to you a beat too late.

The memory of those kisses—soft, fleeting, innocent—brushed through your mind.

But then your thoughts slipped further, imagining what could come next. What might come next.

And suddenly, your face burned.

You glanced away, unable to hold his gaze now.

The idea of anything more than those kisses… anything more than the safe rhythm you’d settled into with Rafayel…

It felt daunting.

Especially when you looked at him.

Your boyfriend, with his tousled hair and teasing grin, who always reminded you of an affectionate puppy curled too close to the fire.

It was hard to align that image with the heat curling in your stomach.

Hard to reconcile the softness he gave you with the weight of want.

Rafayel leaned in a little, not close enough to crowd you, but enough for his voice to dip lower.

“Are you scared?”

You hesitated, then whispered, “I don’t know.”

And that was the truth.

You weren’t scared of him. Not really.

You trusted him with your life.

It was the idea. The change.

The possibility of crossing that invisible line where intimacy stopped being soft and started becoming something raw, something deeper, something you couldn’t undo.

He didn’t laugh. Didn’t tease.

He just nodded, like he understood.

“Then we don’t rush,” he said simply. “You tell me when you’re ready.”

And that, somehow, made your heart ache more than if he’d kissed you right then and there.

Because he meant it.

Because he saw you.

“I mean…” you trailed off again, glancing at him, your voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t you have… needs?”

The words hung in the air like fog—equal parts awkward, honest, and unintentionally hilarious.

You watched his expression shift, not in offense or surprise, but in that subtle way he always did when he was trying to read between your words.

There was no malice in your question. No pressure.

Just confusion.

Because it had started to gnaw at the edges of your thoughts—this quiet, growing need to understand him.

To repay him, even, in your own clumsy way.

For tying your shoelaces without being asked. For picking up the things you dropped when your hands were too full.

For tucking you in during thunder-heavy nights and crawling under the covers just to be near, to be warm, to be something steady when your world wasn’t.

For all the ways he took care of you without ever asking for anything in return.

And that’s what made it strange.

That he had never once initiated anything beyond a kiss.

Never reached for more.

Rafayel blinked slowly, his lips quirking—not into a smirk, but into something softer. Something unreadable.

“I have needs,” he said eventually, voice smooth, but not flippant. “But they’re not more important than you.”

You felt your breath catch.

“But… I want to make you happy,” you murmured. “Isn’t that part of it? Like… giving back?”

A shadow crossed his features, fleeting but there. He reached over, his fingers curling gently around yours.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said, and for once, there was no teasing in his tone. “I do those things because I want to. Not because I expect something in return.”

You looked down at your joined hands.

“I just… thought maybe you were waiting. Or holding back. For me.”

“I am,” he said, without hesitation. “But that’s not a burden. That’s a choice.”

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, warm and unhurried.

“You’re not a debt to be paid. You’re a story I want to keep reading, one page at a time.”

Your cheeks flushed hot, your heart thrumming in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

It was the way he looked at you—like you were already enough.

And that, somehow, made you want him even more.

“But what if… I want to?”

Your voice was barely more than a breath, but it was enough to break the quiet between you.

You hesitantly lifted your gaze to him.

Rafayel’s expression softened immediately, as if the weight of your vulnerability wrapped around him like silk. Not fragile, but precious.

You felt nervous—tingly all over, your skin aware of every inch of space between you and him.

He was the first.

The first guy you’d let this close. The first who made it past the walls you didn’t even realize you’d built.

You’d never actually done it before.

Never crossed that invisible line with anyone.

And now, here you were—sitting beside the man who looked at you like you were made of starlight and sea glass. Like fire couldn’t burn him if it came from you.

“I…” You swallowed. “I’ve never done this. With anyone.”

Rafayel didn’t move at first. His gaze lingered on your face, absorbing every word you didn’t say.

Then, gently, he reached up—fingertips brushing the side of your cheek, slow and featherlight.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

You blinked. “For what?”

“For trusting me with that.”

Your breath caught.

He leaned in, close enough that his forehead almost touched yours, but stopped short. His voice dropped to a near whisper.

“If you’re ready, really ready… then I’ll be whatever you need. I’ll move at your pace. I’ll hold you. Kiss you. Worship every inch of you.”

A flush bloomed down your neck.

“But if there’s even a sliver of doubt,” he continued, thumb brushing your jaw, “then I won’t lay a finger on you. Because I want all of you. Not just your body.”

You nodded slowly, your heart thrumming in your chest like wings caught in wind.

Rafayel didn’t ask again. He didn’t rush.

He just waited.

And something about that—about him—made your fear melt into something warm.

Something that felt like love.

You stayed still, your breath mingling with his, your heartbeat loud in your ears.

Rafayel didn’t move any closer. He didn’t try to sway your decision.

He just stayed there—close enough to feel, but far enough to wait.

Your fingers twitched against your lap before finding his. You laced them together, slowly, tentatively, and he squeezed once. Firm. Steady.

“I don’t know what I’m ready for,” you whispered. “But I know I want you.”

His smile was soft, almost pained in how tender it looked on him. His eyes shimmered—not with fire this time, but something far more fragile.

“You already have me,” he said.

There was no heat behind his words. No hunger, no pressure. Just truth.

And for the first time, that truth didn’t feel daunting. It felt like a quiet, open sky.

You leaned into him, letting your forehead touch his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you like you were something precious, not breakable—but worth protecting.

His breath came slow, steady, and you felt it rise and fall beneath your cheek.

No more words were needed.

No promises, no decisions.

Just this—warm skin, slow breaths, the sound of his heart beneath your ear.

He held you like that until your nerves melted into calm. Until the tremble in your hands faded into stillness.

And outside, the night rolled on, untouched.

—•

When you woke the next morning, everything felt soft.

The light was dim, filtered through the curtains in streaks of pale gold.

The room was still, quiet, heavy with the warmth of sleep.

You blinked slowly, disoriented at first, until the familiar scent of smoke and citrus drifted through your senses.

You shifted slightly.

That was when you felt it.

Something firm, pressing lightly against your lower belly.

You froze.

Rafayel was still asleep, his arm draped around your waist, his breathing slow and even beside your ear. His body curled protectively around you, one leg tangled with yours, holding you in place as if even in dreams he couldn’t bear to let go.

And you realized, slowly, that you were still on the couch.

The two of you must’ve fallen asleep like that last night, somewhere between hushed confessions and shared stillness.

You swallowed.

You had never noticed things like this before. You’d always been so… innocent.

But after yesterday—after Shaiya’s teasing and the conversation that followed—you were suddenly aware.

Aware of the way Rafayel’s body was pressed to yours.

Of the heat between you.

Of every subtle shift in his breath when your thighs brushed.

You felt your heart stutter in your chest, a flush creeping up your neck.

Not from fear.

But from knowing.

From finally understanding the unspoken gravity that came with loving someone like this.

You tilted your head, just slightly, watching him. His hair had fallen over his eyes, his expression soft, almost boyish in sleep.

Still, there was something undeniably real about him like this.

Vulnerable.

Human.

And maybe a little bit yours.

You closed your eyes again, pressing your face gently against his collarbone.

You weren’t ready for everything.

But you were ready to hold this moment.

To feel.

To want.

And to slowly, carefully, let yourself fall.

You weren’t sure how to do it.

Your knowledge was limited to a blurry, awkward twenty-minute video from sex ed in high school, filled with sterile diagrams and uncomfortable silence.

Nothing about it had prepared you for this.

For the quiet rise and fall of Rafayel’s chest beneath your cheek.

For the weight of his arm still around your waist. For the strange, beautiful ache blooming low in your belly—tender, unexplainable, but insistent.

There was no plan. No clear thought.

Just a need.

Something stirring and restless and new.

You shifted carefully, your fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt as you tilted your head.

Your lips brushed his collarbone.

Featherlight.

A second kiss followed. Then another.

Each one just a little more deliberate. A little more brave.

You felt it when he stirred.

The faint hitch in his breath.

The way his muscles tensed slightly beneath you, as though part of him was trying not to move.

But he didn’t stop you.

He stayed still. Waiting.

You kissed your way higher, barely skimming skin, heart hammering in your chest. It wasn’t about knowing what to do.

It was about feeling.

Rafayel shifted, just enough for his hand to find the small of your back.

Not pulling you closer—just resting there.

Warm. Grounding.

His voice came low and rough with sleep.

“…Y/N?”

You froze, your lips hovering near his throat. Embarrassment flooded your chest.

“Sorry,” you whispered, already pulling back. “I didn’t mean—”

His hand tightened just slightly, not to stop you, but to hold the moment in place.

“Don’t be sorry,” he murmured. “Just… tell me what you want.”

You looked at him.

Really looked at him.

Hair tousled, eyes still hazy with sleep, voice like smoldering embers.

He looked breathtaking like this.

And vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before—waiting for your answer, for your choice.

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

His gaze didn’t waver.

“Then we’ll learn together.”

There was no urgency in him. No hunger that would push past your hesitation.

Only patience. Only care.

And in that silence between your heartbeat and his, you realized this was what it meant to be ready.

Not to know everything.

But to want to share the unknown—with him.

Rafayel’s touch was warm against your back, his fingers tracing lazy, soothing circles as if he were trying to calm not just your nerves, but his own.

You felt the way your heart stammered against your ribs.

You weren’t sure what you were doing, but you knew one thing.

You wanted him.

Not just in the way people talked about behind closed doors, not just out of curiosity or some shallow idea of closeness.

You wanted this.

This softness.

This warmth.

The reverence in his voice.

The way he looked at you like you were something sacred.

You tilted your head, brushing another kiss over his collarbone.

He exhaled slowly, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek.

Your eyes met.

And even though your chest felt tight and your fingers trembled, you whispered, “I want to.”

His expression softened.

Not with desire—but with something deeper.

Something tender.

“Are you sure?” he murmured.

You nodded. “I don’t know how. But I want it to be with you.”

Upon hearing that, there was a subtle flicker of something in his eyes.

Something that resembled desire.

Rafayel leaned in and kissed you, slow and full of meaning, as if he’d waited forever to be told that.

His lips moved against yours with care, slow and deliberate, as if he was memorizing the shape of your mouth with every kiss.

He gave you space to breathe between them, never rushing, never pushing.

But then, something shifted.

A warmth, low and unfamiliar, unfurled beneath your belly—soft at first, then insistent.

You found yourself leaning into him, seeking more, like your body was moving on its own.

And when you exhaled a quiet moan into his mouth, you felt it.

The way his body tensed against yours.

Rafayel pulled back, barely, his forehead resting against yours as he fought for breath.

“I can’t hold back,” he murmured, voice low and rough, “not if you sound like that.”

His eyes met yours, no longer just soft with affection.

They burned now.

Still full of love, but threaded with something deeper—raw need, and desire so carefully restrained it made your chest ache.

You could see it in the way his jaw tightened. In the subtle tremor in his arm as he held himself still.

You reached up, brushing your thumb gently along his cheek.

And with a soft, trembling smile, you whispered, “Then don’t.”

His lips found yours again—this time with hunger.

There was no hesitation now, no careful pauses between kisses. Just heat. Intention.

You startled slightly at the sudden intensity, but his hands were already there, grounding you, guiding you—and soon enough, you melted into him.

The kiss deepened, breath hitching between the spaces where your mouths met.

Soft, involuntary sounds slipped from your throat—quiet, breathy mewls that you couldn’t have held back even if you tried.

And that was all it took.

Whatever restraint Rafayel had left unraveled, unraveling with the delicate curve of your waist beneath his palms, the way your fingers clutched at his shirt like you needed more of him.

His hands roamed now—reverent, searching, hungry. Not to claim, but to feel.

Desire poured off of him, thick and tangible, warm enough to set your skin alight beneath his touch.

And through it all, he still moved with care, even in his urgency.

As if your body was a canvas, and he wanted to memorize it with every brush of his hands.

Every kiss tasted like longing.

Every breath felt borrowed from something sacred.

And still, you wanted more.

When his fingers found the hem of your shirt, he stilled.

The heat between you didn’t fade, but his hands—once so eager—held still now, trembling faintly as his eyes rose to meet yours.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

It was written all over him.

The reverence. The restraint.

The barely contained desire he kept shackled beneath every careful breath.

You nodded.

Just once. But it was enough.

His jaw tensed, and he exhaled slowly, as though the motion alone steadied him. Then, with hands that betrayed nothing of the fire he felt, he lifted your shirt—inch by inch, never rushing, never daring to look away from your face.

As if watching for the moment you might change your mind.

But you didn’t.

You let him undress you with that quiet devotion, every movement full of patience, full of care.

His touch never once felt greedy.

Only awed.

As though this was something sacred. As though you were.

And in that silence between heartbeats, you realized—he wasn’t just touching your skin.

He was memorizing you.

His lips found your collarbone, warm and open, pressing kisses that trailed lower with aching slowness.

Each one was deliberate. Soft. Reverent.

You gasped, the sound catching somewhere between surprise and surrender, as a moan slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

It was a sensation unlike anything you’d ever known—foreign, yes, but raw and deeply, inexplicably real.

His mouth moved against your skin like he was learning it, worshiping it. Like this was something sacred to him, something he didn’t dare rush.

Your breath came shallow now, fingers curling gently into the fabric of his shirt, the weight of his body a comforting warmth above yours.

Rafayel paused only to look up at you again, his lips brushing just below your throat, his voice low and rough with restraint.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, as if the words weren’t for you, but something he needed to say aloud. Something he needed you to know.

And with every kiss that followed, you believed him a little more.

You let yourself explore him with trembling hands—fingertips grazing along his collarbone, then gliding lower, over the firm lines of his chest and the warmth of his skin.

He felt solid beneath your touch, alive and real in a way that sent shivers across your spine.

Your palms traveled along the curve of his back, tracing the dips of muscle, the heat of him burning beneath your skin.

Rafayel inhaled sharply, his hands catching yours in his own, gripping them tightly.

Not to stop you.

But to hold you.

As if anchoring himself.

As if grounding you both in this fragile, precious space between hesitation and surrender.

His fingers wove through yours, then slowly guided your hands back to him, encouraging, wordless, wanting.

He made you feel safe even in your uncertainty—made you forget the quiet fear of not knowing what came next.

Because with him, it wasn’t about perfection.

It was about presence.

And the way his body reacted to yours—the slight tremble in his breath, the way his muscles tensed when your touch lingered—made something ache sweetly within you.

His mouth returned to your throat, kisses hotter now, lingering longer, trailing lower.

When his lips closed gently around your skin and sucked, your breath hitched, a soft sound leaving you without permission.

The friction of your bare skin against his, the growing heat, the mounting need between your legs—it was all overwhelming in the most beautiful way.

And when his hands slid down your sides, drawing you flush against him, every inch of you humming, you let yourself stop thinking.

You just felt.

You moaned again, breath catching sharply, when his fingers found your nipple—already sensitive, already aching for more.

The contact sent a jolt through your body, a sharp gasp slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

Rafayel’s eyes darkened at the sound, and in one swift, practiced motion, he unclasped your bra, letting the fabric fall away.

Then came the heat of his mouth.

Warm. Wet.

You almost cried out at the sudden sensation—his tongue swirling, lips pulling gently around the peak of your breast.

It was overwhelming, the way he worshipped you, the way his mouth moved with such purpose and reverence that your spine arched off the couch.

You felt his hands on your hips, steadying you, holding you in place as he continued—slow, focused, unrelenting in the way he tasted you.

Your hands threaded through his hair, desperate for something to hold onto as your body writhed beneath his.

Every flick of his tongue sent sparks scattering through you, every subtle graze of his teeth made your thighs clench, the heat building between them unbearable.

And through it all, he never rushed.

He took his time—worshipping you like you were the only thing that existed.

And in that moment, in his arms, beneath his mouth, you felt like you were.

“R–Rafayel…” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need.

Your fingers tangled into his lilac waves, clutching them tightly as your body instinctively arched into his mouth. You pulled him closer, unable to help yourself, craving more of his warmth—his weight, his worship.

He growled low in his throat, the sound rumbling against your skin like thunder.

The way his name spilled from your lips—it undid him.

His tongue returned to your nipple, this time slower, more deliberate, tracing teasing circles before flicking softly across the sensitive tip.

The sensation sent your breath stuttering, your moans spilling freely now, raw and unrestrained.

You could feel him pressing against you, his arousal impossible to ignore—thick and straining against his jeans, the heat of it pressing right into the growing ache between your thighs.

Even through the layers of fabric, the pressure made your body tremble, made you more aware of how badly you wanted him—every inch of him.

Your legs shifted instinctively, parting just enough to invite him closer, to let him settle between them.

He rose slowly, lips trailing up your body, peppering your skin with kisses as he came to hover over you. His breath was ragged now, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with desire, but still watching you—checking, searching, waiting for your consent.

His voice, when it came, was rough and strained.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours. “Anything, and it’s yours.”

“You,” you breathed, barely able to form the word. “I want you.”

And with that, whatever thin thread of restraint Rafayel had been clinging to snapped.

He surged forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that was nothing like before—sloppy, desperate, filled with the kind of need that had been simmering far too long beneath the surface.

You gasped into his mouth, startled and breathless, but welcoming it—welcoming him.

His hands fumbled at the button of his jeans, the motion rushed, clumsy in a way that made your heart stutter. This wasn’t polished or perfect. This was real.

Raw.

Human.

And it made your chest ache with affection, even as your body burned for more.

He kissed you through it—deep and unrelenting—and when your lips parted on a shaky breath, he took the invitation without hesitation.

His tongue slid against yours, slow and claiming, exploring you like he had all the time in the world.

You whimpered beneath him, hips lifting instinctively as your thighs framed his waist, inviting him closer, pulling him in.

The heat of his body pressed into yours, every inch of him now impossibly close, and still it didn’t feel like enough.

You wanted all of him.

Not just the weight, the warmth, the passion.

You wanted the connection.

The kind that set fire to your body and soothed your soul all at once.

And Rafayel—he gave it.

Every kiss. Every touch. Every breath.

All of it, only ever for you.

He pulled away from the kiss, breathless, lips swollen and eyes dark with heat.

“I have to prepare you,” he murmured, voice husky and low. “Is that okay?”

You couldn’t find your voice, so you nodded—your body already trembling with anticipation.

Rafayel’s hands moved with care, helping you out of your underwear.

Every movement was gentle, reverent, his touch lingering as if he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to touch you like this.

You nearly cried out when you felt it.

Hot. Wet. Unbelievably intimate.

His tongue pressed firmly against your core, slow and purposeful, and your back arched instinctively off the couch.

Your toes curled, thighs snapping shut on instinct, but his strong hands were already there, holding you open, steady, as he groaned into you.

The sound vibrated through your skin, deep and raw, sending another wave of pleasure crashing through you.

“So… sweet,” he breathed between licks, his voice thick with hunger and awe.

He devoured you slowly, like he had all the time in the world, like your pleasure was the only thing that mattered.

Each stroke of his tongue was deliberate—teasing, tasting, coaxing soft, helpless sounds from your throat that only seemed to spur him on.

And all the while, his grip never loosened.

Like he needed to keep you close. Like he wanted you to fall apart in his hands.

And slowly, piece by piece, you did.

The sounds—wet, lewd, unrestrained—filled the quiet of your living room, echoing off the walls like a secret you were no longer trying to hide.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Not when he was between your thighs like this.

Not when Rafayel, your purple-haired boyfriend who always held you like you were something fragile, was now tasting you like you were something divine.

He buried himself between your legs with single-minded devotion, tongue gliding through your folds, slow at first, then firmer—more confident—as he found the places that made you gasp and twitch beneath his hold.

Your fingers dug into the cushions, your hips rolling into his mouth without thought, chasing every flick and swirl of his tongue.

He groaned again, the sound low and hungry, vibrating against your sensitive skin as he mouthed at you like he was drunk on the taste of you.

And maybe he was.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open wider, grounding you while your legs trembled around his shoulders.

You felt exposed, undone, utterly vulnerable.

But with him—there was no shame.

Only heat.

Only want.

Only the slow, steady build of something that was about to consume you whole.

Something coiled deep under your belly—tight and burning, like a knot drawn taut with every languid stroke of his tongue.

Your breath came in shaky gasps, the tension building faster than you could keep up with. Your body trembled, hips rising instinctively to meet his mouth, to chase the feeling you were terrified and desperate to reach.

Your fingers found his hair, sinking into the soft lilac strands, gripping tight as your body began to shake.

“R–Rafayel,” you gasped, your voice high and breathless.

He growled softly at the sound, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through you as he doubled down, tongue flicking and pressing with deliberate, perfect rhythm.

The coil inside you tightened to the breaking point.

You were unraveling beneath him, your entire body flushed, teetering at the edge of something you had no words for—only feeling.

“Just let it go,” he cooed gently.

Rafayel’s hands never left you, his grip firm on your hips as he kept you grounded, held you open, guided you through it.

You felt yourself shatter.

Quietly.

Completely.

With his name on your lips and his mouth still worshipping you like you were something holy.

You were still shaking, the aftershocks rippling through your limbs like waves on a trembling shore.

Before you could catch your breath, his lips were on yours again—urgent, hungry, claiming.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, warm and heady, as he kissed you with a passion that made your head spin.

Your moan was muffled by his mouth, your mind hazy and dazed from the high you had barely begun to come down from.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as you felt him slide into you, slow but unrelenting.

You broke the kiss with a choked cry, the stretch overwhelming, unfamiliar, real.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes—not from pain, not exactly, but from the intensity of it all.

The sensation. The closeness. The raw, unfiltered reality of finally becoming one with him.

Rafayel stilled immediately, his hands cradling your face as he leaned in close, lips brushing your temple.

“Shh… it’s okay,” he whispered, over and over, each word a soft litany, a promise.

“I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

He kissed the tears before they could fall, his forehead resting gently against yours.

His voice was low, trembling with restraint. “Just breathe… we’ll go slow. You’re safe.”

And with those words—his warmth, his love wrapping around you like silk—you let yourself relax into him.

Let yourself feel.

Because no matter how overwhelming this moment was.

You weren’t alone.

You had him.

All of him.

You rolled your hips slowly, cautiously at first, adjusting to the stretch of him inside you. The ache was still there—sharp at the edges—but with every slow grind, it dulled, softened, giving way to something deeper.

Something hotter.

You gasped softly as your body relaxed around him, the pain melting into a slow-burning pleasure that made your skin tingle and your breath catch.

Rafayel groaned above you, his jaw clenched, chest rising and falling as he fought to hold himself still beneath your careful rhythm.

His fingers gripped your waist, firm but reverent, like he was anchoring himself with you.

“God,” he hissed through his teeth, voice low and wrecked, “you’re so warm… so tight.”

The words sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

He dipped his head, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You feel like heaven.”

You whimpered, your thighs trembling around his hips as you moved again, grinding just enough to feel every inch of him drag deliciously along your walls.

He shuddered, his breath stuttering as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, mouthing at your skin, kissing and biting gently as your pace gradually built.

Each movement became easier, slicker, the room filled with the obscene, wet sounds of your bodies moving together.

You moaned louder this time, your hands running over the planes of his back, nails dragging lightly as your hips met his again and again.

The friction, the fullness, the stretch—it overwhelmed you in the best way, your body burning, trembling, needing.

Rafayel lifted his head, eyes meeting yours, completely undone.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, thrusting into you with a slow, deep roll of his hips. “So perfect around me.”

You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure began to spiral inside you again, tighter this time, urgent and all-consuming.

And as he began to move faster, matching your rhythm, all you could do was hold on—moaning his name like a prayer, unraveling piece by piece beneath him.

“Let me,” he whispered, voice rough with desire.

His hands slid firmly to your hips, holding you in place as to still you, then began to move.

The first thrust was slow, deep, dragging along every sensitive inch inside you.

You gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, your head falling back as your body trembled from the sensation.

He set the rhythm carefully at first, hips rolling into you with steady, deliberate strokes. Each one made your breath catch, your core fluttering around him with need.

He moaned into your ear, low and broken, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“God… you feel so good,” he groaned, pace beginning to build.

You moaned as he picked up speed, your voice rising with every thrust—soft gasps giving way to louder, breathless cries as pleasure rippled through your body in waves.

Your walls clamped around him, clenching with every stroke, the friction maddening, perfect.

“R–Rafayel,” you choked out, your body rocking with his, overwhelmed by how full you felt, how completely he claimed every part of you.

He answered you with a kiss—hot, desperate—his mouth crashing into yours to swallow the sounds spilling from your lips.

You kissed him back, open-mouthed and hungry, moaning into him as his thrusts grew deeper, harder, the slap of skin echoing with every movement.

His hands roamed your body—palms sliding up your back, thumbs brushing the swell of your breasts—never stopping, never breaking the rhythm as he lost himself in you.

You felt it building again, that heat coiling low in your belly, unbearable and perfect, and with every breathless grind of his hips, it drew tighter, closer.

He felt it too, in the way you pulsed around him, in the way your cries turned into sobs of pleasure against his mouth.

And still, he didn’t stop. He gave.

All of him.

Your body tightened around him, trembling with the rising pressure that coiled low and hot inside you, each thrust sending sparks down your spine.

Rafayel groaned against your mouth, hips moving harder now, more desperate, his rhythm faltering just slightly with the intensity.

“Fuck—” he breathed, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes were wild with heat, pupils blown, flushed skin glowing under the low light. “You feel… so good around me. So fucking perfect.”

You cried out, voice breaking as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot deep inside you that made your vision blur.

Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, your body clinging to him as if you could pull him even deeper, never wanting to let him go.

He grunted through gritted teeth, his control unraveling.

“Don’t hold back, cutie,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “Let me hear you. Let me feel you fall apart.”

And you did.

Your nails dug into his back, your head thrown back with a loud moan as your orgasm crashed over you, blinding and all-consuming.

You pulsed around him, muscles spasming, hips jerking as waves of heat tore through you, leaving you gasping his name like a plea.

He cursed under his breath, his rhythm faltering again as you clenched around him.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me—��

His mouth fell open with a low, guttural groan as he thrust deep, grinding into you once, twice more before he came.

You felt it—the sharp, delicious jerk of his body as he spilled into you, heat flooding your core as he buried himself to the hilt, trembling through his release.

You moaned at the feeling of each rope, filling you up.

“God… Y/N,” he gasped against your neck, lips pressing against your sweat-slicked skin, “I love you. I love you.”

He kept whispering it, even as his body slowly stilled, even as he collapsed gently onto you, careful not to crush you beneath his weight.

The only sounds left were your shared, heavy breaths, your heart pounding against his chest, and the soft hush of his voice murmuring your name like a vow.

The world had gone quiet again.

Not silent—but still.

The kind of stillness that settles after a storm, where everything feels washed clean, softened by the weight of what had just been shared.

Rafayel lay above you, his forehead resting gently against yours, eyes still closed as he caught his breath.

Your bodies remained tangled, skin damp with sweat, his warmth wrapped around you like a blanket. Neither of you moved to speak at first. There was no need.

It was all there, in the quiet.

The trust.

The vulnerability.

The love.

After a while, he pulled back just enough to look at you, brushing your hair gently from your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

His thumb ghosted over your cheekbone, and he leaned in to press the softest kiss to your temple.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice hushed and a little hoarse.

You nodded, too full to speak for a moment.

Then, “Yeah… I’m okay.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. He looked at you like you were something fragile, sacred, something he could never take for granted.

“I didn’t hurt you?”

“No,” you whispered. “You were… perfect.”

You saw the relief in his face, the way his shoulders finally relaxed.

And then he tucked you against his chest, his arms sliding around you, holding you close like he never wanted to let go.

Your head rested against the curve of his collarbone, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“I’ve never felt anything like that before,” you murmured. “Like… I could break apart and still be safe in your hands.”

He tightened his hold around you. “You are safe with me. Always.”

You lay there together, your fingers trailing gently over his chest, his hand drawing lazy circles along your back. The room was filled only with the sound of your breathing, the occasional quiet kiss he’d press to your hair, your forehead, your shoulder.

“Was it okay?” you asked, almost shyly.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again. “Okay?” He gave a breathless laugh. “It was everything.”

Your lips met again—this time slow, sweet, lingering.

No hunger now. Just gratitude.

Intimate. Love.

And as he pulled the blanket up around you, as you curled tighter into his chest and let your eyes flutter closed, you realised.

You hadn’t just given yourself to him.

You had found yourself with him.

And he had held every part of you like it mattered.

Like you mattered.

masterlist

[flickering-chandelier]

Snow on the Beach

Pairing: Cassian x Reader

Summary: As soon as Cassian and Reader run into each other, she feels the bond snap into place. But feeling unworthy next to the famed Cassian, she keeps it to herself, assuming that he would never find out the truth. Before long, she finds that she was very wrong.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: insecure reader

Word Count: 4k

While walking Nyx to school on an early autumn morning, Cassian was certainly glad that the Illyrian soldiers could keep themselves in line for a day or two, giving him a respite to come home to Velaris and spend time with his nephew. It seemed to him that the boy was growing up far too fast; he could hardly believe that he was already in school. 

“So kid,” Cassian said, gently steering Nyx away from the street with a hand on his back, “tell me about school. Have you made any friends?"

Little Nyx grinned. “Yeah!”

“I bet the other kids think it’s cool that your parents are the High Lord and Lady, huh?”

He nodded, “At first, they all thought it was really cool. I think they’re getting used to it now, though. Now everyone is talking about how Astrid’s mom opened that new restaurant by the rainbow.”

Cassian laughed, unable to resist ruffling Nyx’s hair. “Well, they do have good food.”

Nyx agreed, and Cassian took the tiny hand in his own once the boy started veering toward the street again. “Do you like your teacher?” 

“She’s really nice,” he said. “She barely even gives us any homework.”

“Now, that’s a good teacher,” Cassian agreed. 

Nyx chatted idly with Cassian until they got to school.

Cassian was surprised to see a beautiful young woman standing near the front door, greeting the kids as they filtered in through the building. 

You smiled at Nyx as he and Cassian approached. “Good morning, Nyx! Who did you bring with you today?”

“This is my uncle Cassian,” Nyx said proudly, before turning back to Cassian and informing him, “This is my teacher!”

Teachers did not look like that when I was in school, Cassian thought. 

“Hi,” Cassian smiled, extending his hand. You took it, your eyes widening slightly when your hand touched his. 

“Nice to meet you,” you said. Cassian thought you sounded a bit out of breath. “Are you picking Nyx up today?”

Cassian said, “I am,” and was suddenly very glad for it. 

You nodded, still looking somewhat dazed. “Okay, we’ll see you this afternoon then.”

Nyx said goodbye and bounded into the building, but Cassian couldn’t help but feel like something was off. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You look… a little pale, maybe?"

“I’m fine,” you said hurriedly. “Thank you.”

Cassian nodded. “Okay. Good.” Cauldron, why was he flustered now? “This afternoon, then. Have a good day. Good luck with the little ones.”

You laughed, thanking him, before Cassian turned away. 

---

You could hardly breathe. And he had known it too, which made everything so much worse. 

The last thing you were expecting today was to meet your mate three minutes before school started. 

Cauldron. How could the Cassian be your mate?

You were fairly sure you recognized him as he was walking up, but didn’t want to assume. The High Lord and his inner circle were well known here, of course, but you had never met any of them besides Rhysand and Feyre, and that was only because Nyx was in your class.

Cassian was unlike any male you’d ever seen before. His biceps were the size of your head. He could snap you in half like it was nothing. And yet he was holding little Nyx’s hand in his, walking him to school. 

Gods.

You were nervous enough about having the High Lord’s son in your class, but then a member of his trusted inner circle shows up, touches your hand, and the bond snaps into place?

And just like that, the commander of the High Lord’s army, the one that they’ve written entire books about, was your mate. 

Yet, here you were, teaching arithmetic to a classroom full of tiny children.

It didn’t make sense. You had never heard of the Mother making mistakes before, but surely this was one. Why would someone that powerful have a schoolteacher for a mate?

Cassian didn’t seem to feel it when you had. Surely you would have noticed if it had snapped for him at the same time. 

So, he didn’t know. And you figured it was better to keep it that way. You would sound foolish, telling this war hero that you were his mate. 

And it wasn’t likely that you would see him again after today, anyway. 

You just had to get through the day, and pretend that everything was normal. 

By the time parents were back picking up their kids, you had managed to put Cassian out of your mind. 

That is, until he showed up again, his massive wings tucked in closely behind him, his shirt spread tightly across his chest and his arms. Your heart leaped as you watched him make his way to the door. 

Your mate. He was yours. Or at least the Mother thought he should be. 

He smiled brightly when he saw you, and you immediately felt a pull on that invisible string that tied you to him. 

It was an effort to steady your breathing when he finally stood in front of you. 

Before you could say anything, one of your students ran into your legs from behind at full speed, causing you to stagger forward, into Cassian. He steadied you, his strong hands holding your waist, as your own hands involuntarily came to rest on his broad chest. 

Cassian looked into your eyes for a moment, the side of his mouth tugging up into a smile. You got lost in him for a moment, in those hazel eyes that you felt you could see the world in. 

Thankfully, you finally remembered where you were, and turned around and narrowed your eyes at your student. “Jan, buddy, we’ve talked about this.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, taking a step back. “I forgot.”

“I know you did, it’s okay,” you said, gently patting his back. “Why don’t you go play until your dad gets here, okay?” 

You turned back to Cassian as he happily scampered off. Cassian’s eyes were bright as he smiled at you. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. 

He laughed, gesturing around, to the dozens of squealing children. “This. Stay so calm, being in charge of all these kids while they’re yelling and knocking into you.”

You shrugged, unable to keep the smile off your face, being so close to him. “It’s not that bad. It’s nothing like what you do.”

Cassian smiled, glancing around at the chaos that surrounded you both. “Well, you might be surprised.” His gaze landed back on you and you felt it like a shock down to your toes. “If you ever want to help me out with the Ilyrians, let me know. You might be better at keeping them in line than I am.”

“I highly doubt that,” you laughed. “With kids, you just need to give them a snack and they’ll love you forever.”

He pursed his lips slightly, seemingly thinking this over. “I might have to try that.”

You laughed. “Let me know how it goes.”

“Promise,” he smirked. 

In that moment, you knew you could spend all day looking at him and never get bored. It scared you, that thought. You couldn’t allow yourself to fall for him. There was no possible outcome that wouldn’t break your heart.

You cleared your throat, taking half a step back. “You’ll probably want to find Nyx.”

He nodded, as if he too had forgotten why he was actually there. 

As if on cue, Nyx bounded up, throwing his arms around Cassian’s legs. “Uncle Cassian!”

Cassian grinned down at him. “Hey, kid. Were you good for your teacher today?”

Nyx smiled shyly. “Yes.”

Cassian turned back to you, raising an eyebrow in question. 

You smiled, nodding. “He was.”

“Good,” Cassian said, ruffling Nyx’s hair, before turning his attention back to you. “I’ll see you around?”

You nodded, though you doubted you would see him again. You tried not to dwell on that, on the fact that you had finally, finally found your mate, and you knew deep down that you could never have him. 

Cassian glanced back over his shoulder, smiling at you once more after he had left and your heart missed a beat. 

You desperately hoped that you would be able to go back to your real life, to forget about him.

---

Cassian couldn’t get you out of his mind after that day. The way you were looking at him… 

Maybe it was just that you recognized him. You certainly weren’t the only woman who had looked up at him with big doe eyes. 

So, why couldn’t he stop thinking about you?

It wasn’t just that though, he knew, as you danced around his mind once again. You were clearly incredibly kind and sweet. And you were funny. 

He found himself smiling as he thought about you, and schooled his features back into his stern, commanding expression as he focused his attention back onto the warriors training in front of him. 

But before long, he was thinking of you again, wondering what kind of snack would make the stubborn, bull headed Illyrians slightly less annoying to work with. 

He would just have to focus, he told himself, until he could see you again. 

Rhysand had given him a questioning look when he had asked to take Nyx to school again, but agreed. 

It had only been a few days, but he was already itching to see you again.

He wondered if it was possible that you felt the same way. 

---

Before school, you always took it upon yourself to usher idle children into the building, making sure they got where they needed to be while parents were busy dropping them off and making plans for pick up. 

When you caught a glimpse of massive, outstretched wings, you felt a shock spark through your entire body.

Again? He was really dropping Nyx off again? 

It had only been a few days since you had last seen him. Not nearly enough time to catch your breath, to force thoughts of him out of your mind. 

That tug in your chest, that string urging you closer to him, was relentless. 

You understood now, how people had been driven to madness after their mating bond had been rejected. It took everything you had in you to stay put, to keep yourself from running to him. 

His bright smile as he approached, his eyes locked on yours, made your heart hurt. 

“Hey,” he said, ushering Nyx into the building with a gentle nudge. 

“Hi,” you said quietly, noticing now that nearly everyone had already gone inside or left. You were alone with Cassian. 

He cleared his throat, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet. Was he… nervous?

“So,” he said, then laughed lightly, turning his face to the mountains surrounding the city, scratching the back of his neck.

“Cassian?” You asked, confused, and honestly, slightly impatient. You only had a few minutes to get to your class.

He leveled his gaze back to you again, his eyes twinkling in the sun. “Do you want to get dinner?” 

That had not been what you were expecting, and you felt like your breath was completely caught in your throat. 

Cassian seemed to take your surprise for something else because he started talking again, quickly, like he couldn't get it out fast enough, “Unless you don't want to. It's not a big deal, I was just thinking --”

“Yes,” you cut him off, and he looked relieved, his taut shoulders visibly relaxing.

“You're sure?”

You couldn't keep the smile off your face. “Very sure.”

His face lit up with a grin then, and you had to bite your lip to keep from grinning yourself. You balled your hands into fists at your sides, worried that if you didn't, you would launch yourself at him.

The two of you agreed on a time and a place, and then he was off, and you once again, had to go teach a classroom full of kids as if nothing remarkable had just happened.

By the time dinner with Cassian rolled around, you had convinced yourself that it was definitely not a date. Probably. 

Just… casual dinner between two people who barely knew each other. Acquaintances went out for dinner all the time, right? 

You forced yourself to take a deep breath as you waited outside the restaurant, your fingers toying with the hem of your dress that you had finally decided on, after trying on nearly every piece of clothing that you owned. 

It was a habit of yours to always arrive early, and yet, you only waited a few minutes before Cassian sauntered up to you, like he didn’t have a care in the world. For about the millionth time, you wondered how it was possible that the two of you had been chosen as mates. You couldn’t be more different. 

Cassian’s smile was bright when he was finally towering over you, greeting you with the usual pleasantries before placing his hand on the small of your back and leading you inside. 

Your heart pounded in your chest at the contact. He hadn’t touched you since that first handshake, the touch that made the bond snap into place for you, like nothing you had ever felt before. 

You wondered if it would do the same for him someday. What would his reaction be if he knew?

Disappointed, surely. Confused. Upset?

It was one thing to ask someone to dinner, but to be mates? To be tethered to somebody for life? You suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of him finding out. 

Your mind was spinning by the time the two of you took your seats, and his brow furrowed in concern as his gaze settled on you. “Are you alright?”

You tried to brighten your expression, cursing your face for always being so easy to read. “Fine,” you said, and the smile became easier, more genuine, the longer that you looked at him. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind, I guess. It’s hard to shut it off.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I understand. Do you want to talk about it?” 

You winced. “Not really. It’s not that interesting, anyway,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “How are you?” you asked, before you could accidentally reveal something you would regret. 

The corner of his mouth turned up into a small smile, his gaze locked on you. “Why do you do that? Dismiss yourself so casually?”

“What do you mean?”

“You act like what you do isn’t important, or like your feelings don’t matter.” He leaned in closer, bracing his forearms on the table in front of him. “But it’s not true. You have one of the most important jobs… ever. And from what I can tell, you’re really good at it.” 

He relaxed his stance, leaning back in his chair again, his eyes never wavering from yours. “You don’t have to talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you. But, I won’t let you act like it doesn’t matter, because it does.”

Stunned, you opened your mouth, completely unable to form a response. How could he read you so clearly? And why did he care so much?

Finally, all you could say was, “You don’t even know me.”

Cassian’s smile grew slowly. “I know enough. And I’d like to know more.”

The look on his face, the gravel in his voice, the words that he spoke, made heat rush to your cheeks. His smile only widened. 

“What do you want to know?”

---

Cassian couldn’t wipe the grin off his face after that date with you. You had talked for ages, the two of you, and he didn’t think he had ever been so enamored by somebody. You told him all about your family, your friends, how you grew up, your favorite hideout in Velaris, when you just needed to get away from it all. And he had done the same, admittedly, showing off a little with stories from being in Rhysand's trusted inner circle. 

But you didn’t fawn over him like some women did. You sat and listened, your eyes widening at all the right times, but it was like you really saw him. Not the version of him that people talk about in battle, but just… Cassian. 

And he really liked that. 

For weeks, you had consumed his every waking thought and, frankly, several of his dreams. The way you blushed when he smiled at you, the slight tilt of your head when you watched him animatedly tell stories, the way your eyes lit up when you saw him… all of it was driving him completely mad. He saw you as much as he could in those weeks, and though you seemed reluctant to show it, he could tell that you were excited to see him, too. 

Winter was almost upon Velaris, and the air was crisp, but the sun was bright as Cassian sauntered up to the school, hoping that your afternoon was free and he could steal you away for lunch. 

The sun's rays were shining on you like a beacon and he couldn't help but stare as you crouched down to be face to face with a kid, your smile bright as you undoubtedly said something encouraging to him. 

In that moment, he felt like the ground was swaying beneath him as the bond snapped into place.

The bond that tethered you to him, that confirmed what he had been feeling all these weeks, that proved you were meant to be his. 

For a moment, he was ecstatic, but that moment ended quickly as he suddenly remembered that first time you met, the way your eyes widened in shock as he touched you for the first time… you knew. You had known this whole time and you hadn't told him.

Did you not want to be his mate? Did you think it was a bad match? If that were the case, why on earth had you been spending so much time with him?

He stood frozen in place until the crowd of parents and kids had mostly cleared, his thoughts whirling.

Your eyes lit up when you noticed Cassian, but your face fell when you noticed his expression.

He could tell that you figured it out. That he knew. And that he knew you knew.

His heart broke as your eyes flooded with panic, and you turned from him, hurrying away without another glance.

Cassian followed, half debating flying above the city so he could see easier where you were going.

But before long, he knew your destination anyway.

You had told him weeks ago about the beach that you often went to when you needed to clear your head.

When he approached, you were sitting facing the river, your arms wrapped around yourself. The rocks beneath his boots cracked together and alerted you immediately to his presence, but you didn't turn around. 

He sat next to you, wincing a bit as a rock dug into his thigh, careful to tuck his wings in so they wouldn't brush against you.

Your eyes remained on the water for a few moments, a storm inside them. 

Finally, Cassian said, “Why didn't you tell me?”

Thinking, you bit your lip, and despite everything, it made his heart swell. 

“I didn't think you would want to know,” you said, your voice small.

It took an effort not to physically reel back like you had slapped him. He fought to keep his voice calm. “Why not?"

You let out a humorless laugh, still not so much as glancing in his direction. “Why do you think?”

Cassian furrowed his brow, wracking his brain for any indication he may have accidentally given you that would make you think he wouldn't want to be your mate, but he came up with nothing. “I don't know,” he finally said. “Did I do something?”

Your eyes finally met his then, and he felt the urge to cry for the first time in centuries. You looked so defeated, so pained. What had he done to make you react this way?

“No, it's not that, it's…” you bit your lip, your brow furrowed as you held his gaze. “Cassian, you're a warrior. You're in charge of armies, you're one of the most powerful Illyrians of all time, you've literally made history. And I'm…” you gestured to yourself, “I'm nothing compared to you.” You shook your head, facing the water again. “I hid it from you because it doesn't make sense. It must be a mistake.”

Cassian's heart pounded in his ears as he tried to make sense of it. “How could you think it's a mistake?” He said, his voice wavering, but he pushed past it. “How could you think that way about yourself?”

His heart broke when he heard you sniffle, still avoiding his gaze.

Gently, he took your chin between his fingers and urged you to look at him. “It's not a mistake,” he said quietly. “I haven't been able to get you out of my head since the moment I saw you. Do you know why?”

Your bottom lip trembled and you shook your head as much as you could while he was still holding your chin.

“You're incredible. You're endlessly kind and patient. You dedicate your life to helping kids and teaching them how to be who they're meant to be. There wouldn't be armies to lead or healers to fix us after battle, or anything else, if we didn't have teachers leading us along the way.”

Your eyes softened then, and Cassian nearly sighed with relief but he kept pushing, to be sure you would believe what he was telling you. “And gods, you're beautiful,” he smiled, stroking his thumb across your bottom lip. “You drive me crazy.”

A laugh bubbled from your throat and his heart leaped. He shifted his hands so they were cupping your face. “We're meant to be together, you and me. It's not a mistake. And I don't want to hear you talk about yourself like that again.”

You nodded, smiling, looking up at Cassian with stars in your eyes. “I just can't believe you want me.”

“Well, believe it, because it's true,” he murmured, leaning in so his lips brushed the shell of your ear, “I want you more than I've ever wanted anything.”

He felt your breath hitch, and just then it started to snow lightly, the small flakes sticking to your eyelashes and in your hair.

“I want you too, Cassian,” you said quietly before cupping your hand around the back of his neck and pulling him closer, bringing your lips to his.

Cassian couldn't stop his groan as he pulled you closer, kissing you the way he'd been wanting to for weeks.

When you finally parted to catch your breath, he pulled you to his side, and you rested your head on his shoulder as the two of you looked out across the water, the snow still gently drifting down.

It didn't feel real, that he had finally found his mate, the one he was meant to be with. And it was you, who had been consuming his thoughts since the moment you met.

He felt so, so unbelievably lucky and he prayed that you felt the same way about him.

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @ecliphttlunar @melmo567 @headacheseason @sillysillygoose444 @halibshepherd @cigvrette-dvydrevms @lilah-asteria @marina468 @evergreenlark @bookloverandalsocats @yourqueenlilith @mariamay02 @azrielshadows1nger @andreperez11

[lunajay33]

The One🐾

Summary: Life always felt like something was missing and falling into a funk you go to move to forks to live with your best friend Jacob and everything seems to fall into place when he introduces you to his friends

Pairing: Paul Lahote x f!reader

•Masterlist•

Every since I was little I felt like something was missing, like no matter how happy and whole my life felt it was never enough and when I grew into my teen years it just got worse, so my mom thought it be best to send me to live with our family friends in Forks Washington where we use to live before we moved

Getting out of the cab seeing the familiar red house feeling the fresh coastal air breeze across me something clicked in me, like everything was gonna somehow be better here

I got my suitcase out of the car waving goodbye to the man that drove me all this way from the airport

“Y/N!!! YOURE HERE!” I turned seeing Jacob running out the door to me with wide open arms

Dropping my bags I jumped into his arms as he swung me around holding me tight then setting me gently on the ground again

“I can’t believe you’re back, I missed you so much”

“Jake we call almost every day” I laugh as he picks up my bags leading me back to the house

“I know but it’s not the same as actually having you here, plus I think it’ll be good for you, I have a bunch of friends now and we do stuff all the time and they’ll love you!” He was as excited as a little kid in a candy shop and it warmed my heart, finally being back in the town I was born in, the place I only ever felt right before moving

He dropped my bags in a little room, seemingly nervous at what I’ll think of it

“I love it, thank you and Billy agains for letting me stay”

“Anytime! Now I planned a little welcome home fire tonight for you, food, music and you’ll get to meet the whole pack!”

“Pack?”

“Oh umm yeah like….i mean my friends, our whole group, my friend Bella from town and some of the elders, I remember how you loved those stories they’d tell us as kids”

“You did all that for me?!”

“Of course, you’re back home where you belong, it’s only right we celebrate”

The night came and Jake was driving us to the go to spot they had fires and gatherings, we pulled up to a big open field by a little house, a big fire already roaring bright, hearing the cheerful voices from my open window as Jake shut off the engine

“Come on what’re you waiting for?” Jake asked from my now open door, my nerves taking hold of me not even noticing he got out and was now waiting for me on my side of the truck

“I’m a little nervous what if….what if they don’t like me?”

“They’re nothing to be worried about, just think of them just like me, and you’re always relaxed around me now come on let’s get some food before Paul eats it all” his words soothed me finally coursing me out of the truck

“Oh I remember Paul, he use to play with us sometimes at the beach right?”

“Yeah he’s become a bit of a hot head but he means well, he’s pretty protective of things that are important” he said handing me a plate as we got to the tables filled with food

“Hey!! Jake come over here got a spot for you!” I heard a girl by the fire say waving him over

“That’s Bella, I’m gonna go talk with her, mingle around these people will be in your life as long as you live with me” he smiled soothing my worries as he walked off

I picked up a chocolate chip muffin and placed it on the plate when someone spoke next to me

“Hey you must be the girl of the hour, I’m Emily Jake hasn’t stopped talking about you since he found out you were moving here, I’m glad to finally meet you!” She smiled giving me a warm motherly vibe

“It’s nice to meet you too! Thank you for coming I can’t believe everyone came just for me, I’m excited to reconnect and meet everyone!”

“Come on I’ll introduce you around” she brought me around, I met Seth Clearwater who wasn’t even born before I left but I remembered his sister Leah as well as Embry, I talked to Billy and the elders a bit before we moved on to the next

“Hey Paul! Remember y/n and few of the others do already!”

“How could I forget that little rascal” he laughed as he looked up at me from his plate, his smile dropping as we made eye contact, his plate crumbling to the ground

Everything felt still, this connection and pull I felt to him like he’s the only thing the matters, that no matter what happens or where I go I’ll be safe and loved, he drops to his knees as I place me hands on his shoulders, admiring his features he’s changed so much, so tall so muscular so handsome, the chatter around us stopped feeling everyone’s eyes on us but I don’t care all I care about is this moment

“No no no no NO, Paul really? Out of everyone it had to be my best friend?” Jake fumed snapping us out of this strange trance

“Like I can help it, but I’m not complaining she’s beautiful” he said making my heart thump

“Ummm what just happened?” The confusing starting to set in

“Right, I wouldn’t expect you to remember, come on we’ll tell you everything” Jake grabbed my hand and sat me next to him at the fire, Paul quick to sit on my other side, his body heat relaxing me

The “pack” went on to tell me everything, that the legends were true and most of the people including my best friend was a shifter, a wolf, it was hard to believe I mean wolves? But it wasn’t until they told me about imprints and that I was now Paul’s, but it didn’t feel wrong it felt completely right, like magically I was whole again

Everyone looked at me expectantly, anxious and waiting expression on everyone

“I know it’s a lot and we understand if you need time honey” Billy said comfortingly

“No……I’m fine really, I actually feel the best I have in a long time” I smile sheepishly as my cheeks rush with heat

“That makes sense, it’s said that if you’re separated from your soulmate even if not imprinted yet it drains you and now that you’re back, you’re where you’re suppose to be” Sam stated as he squeezed Emily’s hand

I look next to be to Paul who’s rough exterior I always remembered was gone now replaced with adoration as he looked at me like I hung the moon in the sky

“Would you like to go talk…..privately?” I asked

“I’d loved to Angel” he took my hand and led me away from the fire to the house, it was cozy just like Jake’s home, well mine now too

“Soooo I guess I’m your soulmate”

“I’ve been waiting for you, I always did have a crush on you when we were younger, always got jealous when Jake would talk about you” he smirked as he brushed back my hair

“Really? You had a crush on me?”

“Always, missed you a lot when you left, tried to forget about you but I never could get you out of my head, felt like something was missing with you gone and now I know why”

“So what are we now?” My heart thumping fast

“Anything you want Angel” he said squeezing my thigh

“Can we start with a date?” I ask placing my hand ontop of his that rested on my thigh

“I’d love that, how about I pick you up tomorrow at 5 I’ll plan something special!”

The clock showed 4:30 and I was a nervous wreck, this is my first date ever and it’s with a guy who’s my soulmate and a wolf, how did my life change so drastically

I combed down my hair for the millionth time hearing Jake laugh behind me as he was sat on the bed

“And what are you laughing at?”

“You, you’re fidgeting like crazy”

“Jake stop…I’ve never done this before what if we go out and he realizes he doesn’t wanna be with me, then I’m alone again”

“Y/n/n he’s gonna love you, hell I see how jealous he’d get everytime I’d bring you up”

There was a knock at the door and my heart jumped, I got up and flattened down my ivory dress

“Okay how do I look?”

“You look great now go on don’t keep him waiting!” I rush to the door taking a deep breath and opening it to see Paul standing with a pair of jeans and a tight black short sleeve and a bouquet of wild flowers in his hands

“You look beautiful wow” he said in a daze as his eyes roamed over every inch of me

“You don’t look to bad yourself handsome”

“Here these are for you, but they can’t compare to how pretty you are” he said handing them over

“Paul stop you’re gonna make me blush” I smiled placing the flowers in a little vase

“That’s the goal, now let’s go I’ve got everything ready” he gently took my hand leading me to the open field infront of the house

“Where’s your truck?”

“We’re going on foot” it’s just up the hill

We walked hand in hand for a while till we reached the cliff side with a beautiful view, there was string lights across the trees hanging over a comfy blanket with a picnic basket

“Wow you did all this for me?”

“Of course and I got all your favourites! Had to get a few tips from Jake” he laughed as we sat down

“This is so sweet, so far this is an amazing first date” I said taking a bite of a strawberry

“First? You’ve never been on a date before?”

“No….ive never been interested in anyone before….well before now” I looked at him a bit embarrassed but being around him felt like he’d never judge me

“I get that, no one ever compared to how I feel for you, you’re the one, my only one”

Part 2?

[futfemfantasies]

Hello, I hope you're well, if you write for mass you can do a story where you date Alexia or Jenni's sister, and they don't take kindly to the relationship you have together

Captain’s little sister // Alexia Putellas x reader

The first time you met Alba you were smitten. It was at a post-match dinner in Barcelona after the team's Copa de la Reina final win. As the newest addition to the squad, this was your first trophy win so it was pretty special. 

Alba wasn’t like her sister. She was quieter, with a love for teaching that made her world apart from the football-dominated universe that you and Alexia inhabited. Both your and Alba’s eyes met for a second from across the room and for a brief moment, the noise of the bustling restaurant faded into the background. 

“Y/N, this is my sister, Alba,” Alexia proudly introduced. “She’s studying teaching at the University of Barcelona.”

“Nice to meet you.” You had said, your voice faltering slightly under the intensity of Alba’s gaze.

Over the following months, you found yourself increasingly drawn closer to Alba. It started innocently: a few shared conversations post match when playing at home, a coffee even now and again when Alexia was busy. Alba, for her part, was equally captivated. She admired your dedication to being the best for Barça and for the Lionesses on the international stage. 

The first time they kissed, it was after a late-night walk along the Barcelona beachfront. The lights of the city reflected off the water as Alba leaned in, her expression nervous but determined. You didn’t pull away. In that moment, all that mattered was Alba’s hand on your waist pulling you closer and the unspoken connection you both shared. 

The relationship was hidden for a while. It wasn’t out of shame, but out of caution. You knew how protective Alexia was of Alba. You had seen it firsthand in how Alexia watched over her sister, ensuring she stayed out of the public eye and away from unnecessary scrutiny. 

Hiding their relationship meant dodging questions and sneaking around, which became increasingly difficult as Alba started attending more matches. You could feel Alexia’s eyes on you during team dinners and training sessions, her gaze sharp and questioning. 

One night after training, Alexia questions her suspicions. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Alba.”

“She’s great company,” You replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Alexia nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. “ Just remember - she’s my little sister. Be careful with her.”

You nodded, but your heart ached at the unspoken implications. 

The truth unraveled during international break. Reader had flown back to England to represent the Lionesses in a few friendlies, while Alexia was with the Spanish national team. Alba, missing you, had posted a photo on her instagram story with the caption missing her a little bit more today :(  - a candid photo of you walking in front of Alba on the beach. It was meant to be private, shared only to Alba’s close friends, but somehow, it reached Alexia. 

The call came late at night, just as you closed your hotel room door after a game. 

“What the hell is this?” Alexia’s voice was sharp, her anger palpable even through the phone.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Alexia I-”

“You’re dating Alba? My sister?”

“Yes,” Reader admitted, your voice steady despite the guilt eating away at you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I care about her. A lot.”

There was a long pause before Alexia spoke again, her voice quieter but no less intense. “Do you have any idea what you’re getting into? What this could mean for her? For us as teammates?”

“I do,” You said firmly. “And I would never do anything to hurt her. Or you.”

The conversation ended without another word spoken, leaving you with a sinking feeling that things were about to get much worse. 

After international break concluded, the tension between you and Alexia was impossible to ignore. On the pitch, Alexia was professional, but her passes to you were a tad too hard, her instructions clipped and cold. 

Alba was caught in the middle. She tried to mediate, but Alexia’s stubbornness and your guilt made the progress slow. 

“She’ll come around,” Alba reassured you as you both cuddled up on her couch. “She just needs time.”

“I hope you’re right.” You said, your voice heavy with doubt as you pull the blanket on you both.

The breaking point came during a Champions League match against Lyon. With the game tied and minutes left on the clock, a crucial miscommunication between you and Alexia led to a turnover and a Lyon goal. The defeat stung, but Alexia’s reaction stung worse. 

“What were you thinking?” she snapped in the locker room afterward, her voice echoing off the walls. 

You stood your ground, enough was enough. “Maybe if you weren’t so focused on punishing me for dating Alba, we wouldn’t have lost!”

The room fell silent. Alexia stared at you, her expression a mix of shock and anger. Without another word, you grabbed your bag and left. 

The next day at training, the tension between you and Alexia reached a boiling point. It started with a misplaced pass. You had been open, calling for the ball, but Alexia ignored you, opting to pass to another teammate instead. You clenched your jaw, letting it go, a few hands patting your shoulder as the drill gets restarted. But then it happened again. And again. 

“Alexia!” You snapped, stopping mid-drill, clearing having enough of Alexia’s actions. The other players glanced around uneasily, sensing the brewing storm. “Are you seriously going to freeze me out during training?”

Alexia turned, her expression cold. “Maybe if you focused on the game instead of my sister, we wouldn’t have lost to Lyon.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Reader’s chest tightened as they stared at Alexia, anger and hurt boiling over. “That’s what this is about? You can’t handle the fact that Alba and I are together,, so you’re sabotaging the team?”

Alexia’s jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not sabotaging anything, I just don’t trust you anymore.” 

“Why? Because I’m dating Alba? Or because you can’t control this part of her life?” You shot back, voice rising.

The other players shifted uncomfortably as they looked towards their coach to step in. “That’s enough. Both of you, off the pitch. Now!”

You sat on the bench outside the training centre, waiting for Alba to pick you up since your car is getting repaired. The argument replayed in your mind, the words cutting deeper than the last. You hear a car pull up and see Alba with her gorgeous smile looking at you with worry. You wipe away tears and quickly get in her car. Alba didn’t even have to ask how your day was before you started rambling about everything that happened. 

That evening, Alba stormed into Alexia’s apartment, her face flushed with anger. Alexia barely had time to process her arrival before Alba started speaking. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Alba demanded, her voice trembling. “Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

Alexia frowned, her defences immediately going up. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?” Alba snapped. “From being happy? From falling in love?” Y/n isn’t some random fling, Alexia. She cares about me. She loves me.”

Alexia’s jaw tightened. “And what happens when it all goes wrong? When she leaves? Do you have any idea how hard it is to put yourself back together after someone breaks you?”

Alba’s expression softened slightly, but her voice remained firm. “I know you’re scared. I know you think you’re protecting me. But this isn’t about you. This is my life Alexia. And you’re pushing me away because you can’t let go”

Alexia closed her eyes, guilt washing over her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just…I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Alba said softly, sitting next to her sister. “But if you keep this up, you might lose both of us.”

The next day, Alexia approached you in the dressing room, her expression hesitant. The rest of the team had left already, leaving the two of them alone. 

“I owe you an apology,” Alexia said, her voice quiet. “I’ve been unfair to you. To both of you.”

You looked at Alexia warily, unsure if this was a genuine truce or another fight waiting to happen. “Why now?”

Alexia sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Because Alba made me realise I’ve been holding onto my fears instead of trusting her. She’s happy with you, the happiest she’s been in a long time. And I don’t want to be the reason that changes.”

You nodded slowly, your shoulders relaxing for the first time in weeks. “I don’t want to come between you and Alba. I just want her to be happy. And I want us to work as a team.”

Alexia offered a small smile. “Then let’s try again. For her. For the team.”

Things didn’t change overnight, but the frost between you and Alexia began to thaw. Slowly, you both rebuilt your partnership on the pitch, learning to trust each other again. 

Alba, meanwhile, was a constant source of light in your life. Her support and patience made the challenges worth it. Over time, even Alexia began to see the happiness you brought each other. 

Slowly, piece by piece, they all began to rebuild what had been broken.

[jackiepackiee]

hi there! I was wondering if you could do some hcs about telemachus x reader where she’s a demigod daughter of poseidon? And shes not close with her dad at all bc he’s absent n everything but hes just sorta nervous? Or maybe he isnt nervous but when ody gets back he sorta freaks out? Whatever works for you hun xx

Telemachus x Poseidon Daughter! Reader

An- apologies, I’m not too proud of this one… if you want anything else about this just ask! @sunshinewhosketches

I’d say pretty confidently there are three levels of timespans of your relationship

That being meeting, dating before his dad returns, and after Odysseus’ return

Meeting

Now Telemachus is no strangers to gods. He’s a bit of a nerd… studying all the great tales of the sky, ocean, underworld, etc

And obviously he is close with Athena, he’d consider her one of the closest people in his life

But that’s the only god he really knows as in a personal way, not to mention Athena came to him so he wasn’t actively trying to win over anyone

That being said, it’s most likely that he meets you through Athena

One day you overheard the goddess of war and wisdom speaking of her new mentee with Hermes and you were more than interested

It’s not often that she speaks so fondly of anyone, especially men, so this boy had to be good!

Anyways, it’s not like you knew of his father yet (it’s likely during this time you first hear of him that Poseidon and Odysseus are having their fights)

So you followed Athena one day to meet the boy, just planning to watch from afar

As a demigod you couldn’t exactly make yourself invisible like true gods, so you hid in the water in one of the beach pools of Ithaca while he trained

But he’s very intelligent and soon sees you poking up from the rocks at the waters edge

Now he’s incredibly flustered, not knowing who you are or your intentions

So Athena has to tell him to calm down before you can talk

Sure, she’s against romance, but it wouldn’t hurt for her warrior to have a demigod on his side

And when he finds out your Poseidon’s daughter?

Yeah, he’s shocked

Not because he’s scared, but because “gods are such strong beings supposed to be so beautiful?!?”

You’re there, skin sparkling from the water looking like you emerged from the depths of the ocean

He’s immediately very polite, not daring to say anything to offend you

After all, your father is known for drowning his enemies for a small wrongdoing

But he sees your face and can’t bring himself to be anything but a stuttering mess who blushes lightly

Before Odysseus

When you two are dating things are more or less… crazy

The most obvious issue is the suitors

Now he’s tempted to say to them that, “yeah, I’m dating a demigod so don’t mess with them or my mother”

But he’s no idiot

He knows this would put you in danger, so instead you two usually meet at the rivers and beaches of Ithaca

Anyways, he loves getting out of the palace and exploring his kingdom with you

Although he knows you’d protect him, he likes to be the one protecting you

He feels strong knowing a literal demigod is trusting him with their safety

Your favorite pass time together is sailing, since he isn’t afraid of you getting caught in the water because he knows you can swim well lol

He looks so so so good with slightly wet hair, muscular arms shown off as he hums lowly and pulls at the ropes of the ship

But don’t tell him that! He’ll blush and lie that it’s a bad sunburn

Now he doesn’t know of his father and your fathers feud, so you two have little to fear

Well… kinda

He’s never known a demigod, nevertheless been in love with the daughter of an incredibly dangerous god

So he’s extra polite to you (he would be anyways, because he loves you) and never goes into the water without you

I’m not going to assume what type of abilities you have, but whatever it be he’s very very proud

When you show him he looks at you in awe before hugging you like an excited little kid

“Do it again!” Yeah, who can say no to him?

You two mainly share gentle kisses after long days of adventures, and you always splash him with some water when you get shy from his affection

After Odysseus

Definition of… “oh sh-“

Now Odysseus is a kind man, despite his change after his odyssey

So he won’t be rude to you

In fact he likely won’t know for a while since… everyone has a lifetime of catching up to do

So it isn’t until you see Telemachus come into your bedroom with a panicked expression that issues arise

Now he’s a sweet sweet boy, and he lies

He tells you he’s just feeling ill and needs to lie down

In actuality his dad was telling him about his journey and started talking about the absolute hatred him and Poseidon had for each other

Telemachus goes pale.

He’s so scared two of the people he loves most won’t get along!

So he doesn’t tell you while he figures it out

And by figuring it out I mean having a “tummy ache” because he’s so nervous

To be fair he didn’t know you didn’t care for your dad as you never brought him up

It was a touchy subject for both of you, but now that he has his dad he’s aware of how quiet you are on the subject

Everything is okay to him until he sees you and his dad talking while you help him fix a boat by going underwater and poor bby let’s the secrets fly

Since he sees you underwater he assumes his dad knows

“I’m so sorry father! I know you hate Poseidon but she’s so lovely and I’m not willing to give her up even if you have fought him.”

Which just confuses the two of you until you look at one another and realize

Now both you and Odysseus love Telemachus, and don’t like Poseidon, so what is there to fight about?

Telemachus just holds your hand, waiting for his fathers reaction

But all he does is nod and carry on

To be fair, he owes you for protecting his family while he’s been gone

After that Telemachus is less nervous

Now the only thing that gets him going in a flustered stutter is when his mom says “I’ve never thought you’d marry a demigod” and I maid squeals “when is the wedding”

No, Poseidon and Odysseus aren’t going to get along for your sake

[gh0stsp1d3r]

LOVE the way you write nerd!rafe 🥹 could we see their first date like after the “giving nerd!rafe head for the first time” fic you did ?!

first date

A/N: IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE.

Warnings: all fluff!

NERD!RAFE MASTERLIST

Honestly, when you agreed to go out on a date right after having sex with him, you didn’t know what you expected. But whatever it is, it definitely wasn’t this. You didn’t expect it to be so… perfect.

A beach date wasn’t exactly a typical first date. But, it sounded extremely fun. It was different and unique, something about it had your stomach fluttering. Why were you so nervous? You’re his tuttee, you’ve literally talked to him countless times.

You put your earrings in, smoothing down your sundress as you stood up. You had your bikini on under it, just incase you did want to go in the water.

Your phone vibrated on your bed, with a little text from Rafe.

rafe (super cute tutor guy)

Hey, I’m here.

You typed a quick message back,

“be down in a sec!”

He replied with, “Take your time.” A small smile made its way onto your face, hearting the message and putting your phone in your little crotchet bag. You just pulled on some simple slides, not bothering with it.

You went down your stairs, taking a breath before opening the door up. You saw Rafes car sitting there, him messing with the ring on his finger in the drivers seat. He looked up to see you, giving you a soft smile as you hopped into the passengers seat.

“Hi.” He spoke, you turning to look at him back with a smile.

“Hi.” You spoke rather shyly, swallowing the lump that began to form in your throat. You were usually so confident, so why were you so nervous?

“You look… really beautiful.”

“Thank you. You do too.” You replied, before realizing how weird it sounded. “I meant.. you look handsome. Not beautiful-“

He laughed, “Thank you.”

His eyes lingered on you for a moment, before turning his car on, and beginning the drive to the beach.

“So, uhm, what made you pick the beach?” You asked him when he started to drive, him shrugging his shoulders, pursing his lips together.

“Well, it’s nice out. And I didn’t like- I feel like you deserved better than some boring dinner date.” He began to stammer out, you smiling at his words. “I didn’t even know if it was good, but-“

“No, no, it is. I like it. That’s…very sweet of you.” You hummed, him glancing at you with his lips turned up.

“I’m glad you like it.” He said, letting out a quiet sigh of relief.

You gave him a smile, him glancing back at you while he turned up the radio, rolling down the window as you approached downtown, and drove closer to the beach.

“Alright,” he spoke when he parked the car in a spot, “I just gotta get the stuff from the back.” He told you, opening up his car door, you doing the same.

You stood, watching as he opened up the truck bed, grabbing the towels, along with a large bag.

“You got it?” You asked him with a giggle when you saw him struggle to balance everything in his arms and close the trunk bed, him laughing at his own struggles.

“Maybe not.” He replied sheepishly, you going to his side and helping him close the trunk bed.

“Thanks.” He told you with a small smile, still carrying everything in his arms.

“Mhm.” You hummed, beginning to walk in front of him, and making your way to the beach, him following behind you.

As soon as you found a spot, you grabbing a towel from his hands, putting it down onto the sand. He had a small smile when he put down the bags and sat down next to you, offering you a water bottle.

“Thank you.” You smiled at him, not thinking when you leaned in to press your lips to his cheek. His cheeks turned crimson, mouth going slightly agape.

“Y-yeah.” was the only thing he could reply with, sitting down next to you, breaking off a piece of bread.

“It’s really nice out today.” He commented in his best attempt to make small talk, you nodding and laughing in agreement.

“It is.” You replied, glancing at him with a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

The both of you talked, ate and laughed for what felt like hours, but was really only 40 minutes. You enjoyed talking to him, more than you thought you would.

“Uhm… do you wanna take a walk, maybe?” He suggested when you both began to pack everything up into the bag, you smiling and nodding.

He carried the beach bag on his shoulder, your towels, shoes and the food containers thrown in there. He held his hand out, looking at you with his head tilted to the side like a puppy would. You grabbed his hand, the both of you walking alongside the water. A large smile was visible on your face as you looked out at the horizon and the setting sun. He smiled as well, the both of you feeling the wave crash against your feet.

“It’s beautiful.” You breathed out, him looking at you, lips slightly parted. He nodded in agreement, “It is.”

You turned to meet his eyes, both of your gazes locking. His breath hitched when you moved your hand to cradle his face, getting on the tips of your toes so that you could reach his lips. His eyes shut, both your lips meeting halfway.

His hands went to your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips moved with yours and the sun set behind the both of you.

Taglist:

@moonssyrup @koibleufish @anamiad00msday @wearemadeofstardust0 @wintertxt @teenwolfbitches28 @10ava01 @mileyraes @theoraekenslover

[strangelysamantha]

✧ smut. ❀ fluff. ☆ angst. kofi

stranger things / the vampire diaries / youtubers

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ outer banks masterlist *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ jj maybank… (31)

- jj’s reaction to you flinching ☆

♡ jj is shocked when he finds out you flinched because of him, and even worse when he realized you thought he would actually hit you.

- crumbled cookies ☆

♡ you decide it would be a good surprise to stop by jjs house quickly to drop off some of your homemade cookies, since you believe he isn’t feeling the best. then, unexpectedly jj's dad comes home with an unwelcoming embrace, which ruins the surprise.

- crumbled cookies pt 2 ☆

♡ after jj finds out his dad was the reason for your black eye, he had to confront him.

- seashells ❀

♡ jj sees you at the beach, but he’s too nervous to interact with you. you notice him behind you, and you invite him to join you. he’s excited to hang with you, as well as find beautiful shells hidden in the sand!

- waves of heat ❀

♡ wearing jjs shirt while on the hms pogue and him begging you to go swimming.

- you’re mine ❀

♡ at the beach a random tourist had something to say about you, and he touched you when you didn’t want him too. jealousy sends jj wild, and he’s pissed, but he can’t even act on it.

- hatred runs out ❀

♡ you are a kook, you were trying to befriend the pogues as they made you happier than you had been in months. the only downside, none of them were quite welcoming, besides jj.

- filled ✧

♡ jj smut where he has a size kink.

- scared for you ☆

♡ when a fight breaks out between you and jj, he can’t help but be petty and ignore you. this causes you to be left alone at a kegger.

- the deep end ☆

♡ jj somehow finds everything you do annoying to the point he criticizes everything you do. john b thinks of a plan that will ensure his two friends will befriend each other. it was working at first, until it wasn’t.

- forceful ☆

♡ barry continuously flirts and sexualizes you, and when jj finds out, it isn’t pretty.

- shorty ❀

♡ your boyfriend and the pogues love picking on you for your height.

- replaced chickens ☆

♡ after sarah replaced you and jj, the two of you were determined to confront john b. if you both could find the guts to do so.

- one sided hatred ❀

♡ when john b exposes that he isn’t too fond of you, jj takes total offense to that, annoyed john b could even think about you in a bad manner.

- embarrassed ☆

♡ you rant to an old friend, complaining that it is sometimes embarrassing to be with jj and he ends up finding out. but what he learns isn’t the truth, it is actually the farthest from it.

- hair “prank” ❀

♡ jj's lousy joke about shaving his hair off upsets you more than he expected it would.

- i’m making him watch ✧

♡ jj is jealous about a tourist hitting on you, he fucks you good to make sure you don´t forget why you are with him.

- scars ☆

♡ jj comes to you after a blow out with his father. you clean his bruises as well as clean his awful mindset he has on life.

- hair tech ❀

♡ your hair wasn’t looking the way you wanted, so jj offered to try and learn to fix it. with the newly learned hair techniques, came the exposure of feelings. having to avoid telling john b, he conveniently walks in during the worst time.

- mirror sex ✧

♡ jj fucks you while he makes you watch his reflection.

- nerves ❀

♡ jj is too nervous around you, he struggles to tell you how he really feels.

- wet dreams ✧

♡ jj and you cuddle after a fun day of swimming with your friends. once sleep takes over, jjs dream runs wild, and with you in his bed, how could he keep the naughty thoughts at bay?

- ruined reputation ☆

♡ “i don’t want to date someone who’s embarrassed to be seen with me jj.” jj is originally embarrassed for others to know that you two are dating. he fears what his friends would think. but is his reputation more important than him keeping you?

- wasted ☆

♡ “you were supposed to be my soulmate, but you threw it all away so you could screw some girl?” in which jj makes a grave mistake cheating on you.

- sweet dreams ✧

♡ jj fucks you while you are asleep.

- lies, lies, and more lies ☆

♡ after jj cheats on you, he can’t help but villainize himself by being rude to you and destroying any chance of redemption he had.

- panic attack ❀

♡ jj knows about your home life struggles, and he’ll always be on your side to help you.

- brothers best friend ✧

♡ being john bs sister made it difficult for you to find a boyfriend, especially when the guy you want is his best friend. however, what john b doesn't know, can't hurt him. until one day, jj thinks the two of you are alone, but john b comes back early.

- cry ☆

♡ based on the song cry by cigarettes after sex.

- diary ❀

♡ after your sister exposes your diary entry of your secret crush for jj, you are left feeling humiliated. jj, however finds it distasteful that your sister would violate your privacy like that, and he's eager to talk to you.

- gentle ✧

♡ after jj is away for a week, the tension between you two is rapidly increasing, and its difficult to keep your hands off of each other.

…

↳ john b… (3)

- inexpressible feelings ❀

♡ drunk words are sober thoughts, are they not? john b drunkenly asks you on a date, since that’s the only time he has the guts to talk to you.

- struggling ❀

♡ john b is struggling, and he finds himself venting to you about his lost father.

- tripped ❀

♡ john b embarrasses himself in front of you and is trying to get past it.

…

↳ pope heyward… (5)

- small details ❀

♡ “i never thought you’d pay attention to me in that way.” when pope accidentally reveals to you, that he does indeed, pay attention to the little things you do.

- avoidable jealousy ❀

♡ pope mistakes the bond you have with jj as something more than friends. this influences him into becoming jealous of something that wasn't happening.

- deserve better ✧

♡ after kiara told you she openly plays with pope’s feelings, there’s only so much you can do before you blow up on her.

- hopeless romantic ❀

♡ you visit pope at work, as often as you can. you help him, listen to him, flirt with him, and match his energy. his feelings for you are undeniable.

- party moves ❀

♡ it’s a boring party until pope shows up, and the atmosphere makes it easy to express your true feelings.

…

↳ rafe cameron… (19)

- act like it, get treated like it ✧

♡ rafe cameron doing what he does best.

- patience can be rewarding ✧

♡ you were confused as to why rafe was being extra clingy today. whether he meant to do it on purpose, or he was unintentionally obsessing over you, you decided to make a deal with him. if he could leave you alone, and undistracted long enough for you to finish your project, then you’ll make him feel good.

- elderly advice ❀

♡ when you work at a golf course as a cart girl, you are happy because that means you’ll be seeing rafe more often. but there’s a downside when you realize that kelce and topper will see you more often as well, and with seeing them more often, you also get to hear their harsh words.

- bittersweet ☆

♡ you went to a local party by the beach when rafes unstable side peeked out. jj maybank finds you alone and decides to talk to you. rafe gets possessive and upset, thinking that jj was hitting on you.

- are you busy? ✧

♡ cockwarming rafe since he’s too busy to pay any attention to you, because he’s busy doing work for his father.

- crashing ☆

♡ rafe is waiting for you to meet him at figure 8, but he’ll be waiting awhile as you got in a tragic car accident, the other vehicle being driven by his father.

- malice compliments ❀

♡ rafe tries to flirt with you, but you believe it is malice and that he is pulling a lame prank on you.

- crystal clear ❀

♡ rafe cameron found out you were hiding crystals in his room, car, and pockets. he goes to topper to see if he knew what was going on, and after topper explained what it meant, he confronts you.

- shark bite ☆

♡ what was once a fun day on the beach filled with surfing, quickly became a bloody and painful nightmare.

- cheerleader ❀

♡ rafe was intrigued by you, he wanted to get to know you. he thought that task would be easy, but your distaste for him was apparent. despite the overwhelming amount of setbacks, he knew he would get you to crack.

- cheerleader two ✧

♡ the aftermath of rafe going to a football game for you and seeing you in a tight cheer outfit.

- wish you were sober ☆

♡ based on conan grays song, wish you were sober. in which watching after rafe becomes too tiring after he loses control again.

- surprise ❀

♡ throwing a surprise birthday party was definitely harder than you had expected, especially one for rafe.

- bonfire ☆

♡ rafe is overprotective of you at the bonfire and possessive!rafe doesn’t like the tourons staring at you.

- unfortunate events ☆

♡ rafe cameron is so overprotective, but that doesn’t stop him from putting you in harm's way. after reckless driving lands you in the hospital, your relationship is on the rocks.

- exposed ❀

♡ rafe sees a text from topper, exposing your little crush on him. at first you try to play it off, but you gain enough confidence to tell rafe about your feelings.

- promise ❀

♡ with matching halloween pajamas, you and your boyfriend are ready for some spooky movies.

- leverage ☆

♡ when barry doesn’t get his money from rafe, he goes to the next best thing. you.

- F.Y.B.F ✧

♡ cheating on jj maybank with rafe cameron, after you and jj have a huge fight.

- match maker ❀

♡ sarah’s eager to play match maker, so she can find you, your perfect soulmate. meanwhile, rafe changes his appearance to cater to you, in hopes you would notice.

…

↳ topper thornton… (2)

- sugar daddy ❀

♡ topper takes you shopping, something he didn’t think he was actually going to enjoy doing.

- realizations hit hard ❀

♡ topper tries to set you up with kelce, but he soon realizes he doesn’t want you to be with kelce. he wants you to be with him.

…

↳ sarah cameron… (5)

- girl that you love ☆

♡ when you accidentally read the situation wrong, and you expose yourself for liking sarah in a more than friendly way, she is quick to turn you down. “i’m sorry i gave you the wrong impression.” sarah isn’t gay, and she definitely doesn’t like you that way.

- lucky woman ❀

♡ sarah cameron finds out you have a crush on a girl, unbeknownst to her, she is that special lady. you know you can’t tell sarah about how you feel since she’s dating john b, so you have to quickly think of a crush that you can expose to sarah.

- secretly in love ❀

♡ a secret relationship between you and sarah, what could possibly go wrong?

- sunset confessions ❀

♡ all it took was one boat ride to change everything. when sarah cameron decides to tell you about her undeniable feelings, while the two of you watch the sunset.

- girl that you love pt 2 ❀

♡ after humiliating yourself after your confession to sarah, you find yourself comforted by kiara.

…

↳ the pogues… (1)

- life jackets ❀

♡ since you don’t know how to swim, you have to wear a life jacket. the pogues think it’s the funniest thing ever.

…

[i2rizz]

can i ask a version of “no way he pulled that”about shidou? where reader is not only gorgeous, she’s also like the total opposite of him, please and thank u💗💗

Sure girll! There were also other requests for shidou from anons so this is for yall too.

No Way He Pulled That Pt.12

There was a rumor floating around NEL.

Not the usual one about Rin and Isagi’s passive-aggressive arguments, or about Reo buying three new jet skis just to race them down the hallway (which did, in fact, happen). No, this one was different. More outlandish.

Apparently… Ryusei Shidou had a girlfriend.

Which—let’s be real—no one believed.

Rin straight-up laughed. "No woman with a functioning nervous system would voluntarily be with that thing"

Barou didn’t even entertain it. "You mean someone tolerates him?"

Even Isagi, ever the peacemaker, said, "He probably made her up"

Chigiri had the most logical explanation: "She’s probably imaginary and lives in his ego"

But Shidou kept talking about you like you were real.

"I got a volleyball queen, bro. She's got that ‘I could ruin your life and you'd say thank you�� kind of look! Trust"

No one bought it.

So when NEL organized a beach day—partly to relax, partly to stop Shidou from threatening to set the weight room on fire again—Shidou just grinned. "Hope y’all like volleyball"

It started like any other beach day: sunscreen flying, Bachira doing flips in the sand, Reo building a comically massive umbrella fortress, and Nagi lying facedown under it like a collapsed Roman statue.

Kaiser tried to start a game of beach soccer. Isagi threatened to drown him. Typical stuff.

And then someone said, "Hey, isn’t that a volleyball net set up down there?"

The boys looked.

Farther down the beach, the sun caught the glint of a net swaying lightly in the breeze. And then they saw her.

You.

You moved like poetry in motion.

Barefoot in the warm sand, black volleyball shorts hugging your legs, a fitted swim bra that left just enough to the imagination, and your hair pulled back in a loose ponytail that bounced as you leapt up—smack!—and absolutely spiked the volleyball over the net like your life depended on it.

The way your muscles flexed, the confident arch of your back, the way you laughed when you missed a hit but adjusted with ease the next second—

You were dangerous.

Not just beautiful—but lethal. That mix of elegant and athletic, with a face that belonged on the cover of Vogue and a presence that screamed: I could ruin your ego with a single comment.

And God, you were smiling. Not just sweetly—fondly.

Especially when your eyes drifted toward the group of NEL boys gawking from a distance. More specifically—to him.

Shidou, who had been unusually quiet for five whole minutes (a personal record), was grinning so hard it looked painful.

"That’s her" he said proudly, like he just dropped a nuke on their fragile psyches.

"NO WAY IN HELL!"

Isagi dropped his water.

Aiku blinked and whispered, "I think I’m in love with her already"

Barou scowled harder than the sun could burn.

Rin squinted. "She’s…smiling. At him?"

Chigiri looked personally betrayed. "You’re telling me he pulled that?"

Kaiser straight-up choked on his drink. "No. No way. This is PR. He hired her"

"Oh? She lookin’ this good for fun now?" Shidou smirked, tossing his shirt over his shoulder like the menace he is. "That’s my girl, boys"

As if to punctuate his statement, you jogged over after winning the set, your smile radiant, your arms glistening with a sheen of sweat, volleyball cradled in your hand like a trophy.

"Baby!" you beamed.

Baby.

The boys blinked.

You jogged straight up to Shidou, leaned into his space like you owned it (you did), and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He grinned so wide he developed dimples.

They lost it.

"THAT'S ACTUALLY HER?" Isagi hissed. "I thought he made her up!"

"No way," Chigiri muttered, looking personally offended. "She's normal looking. Like, emotionally stable and everything"

"Maybe she hit her head" Rin said.

"You think she's being held hostage?" Nagi offered.

"Blink twice if you need help!" Reo yelled across the sand.

You just laughed.

"What, didn’t believe me?" Shidou purred, arm snaking around your waist. "Told you I don’t cap about perfection"

You rolled your eyes, tapping his nose. "You also told me dolphins were just ‘ocean dogs,’ so forgive their skepticism"

"See?" Aiku hissed. "She’s funny, too! And she touches him without flinching!"

"She deserves an oscar for putting up w him" Isagi muttered.

"She needs therapy" Rin grumbled.

"She could kill me and I’d thank her" Bachira added dreamily.

Nagi, still lying facedown in the sand, mumbled, "Too much light. Can’t look directly at her"

Meanwhile, you turned to Shidou again, gently fixed his crooked necklace, and said, "You forgot sunscreen on your shoulders again, didn't you?"

The man who once bit a player on the field melted instantly. He looked like a golden retriever being praised.

"Oh my god," Barou said in horror. "He's soft"

"He let her touch him," Bachira whispered, stunned.

"He didn't bite her," Isagi added.

"He kissed her cheek," Charles muttered.

"Maybe she has a taser," Rin concluded.

You turned to them with a sweet smile and a wave. "Oh btw, I'm (Name)!"

Dead silence.

Then Bachira, bless his soul, grinned. "Can I get adopted into whatever romantic comedy you two live in?"

Shidou tossed an arm over your shoulder. "Don't get jealous now, losers. You could never"

And that was the day the NEL realized: Ryusei Shidou did, in fact, have a girlfriend.

Not just a girlfriend. A walking, talking goddess with soft eyes, who gently told him to stop harassing seagulls and actually listened when he started ranting about new goal techniques.

The worst part?

You actually liked him.

You laughed at his jokes. You held his hand. You kissed him like he didn't start fistfights just for fun. And every time he looked at you, it was like watching a rabid pitbull turn into a very confused housecat.

Shidou would grin and say, "Yeah, I'm the luckiest bastard alive"

And everyone else would whisper behind his back, "How the hell did he pull her?!"

And the cherry on top?

When Shidou turned and yelled, "Ey! Who wants to get demolished in volleyball by me and my queen?!"

You just smirked, tossing the ball in the air. "Losers serve first"

They never stood a chance.