#these were the ones i was most interested in noting

[fandomfablesunleashed]

Heartfelt Deception

Law x reader (she/her)

Modern AU, fake-dating, friends-to-lovers, like one swear word.

Summary: Law asked you to attend a charity event his hospital is hosting as his fake girlfriend. As if that wasn’t enough, it’s happening on Valentine’s Day.

Words: 7.5k

Notes: For the Valentine’s Week event. I had this whole fake dating-to-hospital event idea for the ficmas event, but I scrapped it because I didn’t have much time to write it then. I’m so glad I did, though, because I think the story turned out much better for Valentine’s Day than it would have for Christmas.

English is not my first language

Masterlist

Dr. Trafalgar Law was pacing back and forth in the small office of the hospital. His fingers drummed anxiously against the table as he read the charity event invitation for the fifth time, each glance making his pulse race a little faster.

The truth was, Law never liked events like this. Fundraisers, speeches, fake smiles—it all made him itch with discomfort. His introverted nature clashed with the expectations of being a ‘people person’ in the medical field, and the last thing he wanted was to attend an event where everyone would be looking at him.

A month ago, during yet another relentless round of coworkers begging him to attend an after-work gathering, Law had casually mentioned that he had plans. But instead of letting it go, they kept pressing, demanding to know why he was always declining invitations. Frustrated, he blurted out that he needed to spend time with his girlfriend. Before he could even think, the hospital buzzed with talk about his mysterious partner, one no one had ever met. Now, he was cornered into bringing his partner to the hospital's prestigious charity gala on Valentine’s Day. The irony wasn’t lost on him—his colleagues were all too eager to point out how fitting it was to host an event focused on heart issues on a day devoted to hearts.

As one of the hospital’s top cardiac surgeons, Law was expected to be a key speaker. Worse still, he was supposed to bring his girlfriend. But the problem? He didn’t have one.

There was only one person he could turn to—you.

“You want me to do what?!” you asked, your eyes wide with shock, your coffee cup momentarily forgotten in your hand.

He sighed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “I need you to go with me to that stupid gala as my girlfriend.”

Your brow furrowed as you set the cup down. “You're serious?”

“Why would I joke about something like this?”

“Why would you make up a girlfriend just to avoid gatherings?” you shot back, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed. “You could’ve just said you weren’t interested in going.”

He glanced down at the table, clearly agitated, his fingers tapping against the surface in a nervous rhythm. “It’s not that simple. I’ve already turned them down too many times. They won’t leave me alone. And now I’m expected to show up—with a date. It’s just… ridiculous.”

You leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, as you considered his words. “Why not just say you broke up recently?”

“Because it’s obvious. Then I lose that excuse for the future,” he said, picking up his cup and drinking from it.

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to wrap your head around the absurdity of it all. “So, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend for one night, just so you can avoid more gatherings down the line?”

“Yes,” he said simply, as if it were the most logical solution in the world.

You shook your head, unable to help the small laugh that escaped you. “You’re ridiculous. When is this supposed to happen?”

“February 14th,” he replied, avoiding your gaze.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Valentine’s Day?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they thought they were being so clever with that one.”

A grin tugged at the corners of your lips. You couldn’t resist teasing him. “So, is this your way of asking me to be your Valentine?”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Who’s being ridiculous now?” But then, with a sly smirk, he added, “So... you’re in?”

A long pause hung in the air as you considered his request. The idea of pretending to be his girlfriend was insane, yes. Pretending to be someone’s girlfriend—for Valentine’s Day, no less—was the kind of thing you’d laugh about in a bad rom-com. But the look on his face was impossible to ignore. Desperation, tinged with just enough pride to keep him from outright begging.

Finally, you sighed, crossing your arms as if it might shield you from the insanity you were about to agree to. “Fine. But you owe me big time for this.”

“Don’t worry,” The smirk on his face widened into a grin, and you wondered what exactly you’d just gotten yourself into. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

And with that, you sealed your fate.

The day of the event had finally arrived. Law was at your door, punctual as always, ready to pick you up just as you'd arranged. He stood there, dressed impeccably—his sharp suit tailored to perfection, exuding confidence and elegance. You tried your hardest not to stare too much, but it was impossible not to notice how effortlessly he pulled it all off.

“Ready?” His voice broke through your thoughts.

“Just a moment,” you replied, your voice betraying your hesitation as you moved closer to the mirror. You needed to make sure everything was just right. You were dressed in the outfit that made you feel good about yourself and was fitting for such an event. Yet, despite all the preparation, a knot of nerves twisted in your stomach. The idea of pretending to be Law's girlfriend made you nervous, no matter how hard you tried to pretend it did not. 

He sighed when you took your sweet time. “Can you stop checking yourself out?”

You glanced at him, an eyebrow arched. “Sorry for making sure people won’t judge your taste too much...” you grumbled, half-amused, half-defensive.

He scoffed as he moved closer, looking at you in the mirror. “Like I care what people think.” Then, with a pause, he added, his voice quieter, almost… sincere, “Besides, you look… stunning.”

You froze for a moment, surprised by his words. “Really?”

“Yes,” he answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His gaze softened, and you swore you saw a hint of admiration there.

“Um, thanks. And… you look amazing too.”

He cleared his throat, somewhat uncomfortable but trying to hide it. “Let’s just go, shall we?” 

“You're sure this will work, right?” Law muttered as he turned to face you. 

“Yes, it’ll work.” You flashed a confident grin, trying to reassure him, though you were just as uncertain as he was. “You’re the one who got us into this mess.”

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.”

“Well, I can’t believe you made up a girlfriend in the first place,” you shot back. “But here we are.”

He sighed, running a hand over his face again, not sure whether to laugh or groan. It was one thing to get himself into this mess, but dragging you in was entirely a different matter. The pressure was mounting on both of you. Could you really pull this off? 

Then you caught his eye. A flicker of humor, a spark of something you couldn’t quite place, passed between you, and at that moment, you knew you could. Maybe this absurd charade wasn’t as impossible as it seemed.

He let out a long breath and straightened his posture, his decision made. “Alright, fine. Let’s get this over with.”

“Lead the way, then,” you replied, your tone playful, despite the nerves you were still trying to suppress.

He gave a curt nod, opening the door and holding it for you. With that, you stepped into the venue. The Valentine’s Day theme was apparent everywhere— pink and red lighting bathed the space, heart-shaped centerpieces adorned every table, and a live jazz band played romantic melodies in the background. You looked over at him and snorted seeing his expression.

“I take it Valentine’s Day isn’t your favorite holiday?” you teased, leaning just close enough so he could hear without anyone else catching on.

Law’s gaze flickered to you, his brow arching slightly. “What gave it away?” he said dryly, expending his arm to you.

“Oh, just a hunch,” you said with a small smile, slipping your hands through his arm. “You’re doing great, though. Really selling the whole ‘romantic evening’ thing.”

Law’s expression didn’t shift much, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips that told you he wasn’t entirely immune to your teasing. “I’m thrilled you think so,” he muttered as he led you through the crowd. You caught glimpses of the people who had been whispering about Law's relationship for weeks. Their eyes fell on you both with curiosity.

“Dr. Trafalgar!” one of the nurses called out, waving excitedly. She eyed you with a wide smile. “Is this your girlfriend?”

Law’s face remained neutral. “Yes,” he answered smoothly and introduced you.

The nurse let out a little squeal of delight. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!” she exclaimed. “We’ve all been dying to know more about Dr. Trafalgar’s mysterious girlfriend.”

You gave a polite smile, taking the opportunity to slip into the role. “It's a pleasure to meet you, too. He talks a lot about his team,” you said lightly, with a little twinkle in your eye as you glanced at Law. He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

The nurse beamed. “Oh, I'm sure he does,” she said, her eyes still sparkling as she looked from you to Law. “It’s rare to see him... charming.” Her voice dropped to a playful whisper, though it was clear she wasn’t trying to keep it a secret. “We always wondered what kind of woman could put up with him.”

You gave a small, modest laugh, sensing the opportunity to keep the conversation flowing. “He’s not as difficult as he looks.” You turned to Law, flashing him a playful smile. “And I'm quite lucky he let me in.”

Law’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he quickly masked it with his usual impassive expression. “Enough about me,” he said smoothly, redirecting the conversation. “Let’s get you something to drink.” He turned toward the drink table, eager to move on.

As the two of you moved through the gala, a sense of ease settled between you. The people who approached were friendly, curious, and all too eager to meet the mysterious woman who had somehow captured the heart of the elusive surgeon. Law, as always, seemed somewhat distant, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor, as if the weight of the event was just a little lighter with you by his side.

“Well, well, if it isn't the lovely girlfriend!” Shachi grinned, giving you a dramatic bow before standing up straight again. “You look awesome.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Shachi. You certainly know how to flatter a girl.”

Penguin let out a low, amused chuckle from behind him. “Yeah, well, Law’s been talking about you for weeks,” he added. “He was so worried about you not showing up and ruining his perfect plan. I’m surprised you agreed to it, honestly.”

You gave Penguin a knowing smile. “What can I say? Someone had to save his ass.” You shot a quick glance at Law, who stood beside you, his expression neutral, but you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Shachi leaned casually against the table, clearly enjoying himself, and turned to Law with a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, how does it feel to finally have a real girlfriend? I mean, I’ve been hearing rumors about this for a while, but you’re actually pulling it off, huh?”

Law rolled his eyes but didn’t respond immediately, though you could tell he was trying to keep his cool. “This will be a long night,” he muttered under his breath, but his friends were far too eager to let him off the hook.

Shachi’s grin only grew wider. “I’m just curious—how’s the ‘relationship’ going so far?” He glanced at Law, whose jaw was tight, trying to suppress his frustration. “Any sparks flying between the two of you yet?”

“Shachi,” Law said in warning, but he wasn’t listening. Law rolled his eyes, though there was a slight curve to his lips, as if even he couldn’t help but be somewhat entertained by his friends' antics. “I told you I didn’t need this kind of commentary tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shachi continued, entirely ignoring Law’s attempts to rein him in. “But it’s so much more fun when we do comment.” He threw an arm around Penguin’s shoulder, giving him an exaggerated nudge. “So, Dr. Trafalgar, how’s it feel having your friends finally meet your ‘girlfriend’? You look so… happy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at their behaviour. “I’m sure Law’s thrilled by all the attention,” you said, playing the part, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Law cast you a sideways glance, but there was something warmer in his eyes than before. “Let’s just get through tonight, shall we?” he said, attempting his best authoritative tone, though there was a clear undertone of amusement, as if he was enjoying it just a little more than he let on.

Just as the playful back-and-forth was beginning to die down, a loud, familiar voice cut through the chatter from across the room.

“YOOO! Look who it is!” 

Usopp’s boisterous voice rang out, and you barely had time to brace yourself before he was at your side, grinning like a mischievous cat. He was joined by Kaya, who was looking stunning in an elegant dress, her eyes sparkling as she waved.

Shit. How had you not considered the possibility that Usopp would be here? Kaya was a nurse at the same hospital as Law, and of course, she’d bring him as her plus-one.

“Usopp, Kaya,” you greeted with a smile, trying to remain composed despite the sudden attention being drawn your way. Usopp's loud voice had already caused a ripple of curiosity to spread through the crowd.

Usopp’s gaze darted between you and Law. “Wait a minute… what are you doing here?” he asked. His voice was just loud enough for the people around you to overhear, making you feel the weight of every set of eyes now shifting in your direction.

You glanced at Law, who was now wearing a mask of calm—though you could tell by the subtle shift in his posture that he wasn’t exactly comfortable with the situation. You quickly shot him an apologetic look, trying to keep things as casual as possible. “Isn't it obvious — I’m with Law,” you said with a playful shrug, hoping your tone would deflect any suspicion and begging to whatever higher power that Usopp won't blow your cover. 

Usopp blinked, his eyes widening in disbelief, as if you’d just dropped a bombshell. “With Law?!” His voice jumped an octave, loud enough to draw even more attention, and you felt the heat of a dozen curious stares. Your stomach churned as the pressure mounted.

“Well yeah, we’re dating,” you said quickly, trying to offer him a pointed look that screamed for him to lower his voice. You didn’t look forward to clearing that lie later, though.

“What?!” Usopp exclaimed again, louder this time, and you fought the urge to physically drag him into a quieter corner.

“Oh, for fuck's sake, don't be so loud,” you hissed, your smile strained as you resisted the urge to clamp a hand over his mouth. You just needed him to stop.

Your words earned a sharp glance from Law, who was now standing as still as a statue, his jaw tight and his eyes dark with irritation. Though his face remained unreadable to most, you could detect the flicker of unease behind his usually impenetrable demeanor.

Usopp sharp eye for detail and relentless curiosity meant he was undoubtedly piecing things together in real-time, and the last thing you needed was for him to say something he really shouldn't.

Kaya, sensing the tension, stepped in smoothly. “Usopp,” she said, with a small but knowing smile, “maybe we should let them enjoy the night.” She gently nudged his arm, giving you an apologetic look. “It’s good to see you both. I hope you’re having a good time tonight.”

You smiled, grateful for her presence. “We’re managing,” you replied before gesturing toward her. “And you? How’s the night treating you so far?”

She laughed. “Oh, it’s been lovely. Usopp keeps insisting he’s the best plus-one anyone could ask for.”

“Because I am!” Usopp interjected, puffing out his chest.

“Nah, I'm way better, right, darling?” you asked playfully, turning to your date. 

Law let out a quiet, measured sigh, his eyes narrowing at Usopp, who was still watching far too intently for comfort. Recognizing that all eyes were now firmly on the two of you, he shifted gears seamlessly. 

Without missing a beat, he slid an arm around your waist and pulled you a fraction closer. His hand rested lightly yet possessively against your side as he glanced down at you with a smirk.  “Obviously.” 

The gesture—and his confident tone—left Usopp momentarily speechless, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Even Kaya seemed surprised, her eyes darting between the two of you before a knowing smile tugged at her lips.

You couldn’t help but smile, both at Law’s quick thinking and the way his response seemed to silence any further speculation from Usopp. “See?” you teased lightly, shooting Usopp a pointed look. “Told you.”

Usopp opened his mouth, ready to say something outrageous, but Kaya quickly stepped in, tugging on his arm with a bright laugh. “Come on, Usopp. Let’s grab some appetizers.” 

“This isn’t over,” he commented, but he allowed Kaya to steer him toward the other end of the room. You gave her a grateful smile.

“That was close,” you muttered, glancing up at Law. His hand was still resting lightly on your waist.

He tilted his head down toward you, “You call that close?”

“Oh, come on,” you whispered back with a grin. “You’ve got to admit, Usopp almost blew it.”

Law’s lips quirked upward in a barely-there smirk. “Almost,” he conceded. Then, lowering his voice  even more and murmuring into your ear, he added, “But I don’t mind setting the record straight when needed.”

The way his voice dipped sent a small shiver down your spine, but you quickly composed yourself, stepping slightly closer to him under the pretense of hearing him better.

“Well, you handled it like a pro, Dr. Trafalgar,” you teased softly, leaning just enough to let your words reach his ear.

“Hmm,” he hummed noncommittally.

Before you could respond, the event coordinator’s voice echoed through the hall, announcing the upcoming speeches. The room shifted as the crowd began to find their seats, murmurs of anticipation filling the air.

“You’re up soon,” you reminded him. Reaching out, you placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “You’ve got this,” you said confidently.

He glanced at you, his eyes locking onto yours for a beat, searching for something—maybe reassurance, maybe just the comfort of familiarity—before he nodded, a small but grateful gesture. “Thanks.”

As he made his way toward the stage, you couldn’t help but watch him with a sense of pride, your heart swelling with admiration. Even surrounded by the polished elegance of the event and the watchful eyes of so many people, he carried himself with an unshakable determination.

When he reached the podium, the crowd fell silent. He cleared his throat, taking a moment before launching into the speech. He spoke about the advancements in medicine, the importance of community support, and the life-changing surgeries that the hospital’s team performed. But when he mentioned his team and thanked everyone for their hard work, his gaze subtly flickered toward you.

For a moment, he dropped the cold exterior. “None of this would be possible without the support of everyone here,” he said. “And a special thanks to my friends and…my better half, who has been my constant rock. It’s easy to get lost in the hospital. But she keeps me grounded.”

The sincerity in his words was unmistakable. His eyes lingered on you for a fraction of a second—long enough for you to feel the weight of his gratitude—before he looked away, the professional composure sliding back into place effortlessly.

The applause that followed was thunderous, but you barely heard it over the warmth blooming in your chest. As Law stepped down from the podium, his expression was back to its usual stoicism, but the slight flush to his cheeks and the quick glance he shot your way told you everything.

As the applause slowly died down, Law made his way back toward you, weaving through the clusters of guests who offered him brief nods and congratulatory remarks. His posture was relaxed, but you could see the faint tension in the set of his shoulders—a clear sign that he was bracing for your inevitable teasing.

When he finally reached you, you wasted no time, leaning in with a mischievous grin. “For someone who wanted to ‘get through the night,’ you sure know how to captivate an audience,” you teased. “And what was that about ‘the one who keeps me grounded’? Are you getting sentimental on me?”

He stopped in front of you, hands sliding casually into his pockets as his eyes met yours. “Don’t start,” he muttered, though there was no real bite in his tone. “I said what needed to be said.”

“Oh, I see,” you replied, crossing your arms and tilting your head. “So, I’m just ‘what needed to be said’ now?”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in a little, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “If you’d prefer, I can take it all back.”

“Not a chance,” you shot back, unable to keep the playful edge out of your voice. “It’s on record now. Everyone here knows I’m the one keeping you grounded.”

Before he could respond, Shachi and Penguin appeared, clearly having caught at least part of the exchange. Shachi was grinning ear to ear, while Penguin’s expression held a more subdued amusement.

“That speech was something else,” Shachi said, clapping Law on the back with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Especially that part about being grounded. You’re getting soft.”

Law’s glare shifted to Shachi, though it lacked any real venom. “Don’t you have someone else to annoy?” he asked, his voice dry.

“Not when you’re providing this much entertainment,” Shachi shot back without missing a beat.

Law rolled his eyes but didn’t bother responding, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort. Instead, he turned his attention back to you. “Are you enjoying yourself yet?” he asked

You pretended to consider his question, tapping a finger to your chin. “Hmm... between the impromptu Usopp interrogation, the surprise shout-out during your speech, and Shachi’s relentless commentary?” You grinned. “Yeah, I’d say I’m having a great time.”

Law’s exhale was sharp, but his lips twitched upward in a reluctant smile. “Good,” he sighed. “At least one of us is.”

Just as you were forming your response, the event coordinator approached the two of you with a bright smile. “Dr. Trafalgar, your presence is requested for some photos with the donors,” she said, her gaze flicking to you briefly. “And, of course, your lovely girlfriend is welcome to join.”

Law hesitated, his eyes narrowing. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he weighed the pros and cons of dragging you into yet another spotlight moment.

You decided to save him the trouble. “We’d be happy to,” you said smoothly, looping your arm through his. “Right, darling?”

The look he shot you was nothing short of murderous, but you only smiled sweetly, patting his arm as the coordinator led you both toward the photographer’s setup.

After the photos, you wandered back to the main room, weaving through the crowd. You spotted Usopp and Kaya near the dessert table, Usopp animatedly telling a story while Kaya giggled beside him. Heart-shaped chocolates and delicate pastries adorned the table, and you decided to grab a couple of treats before heading back to your corner of the room.

“Here,” you said, holding out a piece of chocolate to Law as you both settled near the bar.

He eyed it skeptically. “What’s this?”

“Chocolate,” you replied, popping one into your mouth. “It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re supposed to eat chocolate. It’s practically a rule.”

Law sighed, but he took the chocolate from your hand, his fingers brushing yours briefly in the exchange. He bit into it. “It’s good,” he admitted after a moment.

You smirked. “See? Valentine’s Day isn’t all bad.”

He gave you a sidelong glance. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

You just grinned wider and shrugged. Despite the occasional hiccup—like Usopp’s not-so-subtle attempts to sneak more information out of you—it was hard to deny that you and Law actually did have a great time. The whole evening felt surprisingly natural, even with the added touches and pet names that came with playing your part.

But as the night went on, the carefully constructed charade began to blur, leaving you to wonder if there was something genuine simmering beneath the surface. A fleeting warmth in the way he looked at you, a brush of his hand that lingered just a moment too long. You quickly shook the thought away before it could root itself further.

“You know,” you started, breaking the silence, “Usopp already texted everyone the news.”

Law’s brow furrowed as he glanced at you. “What news?”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look.

“Oh. Right,” he said, the realization dawning on his face.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, crossing your arms. “I had to turn my sound off completely—the group chat went insane.”

Law let out a quiet groan and reached for his phone, pulling it from his pocket with a resigned air. He turned the phone toward you, revealing a string of increasingly enthusiastic messages from Luffy:

This is amaizing!!!!

I'M SO HAPPY!!!

GOOD FOR YOU!!!

WHEN DID THIS HAPEN??

Tell me evrything RIGHT NOW!!!

You burst out laughing, nearly doubling over as you read the flood of texts. Law pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about how ridiculous Luffy was, but the small, reluctant smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement.

“Looks like someone’s excited for us,” you teased, still laughing.

Law rolled his eyes, though the faintest trace of a blush colored his cheeks. “Luffy’s always excited about something. This’ll blow over. We will explain it later or something.”

You swallowed your disappointment and tried to focus on anything other than the fact that today was not as real as it seemed. Your eyes drifted forward just as the band started playing a slow, romantic tune, and couples began rushing toward the dance floor. You could feel the weight of the moment pressing down, the atmosphere practically begging for you to make a move.

“Well, darling,” you said, extending your hand toward him with an exaggerated flourish. “Care to dance?”

Law stared at you, his expression caught somewhere between incredulous and amused. “You’re joking.”

“Not even a little,” you wiggled your fingers at him. “It’s Valentine’s Day. What’s a fake relationship without a dance under the romantic lighting?”

He let out a quiet groan but took your hand anyway, his grip firm and steady. As he led you to the dance floor, you couldn’t help but marvel at how natural it felt.

For a moment, you both moved hesitantly, as if testing the waters. Law wasn’t one to engage in things like this—public displays of affection, no matter how fake, didn’t exactly come naturally to him. Yet, as the rhythm of the music settled between you, his movements became smoother, more confident. You matched his pace, the two of you falling into an unspoken synchrony.

“You’re better at this than I expected,” you murmured, glancing up at him.

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “This isn’t exactly my idea of a great time.”

You chuckled, your fingers instinctively tightening their grip on his shoulder. “Could’ve fooled me. You’re surprisingly good at this.”

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes flickering with amusement. “Surprisingly?”

“Well,” you said with a smirk, “you don’t exactly scream ‘slow-dance enthusiast.’

Law huffed, but there was no real irritation behind it. He was paying more attention to the way your body moved in sync with his, the way you shifted your weight with each step.

The scent of his cologne was subtle but intoxicating, and the way his eyes stayed locked on yours made it impossible to look away.

“This isn’t so bad,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant as one,” you said, your thumb gently brushing the fabric of his suit jacket.  “I know this isn’t exactly your scene. Thanks for humoring me.”

For a moment, something shifted in his expression. The guardedness that usually defined him seemed to waver, replaced by something more vulnerable, something unspoken. His grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly, pulling you closer, and the distance between you narrowed until you could feel the faint brush of his chest against yours.

“You’re doing all of this for me, the least I can do is survive dancing for your sake,” he answered in his usual manner, and yet, it sounded somehow warmer. Then he added teasingly, “darling”

You tried to diminish how much you loved that nickname coming from his lips.

As the music faded, applause broke out around the room, snapping you back to reality. Law stepped back a little, his hand falling away from your waist, but the warmth of his touch stayed. He looked at you for a moment longer, his gaze searching, before he cleared his throat and glanced away, the mask of composure slipping back into place.

“Let’s get off the dance floor,” he said, his tone returning to its usual cool detachment. But there was a faint flush to his cheeks that you couldn’t ignore.

“Not bad for someone who doesn’t like Valentine’s Day,” you teased, keeping your tone light, even though your heartbeat had quickened as you followed him off the dancefloor.

Law smirked faintly, his amber eyes locking onto yours. “I never said I didn’t like it. Just that it’s… unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary?” You arched a brow, tilting your head. “Celebrating love and connection? That sounds pretty necessary to me.”

His grin grew. “If you need a commercial holiday to remind you of that, you’re doing something wrong.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his bluntness. “Touché,” you admitted, the moment feeling strangely intimate despite the dozens of other couples around you. He put his hand on your back and gently led you to sit down in the corner. You sat in silence for a moment before speaking again.

“So, are you enjoying the night yet? Or are you still counting down the minutes until it’s over?”

Law let out a quiet chuckle. “I’m surviving,” he replied dryly, though the corners of his lips twitched as though he couldn’t fully keep the amusement from showing. “If I’m being honest, it’s… not as bad as I thought it would be,” he looked sheepish as he added. “Your presence makes it more bearable.”

A warmth blossomed in your chest at his words, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned in slightly, your cheek brushing his shoulder. You felt him stiffen for a split second, but then he relaxed, putting his head on yours.

“I didn’t think I’d be… enjoying it,” he continued, his fingers brushing through your hair as if absentmindedly. “But I think I might’ve been wrong.”

You lifted your head just enough to look at him, finding his gaze already locked on yours. There was no mask of indifference now—just a rare moment of vulnerability, one that you hadn’t often seen. It was disarming. His hand gently cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers.

Your heart fluttered unexpectedly, and you were unsure of what to say, or even if you should say anything at all. The quiet, unspoken understanding between you was enough.

“Well, well, well! Look at you two, all cozy!”

It was Shachi, followed closely by Penguin, and some other colleagues of Law from the hospital.  You froze for a split second, pulling away from Law just as his hand dropped from your cheek. Both of you turned toward the intruder, finding a group of Law’s colleagues standing a few feet away.

One of the surgeons, a tall man with a broad grin, chuckled as he shook his head. “Honestly, Law, I didn’t think you were the type to be so… affectionate.” 

Law’s face immediately shifted to that calm, composed mask he wore so well, but you could see the hint of a blush creeping up his neck. He scoffed. “What did you expect? For me to keep five feet away from someone I care about?”

“We’re just surprised,” the nurse you spoke with first today, smiled softly at the two of you. “But it’s nice to see you so… relaxed. We don’t usually get to see this side of you.” Her tone wasn’t mocking; instead, it held a kind, almost approving quality.

It was clear that they all weren’t just teasing for the sake of teasing—they were happy to see him like this. This side of Law, the one who didn’t always hide behind his usual walls, was a rare sight for most people.

“I guess there’s a first time for everything,” Law muttered, trying to keep the situation under control while simultaneously not looking entirely displeased.

As if they couldn’t resist, one of the younger doctors, a woman with long hair and a sly smile, smirked at you and asked, “So, come on, how did you two get together? Law didn’t want to say a word about it.” His grin widened as he leaned in, waiting for some kind of juicy story.

You chuckled, glancing at Law, who raised an eyebrow at you as if daring you to come up with an appropriate response.

“Of course he didn’t.” You nudged him playfully. “He’s never been the type to spill the details, has he?”

Shachi smirked knowingly. “Come on, Law,” he prodded. “We’re dying to know the real story.”

“Well,” you interjected, grinning as you looked at the group. “If you're looking for something juicy, I’m afraid I have to disappoint. We were just good friends for quite a while before it just clicked that there’s more and there’s no running from it. So, with a kiss, we sealed the deal, and are together just like that.” It seemed like a story that could be real, that would suit you both, and what kind of people you are together.

“That’s actually a pretty decent story, considering how tight-lipped you’ve been, Law,” he remarked.

Law shot him a sidelong glance. “I’m not in the habit of sharing my private life with everyone.”

The woman with long hair, delighted by the revelation, nudged Shachi playfully. “Well, it’s good to know Law isn’t entirely immune to matters of the heart. Who knew?” she said with a wink, enjoying the rare opportunity to see her usually composed colleague looking so flustered.

“I never said I was,” Law replied, though there was a faint hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth now.

You smiled at him, savoring the fact that, despite his usual reticence, he hadn’t shut down the conversation.

“Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way,” you turned to the group, “any more questions?

“Not if you want to keep your secrets,” Shachi teased. “I think we’ve learned enough for tonight.”

“Although…” Penguin started to say with a mischievous grin

“Alright, alright,” Law interjected, probably scared that more question may blow your cover. “You’ve had your fun.”

The playful banter continued for a few more moments, with the group lightheartedly poking fun at Law, but without pushing too far. It was clear they were genuinely enjoying seeing him in a different light. Even you couldn't help but smile at how the evening had turned out.

“Alright,” you said, nudging Law lightly with your elbow, “I think we’ve officially survived the interrogation. How about we grab some drinks and escape before they start asking for our love story in full detail?” you whispered.

“Fine by me,” he stated, standing up and offering you a hand. “Excuse us for a moment.”

You took his hand, your fingers curling around his with ease. He led you both to the bar and ordered your drinks. When you took them, you found seats nearby.

“They have a point, you know,” you commented, leaning back in your seat, sipping your drink as you shot him a teasing glance. “You’re surprisingly sweet with me.”

Law shot you a look, but his lips twitched upward in the barest hint of a smile. “Don’t start,” he warned, though there was no bite to his words.

“I’m just saying, the way you act tonight—” you paused, letting the words linger in the air, “it’s… kind of adorable.”

“You’re walking a fine line,” he murmured, his tone just low enough that only you could hear, and there was that familiar spark of challenge in it.

You grinned. “I think the real question is, why do you make it so easy for me to tease you?” You leaned back again, propping your elbow on the armrest, your eyes glinting with playful mischief. “Maybe I’m onto something.”

“You’re lucky I don’t have a stronger reaction to you, or I’d make sure you regret that.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the hint of seriousness in his voice. “Oh? Is that a threat, Law?” you asked, half-challenging, half-curious.

He leaned in just slightly, his gaze softening but still intense. “Only if you push your luck too far,” he replied. It was supposed to be a warning, and yet it sounded way…warmer. You felt the air shift between you, the playful tone fading into something more subtle.

Before you could respond, the sound of laughter from across the room caught your attention, and you noticed some of Law’s colleagues still milling about, their eyes frequently darting toward the two of you. They probably thought their glances were subtle, but they really weren’t.

“Wanna bet they’re talking about us?”

Law smirked, his gaze flicking toward the group before returning to you. “I’m not betting against something that is 100% true.”

You chuckled, lifting your drink to your lips as you watched them huddle together in hushed conversation, clearly intrigued by the dynamic between the two of you. The whole thing was both amusing and oddly satisfying, considering how little effort you'd actually put into keeping this charade together.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence with a light tone, “what now? Do we stick around and continue surviving this ‘unnecessary’ holiday, or do we make our grand exit?”

“I think we’ve done enough, surviving for one night,” he declared, standing and offering his hand to you with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

You took his hand, your fingers wrapping around his with the familiar ease. “I like the sound of that.” 

As you made your way toward the exit, you said your goodbyes to everyone, your eyes catching a few lingering, amused glances from Law's colleagues.

“Well, I think we’ve both survived tonight, haven’t we?” you asked, glancing up at him with a teasing look, trying to gauge his mood as you stepped outside.

His gaze softened, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I suppose we have,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Though, I’m not sure what’s worse—the questions or your teasing.”

You laughed lightly, squeezing his hand gently. “I think you can handle both.”

“Apparently,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a gesture that was almost imperceptible but undeniably intimate.

Instead of calling for a taxi, Law started leading you toward the nearby park. You certainly didn’t mind the extra time with him—after the whirlwind of the evening, the peaceful solitude of the park felt like a perfect escape.

When you reached a bench by a small pond, Law sat down, and you followed suit, the two of you settling next to each other. For a few moments, neither of you said anything. It felt like the perfect continuation of the night—no more questions, no more performances, just the two of you.

“Thank you.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the unexpected gratitude in his tone. “You're welcome,” you replied easily, your lips curving into a small smile. “I had fun.”

“You did?”

“Yeah,” you answered, your smile widening a little. “Did you?”

“I did actually.”

“Good” you said simply. “You know now that they’ll just bother and tease you about me, right?” you added teasingly after a moment.

He gave you a side-glance, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, but his gaze softened as it lingered on you. “I can survive that.”

You sat in silence, the quiet comfortable, with your hand still intertwined with his, even though there was no one around that you had to pretend for.

After a while, Law spoke quietly, “That story…

“Huh?” You blinked, trying to recall what he might be referring to.

“About how we apparently came to be… you made it quite believable.” You suddenly remembered your words from earlier: We were just good friends for quite a while before it just clicked that there’s more and there’s no running from it. So, with a kiss, we sealed the deal, and are together just like that.

“Well…um, it sounded plausible, did it not?” you said, as you tried to brush off the nerves creeping up.

“It did.” Silence fell again, but this time, it felt different. You wrecked your head as to what to say. You looked at him, hoping for something to break the tension, and found his gaze already focused on you. The intensity of it made it harder to find the right words.

But you didn’t have to say anything—his lips found yours in a tender kiss, slow and gentle, as if testing the waters for something deeper. The world around you seemed to fade away as you leaned into the kiss, your fingers threading through his hair. The moment felt suspended in time, perfect in its simplicity.

When he finally pulled back, his hand still resting against your cheek, you noticed a subtle smile playing at the corners of his lips. It was the kind of smile that made your chest tighten, the kind that carried a quiet promise, and the warmth that spread through you was more than just the remnants of the kiss.

“Well, that solidifies that it was all true.”

You heard the familiar voice of Usopp. The sudden intrusion snapped you out of the trance the moment had put you in.

You rolled your eyes, not even glancing in his direction, your focus remaining entirely on Law. “Get lost, Nose-ya. Now,” Law muttered, his voice stern, his gaze unwavering from yours.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” Usopp chuckled, but you weren’t about to let him ruin your moment, not when it felt so real, so raw. You kept your focus on Law, and for a few seconds, there was just the two of you again, the world falling away once more.

“So, is my story true then?” you asked, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Yeah, it is,” he replied, his voice steady but carrying that quiet confidence you’d grown accustomed to.

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Can’t believe it happened on Valentine’s Day, after pretending to date for an event.”

“Maybe Valentine's Day isn't so bad after all,” he said, the words almost an afterthought. And you couldn’t help but agree as you tugged him closer, your lips finding his in a kiss that was even more intense than the first.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, you looked into his eyes, and something settled in your chest—this was just the beginning of something, something you both weren’t willing to let go of. It was there in the way he looked at you, the way he held you close. You could feel it in your bones that whatever this was, it was real. And it was only just starting.

“Maybe you’re right,” you whispered, your thumb gently brushing over his hand. “Valentine’s Day might not be so bad… when it ends like this.”

He smirked at you. “We’ll see if you still feel that way next year,” he said, the challenge in his voice playful, but there was no mistaking the certainty in his words.

“You wanna fake-date me for Valentine’s Day next year too?”

His expression softened, the usual sharpness in his gaze replaced by something more tender as his hand brushed gently across your cheek. “No,” he responded quietly, his voice warm and sincere. “I want to be with you—for real.”

[mickyschumacher]

[CHÉRIE!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: heading into ferrari for a new season, you think you're pretty focused. but things don't look too good when a series of love notes from your secret admirer start appearing out of nowhere.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: so so much fluff, poor humour, charles being corny affffff, reader is lowkey oblivious, arthur being the best brother in the world, mentions of charles' hardships with monza and monaco as well as lewis' own hardships, two idiots in love basically

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: charles leclerc x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3.3k

𝐀/𝐍: the last fic of my series! even though it's the cheesiest thing i've written, i love cheesy shit and even better if it's with charles! i really enjoyed writing this series! it's also the most active i've been in a while so that's been really fun. leave some requests and i might just take your offer up. // as usual, poorly proofread

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Lewis Hamilton moving to Ferrari was a shock to most. Whether it was good or bad, well that was up to the individual.  

And while Charles was very welcoming of the move, having the Lewis Hamilton as his teammate wasn’t quite the reason.  

It was you. 

Lewis Hamilton to Ferrari didn’t just bring the history, talent, and skills. It also happened to bring along his personal trainer – you.  

You hadn’t been training Lewis long. Around three years after his previous personal trainer left. There was a lot of doubt surrounding you. You were young. A bit new to the world of motorsports. And it didn’t seem like you were helping Lewis through some of his hardest years at Mercedes.  

But truth be told, underneath all of that, you happened to understand Lewis to a ‘T’. His mentality, his values, his respect, and his beliefs. They coincided with yours. Together, you could achieve the impossible, you were both sure of it. 

Unfortunately, Mercedes just had a really shitty car (and a shitty attitude). 

Cue the move to Ferrari. Which in reality was music to Charles’ ears.  

Over the past few years, Charles had managed to become friends with you. It took him a while seeing as you were slightly reserved and all over the paddock at all times. But once you had given him one of the most inspiring and encouraging talks, he had ever received after the stint Ferrari had pulled on him in Monaco, 2022 – it was safe to say you had progressed your friendship. 

To anyone with a brain and perhaps even slightly declined vision, it was plain as day that Charles was interested in you. Because someone not interested in you wouldn’t stop his interviews to say ‘Hi’ to you, get you involved in Ferrari’s YouTube videos, or walk the track every morning just so he could join you.  

2024 was an irritating year for Charles. While the SF-24 wasn’t particularly awful and Charles had still managed to win some races, there was still something missing. Not to mention, a whole Constructor’s championship. Furthermore, waiting for you and Lewis to arrive to Maranello was like telling a child to wait to open their Christmas gift – it was far too long of a wait.  

But the time had finally come. Charles had done his annual training camp and arrived to Maranello and both you and Lewis had officially settled down in the area. The first few weeks with you on the team was surreal. Charles was spending more time with you than ever. Almost every day he interrupted your lunch and sat down with you. When Lewis was in the car, he’d appear next to you, discussing smalls things like how you were finding Italy or how the car was.  

With every passing second, he spent with you, Charles was struggling to be just friends with you. Especially with the occasional rumor or ship edit of you and Lewis. Deep down, he knew there was nothing to be worried about. Lewis saw you more as a sister if anything, sharing your knowledge with him.  

It was time, however, to change this.  

Charles had planned it out carefully. Fourteen notes from your secret admirer. Plastered around all areas you visit the most within the Ferrari headquarters. One for every day up until the holiday of love itself: Valentine’s Day. 

The first five notes were relatively tame and simple, complimenting your hair or your smile or even giving you some encouragement. They were enough to get you to pull Charles and Lewis aside. 

“Guys,” you ushered, gathering the two men into a small circle. “Don’t tell anyone just yet, but for the past few days, I’ve been getting these secret notes,” you squealed quietly, holding a few of them in your hands.  

Lewis raised a brow, taking one into his hand. “Secret notes? You mean like letters from a secret admirer?” He asked, reading the note slowly.  

You paused. A secret admirer. You hadn’t really thought of the notes like that. You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly. “Oh... I’m not quite sure about that. They seem really sweet but I don’t think they mean it like that.” 

Charles pursed his lips together, in disbelief that he was watching his entire plan fall apart before his very eyes. “I mean... they probably do mean it like that,” he chuckled, trying to waver off his nervousness. He blinked at the staring expressions from you and Lewis. “I mean–who leaves compliments they could say to your face on paper if they don’t like you.” 

Huh. Now that you thought about it, that was a reasonable argument. “Maybe,” you agreed with a small nod, taking back the notes.  

Lewis shoved his hands in his pockets, moving his knowing glance from Charles to you. “Do you think they’ll ever reveal themselves?” 

Unbeknownst to you, Charles’ skin began heating up as you gave a small shrug. “Possibly. Who knows? I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” 

━━━━━━━━━━━ 

After your conversation with Charles and Lewis, your notes were starting to become only slightly less complimentary and more poetic. 

“At night, when the world falls asleep and all is still, you take over my every thought, against my will.” 

“Your laugh is a melody of my favourite music notes I wish to hear. A song for my ears only. So soft and so warm.” 

“The smile you wear, while unnoticed by all, is one I cannot forget at all.” 

Were they cheesy and corny? Yes. Absolutely.  

But were you smiling from ear to ear? A hundred percent.  

It was getting bad now. For every note you read, your heart would race against your chest, your cheeks would flush, and the world seem to go quiet. You were sure this was exactly what this person wanted.  

You couldn’t help but try figure out who the person was. But so far, there were very little personal clues in the notes. All you knew is that the person seemed to know you quite well as every note you found were in the places you visited the most. 

“Hello,” a voice sung. 

You looked up from the laptop you were supposed to be doing work on (and not daydreaming about love letters). You grinned at the familiar face. “Baby Leclerc!” 

Arthur gave you a feigned pained expression, taking a seat next to you. “You and Charles... I swear,” he sighed, resting his head on the chair as you laughed softly. He turned his head to you. “So, I hear you’ve been getting secret notes?” 

You flickered your eyes over to Arthur. “That idiot! I told Charles not to tell anyone,” you pouted.  

Things are different when your brother sends you to deliver these same notes at six in the morning. Arthur simply smiled. “Any ideas on who it is?”  

You sighed, shutting your laptop. “Nope,” you pursed your lips. You had received ten notes in total now. You had managed to pick out a few things. “I think whoever it is likes music or plays something since I’ve had three notes about music. They also might like snow since my ‘heart is as soft as the snow.’” 

Arthur pressed his lips together on a line, trying to control his body from projectile vomiting on his brother’s corny notes. “Sound like anyone you know?” He asked, watching you carefully.  

Surely by now... 

You furrowed your brows. Music and snow. Music and snow. Music and snow. Nothing. There was nothing going through your head and Arthur could tell.  

“Well,” Arthur started, standing up from his seat. “I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.” 

You smiled. “Hopefully.” 

━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Four notes were left and it was getting more difficult to not only convince Arthur to put them in the selected locations but to make sure you were able to see them. It was getting closer and closer to the date of the car launch. It was five days after Valentine’s Day, the day you were going to receive your last note and this game of hide and seek would finally come to an end.  

D-3 

“You guide me through all the noise and speed. When you’re here, I find all I need.” 

Noise and speed? Now you were thrown off. What did that mean? The noise and speed of what? 

But as you walked past the plethora of rooms working on every small or big part of Ferrari’s new car for the season, one cog turned in place. You halted in your steps, thinking very carefully as drills and machines vibrated throughout the building.  

Of course. The person had to be within Scuderia Ferrari. Your first thought – it could’ve been anyone. But noise and speed? That was Formula 1. That was at least all your engineers, mechanics, pit crew...  

You felt a hand rest on your shoulder, your name softly being called out. “Hey. You okay, chérie?” Charles queried, blue eyes looking down at you slightly concerned.  

You blinked, allowing a smile to grace your face even though it felt like the weight of his hand was burning your skin. You tried to keep your cheeks from heating up but any efforts were wasted. “Yeah, great,” you breathed. “Just figuring some things out.” 

Charles slowly nodded, removing his hand and allowing you to breathe again. “Okay,” he murmured, “I just wanted to ask. Make sure you eat and drink well, hmm? I don’t want you passing out on the launch.” 

You rolled your eyes, cheeks still burning. “Speak for yourself. Don’t think I haven’t seen you skipping lunch for the past week.” 

Charles grinned to himself. You noticed. Reality was that he was struggling to not just confess every time he saw you, so he thought cutting one part of his day with you would help. It didn’t. But, hey, at least you noticed.  

“You can just say you miss me. I won’t tell anyone, chérie. It’ll be our little secret,” he winked, starting to quickly walk past you in the hope you can’t see his flustered expression. 

You blinked blankly again, feeling your heart loudly beat in your chest.  

Holy shit.  

D-2  

“Even amongst the roar of the engine and the cheer of the crowd, you’re the only one I can hear.” 

So, you were right. Whoever this admirer was, they were dealing with Ferrari’s car in some shape or format. It was more likely to be a mechanic or engineer, maybe even a test driver. 

But one who liked music and snow? You couldn’t think of one person who fitted in all those categories.  

“Penny for your thoughts?” Lewis queried, taking a seat next to you at lunch. He mended his brows, tilting his head. “Or should I say euro?” 

You huffed, shaking your head. “Funny guy, aren’t ya?” 

“Very,” Lewis commented before nudging your shoulder. “So... what’s on your mind? A secret admirer, perhaps?” 

You rolled your eyes at his teasing tone. “Sort of. I’m just trying to figure them out. I just wish...” 

Lewis raised a brow, turning his body to yours. “You wish...?” 

You wished Charles was your secret admirer instead.  

Sure, the notes made your day. But Charles was making your day in real life... off the paper. Just this morning, you and Charles had bumped into each other after you received your note. You were about to order your usual drink when he had ordered it for you, memorising the way you liked it exactly.  

You told him you couldn’t believe he remembered. And he responded, “Of course I remember. Why wouldn’t I?”  

The moment had left you thinking for the entire day. You hadn’t seen him since but you don’t think you could look at him without being flustered and a hot mess.  

“Nothing,” you mumbled, sighing while Lewis grinned to himself. He knew exactly what you were wishing for. 

D-1 

“For every checkered flag that waves, you’re the one I look for first. Because even in a crowded room, I’ll always look for you.” 

Checkered flags were always a mess. Seconds before the race leader would even pass, the garage and the stands were always moving, running, to the podium. It was rhythm of chaos. You never knew who was next to you. All you could feel was what it felt like in the moment.  

Silverstone 2024 was for you to remember forever. Lewis’ first win since 2021 – since you had joined him as his personal trainer. The driver to have the most wins at a single circuit and it was at his home race.  

Tears were shed that day.  

And the crowd was something you would never forget. You almost lost yourself until Lewis had found you himself, thanking you for being by his side for some of the toughest years of his life.  

But for your secret admirer to find you in a crowd of a checkered flag waves... well, they must have some good eyes.  

You were lying down on a bench with Charles seated next to you and Arthur sitting across you. All of you were on your break, soaking in the tiny bit of sun that had come out during winter. 

Your eyes were shut, protecting yourself from the sun and from melting under Charles’ gaze. You could hear Arthur call your name, making your ears perk up. “What do you look for in a guy?” 

You couldn’t see it but Charles was sending the most heaviest glare he could muster to his younger brother. Arthur simply rolled his eyes, waiting for your response. 

“That’s such a random question,” you mumbled. 

Arthur cleared his throat. You were already onto him. “I mean... well, I asked Jade after I saw a TikTok of people’s responses. She said personality which is great, I guess. Kind of unsettling news for my face though,” he murmured towards the end.  

You and Charles found yourself laughing at the scenario. Arthur was truly one of a kind. Quietening down, you realised the brothers were both waiting for your answer. “Um,” you momentarily pondered, “their soul.” 

Arthur and Charles paused. The younger brother raised a brow you couldn’t see. “Their soul? What are you, a grim reaper?” 

You chuckled softly. “It’s not that... it’s–well, I think everyone has specific types of souls. You can see it when you talk to someone and get to know them. It’s someone’s essence... the fabric of who they are.” 

Charles leaned over, face hovering over you from a safe distance. “Their souls?” He repeated out of curiosity.  

You nodded. “Yep. Everyone has one. Even you.” 

Now you had full undivided attention. “Yeah? What do you think my soul is like, chérie?” 

You opened your eyes, swallowing hard when you met those baby blues. Letting out a slow exhale, you stared at him as you thought about your answers. The words seemed to come easily to you.  

“Charles... your soul dances. Purely. Freely. It dances to every fleeting moment and to the rhythm of life. Your soul finds meaning in everything because you have the biggest heart I’ve ever known. Because you are the most beautiful person I have ever met, inside and out.” 

Charles blinked, speechless. He wasn’t sure what was more touching. Your words or your sheer seriousness. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his heart at bay.  

One more day...  

That’s all he needed to wait for 

D-DAY 

“Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together? I don’t know about you but I hope they do.” 

You stared at the piece of paper. Souls? All of a sudden?  

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” a voice quietly greeted behind you. 

You turned your body despite knowing exactly who it was by the wave of warmth his voice had sent through you. “Hmm? Did you say something?” 

Charles pursed his lips. Shoving his hands in his pockets of his jacket and smiled. “I said Happy Valentine’s Day. You know... since it’s the fourteenth.” 

You nodded slowly, half processing his words while his dimples twinkled at you. “You too,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up once again. Stupid goddamn cheeks and their susceptibility to Charles.  

You watched his eyes to fall the note in your hands. “Another note?” He asked.  

You gave a small smile. “Yup.” 

Charles cleared his throat, shuffling on his feet. “What does it say today?” 

You opened your mouth, ready to start complaining. “It asks me about whether I think the universe fights for souls to be together–” 

“Well, do you?” Charles queried, softly staring at you. 

You blinked, feeling tongue-tied. “I... I-I mean yes. I’m sure the universe does but that’s not my point. My point is... is that it’s too random. Where did souls come from? This entire time it’s been music, piano, snow, noise, engines, and checkered flags... it’s so random. They’ve all been somewhat connected by now and–” 

“Chérie,” Charles called.  

“Yeah?” You responded only to be met with silence. You mended your brows together as he silently stood in front of you. Why wasn’t he saying anything? 

You felt the walls of the world close in on you as he raised his eyebrows gently. Surely not... 

Charles took a step closer to you, grabbing your hand with his. “I’m not sure about the universe, chérie. But I would love to fight for us.” 

Your mouth fell open. You think your hands were shaking. “Charles... you wrote the notes?” 

“Yeah,” he admitted, hand reaching to rub the back of his neck as his own cheeks started to burn.  

“I’ve been planning it a few days after you came to Maranello. I just didn’t know how long I could be just friends with you for but I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you then. If it isn’t clear yet,” he breathed in, thumb rubbing your hand gently, “I really really like you.” 

You gulped. Charles’ eyes were always soft. They changed when he raced. Like he could burn down the track. But today, they looked at you with such a warm and heartfelt intensity. It was the same one when he lost in Monaco and when he won.  

The same one you found searching for you in the crowd.  

Charles’ breath hitched as he felt you lean in. He watched you move your head, eyes falling to his lips. And just like that, he could feel your lips pressed onto the corner of his mouth. He steadied himself as you pull away, your thumb grazing his mouth gently.  

He flickered his eyes to your lips as the words fall freely. “I like you too.” 

Charles grinned, dimples popping out once again. His arms moved to wrap themselves around your waist, bringing you into a tight hug. He let out a relieved exhale. “Thank God,” he murmured next to your ear. 

He could feel you laugh against him and he loved it. “What did you think I was gonna say? That I didn’t like you?” You asked with a small smile as you pulled away from his body, still in his grasp. 

Charles rolled his eyes, thumb rubbing small circles into your waist. He looked at you, taking in the moment. He gave you a small shrug. “You always make me nervous,” he sighed out.  

“Me? Make you nervous?” You gaped. “I’m pretty sure I’m shaking right now.” 

A wide smile graced his face. “I’m glad I have the ability to do that.” 

You stayed silent, unsure if you could trust yourself to speak any further. You simply smiled, cheeks still burning to react to Charles while you rested in his arms. 

“Chérie,” he called softly and this time you looked back to what was yours. 

You tilted your head, waiting for him to say something.  

“You never asked me about your soul,” he stated. 

The way he said it made the comment sound factual. But you didn’t understand. “What do you mean?” You asked.  

He laughed quietly at your confused expression. Tucking your hair behind your ears, Charles rested his hands back on your waist. “I want you to ask me what I think about your soul.” 

You fell quiet for a brief second. Christ, was he sure that you were the one making him nervous? Because he sure knew how to make you speechless.  

“Okay.” You breathed, giving him a small smile. Moving your arms to his neck, you hung them and opened your mouth. “Charles, what do you think about my soul?” 

“Chérie, you said my soul dances. But your soul... it breathes. It lives. Everywhere you walk, you give life to world. You create reason.  Everything you say and do sounds like a song. Even your silence is music. Sweetheart, you make living the most beautiful gift of life.” 

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 

[mawlbone]

PLAYBOY BUNNY - KÖNIG

[SNIPPET: Never in your life had you paid much much interest towards the more… pet-ish sort of outfits. You know, the type of stuff you’ll find in the bedroom to be a little more wild from ears embedded headband, tail plugs, and hell, even collars. Though, when one of your older customer dropped off their old collection of Playboy magazines as an “extra tip” for your work, who are you to deny such a gesture?]

[CW: gender neutral reader, domtop reader, possessive reader (it’s mutual), flemish giant hybrid König, mention of childhood bullying, mild hunting description, praise kink, fingering, non-specific penetration (could be interpreted as dick or strap), sloppy riding, dry-humping, breeding kink, overstimulation, biting, missionary sex, doggy style, and sleepy sex.]

[COMMENT: Promised sequel to Lucky Rabbit’s Foot, please read that first. Apologies for how overdue this is, this month had kept me terribly busy, hur have fun kissing the big guy. While I promised to be nice for the most part, I got angry at my draft being deleted and writing too much in the exposition… Sigh, also on a final note, don’t ask for any kits, do you want to cause an overpopulation problem in this world! /lh]

Out of the many things you had learned since you had taken over your grandfather’s cabin and many long ago car rides together, one that constantly proves itself true time after time again is that people are utterly talkative when they’re lonely.

Year after year, when the town brings its daily rounds of tourists to celebrate the holidays, many of the residents will speak about you, the hermit that resides in the depths of the forests with nothing more than their gun and bags to send to the local butcher in town.

At least, that’s what the bar regulars say.

An unconventional job bad brought words of envy from your local bar’s residents as they swing over heavy jugs of cheap watery beers. Half fizzled from the barley with eyes that once spoke of brighter dreams, you hear them murmur within their daze as they take your ear to complain about the newfound loneliness in their lives now: the emptiness they feel in their 9-5 jobs, the lack of friendship they can keep, and disappearing free time to go explore life more. All of it they lament to you how nice it would be constantly outside and surrounded by nothing but the warm silence and greener grass every time you come and visit.

You have half a mind to protest those thoughts.

There’s nothing admirable in what you do: between the daily rounds of shooting, harvesting, and selling whatever scraps of meat and bones after sustaining yourself— what exactly is so admirable about it? With bloodied clothes rotten into a grimy brown when you’re done for the day and a heavier heart knowing all of your catches were simply a wrong-place-wrong-time as you once again steadied your rifle at the wounded creature for a quick death with a soft click.

But you don’t, no point in arguing about something like this, wondering about the limits of a “necessary sacrifice” too much.

And when you have to deal with months of being left on your own for the majority of the year, eventually you will learn to tune out your peers never-ending nagging for you to find a companion to accompany you in that empty cabin of yours before it’s all too late and you’re too grey and aching to settle.

”Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone waiting for you at home with a hot plate and to warm your bed while you’re away?”

From doctors and far-away friends, those type of sentiments never ends. While you are comforted by their worries, you never expected your long-time customers to join in as well when they hear about you in the bar as well…

Especially when one of them placed the box of indecent mags into your arms with the most shit-eating grin you ever seen saying the stuff will keep you company before driving off in a puff of clouds with that stupidly big red truck of his. You can distantly hear some midwest emo band booming out of the windows as he fades away into the distance with nothing more than the vibrant autumn leaves blowing behind him.

Usually you would had typically complained about such junk being left behind for you to deal with but— ‘the bunny suits are quite cute…’

You quietly thought to yourself, when you made your way back home, comfy on your worn leather couch with a mug in hand flipping through thick raunchy pages filled with hundreds of women dolled up in their colorful 60s cocktail suits in their complete bunny ensemble. From the fluffy yarn tail and bent bunny ears as they decorate themselves with big ol’ lashes and lace, honestly you felt a bit endeared by it.

The sharp cuts of skin as they prance around on the wide spread of pages and contort their bodies to meet the camera’s gaze to appease whoever is behind it, perhaps was a bit silly in your eyes.

While their intimidation will never come close to your big rabbit’s adorableness, you had to admit, those suits were quite a sight for sore eyes. Page by page, you moved from complete nudes to admire the cutesy blues and pinks to admire the classic black satin bunny suits tightly hugging the women’s figures snuggly.

Perhaps it’s a bit amusing to you, as a huntsman to watch the way people tried to make themselves more approachable: smaller, weaker, cuter— something worthy of being loved despite how non-animalistic they were. With naturally rounded nails, blunt teeth, and a lack of proper fur on skin to protect oneself from the cold, it’s no wonder why humans moved to advancing themselves to be stronger, all while attempting to return to a state of harmlessness just for the sake of being adored.

Maybe you’re just being critical.

There’s no harm in wanting to be liked, everyone does. Such is the nature of men. Perhaps you once felt that way before, but you’re older now, simply content with the hermit life you with your fewest closest friends to keep you company for the few times you all are able to meet throughout the year.

Plus, your big rabbit will be coming back soon. It’s nearly winter now, you can tell by the way the crisp winter breeze over your bare face every time you come outside to talk a walk around the forest.

It been three years since you made an unlikely relationship with König, the giant flemish rabbit that got his foot stuck in one of your traps. Yes, your giant huffy rabbit who is much too smart for his own good.

Sure, you never heard of a rabbit who can somehow open and closes doors when you shut him out to do work, or a rabbit who somehow can tell the time for meals, or even one that learned to wipes his paws on your floor mat before walking in your home after you scold him for bringing dirt onto your floors.

But he’s yours even if it’s just for the winter.

No way you’ll sell your long-eared friend, even if he breaks your wallet when you splurge on importing out of season berries for him to munch on. Though you do worry about him eating your meats occasionally, remembering the multiple occasions where he’ll furiously bounce off your lap to chase after your sandwich despite your complaints, but you did find a little laugh in you when he goes immediately bouncing away whenever you needed to change your dirtied clothes while he was in the same room as you.

It’s whatever, you don’t want no mad scientists knocking at your door to dissect your rabbit’s brain. If anything, they might take you and him if they see your sticky note galore all over your bedroom’s walls, something that you long had reduced after watching König chew on them. After watching you fuss and shoo him away from them, you could had sworn you remembered him smiling from beneath his fluff after he watched you cleaned up your cluttered papers.

Taking one last sip of your mug, you made sure to make a mental note to place the magazines somewhere high so that he won’t chew on them as well as you had long learned your rabbit is not fond of indecency…

Changing in front of him one time after getting your clothes covered in dirt from gardening had led him to flee under your couches and refusing to meet your eye or even cuddle you that entire winter, but you managed to cox him with treats finally when he came back around again.

Oh well, as your hands slammed the magazine shut, you made a note to place them high above your shelves so König won’t find them.

Winter is coming soon after all, and you can’t wait to see your fluffy friend once more.

—

While winter will bring its usual cheer and shimmer with carols and bells ringing up everyone’s doors, but for a lonely hunter? The cold snow will rush in a giant black rabbit squeezing his head into the dog door, something you had installed before when you didn’t made it home in time to let him in and leaving him to deal with the elements.

It’s something you had long cried about, furiously apologizing to the rabbit while clutching him to your chest before he butted your mouth shut, tired of hearing you sob for so long. He has a thick coat, he was fine, so be quiet now won’t you? There’s no need to feel bad.

So upon stepping into your empty cabin, he figured you had long been out dropping off last minute orders again.

Busy human you are…

It won’t take long for him to snoop around in his human form as he shifts, making sure to take his sweet time to stretch around. He can feel the way his bones crackle as his limbs bend and fold underneath his weight. Oh well, might as well through your shelves, just go and see if you added anything new since the last time he came.

Perhaps he shouldn’t been nosy, maybe that would had saved him from finding the the dozens of dog eared pages on your shelf littering his vision as his eyes dart back and froth at the scantily-clad ladies dressed up to the nines in the cheekiest bunny suits König had ever seen.

With the tight satin bows and lace wrapped around their forms, König could feel the heat arising onto his cheeks as his hands suddenly dropped the magazines with a loud “plop” onto your floors to rub his heated face, suddenly feeling very bothered, fiddling around occasionally squeezing his floppy hanging ears for comfort.

Why was he acting so shocked for? It’s not like you were some saint. Neither were you and him were something more than friends— So why is he so upset for?!

Humans and hybrids were already forbidden from interacting in the first place, that’s the one rule he had engraved into his brain until it became nothing more than another wrinkle on it. It’s what all hybrids learn as soon as they could speak, safety and survival, survival and safety. Do not approach the humans.

But König had never been the best listener, especially when he already been outcasted for being so big. Eating too much, growing too much, there was little he can do to appease his colony. A nuisance really, how can one grow so big?

‘He’ll do horrible in the winter, why bother keeping him around…’

Perhaps that’s why he’s so attached to you— you’re nothing but a giver of easy affection. Long cold days are filled with you cuddling him on your lap as you stroke his ears and kiss his face, calling him your baby and such.

He had to put a foot down at some names however when you poke his behind, calling him a “little mop” while he was eating some of your leftover egg salad.

But back to the present, as he takes one final glance over the playboy magazines on the floor, he wonders deeply of whether you’ll accept him like this. Half rabbit and human and all, something more in between that props couldn’t do… You seem to really like a half rabbit based off the pages so— you shouldn’t mind if he became your only choice, right as his equally large hands begin to crumble the photos.

There’s something funny squeezing his chest, he isn’t sure what it is, but it’s quite uncomfortable and all stuck in his throat as he breaths, only relieving itself more and more as he rips another magazine underneath his nails.

Maybe it’s something that he had been long avoiding. Something that is undeniably rabbit in his skin beneath covers back at the base. A heavy hand pushing down on the tent in his place thinking about how you’re strong enough to provide for him with all your territory in his dumb little rabbit brain.

He’ll be well protected. He won’t have to worry about safety anymore. It’ll be nice. So nice. He won’t have to come back to the dens anymore to appease his needs anymore.

It must be simple instincts for why he’s falling so fast.

Yes, that’s what must be it…

No such thing like fickleness of love awaits for him. It’s a rabbit’s nature to live fast and breed fast, no room for anything else.

But surely you can come to accept him in this form too if you have these lying around. Even if he is a little more realistically than the bunny girls in the magazines, right?

—

There’s very few things that makes you frustrated with life.

Whether that be taxes or bad customers, coming home to a mess of ripped and scattered papers at your door is the newest thing on that list when you came home from your orders to see what looked like an absolute tornado had ran though your living room.

Ripped bits of your playboy magazines scattered your vision as piles and piles of spewed about your home. Your once clean rooms now stuck in disarray with nothing more than the lingering mess of an upset rabbit.

Well, guess he was able to grab the box after all, you contemplate to yourself as you set your bags down.

Kicking aside a barely holdable magazine by your feet, you decided to follow the trial of scattered papers into your bedroom already wondering what ways you can appease your rabbit.

As you twist the knob, you can distantly hear the sound of claws scratching against your mattress as you sigh, pressing forward to swing the door open. With a loud “thump”, you step back, taking a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of your room as your eyes scan over the familiarity of your aligned drawers and astray piles of unfinished laundry before your eyes fall on the abnormally large bump hidden beneath your bed covers as you stared, confused.

‘Surely a giant flemish can’t go through another growth spurt. Is that even possible? Did you fed him too much?’

You thought as you slowly, you approach the bed making sure to make your footsteps apparent to not scare him before gently patting the giant bump.

“König~”, you cooed, softly shaking the massive figure underneath your blankets. “What’s wrong baby?, I wasn’t that late. Don’t be too mad at me…” Attempting to coax your friend

Your hands smoothed over the wrinkles of the blankets, gliding them over the massive form. You really didn’t want to go through another winter without being able to cuddle him, he’s pretty much the only warmth you have regularly.

But when an undeniably human sob escaped from your covers instead of the usual sniffles your rabbit makes— immediately you didn’t stop yourself from ripping away your covers.

Your mind races as the downpour of cold sweat shrivels down your spine as you grabbed the sheets off. Cursing and all as you wrestled with the man underneath as you rustled with the sheets.

Please, anything but him— You beg to yourself. Stricken with the immediate grief of losing something dear once more in this sad life of yours.

But when your sheets were pulled away to reveal an awfully large man with huge floppy black ears running down on the side of his face as he stares at you with the saddest baby blue eyes you ever seen on his droopy face desperately trying to cover himself, ashamed as he squirms around in your grasp.

He struggles madly, almost like a buck on the loose as you fought with the stranger as strong nails caught onto your arms, not enough for you bleed but held yourself back from pinning down the man further when a familiar red collar wrapped around the fluff of his neck quickly caught your attention.

You aren’t exactly dumb to not connect the dots… But heavens, could someone give you some grace when you had to take a few moments to collect yourself! The last thing you could had expected is your dearly beloved rabbit is to turn into some— man-rabbit-thing overnight.

Well… That explains his abnormal intelligence and all now. Slowly, you let up your hold on König, still placing him firmly underneath you. Just in case if your friendship with him suddenly means nothing to him and he’ll go forever missing from you.

You decide to gaze upon the man once more, taking a long deep moment to take in the sight.

From the short black hair and wide blue eyes staring you down, you dared to caress his face as the man shivered. Smoothing your hand over his soft cheeks, your thumb brushes upon his brow and then down to the leftover scruffiness of his beard. Gently, softly, and slowly you moved your hands all over, admiring the strangeness he possess. You hear König begin to stamper as a widening smile begins to form upon your face. It’s strangely nostalgic, this moment between you two. Having him in your grasp, something hot rushes in your skin as you begin to laugh loudly, joyously at your friend’s new form.

He’s terribly cute, what is this nonsense? How dare he keeps this sight away from you! You complained silently as you reached down to begin kissing his forehead and squeezing those velvet laid ears of his to your heart’s delight as he squawks, embarrassed at your shamelessness once more.

Truly animals evolved to be too adorable to kill…

After much half-hearted struggles against your hold to satisfy your touch addiction with one last bite of his ears before dodging a swift punch, both of you finally settled upon your bed again.

You silently thank your past self for investing in a larger bed because no way can you and him can fit on your old twin size bedding.

König lays beneath you. Not meeting your eyes. Never moving, still. You could’ve mistake him for some poor road-killed animal as you laid between his strong legs, letting you enjoy yourself with squeezing the thick muscles underneath all that fat and the strangeness of rabbit hair brushed across that human skin.

Perhaps a moment had passed.

Maybe two.

You weren’t keeping count, too amused with squeezing his flesh as he laid, stiffed up in what looks like his deathbed.

But between the dead of the room, slowly those small warbled whispers beings to pour from your friend of how deeply sorry he was for deceiving, how he never intended to mask himself this long within the quiet. He was scared, he says, of what you’ll think of him, of when you’ll cast him away into the bitter cold to die because you couldn’t stand such a freak inside your walls. He continues, confessing his shame, how he was sorry for ripping up those magazines when he came back home because he got vicarious angry at the thought of someone taking his place. For those thoughts blistered inside his chest until it blackened and decayed into a gruel mush, something that was familiar to him once long before he had to run away from it. He explained how he tried to sleep it off while waiting for you to sooth his worries like you always do, he wasn’t expecting to shift during his nap and when you came in— it was just too late to hide from you.

And with those bated breaths, he now waits, still, once more for you. And from above, you take a moment to take in everything around you. You can hear the rumbles of your old radiator heaving outside your room, the drips of your constant sobbing sink, and mad winds banging against your windows to be let in your warm home.

All of it, you take in as König lays underneath you.

There are many things you can say in this moment. But there are also many things you can also just keep secret. You can say how you understand him, how you too are constantly afraid of other people around you, just thinking and existing within the same space, struggling and wondering if you are breathing too loudly, blinking too little, or looking a bit too unkept for them to harbor a dislike for you. But vulnerability is a soft organ gutted with nothing but squishy mass with nowhere to defend itself, and you aren’t too willing to expose such a soft jelly thing. So you decide to keep it short, merely saying how you will never abandon him because he’s your friend as his eyes widened, dead stiff hands now finally moving to properly hold onto you.

Maybe you’re going insane in your isolation but— he’s pretty much the only comfort you have, and he never did anything malicious to you as a rabbit so you’re not really keen on letting him escape. What hunter does such a thing when a pretty thing falls onto their lap?

He chose to be yours.

Not anyone else.

You hear sobs escape König lips when you press down your face to rub against his own. A gesture, familiar, he recognizes.

It’s what he does to comfort you as a rabbit. Yes, indeed you’re terribly fond of him. That, you can’t deny no longer as you brushed the tears down his round pink-ed cheeks. For you, a human, hunger for flesh the same way all men do. And when a lingering hand presses down his thigh, terribly close to the tent in his boxers, you grinned with glee when he quickly raised his hips in turn, pushing you closer to him with an endearing tilt of his head as those strong legs begin to gather around your waist, daring you to continue down your little trek.

Can anyone blame you when you jumped for the bait?

Oh well, looks like you’ll be in for a long warm winter.

—

You distantly remembered visiting a country fair at some point during one late summer when your grandfather was still alive and hearty and breathing with a characteristic pipe in his hand as you both strolled down the booth, looking to sell your small hunts for the day.

“Something to get you ready when you’re older and out all alone there. You suck at talking, y’know? Can’t charm customers with that shut-mouth of yours”, he said with a little attitude on his tongue. You huffed at his bluntness, too tired from chasing after pests yesterday before you two stepped into a tent-laid alleyway to peer into the petting zoo with its glamours of piglets, sheep, and hamsters all in their caged fences, staring bright-eyed and bushy for you to step in.

Though when you grandfather finally stopped to talk to a familiar face, some acquaintance that came by the cabin often, your eyes wandered about the room, hearing the clatter of voices blending away to an incomprehensible language as you grow grumpier at the uncomfortable heat of the room.

But something had caught your attention from afar you can see a tall wooden sign with splashy red letters listing in embolden letters that there are “Rabbits for Sale!” Curious, it led you wandering over to awe at the sight of sleeping rabbits inside their pen, just hidden within the back and all wrapped up in their hay, obscured and cozy within their own world as you creeped over to watch them.

You aren’t sure why you were so fixated on those creatures. Maybe because you were too used to the occasional possum banging up the cabin’s attic that made you interested in those small creatures. As you stared upon them, too long for you to admit, you can distantly hear someone chattering in your ear. You tuned out most of their words, flying into one ear and out the other, too accustomed to random strangers giving their mind when it’s not needed. But as you stared at those fluffy small rabbits, you distantly hear some snippets, something about “keeping them separate” and them being “fucking maniacs” because they’re so weak that they will keep breeding under any circumstances to continue their lineage.

And today?

You’ll laugh at how true those words are every time you pull on those stupidly soft ears of his, earning you a small squeal at the jolt of pain-turned-pleasure as his screams fall on deaf ears with every sweet thrust against his ass, switches between pleas for more and more outta you before attempting to run away as his feet kicks violently at the sheets as you push more soft little noises from his chapped lips..

‘How silly, your little bunny is’, you thought to yourself, as you paused to reach over to bite his meaty arms and cover them anew with deep marks up and down his arms as he moans into your ears, mewling as he takes this moment to catch his breaths. Long hefty gulps of oxygen rattles his lungs as he cries and complains at your bullying as he rubs his sore ears. The pleasure still had not left his bones as he tenses his hole, still feeling the remnants of your presence inside him when you pulled out to admire his debauchery. It wasn’t long before he begin meanly snipping at you to pick up the pace once more as he spreads his legs wider as a mixture of lube and cum sloppily drips down from the loosened opening before his head falls onto the mattress, passing out in pure exhaustion.

Fucking hell… You sigh at the sight, as you moved to take care of him.

There must be some sickness inside your head telling you to pick apart König more and more as the time flies by for it. For it been days since you two had left the house. Your back aches from strain. Muscles sore from repetitious movements. And there is a small festering headache arising slowly within your temples but— you can’t stop.

It must be an addiction now when you can feel your mouth salivate like a trained dog every time you see those strong hard-earned muscles collapses underneath you from exhaustion. And you can’t say it should be a surprise to you when you come to the eventual realization that König is utterly so damn needy. Despite your best attempts to sooth his libido with prepping his hole as much as you can at the start, bumping thick knuckles against his good spots only left him on a torturous edge as he fussed around and threatened to leave if you don’t put something in him already.

That of course, pissed you off.

What a fucking brat he is, coming into your house and asking you to appease more of his demands? Who does he think he is?! You finally had enough of that attitude of his that day, deciding to wrestle him to tie his arms together onto his back before you flipped him over onto his stomach to use as a handlebar. And just raising his hips high enough with some pillows for you to slam in immediately as you pushed many nerve-racking releases out of hm.

And oh boy, did you redeem yourself when you pulled those arms back into your hips, forcing out a small cacophony of deep groans and curses out of his throat before making him let out a sharp cry when you grab that fuzzy tail of his to maneuver him around as his dick rubs against the soft covers. Immediately starting his little tirade of how horrible you are before you shut him up with a few hard slams against his prostate and praising him when he did closed his mouth to stop those cute cries from spilling, embarrassed and too angry to give you the satisfaction of teased him as you laughed. That didn’t stop you for noticing how his ears perked up when you called him a “good boy” for “listening to you” as his hips subtly rose to press against you.

Or when you got him to ride you for a bit, thinking how pretty he’ll look atop of you as he crushes your hips. Though… You had to put a foot down when you realized how much he absolutely sucked at riding. With reddened eyes and nose dripping with snot, you watch as König barely raises his body up and down. Weakened from the onslaught of the bruising you had done to his bottom, he could do nothing more than hump against you, pleading you to take over for him. He’s too tired, please do it for him. He can’t, everything burns inside and you’re the only one who can make him feel better he says. Struggling to shake himself awake as those bunny ears flop around his face, and making him look so much more fragile in his ruined galore, freshly fucked and all shiny with afterglow.

You’ll have to ask him later to wear some mascara or eye black next time to watch them drip down his face as you mess him up again.

However, for now, you have to clean your big rabbit while you still can. In those small hours of rest, you’ll bathe and feed König to his heart’s content, nothing more than wiping wet towels across his skin and cleaning the covers as you feed some light foods and water to refresh him.

He had been good and you always will make sure to let him know that. But if he dares to say he’ll leave you one day?

There’s nothing but a little trap that wouldn’t do the trick for a big catch…

[jo-harrington]

Antiquing v. Thrifting (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: You have a little booth at the local antique market and the owner of the neighboring booth tends to get on your nerves.

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Older!Eddie Munson/Reader

Warnings/Themes: Slight enemies to lovers, meet cute, misunderstandings, fluff, banter

Note: This is a late birthday gift to one of my fandom loves who has become an amazing friend IRL too. @bettyfrommars. Betty thank you for being one of my weirdo soulmates, loving old gameshows, wishing we could live in a mid century modern house with all of the original fun appliances. You are one of my favorite people and since I can't send you my bowling ball (one day) I've written this for you. Love you.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

--

There was not much to drive you to want to murder someone. In fact, you would say that you were probably one of the most easygoing people you knew. And you knew plenty of people.

But the person at the receiving end of your ire, and the target of your bloodlust, was one of the most inconsiderate assholes you knew.

Actually, you didn’t even know who it was.

You’d been one of the vendors at The Little Traveler's Antique Market for years. You had a booth along the back wall, acquired when you realized your love of vintage Pyrex was getting a little too overzealous for your shoebox-cum-condo. Besides, the thrill of the hunt was the real thing that you enjoyed: estate sales and rummage sales and thrift stores were filled with treasures just waiting for you to find.

So a few shelves of Gooseberry and Butterprint went up, and eventually it turned into a haven for all sorts of vintage pieces. It was a shrine to your whims, rather than any real desire to find monetary value. Of course, people seemed to flock to it, so the cash you made from it was nice..but that was neither here nor there.

It was something you were good at, and something you loved. You'd met some very interesting people--and some of your closest friends--because of it. Heard the best stories.

Unfortunately, you'd also met some of the most insufferable people because of it too. Or rather, in this case, one insufferable person you pointedly had not met.

It had started when a bunch of Royal Doulton character mugs showed up in your space. And they weren't terrible, but they just weren't yours. Your hand-picked selection of Hazel Atlas glasses had been carelessly shoved to the side on a vintage mahogany sideboard you'd painstakingly hauled in, and in their place were Paddy and Toby and George Fucking Washington, all staring goofily up at you.

Ok, so maybe the Anne Boleyn one wasn't bad.

It was the principle of it. There were unspoken rules in an Antique Market. You just didn't encroach on someone else's space.

You painted the kindest smile you could manage--which, in all honesty, probably looked more like you were baring your teeth--and headed up to the front to confront the manager of the market.

"Margie," you began with a saccharine tone. You set the Anne Boelyn mug down on the counter. "May I kindly ask who Seller 86 is?"

"Oh, that's our new guy," she laughed, oblivious. "Ed. Great guy. He's got some fun stuff."

"Yeah, real fun."

"We did a little shuffle over the weekend," she continued, diving into one of her rambling midwest-isms. "Jim wanted to downsize, which opened a bigger space for Michelle to move into. One thing led to another, and I put Ed in Chelle's old space, next to yours. Hope you don't mind."

What could you say except a cordial of course not? Even as you were left to grumble and mope back to your booth to move all of the Royal Doulton back to Ed's new space. You set them out on a folding table he had in the corner, very nice and neat, which was your standard.

You might have also left a little, tiny, friendly, scathing note.

No big deal.

And you wouldn't lie, you snooped a little.

Come on, everyone else would, too. It was just...shopping. Not snooping.

You couldn't judge the wild array of things he had for sale; much like you, it seemed that everything in Ed's booth was suited to his tastes, because there was just a vibe of "who in their right mind would put some of this shit together." Little taxidermy animals playing poker, postcards from the most random places, vintage beer and coffee cans that, though empty, looked as new as the day they were bought. Garfield and Snoopy memorabilia. And mugs...so many mugs, as far as the eye could see.

It was charming, you could admit that, as long as it all stayed on his side of the vaguely-defined boundary between your booths.

Unfortunately, it did not.

It was never anything major but it was enough to annoy you. Books left out on a table, vinyl records in a crate in a corner, gaudy biker costume jewelry thrown in one of your mixing bowls. Each time you went to restock your booth, you'd have to find whatever treasures he left behind and return them, along with another note.

It was like finding the secret little corner where your cat pissed because they were mad at you. Admittedly, this might've been worse because you were proud. So very proud of your booth. It was a snapshot of you, after all. But that was sullied by little pieces of Ed, a guy you didn't even know, who seemed to enjoy pissing strangers off.

Every week, he metaphorically photobombed your snapshot at the last second and your perfect polaroid had bunny ears.

Or a crude gesture.

Or sometimes even his whole, bare ass.

And you were simply not vindictive enough to do anything about it.

It just wasn't worth the trouble to actually return the favor to him, or better yet, get him kicked from the market altogether. What if his little booth was his livelihood? What if this was how he made ends meet? Your pride wasn't worth ruining something for someone else.

Yes. You were a pushover.

You, surprisingly, got a reprieve for a few weeks.

Each time you'd gone to restock your booth with fun new treasures, there were no hidden trinkets waiting for you. Actually, Ed's booth didn't even look like it had been restocked or touched at all. There were holes in his displays where his wares had been purchased but not replenished. Was he on vacation? Maybe he was under the weather.

You took it upon yourself to spend a few minutes shuffling his mugs like a good neighbor would.

It was a disappointment relief.

Why wouldn't it be a relief? It wasn't like you'd started looking forward to what and where you'd find Ed's little surprises. It wasn't the thrill you'd get when the adrenaline spiked with your anger.

No, not at all.

"What's got you so pouty?" Margie asked as you trudged through the doors about three weeks after Ed's initial disappearance. "Did Dunkin get your coffee wrong again? That's how I know my morning is gonna be shitty."

"Must've woken up on the wrong side of the bed," you gave a weak excuse and headed towards your booth.

You were juggling an armful of tote bags and your coat, so you didn't notice the stranger standing in your space as you approached, until they turned around and spotted you.

"Oh, hey, lemme help you with that," came the rasp of a friendly voice as you rounded the corner. You looked up, surprised, as a set of hands hoisted the heaviest of your tote bags from your grasp.

He was like a relic, frozen in time. In a good way, though, like a well-kept polaroid from the 80s. Faded band tee, bootcut blue jeans, leather jacket that looked butter-soft from eons of wear. His hair was on the longer side and tied back; salt-and-pepper streaks proudly confirmed his personal antique status, along with the crows feet surrounding his deep, warm brown eyes.

He was a gentleman...and he was cute.

You felt like an idiot as your eyes slid down to his left hand on instinct. But there was no ring, so that self-loathing feeling disappeared. Well, no wedding ring, actually. He had a gunmetal band on his pointer finger, and a silver signet ring on his pinky.

Time returned to its appropriate speed as he hauled the tote onto your folding table just a few feet away.

"Jesus, what've you got in here? Bricks?" he laughed. "Are you trying to put Home Depot out of business?"

"Uh..." You floundered for words. "P-pewter tea pots. One of my regulars is getting married. Asked me to keep an eye out for them for her centerpieces."

"Never seen that at a wedding before."

"How many weddings have you been to?" You questioned.

"Well, my buddy Gareth alone has gotten married 3 times." He folded his arms across his chest and leaned his hip against your sideboard. "So I think I've got a pretty good chance that I've seen it all.

"Is there anything I can help you find today?" you asked, laying your best customer service voice on thickly. You busied yourself with unpacking your bags so you wouldn't have to look at the charming, crooked smile that settled on his mouth. "Was there anything that caught your eye before my hopeless self stumbled over here?"

"Ah," he pushed off the sideboard and tilted his head up so he could scratch along the length of his neck. "I, uh, was looking at your cookie jars, actually."

"Oh yeah?" You looked up at that and glanced over to the hutch in the corner that held an array of Pillsbury doughboys in various, charming poses. "Can I tell you a secret? I used to hate watching commercials with Poppin' Fresh. That claymation was frightening. I think he's pretty cute now, though."

You abandoned your unpacking and approached the hutch to try and figure which cookie jar he'd been intrigued by. You picked up a jar that had its lid askew and were about to ask if he wanted you to bring it up to the counter for him, when you lifted the lid and looked inside.

And found a rubber-banded stack of Metallica cassettes carefully nestled inside.

You felt your face get hot as you stared at the track listing and colorful cover art of Ride the Lightning. Coincidentally the same album that was on this newcomer's t-shirt.

"So," you huffed and slammed the lid on the cookie jar, careless of any damage it might cause. "You're Ed, huh?"

He chuckled behind you, "Eddie, actually. I prefer to go by Eddie. But yeah, that's me." You pivoted on your heel and glared at him; he faltered under your burning gaze. "Nice to, uh, meet you. Neighbor."

And with that, you let him have it.

You might've blacked out at some point during the absolute barrage of a verbal dressing down you gave him. How dare he not respect the etiquette of the market and stay within the confines of his allotted space, how dare he waste your time week after week as simply minded your own business and sold your trinkets, and how dare he ignore every single note that you left behind.

The fucker had the audacity to look amused with every word that fell from your lips.

In the end, you stood there, huffing and puffing as you caught your breath and felt several months of anger finally extinguish.

"You done there, killer?" Eddie asked with a smirk. "You feel better?"

"Yeah," you shouted one last time, then lowered your voice. "Yes I do."

"Alright, good." He nodded. "Gotta get it out sometimes, otherwise you might get an ulcer. Or develop alcoholism."

"Might be close to both, to be honest," you muttered.

"Shit, then I'm extra, extra sorry that I put you through all of that, sweetheart." He laid a hand over his heart. "This is my first rodeo selling in a place like this, I didn't realize that everyone was so...territorial."

"Yeah, well. Most of the time I'm not." Lies. You were a liar. "I think the thing that pissed me off more is that I kept leaving notes for you and you kept ignoring them and messing with my shit."

Eddie looked bashful all of a sudden. "Oh shit. See I thought you were just flirting with me."

Talk about a record-scratch moment; what...what had he just said?

"Flirting?" you asked.

"I mean, yeah, not to sound cocky either because I was definitely flirting right back at you. What do they call it in the movies? A...meet cute moment? I thought it was fun. You leave me a sarcastic, threatening note, and I leave you a little treasure hunt to solve. Like a...fucked up version of You've Got Mail."

"That's nothing like You've Got Mail," you pointed out.

There was a beat.

"I think this is a really good time to mention that I fell asleep halfway through You've Got Mail," he explained with a laugh. "Regardless, I read things wrong. That's on me. But I'm sorry. I'll never do it again."

He held his hand out to you and his brows shifted upwards and behind his dated bangs.

You worried at your bottom lip for a moment and tried to claw at the vestiges of your anger for a second, but this guy...he looked like such a kicked puppy...and you suppose that it was a cute way to flirt with someone you'd never met.

God, you really needed to work on that pushover thing.

"It's alright," you told him as you slid your hand into his and accepted his apology. "As long as you don't do it again."

"Cross my heart," he nodded enthusiastically.

You introduced yourself, formally, and offered your help in the future if he needed it. He introduced himself and told you that he would appreciate any pointers that you had to give.

"I'm pretty new to this whole...thrift thing," he shrugged. "I've had a bunch of this stuff in storage for a while. I used to move around a lot, you accumulate a lot of junk. And then my uncle...some of this stuff is his. Was his. He passed away last year. Finally decided I couldn't keep hoarding it all anymore. Turns out, I had a lot more shit than I thought I did."

"Story of my life," you laughed and offered your condolences. "It's hard, deciding what to keep and what to get rid of."

"Tell me about it."

"But, I do have one main lesson for you," you offered.

"Oh yeah?" he smirked. "Already? Just when I thought I couldn't fuck it up any more."

"It's an Antique Market," you told him. "Not a Thrift Store."

"There's a difference?" Eddie asked sarcastically, although a blush bloomed on his cheeks. "Guess the learning curve is much steeper than I thought."

"It's alright. You'll get it sooner or later." You smiled at him, trying to be as friendly and supportive as you could.

He stared at you for maybe a few seconds too long, then shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked forwards on his heels.

"Maybe you could explain it to me, in-depth?" he questioned. "Antiquing, thrifting, whatever."

"Of course," you agreed, but he cut you off before you could say anything else.

"Over lunch?" He asked with a nervous smile. "There's a great diner up the road. And I figure I owe you one for all the anguish I put you through anyway."

You stared at him in shock for a second, wondering how to respond. First there was the comment about the flirting...and now this. What if he was a creep? But he didn't seem like as much of a jackass as you thought he was...and he was cute.

Oh, what the hell.

"You know what? Why not? I'm a girl who loves a free patty melt," you winked at him bravely. "It's a date!"

[spr1ngtweaks]

📖 Scenario: “Leyley” & The Anger of the Picky Eater

/ Note: most of this is just my headcanon of Harley before the "event" happened, it won't be 100% canon and might be ooc. I'm just writing for fun, please don't come to me. ;-; My grammar pretty shitty bc Eng is not my first language/

You accidentally—or intentionally—called him "Leyley" in front of the junior staff. He slammed the folder down on the table and looked at you as if you had just committed an unforgivable crime.

You don't remember the first time you called him "Leyley," but you know that as soon as the name left your lips, Harley immediately stopped whatever he was doing.

He slowly turned his head, his deep-set eyes flashing with danger. The pen in his hand spun a circle between his fingers, as if he were contemplating whether to stab it into the table or straight into you.

"Never call me that." His voice was icy, not loud but filled with warning.

Of course, you gave a faint smile. "Oh really, Leyley?"

Clack!

The pen is stuck straight down on the table, less than an inch away from your hand.

"I'm not joking."

You just shrugged. No matter how annoying he gets, you know he won't actually harm you—or at least, you want to believe that. And gradually, you keep repeating that name deliberately, each time making him growl or shoot you a murderous glare. But despite always reacting like that, he never issued an absolute ban against you.

That makes you realize something important: he hates this name, but he endures it—for you.

Another time, you discovered an interesting fact about Harley: he is as picky as a child.

You notice that every time there is a dish with a sour or sweet taste, he frowns. If someone accidentally brings something with the smell of lemon or strawberry, he will immediately push it away with a displeased expression.

"What the hell is this?" He looked at the food box that an employee had placed on the table, his expression as if they had just served him a pile of trash.

"Food." You replied nonchalantly.

"Why does it smell like lemon?" His voice turned stern, his eyes showing irritation.

"Because it's lemon chicken?"

"Take it away." He waved his hand as if he didn't want to come into contact with it for another second. That employee hurriedly took the lunch box away immediately, fearing that if they delayed, they would be punished by him.

You chuckled softly. "You really are picky about food."

He squinted. "What?"

"You don't eat sweet and sour food, you don't drink tea with floral scents, and you clearly hate anything with a fruity smell." You leaned on the table, tilting your chin up. "Are you being childish?"

"I am not picky." He emphasized each word, his tone carrying a hint of annoyance. "I just don't waste my time on meaningless things."

"Oh, so sweet and sour food is pointless?"

"Exactly."

You scoffed. "I thought a surgeon like you would have a more refined palate."

He crossed his arms, his eyes full of defiance. "I have a simple and precise palate, not one for overly sweet or sour chaos."

You raised an eyebrow. "So what do you actually like to eat?"

He was silent for a moment, as if he had never really thought about it. Finally, he simply replied:

“Meat.”

You burst out laughing. "I should have figured that out sooner."

Based on this thing on wiki because I find it hilariously ridiculous. But it's kinda cute =)

You are the only one who dares to tease him with the name "Leyley," even though he absolutely hates it. He is surprisingly picky, especially hating sweet and sour food. If someone doesn't do what he wants, he is ready to scold or punish them without hesitation. But when facing you, he endures more than he thought he could.

[milunalupin]

❤️ with the prompt “c’mon, like i need an excuse to spend time with you.” please!! thank you nicole ily <3

my lovely lovely san happy valentine's day !! thank you for the request ily so much <3

— do you wanna know a secret ?

remus lupin x reader ♥︎ 845 words

The air in the common room was thick with the excitement of Valentine’s Day. Some students were exchanging notes, others were planning for the dance that night, and a few were simply enjoying the sugary sweets scattered across the tables. You, however, found yourself hiding in a corner with your textbook, trying to focus on your charms homework. It wasn’t that you disliked the holiday—it just felt like a reminder of what you didn’t have: someone to share it with.

Of course, there was someone you'd like to spend it with. Remus, your best friend who always seemed to know exactly what you needed, whether it was a laugh, a kind word, or just a quiet moment together.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Remus appeared in the doorway of the common room, his messy hair falling over his eyes, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his cardigan. He caught sight of you almost immediately, and that familiar, warm smile spread across his face. It was the kind of smile that made your heart beat a little faster, but you pushed the feeling away. He was your best friend, and that’s all he could ever be, right?

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft. “What are you doing all the way over here?”

You looked up from your book and tried to smile. “Just, uh, trying to get some work done. You know, not everyone is celebrating Valentine’s Day with a dance or chocolates. I’m just not in the mood for all the… fuss.”

Remus nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. “I get it. The whole day just feels like a lot of pressure, doesn’t it?” He sat down next to you, shifting a few of your books to the side. “But, you know… if you want, we could just skip all that and hang out. Maybe take a walk around the lake, or—”

You blinked in surprise, cutting him off. “Wait, Sirius isnt forcing you into another double date?"

Remus chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I wasn't really interested in her, it wouldn't have been fun for either of us."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you suddenly felt self-conscious. “Oh,” you said, awkwardly fiddling with a pencil. “Well, you don't have to just sit here with me. I mean, you could always ask someone else…”

“C'mon,” He scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “like I need an excuse to spend time with you. Besides, I don’t need anyone else.” His voice softened at the last part, and his eyes lingered on yours just a moment longer than usual.

For a brief moment, the world felt very still. There was something in the way he said it, something in the way he was looking at you, that made your chest tighten. You’d always known Remus as your closest friend, the person who could make you laugh without even trying, the person who always seemed to understand you in ways no one else could. But hearing those words took you by surprise.

You cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah,” you said softly. “A walk sounds nice.”

The two of you left the common room, walking through the nearly empty corridors. The castle seemed quieter than usual, many couples having gone to Hogsmeade to celebrate the holiday. As you reached the entrance hall, Remus turned toward you, his face more serious now, as though he were gathering the courage to say something.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice hesitant. “Maybe I haven't been as obvious as I thought, but.. I care about you, more than I probably let on. And I guess I’ve been wondering if you.. feel the same?”

Your heart raced at his words, the question hanging in the air between you. It was all so sudden, but somehow, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

You looked up at him, feeling the warmth of the moment in your chest. “Remus,” you said softly, “I’ve always cared about you. You’re my best friend.”

There was a pause, and then, almost as if he couldn’t help himself, Remus reached out, gently taking your hand in his. His touch was warm, and you could feel the weight of everything unsaid between you.

“I think I want to be more than that,” he murmured, his thumb lightly brushing over your knuckles.

You felt your breath catch. For a long moment, you just stood there, looking at him, trying to reconcile the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. And then, with a soft laugh, you squeezed his hand.

“I think I want that too,” you said quietly.

Remus smiled, a mixture of relief and happiness in his expression. And just as the first snowflake of the evening drifted down from the sky, he leaned in, brushing his lips against your forehead in a tender, quiet kiss—an unspoken promise.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You smiled back, feeling more content than you had in a long time. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Remus.”

[eu-nicola]

attraction part 2

summary: after your mother's death you marry Ward Cameron to have economic stability and you meet his son who hangs around you

warnings: age-gap, cheating (?), idk tell me

word counter: 8519

author’s note: english is not my first language, ofc i’m based on one of my favorite novels

You were at home, sitting in the living room with one of the house staff while she talked to you about organizing your birthday party. It was an important event. Everything had to be perfect, from the menu to the guest list.  

"The food has to be perfect, Mrs. Cameron," the woman said professionally. "Have you decided if you prefer seafood or something more traditional?"  

You took a moment to think, running your fingers along the rim of your glass of water.  

"Seafood sounds good," you finally replied. "But I also want some classic options. Not everyone likes strong flavors."  

She nodded and took notes, then asked you about the desserts, decorations, and other details. You spent a good while discussing every aspect of the party, making sure everything would be just right.  

And then, out of nowhere, Rafe showed up.  

He walked in with that relaxed, careless stride, like he owned the place. He seemed distracted or at least pretended to be because as he passed by you, his body brushed against yours.  

It was brief, but enough for you to feel it.  

"Sorry, Mrs. Cameron," he said in a neutral tone, but there was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite read.  

You didn’t respond.  

You just gave a slight nod, not interested in starting anything. It wasn’t worth it.  

He lingered a second longer than necessary before walking away, while you simply turned back to the staff member and resumed your conversation.  

Later, you were in Ward’s office, going over some party details with him.  

"It has to be an elegant event," your husband said, scanning a list. "I don’t want anything missing."  

"Everything will be well organized," you replied confidently.  

You were focused on the conversation when, suddenly, a familiar presence filled the room.  

Rafe.  

Like the most annoying person in the world, he walked up to you with an expression that promised nothing good.  

And before you could react, he leaned in and greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.  

He had never done that before.  

He had never shown the slightest courtesy or affection.  

But now, here he was.  

The brush of his lips against your skin was quick, almost innocent.  

But what wasn’t innocent was his hand.  

Because when he kissed your cheek, his fingers slid down your back, tracing a slow, deliberate path.  

A shiver ran through you instantly.  

It wasn’t fear.  

It wasn’t pleasure.  

It was confusion.  

A small act, but with a clear intention: to get under your skin.  

And the worst part? It worked.  

After that greeting, Rafe stayed in the room, casually talking to his father like nothing had happened.  

You, on the other hand, tried to stay composed.  

You could still feel the slight tingle on your skin where his lips had touched, the sensation of his hand moving down your back with that subtle, teasing touch. But you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction.  

You stayed put, listening to the conversation between father and son without actually paying attention to the words.  

Rafe spoke confidently, as always, with that attitude of the golden boy who never quite fit the role. Ward, for his part, responded calmly.  

You just waited.  

When the conversation ended, you stood up gracefully and left the room without saying a word.  

You weren’t in the mood for more of Rafe’s games.  

But he didn’t seem too eager to leave you alone.  

Because just seconds later, you heard him follow you out.  

You didn’t look at him right away. You kept walking, head held high, but when you noticed he was keeping up with you, you stopped and turned to face him.  

You weren’t about to let him think he could mess with you.  

"Stop doing that," you said in a low, controlled, but firm tone.  

He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.  

"Doing what?"  

"Your games," you shot back without hesitation. "You’re too old for this."  

Rafe let out a short laugh, tilting his head with an amused expression, like he couldn’t care less about your reproach.  

"I have no idea what you’re talking about," he said with fake indifference. "I was just being polite. Not my fault if you’re not used to it."  

You stared at him coldly.  

"Don’t play with me, Rafe."  

He held your gaze for a few seconds, his lips curling into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.  

"Why? Are you scared to play with me?"  

You didn’t answer.  

You weren’t going to give him any more reasons to keep provoking you.  

So you simply turned around and kept walking, not bothering to look back.  

But as you walked away, you could still feel him there, watching you.  

You kept your pace steady, trying to shake off the conversation with Rafe and the unsettling feeling he left behind. But as soon as you turned down one of the hallways, you ran into Wheezie.  

"What’s wrong?" she asked.  

You didn’t hesitate for a second before stepping closer and gently grabbing her arm, pulling her toward you.  

"You’re the only good thing in this house," you murmured, feeling a momentary sense of relief at seeing her.  

Wheezie blinked, surprised by the sudden confession, but instead of pulling away, she gave you a knowing look and nodded.  

"I know," she said with a small smile. "Trust me, I’ve thought the same thing plenty of times."  

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. In a house where tension seemed to fill every corner, Wheezie was like a breath of fresh air.  

"How’s the birthday planning going?" she asked, casually changing the subject to lighten the mood.  

You sighed, slowly letting go of her.  

"Because of the wedding, I didn’t get to plan it properly," you admitted. "So now everything’s being rushed. It’s not what I had in mind, but I just hope Saturday goes well."  

Wheezie gave you a reassuring look, like she completely understood how you felt.  

"It will," she said with confidence. "Everything you plan always turns out amazing."  

You appreciated her faith in you with a smile.  

Saturday came way too fast for your liking.  

Between last-minute preparations, organizing the event, and the constant tension you’d been feeling since getting married, everything happened in the blink of an eye. There was no time for what you really wanted to do, but there wasn’t much you could do about it now.  

All that was left was making sure the night was perfect.  

The theme of the party was simple: an all-white celebration… except for your family, who would wear dark colors to stand out among the guests. A subtle but effective way to mark the difference.  

And you, as the hostess and the newly crowned Mrs. Cameron, would be the center of attention.  

Your dress was a masterpiece.  

An elegant, sophisticated design, entirely black. The top had a deep V neckline, covered by a fine sheer mesh with a pattern resembling a spider web. Tiny white and black pearls decorated the mesh, giving it an ethereal, delicate effect.  

The skirt flowed gracefully to the floor, hugging your figure perfectly before subtly flaring into a slight train. Every move you made made the dress seem like it was gliding through the crowd like a shadow.  

Ward was by your side in a perfectly tailored black suit, matching you. His presence was steady and confident, as always.  

The Cameron mansion had been completely transformed for the occasion.  

The garden was lit by hundreds of hanging white lights, creating an ethereal and sophisticated atmosphere. The tables were decorated with white floral centerpieces and tall candles flickering in the breeze. On the dance floor, a grand chandelier hung above the polished marble, reflecting light in all directions.  

There were about a hundred guests, businessmen, Ward’s associates, members of the Outer Banks high society, and some acquaintances you’d managed to invite despite the short notice. Everyone was dressed in white, like ghostly figures under the dim lighting.  

And among them, the Camerons stood out.  

Sarah wore a fitted black satin dress with thin straps and a slit up the leg. Her hair was down in soft waves, and even though she kept a neutral expression, she seemed to be enjoying the party.  

Wheezie had chosen a more modest navy-blue dress with long sleeves and lace details. Her excitement was obvious, this was a real celebration for her.  

And then, there was Rafe.  

Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his shirt unbuttoned at the top, no tie. His relaxed demeanor stood out against the seriousness of the rest of his family. He sipped from his glass with an indifferent air, but his gaze moved through the party like he was taking everything in.  

When your eyes met his, his expression didn’t change.  

But something in the way he looked at you sent a shiver down your spine.  

Ward’s hand gently pressed against your waist, pulling you closer with a smile before whispering, “You look stunning.”  

You forced a smile, thanking him.  

The night moved quickly, like every detail had been calculated down to the last second. The soft music of violins drifted through the air as guests sipped their drinks and chatted.  

The atmosphere was filled with murmurs, quiet laughter, and the clinking of crystal glasses in occasional toasts. From the terrace, you could see the dark ocean stretching beyond the glowing garden, a stark contrast to the whiteness of the party unfolding before you.  

You stayed close to Ward, his hand resting on the small of your back.  

The guests’ eyes lingered on you with curiosity. You weren’t just the youngest wife in the recent history of the Cameron family, you stood out.  

When the time came for the official celebration, everyone was led toward one of the large garden tables, where the enormous cake sat.  

It was a masterpiece, several tiers, covered in immaculate white frosting with gold details and floral decorations in cream tones. Tiny sugar pearls shimmered under the candlelight.  

The guests formed a circle around the table, and Ward stayed beside you, his arm firm around your waist.  

Wheezie was the first to start singing “Happy Birthday,” her youthful enthusiasm shining through. One by one, the others joined in until the song filled every corner of the garden.  

Sarah smiled softly, clapping politely.  

Rafe, on the other hand, leaned against one of the porch columns, glass in hand, his face unreadable. He didn’t sing, just watched.  

When the song ended, Ward raised his glass and spoke.  

“To my wife,” his voice rang with authority, with certainty. “The woman who has brought new light to this family. May this be the first of many celebrations together.”  

The guests lifted their glasses in a graceful unison and drank to you.  

You smiled and blew out the candles.  

After everyone had enjoyed the cake and the drinks kept flowing, the music changed.  

A soft waltz began playing, and Ward extended his hand toward you with a charming smile.  

“May I have this dance, Mrs. Cameron?”  

You knew it wasn’t really a question.  

And you couldn’t refuse.  

With practiced grace, you took his hand, and he led you to the center of the dance floor.  

The guests stepped aside, giving you space. The hanging lights above twinkled like artificial stars as Ward took your hand firmly and guided you into a flawless rhythm.  

“You’re the center of attention tonight,” he murmured as he spun you smoothly. “How does it feel?”  

You gave him a measured smile.  

“It’s... different.”  

Ward tilted his head slightly, still moving with you.  

“You’ll get used to it.”  

He said it with such certainty that you couldn’t tell if it was a promise or a warning.  

As you danced, you could feel certain gazes fixed on you.  

When the song ended, the guests clapped politely.  

Ward gave a small, elegant nod before kissing your hand and leading you off the dance floor.  

The soft music and the quiet hum of conversations created the perfect atmosphere, and for the first time in a while, you were actually enjoying the night.  

You walked through the guests with grace, exchanging words with each one, asking if everything was to their liking.  

Ward was engaged in conversation with some of his business partners, occasionally glancing at you with an approving smile.  

Wheezie moved around excitedly, while Sarah stayed close to her group of friends, enjoying the night in her own way.  

Rafe… well, Rafe was another story.  

You’d caught him watching you multiple times throughout the night. His eyes followed you from different spots in the garden, but every time you met his gaze, he looked away with a smirk.  

It was annoying.  

But you decided to ignore it.  

At some point, you felt the need to step away from the noise. Pulling your phone from your purse, you quietly slipped into a more secluded part of the garden, where the light was dim and the music was just a distant echo.  

You unlocked your phone, scrolling through your messages, enjoying a brief moment of quiet.  

It didn’t last long.  

“Don’t tell me you’re bored at your own party.”  

The sound of his voice made your blood run cold.  

Rafe.  

You took a deep breath and locked your phone, ready to walk away before he had the chance to start his little game.  

But when you tried to move, he stretched out an arm, resting his hand against the wall beside you, blocking your way.  

“Relax, Mrs. Cameron,” he said with a crooked smile. “I just came to say happy twenty birthday.”  

You looked at him warily.  

“Thanks.”  

You didn’t know what else to say.  

His closeness unsettled you, not out of fear, but because his presence had an effect on you, one you refused to acknowledge.  

“Great party,” he said casually. “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting something this… elegant.”  

“What were you expecting?” you asked before you could stop yourself.  

Rafe shrugged.  

“I don’t know. Something less… sophisticated.”  

There was a teasing edge to his words, but you refused to take the bait.  

A brief silence settled between you, his eyes locked onto yours before he stepped in a little closer.  

Too close.  

A shiver ran down your spine as his scent wrapped around you, a mix of mint and tobacco you’d noticed before.  

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice lower than you would have liked.  

He didn’t answer right away.  

Instead, his gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, and in one quick, unexpected movement, his mouth was on yours.  

You froze for a second, completely in shock.  

But then… you kissed him back.  

It was just a moment, barely a couple of seconds where you lost yourself in the feeling of his lips, warm and confident against yours.  

But then reality hit you like a bucket of cold water.  

You pulled away abruptly and, without thinking, raised your hand and slapped him.  

The sound echoed in the silent air.  

Rafe tilted his head at the impact, but when he looked back at you… he was smiling.  

A smug, amused smile, like he had gotten exactly what he wanted.  

“Don't ever do that again," you said through gritted teeth, still feeling the heat on your skin.  

“Why? Did it scare you how much you liked it?"

You glared at him.  

“It's disrespectful."

“To who?" he asked, his voice low, teasing.  

“To me," you answered without hesitation.  

Something flickered in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite figure out, but you didn’t stick around to find out.  

You turned around and walked away, feeling your heart pounding against your chest.  

No.  

This couldn’t happen again.  

You went back to the party, determined to act like nothing had happened.  

You blended in with the guests, smiling, accepting congratulations, toasting with those who approached you, and staying close to Ward.  

But you could feel Rafe’s gaze.  

You could sense it on your skin, following your every move, lingering and persistent.  

And even though your heart pounded every time you noticed, you refused to give it any importance.  

When the celebration finally ended, Ward and you said your goodbyes to the last guests, exchanging the final polite words. He wrapped an arm around your waist in a possessive, proud gesture, and you leaned into him.  

As you walked toward your room, you felt that gaze again.  

Instinctively, you turned your head, and there he was.  

Leaning against a wall, drink in hand, eyes locked on you.  

You didn’t do anything.  

You didn’t say anything.  

You just kept walking.  

The next morning, soft sunlight filtered through the windows.  

You woke up early, still carrying the emotional hangover from the night before, but determined to ignore it all. You got ready calmly and headed downstairs for breakfast, expecting to find only Ward, but to your misfortune, Rafe was already there.  

He looked relaxed, sitting with a cup of coffee in one hand, flipping through a newspaper like the world was perfectly normal.  

Like he hadn’t crossed a line last night.  

"Good morning, Mrs. Cameron," he said, in a tone that only you caught as a provocation.  

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.  

“Good morning," you replied neutrally.  

You sat at the far end of the table, where one of the housekeepers had already set your breakfast.  

Ward hadn’t come down yet.  

A heavy silence settled between you two.  

The only sound was Rafe’s coffee cup clinking against the saucer.  

“Did you sleep well?" he asked suddenly.  

You didn’t look at him.  

“Yes."

“Good," he replied, a slight hint of amusement in his voice sending a chill down your spine.  

You still didn’t look at him, focusing on your breakfast. But you could feel his presence in every fiber of your body.  

You knew he was watching you.  

You knew he was enjoying the discomfort you were trying to hide.  

Finally, you gathered your courage and looked up.  

Your eyes met his.  

Blue, cold, inquisitive.  

You couldn’t deny the obvious, Rafe was attractive. His face was the perfect mix of arrogance and danger, his posture always carried an air of overwhelming confidence, and the way he looked at you made your stomach twist… but not in disgust.  

You hated him, yeah.  

But that had nothing to do with his looks.  

It was his attitude, his way of provoking you, the way he moved with that maddening self-assurance, his insistence on making you react.  

A lazy smirk spread across his lips when he noticed you were staring.  

You immediately looked back at your plate.  

"Anything interesting in the paper?" you asked, trying to sound indifferent.  

“Not much," he replied casually. “But last night’s party was interesting, don’t you think?"

His words made your jaw tighten.  

You knew exactly what he meant.  

You didn’t answer.  

“Oh, come on," he said with a quiet chuckle. “Nothing to say about it?"

Finally, you set your fork down and looked at him with a neutral expression.  

“I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Rafe tilted his head, his smile never fading.  

“Sure you do."

A couple of seconds passed in silent tension between you.  

But just as you were about to respond, Ward walked into the dining room.  

“Good morning," he greeted, his usual authoritative tone filling the space.  

Both of you broke eye contact immediately.  

“Good morning, sweetheart," you said with a flawless smile, as if everything was perfectly normal.  

Rafe simply took a sip of his coffee, but before turning back to his newspaper, he murmured just low enough for only you to hear:  

“This is gonna be fun." 

After breakfast, you decided to take advantage of the sunny day and headed to the pool.  

Rafe had gone out with his girlfriend.  

Sarah wasn’t home.  

Wheezie was out with her friends.  

For the first time in a long while, the house felt like it was truly yours.  

You picked an elegant black bikini, put on your sunglasses, grabbed a book, and stretched out on one of the loungers by the pool.  

The warmth of the sun caressed your skin, the clear water shimmered with golden reflections, and for a moment, everything was peaceful.  

Just you, the sound of the water, and the soft rustling of the wind through the trees.  

Hours passed as you lost yourself between reading and moments where you simply closed your eyes to enjoy the calm.  

But that peace didn’t last long.  

You heard the sound of an engine approaching.  

Turning your head, you saw Rafe pulling into the driveway. He wasn’t alone.  

A brunette stepped out of the passenger seat with him.  

His girlfriend.  

You knew instantly.  

You’d heard her name before when someone mentioned Rafe’s girlfriend, but you’d never actually seen her. Until now.  

You shifted slightly on the lounger, dipping your feet into the water, pretending not to pay attention.  

But Rafe was paying attention.  

From the moment he stepped onto the property, his eyes had found you.  

You didn’t notice at first, too focused on acting indifferent, but every move you made had his full attention.  

The way your legs dipped into the water.  

The shimmer of droplets on your sun-kissed skin.  

The way the bikini hugged your body.  

For a few seconds, he completely forgot Sofía was next to him.  

“Rafe…" she called, snapping him out of it. He blinked, shaking his head and regaining his composure.  

With a charming smile, Sofía linked her arm through his as they walked toward you.  

“Stepmom," Rafe’s voice cut through your peace.  

You turned slowly, forcing yourself to stay calm.  

“Sofía," he said casually. “This is my dad’s wife."

There was something in his voice, a slight inflection only you caught.  

Sofía, however, didn’t seem to notice.  

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you, ma’am," she said warmly, extending her hand. “I’ve heard so many great things about you."

You shook her hand politely, offering a pleasant smile.  

“Likewise. Welcome."

For a brief moment, Rafe’s eyes drifted from your face down your body, taking in every inch of you without the slightest subtlety.  

And this time, you noticed.  

There was something in his gaze.  

You didn’t know what it was.  

The air seemed to shift for a fraction of a second.  

Then, Rafe snapped out of it.  

“Let’s go inside," he told Sofía, placing a hand on her back and guiding her toward the house without looking back.  

You stayed where you were, watching them disappear through the door.  

Later, just as you were about to head inside, you saw him coming down the stairs with a bag over his shoulder.  

He stopped near the door, and for some reason, his eyes sought yours.  

“I’m leaving for a few days," he said simply.  

You didn’t understand why he was telling you.  

It wasn’t like he owed you an explanation.  

You weren’t close.  

You barely spoke when it was necessary.  

And yet, there he was, standing in front of you, with his bag and that look you still couldn’t figure out.  

You nodded without asking any more questions.  

You assumed he was leaving with Sofía, maybe on a trip or just to her place.  

And honestly, you didn’t care.  

"See you," was all you said before stepping inside and closing the door behind you.  

A few hours later, you decided to change clothes and go out.  

You wore a simple but elegant dress with comfortable sandals. You styled your hair naturally and grabbed your car keys.  

Your destination was one of Wheezie’s friends’ houses.  

You had agreed to pick her up after she texted you, asking for a ride.  

You drove calmly through the streets of Figure Eight, watching as the sun started painting the sky in shades of orange.  

When you parked and got out of the car, you barely knocked before the door swung open.  

"Wheezie! Your mom’s here!" one of the girls called from inside.  

You froze for a moment.  

But Wheezie reacted instantly, peeking out from the living room and rolling her eyes with a smile.  

"She’s not my mom," she corrected as she walked to the door. "She’s my dad’s wife."  

The other girls, who had been eyeing you with curiosity, smiled and came over to greet you.  

"Oh, sorry," said the girl’s mom, appearing beside them. "Wheezie told us you live with them, so we assumed you were her mother."  

"No problem," you replied with a polite smile. "It’s nice to meet you all."  

You greeted the girl’s parents and friends, exchanging a few words about their afternoon together.  

Wheezie, on the other hand, seemed completely comfortable with you being there.  

"See you tomorrow," she said to her friends, and after making sure she had all her stuff, she followed you to the car.  

As you drove back home, she leaned back in her seat, looking relaxed.  

"They thought you were my mom," she said suddenly, glancing at you.  

You let out a small laugh.  

"Yeah, I heard."  

"It didn’t bother me," she admitted with a small shrug. "It doesn’t bother me when it’s you."  

You turned slightly to look at her, surprised by her honesty.  

"Thanks, Wheez," you said with a genuine smile.  

She just nodded, like it wasn’t a big deal.  

But to you, it was.  

Weeks had passed with a deceptive calm after Rafe had left.  

Life went on, and though the house was quieter without him around, you didn’t spare a second thinking about it.  

But that all changed one afternoon when you got home after being out for a few hours.  

You walked in, planning to head straight to your room, but then you noticed the odd atmosphere in the house.  

There was murmuring among the staff, an unusual movement.  

"What’s going on?" you asked one of them, stopping in the hallway.  

The man hesitated before answering.  

"Mr. Rafe is back, ma’am," he finally said. "But he’s not well. He’s sick."  

You frowned.  

"Sick?"  

"Very sick," he confirmed. "He came with Miss Sofía, but she had to go home and said she’d be back later."  

You didn’t know why, but an uneasy feeling settled in your chest.  

Without thinking too much, you turned on your heel and quickly went upstairs.  

You headed straight for his room.  

The door was slightly open.  

You pushed it gently and stepped inside.  

The first thing you noticed was the heavy air and the dim lighting.  

The curtains were drawn, leaving the room in partial darkness, and the sound of Rafe’s labored breathing filled the space.  

He was lying in bed, shirtless, with the sheets tangled around him.  

His skin was pale but covered in sweat.  

You approached carefully.  

"Rafe," you called softly.  

He shifted slightly, blinking slowly.  

When his eyes landed on you, there was a moment of confusion before he managed to focus.  

"What… what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice rough like it hurt to even speak.  

"I heard you were sick," you said. "I wanted to check on you."  

Rafe squinted, a slight grimace appearing on his face.  

"Worried about me?" he muttered, sounding disbelieving, though weak.  

"Yeah," you answered honestly.  

He let out a rough chuckle, but immediately winced like it hurt.  

"I don’t believe you," he murmured.  

You sighed.  

You weren’t in the mood to argue with him when he barely had the strength to stay awake.  

You stood up, ready to leave, but then you felt his hand grab yours.  

His grip wasn’t strong, but it was enough to stop you.  

His skin was hot, too hot.  

You turned to look at him and saw that his eyes, still a bit glassy, were locked on you.  

"Don’t go," he whispered.  

Something in his voice, in his vulnerability, made you nod without even thinking.  

"I’m just going to make you some tea for the fever," you said softly.  

It took him a couple of seconds to let go of your hand, like his body was resisting it.  

When he finally did, you turned and walked out of the room with a strange knot in your stomach.  

You headed to the kitchen with determined steps.  

You didn’t know why you cared so much.  

Rafe was a grown man; he could take care of himself, and Sofía would probably be back soon to handle it.  

But still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had to do something.  

You walked into the kitchen and found one of the maids, who looked at you curiously.  

"Do you need anything, ma’am?"  

"I’m making some tea," you said, moving naturally around the cabinets.  

"I can do it for you."  

"No, I want to do it myself."  

She didn’t insist.  

You grabbed a pot and poured water into it, setting it to heat on low.  

As you waited, you carefully selected the herbs you needed.

You knew exactly what to do: a mix of mint and chamomile to ease the discomfort, a bit of ginger to help with the fever, and some lemon leaves for a good taste.  

When the water was ready, you added the ingredients and waited a few minutes, letting the herbs release their properties.  

Then, you poured the liquid into a cup and let it cool.  

There was no point in giving him something hot when his temperature was already too high.  

Once it was cool enough, you picked up the cup and left the kitchen, heading back to his room.  

When you got there, you carefully pushed the door open and stepped inside.  

Rafe was still in the same position you had left him in, eyes half-closed and breathing heavily.  

He looked completely exhausted.  

You walked over and placed the cup on the nightstand.  

"You need to sit up to drink this," you said softly.  

He groaned, clearly too drained to move.  

You rolled your eyes.  

"Come on, it’s not that hard," you insisted.  

Placing one hand on his arm and the other on his back, you helped him sit up.  

His skin burned under your touch.  

When he was finally upright, he took a shaky breath and rested his head against the headboard.  

"Here," you said, handing him the cup.  

He took it, staring at it with a confused expression.  

"What is it?"  

"Cold tea. It'll help with the fever."  

He looked at you like he was surprised you knew something like that.  

But he didn’t say anything.  

He took a sip and closed his eyes, as if the simple act of swallowing drained him.  

"Thanks," he murmured after a while.  

You weren’t sure if it surprised you that he said it or if you just didn’t expect it from him.  

"Just drink it," you replied, unsure how to react to his gratitude.  

As he did, you reached out to check his forehead, feeling the heat radiating from his skin.  

You frowned.  

"You’ve got a high fever, but it'll go down," you said calmly. "You’ll be fine soon."  

He didn’t respond, just took another sip before lying back down like even that had taken too much effort.  

You watched him for a few more seconds before deciding you had done enough.  

"Get some rest," you said quietly, turning toward the door.  

As you stepped out, you closed it softly behind you.  

And then, you let out a sigh.  

It had been a few hours since you left Rafe in his room, and the rest of the afternoon went by normally.  

The house was quiet, too quiet for your liking, leaving you with too much time to think about everything that had happened.  

When Ward got home later that night, you went to greet him and decided to mention Rafe, though you kept it casual.  

"Rafe came back today," you said as you walked with him toward his office.  

Ward nodded absentmindedly, not even looking at you.  

"Oh, yeah?"  

"Yeah. He was really sick, by the way. Had a high fever when he got here."  

Ward sighed, rubbing his temple.  

"He’ll get better. He always does."  

You frowned.  

"You don’t care at all, do you?"  

He gave you a tired smile.  

"If I had to worry every time Rafe got himself into trouble, I’d never have time for anything else."  

You didn’t know what to say to that.  

Ward just kept walking to his office, ending the conversation.  

It wasn’t the reaction you expected, but it didn’t really surprise you either.  

You sighed and went to bed, not thinking too much about it.  

The next morning, you woke up early and went downstairs to have breakfast alone.  

The dining room was completely silent, the only sound being the soft clink of porcelain as you poured tea into your cup.  

You took a sip, enjoying the quiet moment.  

But then, the door opened, and Rafe walked in.  

You looked at him in surprise.  

He looked better.  

The sickly, worn-out look from last night was gone, though he still seemed a little pale.  

"Morning," he said, his voice a bit rough.  

"Morning," you replied, setting your cup down. "How are you feeling?"  

He shrugged as he took a seat across from you.  

"Better."  

You were relieved to hear it, though you didn’t say it out loud.  

"Good."  

Rafe took a sip of his coffee before looking at you again.  

"Thanks for... yesterday."  

You tensed slightly.  

"It was nothing," you said flatly.  

He smirked a little, like he didn’t quite believe you, but he didn’t push it.  

There was a brief silence before you decided to ask,  

"Where’s Sofia? I didn’t see her when I got back yesterday."  

Rafe looked away, stirring his coffee.  

"She’s busy with her family and work."  

"Oh."  

You didn’t ask anything else.  

If there was something off about his response, you chose to ignore it.  

He didn’t seem eager to talk about it either because he changed the subject almost immediately.  

"And my dad?"  

"Working. As usual."  

He nodded, like that was no surprise.  

Another silence.  

Then, out of nowhere, Rafe looked at you with a hint of amusement in his eyes.  

"What are you doing today?"  

You raised an eyebrow, not understanding his sudden curiosity.  

"Not much."  

"Want to go for a walk?"  

His question caught you off guard.  

"I don’t think that’d be appropriate."  

"Why not?"  

You looked at him incredulously.  

"You know why."  

He smiled, tilting his head.  

"No, you tell me."  

You pursed your lips, realizing there was no point in continuing that conversation.  

So you just looked back at your cup of tea and took a sip.  

Rafe let out a small chuckle but didn’t push any further.  

After breakfast, Rafe left without saying much else.  

You stayed in the dining room a little longer, enjoying the quiet morning, but after a while, you decided you needed to get out.  

You didn’t want to spend the whole day stuck in the house, especially when you’d been feeling more restless than usual lately.  

So you grabbed your bag, left without telling anyone, and walked to the shopping district.  

You spent the afternoon going from store to store, enjoying the feeling of doing something for yourself.  

You bought a few new clothes, nothing too flashy, just enough to treat yourself a little.  

After a while, you sat down at a café, ordering a latte and a croissant.  

You looked out the window, taking small sips of your coffee, enjoying the quiet moment.  

By the time you got back home, it was already dark.  

You expected to find someone in the living room or at least hear some noise from somewhere, but the house was completely silent.  

There was no one there except Ward.  

You found him in his study, looking over some documents with a tired expression.  

"Where is everyone?" you asked, leaning against the doorframe.  

He barely glanced up before going back to his papers.  

"Sarah’s doing her thing. Wheezie’s at a friend’s house. And Rafe… who knows."  

You frowned.  

Something about his tone made you press your lips together.  

You hadn’t planned on saying anything else, but somehow, the conversation took a turn you didn’t expect.  

You weren’t even sure when it started, but suddenly, you were arguing with Ward.  

It was his indifferent tone, the way he acted like nothing mattered.  

Like he was always right.  

Like there was nothing you could say to change his mind.  

And that pissed you off.  

The words got sharper, the comments more cutting.  

You had never argued with him like this before.  

Sure, you’d had disagreements, but never like this.  

This time was different.  

More real.  

More intense.  

You didn’t even know how it got to this point, you just knew you didn’t want to be there anymore.  

And when Rafe showed up in the middle of the argument, you decided it was time to leave.  

You didn’t want him to hear any more than he already had.  

So without thinking much about it, you turned on your heels and walked out of the house.  

Ward just sighed, exhausted, and shut himself in his room.  

But Rafe didn’t let you leave alone.  

You heard his footsteps behind you, quick, following.  

You weren’t surprised.  

"Where are you going?" he asked, catching up to you and grabbing your arm to make you stop.  

You pulled away gently, but you didn’t keep walking.  

"Anywhere," you said without looking at him. "I just don’t want to be there."  

Rafe studied you in silence for a moment.  

And then, without much ceremony, he said, "I’m coming with you."  

You turned to look at him.  

"You don’t have to."  

"I know."  

You sighed, knowing there was no convincing him otherwise.  

"Fine," you said finally.  

He nodded, like he had expected that answer from the start.  

Rafe didn’t say anything when you got into the car with him, he just started the engine and pulled away from the main road.  

He drove surprisingly calmly, considering how impulsive he could be sometimes.  

The city lights faded behind you as he took a less-traveled road, surrounded by trees and darkness.  

You didn’t ask where you were going.  

You didn’t really care.  

You just wanted to be away.  

After a while, Rafe pulled up at a small abandoned dock by the lake.  

The water was calm, reflecting the dark sky with only a few stars visible.  

You got out of the car without waiting for instructions, hugging yourself when the cold night breeze brushed against your skin.

"Why here?" you asked as he closed the car door.  

"It's quiet," he answered simply.  

And it was.  

The only sound was the soft splashing of water against the old wooden dock.  

You walked together along the edge of the lake, no rush, no real destination.  

After a few minutes, you decided to break the silence.  

"Tell me the truth," you said, stopping and glancing at him.  

Rafe raised an eyebrow.  

"About what?"  

"About the first thing you thought of me when we met."  

He smiled, but it wasn’t a kind smile.  

"You want me to be honest?"  

You nodded.  

"I didn’t like you," he said bluntly.  

It wasn’t surprising, but it still stung a little to hear it out loud.  

"Why?" you asked, curious.  

"Because I thought you were an opportunist."  

You stared at him for a moment, processing his words.  

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.  

You just looked away and kept walking.  

Rafe kept up with you.  

"But I don’t think that anymore," he added after a few seconds.  

"You don’t?" you murmured skeptically.  

"You don’t seem like you’re trying to ruin my dad."  

You let out a dry laugh.  

"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence."  

He gave a small smile but didn’t say anything else.  

You walked a little further before stopping.  

You didn’t know why, you just felt like you couldn’t keep going.  

You stood there, staring at the water, and without warning, tears started falling.  

Rafe frowned.  

"What’s wrong?"  

You shook your head, feeling ridiculous.  

"I don’t know," you admitted, your voice shaky. "I feel overwhelmed, but I don’t know why."  

Maybe it was the argument with Ward, the constant tension in the house, or just the fact that nothing lately felt under your control.  

Everything felt like too much.  

Rafe stepped closer and, without thinking much, pulled you into him.  

You didn’t push him away.  

You didn’t want to.  

You sank into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body as his arms wrapped around you firmly.  

"You’re too beautiful to be crying," he murmured against your hair.  

You let out a soft laugh, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.  

"That was cheesy."  

"But it worked."  

You looked at him, your eyes still wet, and in that moment, he kissed you.  

You didn’t pull away.  

You didn’t want to.  

You didn’t know how long it lasted, but when you broke apart, he whispered something against your lips.  

You didn’t let him finish.  

You shook your head and took a step back.  

"We should head back."  

Rafe didn’t argue.  

He just looked at you for a moment before nodding and walking back to the car with you.  

The drive home was silent.  

Rafe drove with an unreadable expression, and you stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past.  

You didn’t speak.  

Neither did he.  

But the tension was there, thick in the air.  

When you got home, everything was calm.  

Ward was already asleep, which, in a way, was a relief.  

You didn’t have the energy for another difficult conversation.  

Without saying a word, you walked straight to your room, changed, and slipped into bed beside Ward.  

He didn’t even stir.  

His breathing was deep, lost in a heavy sleep.  

You stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, thinking about the kiss at the dock, the warmth of Rafe’s hands on your back, the sound of his voice murmuring against your lips...  

You squeezed your eyes shut and forced yourself to sleep.  

The next morning, you woke up early.  

Ward was already up and in the bathroom, so you got up, threw on a light robe, and went to the dining room.  

When you walked in, Rafe was already there, sitting at the table with Sofía next to him.  

They looked good together, or at least that’s what anyone would think at first glance.  

She was put together, her hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders, and her smile was calm.  

He, on the other hand, had the same unreadable expression from the night before.  

"Good morning," you greeted politely.  

Sofía returned the greeting warmly, and Rafe just nodded, watching you as you took a seat next to Ward, who arrived a few minutes later.  

Breakfast started off peaceful.  

The conversation was light, nothing too deep.  

Ward asked about business, Sofía talked about her family, and you kept your attention on your coffee and the plate in front of you.  

Until you saw it.  

Sofía slid her hand across the table and gently took Rafe’s, intertwining their fingers.  

You didn’t know why, but instinctively, you looked up.  

Rafe looked at you too.  

For a second, the world seemed to slow down.  

His blue eyes locked onto yours, and then, without looking away, he casually pulled his hand from Sofía’s.  

She didn’t seem to notice much, she just kept talking.  

You, on the other hand, lowered your gaze to your coffee, bringing it to your lips for a sip.  

And you smiled.  

You had always been a little possessive.  

Not in a crazy way, you didn’t like that, but there were certain things that belonged to you, and you didn’t tolerate someone else taking them.  

Seeing Rafe pull his hand away from Sofía after looking at you gave you a satisfaction you didn’t want to overanalyze.  

You took the last sip of your coffee and stood up calmly, sliding your chair back without making a sound.  

"I’m going to get ready," you said simply, not looking at anyone in particular.  

Ward nodded, focused on his conversation with Rafe. Sofía gave you a polite smile before turning back to her plate.

You went up to your room and opened the closet, scanning your options before settling on a navy blue dress, short and form-fitting.  

The neckline was elegant, just enough to highlight your figure without being too revealing.  

You paired it with nude high heels, which made your legs look longer and contrasted perfectly with the deep blue of the dress.  

You styled your hair, leaving it loose in soft waves that framed your face, and applied subtle but flattering makeup.  

When you walked downstairs, you felt a gaze slowly traveling over every inch of your body.  

Rafe.  

He was standing there, one hand in his pocket, his eyes tracing a slow path from your legs to your face.  

He didn’t say a word.  

But as you walked past him, he brushed his hand against yours in the slightest way.  

A barely-there touch, but enough to send a spark of electricity through your skin.  

You didn’t react. You just kept walking, head held high.  

Ward was sitting on the couch, looking through some documents when you approached him.  

"I’m going with Wheezie," you said casually.  

He barely lifted his eyes from his papers, nodding absentmindedly.  

"Alright, take care of her."  

"I always do."  

You gave him a small smile before turning toward the door.  

You didn’t need to look back to know that Rafe was still watching you.  

That day, you didn’t see Rafe again.  

After spending the day with Wheezie, you got back home and got ready to go out to dinner with Ward. You picked an elegant but simple dress, and the two of you went to an exclusive restaurant in the city.  

Dinner was calm, with Ward talking about business while you listened, nodding at the right moments. He asked if everything was okay, and you just smiled and told him it was.  

The next morning, breakfast was a little more crowded. Ward sat at the head of the table, Rafe and Sofia were next to each other, Sarah hadn’t come down yet, and Wheezie was busy on her phone while eating.  

That’s when you got the invitation from your sister.  

You weren’t close, barely talked, but her message said she wanted to see you.  

"We could go horseback riding together," she had written.  

You thought about it for a moment before replying that you’d go.  

Looking up from your phone, you glanced at the others at the table.  

"My sister invited us over."  

Ward nodded immediately, not thinking much about it.  

"We haven’t seen her since the wedding."  

"She said she wanted to see me," you clarified. "That we could go riding."  

You noticed the way Rafe looked at you for a second, but you looked away.  

"Are we all going?" Sofia asked curiously.  

"Yeah, if you want to," you replied.  

And just like that, it was settled. After breakfast, you all got ready for the visit.  

Your sister’s place was huge.  

The house had a classic style, with sprawling gardens and a pristine stable where they kept their horses.  

One of them was yours.  

Or at least, it had been.  

After your father passed away, you left it there. You distanced yourself from riding and hadn’t visited much since.  

Walking into the stable, the scent of hay and leather surrounded you.

Your sister was waiting for you with a measured smile on her face.  

"I thought you'd never accept my invitation."  

"I'm here," you simply said.  

She nodded and looked toward the horses.  

"Are you going to ride yours?"  

You looked at the animal that used to be yours, its coat shining and eyes alert.  

You didn’t answer right away.  

You carefully took the reins, approaching the horse with a mix of nostalgia and hesitation.  

You whispered its name softly, and the animal blinked before slightly lowering its head toward you, like it remembered you after all this time.  

A small flicker of emotion lit up in your chest, but you didn’t let it grow too much.  

You mounted easily, adjusting your posture while your sister did the same with her horse.  

You didn’t talk much as you rode around the property.  

Words between you two had always been measured, almost superficial, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t some familiarity in the silence.  

The sound of hooves on the grass set a steady rhythm until, in the distance, another horse approached.  

You turned your head and saw Rafe, riding with the confidence of someone who had done this many times before.  

"Mind if I join?" he asked with a light smile.  

Your sister nodded without objection, but not long after, she excused herself, saying she had things to do.  

So you were left alone with him.  

"Where's Sofía?" you asked, guiding your horse at a slow pace.  

"Inside. She doesn’t know how to ride."  

"I didn’t know you did."  

Rafe smirked.  

"I have a lot of surprises."  

You rolled your eyes lightly and kept riding.  

The cool afternoon air made the moment nice, even relaxing.  

But several times, you felt Rafe’s gaze on you.  

At first, you ignored it.  

But when you turned your head and caught him staring at you again, you decided to ask directly.  

"Why are you looking at me like that?"  

Rafe didn’t look away.  

"Because you're really beautiful."  

You weren’t expecting such a direct answer.  

But it didn’t make him uncomfortable to say it, either.  

You smiled, not giving it more importance than you wanted to.  

You rode for a while longer without the mood turning awkward.  

Until you decided you’d had enough.  

"We should head back."  

Rafe nodded and matched your pace, following you back.

@sweetgoldwoman @dudenhaaa27

[grenadehearts]

surprising geto or hawks w pretty flowers for the valentines requests mayhaps 🫣

SWEET BOY hawks x f!reader

authors note: so much fluff like seriously.. anyways happy valentines day my lovelies!! kisses 4 all of uuu annnd thank u sm for requesting this anon its the cutest idea ever..extra kisses 4 uu mwah <33 m.list

You had scoured through every single floral shop in town for a specific type of flower.

But none of them had it. None. Zero.

You had originally planned to go to you and your boyfriend’s favorite flower shop, but it was still closed—the owner, a kind old lady, had taken a few days off to tend to her husband in the hospital.

You still remember the first time you went there.

The little bouquet shop, the warm scent of fresh florals, and the elderly woman at the front counter who practically had your name memorized—because your boyfriend loved to spoil you with flowers.

One year, he sold her entire shop out. She even had to import a whole truckload of special flowers, driving straight through the city of Fukuoka, Japan.

You hadn't even known about this until you walked into the shop one day, needing flowers for a friend's birthday. The moment you gave your name for the order, the shop owner practically tackled you to the floor. Apparently, your boyfriend had gushed about you endlessly—like a teenage girl with her first crush. He had described your appearance so vividly that the woman had no trouble recognizing you the second you walked in.

She went on and on about how much he loved you, pinching your cheeks and cooing, "You're such a beaut!" before spending twenty minutes rambling about how much of a hunk Pro Hero Hawks was.

Oh yeah. Did I not mention? You're dating Pro Hero Hawks.

The infamous red-winged hero who soars through the skies, sending swarms of teenage girls to their knees, squealing over him.

Which is why you’re especially pissed off, stomping through the streets of Japan, because today is Valentine’s Day, and it’s nearly impossible to get your boyfriend anything. Simply because he desires nothing.

As much as you love him, it seriously irks you. You want so badly to spoil him, but he never shows interest in anything—except for you. Well, you and food. Specifically, chicken skewers. And, much to your disgust, chicken liver. Yuck.

But you can’t just take him out to dinner constantly. That’s not a real gift. Especially when he’s always doting on you—showering you with flowers, buying your favorite trinkets, paying for your salon trips (which racks up a lot since you constantly change your hair).

And if he ever catches you trying to pay for anything yourself—even something as small as coffee—he’ll insist on paying. He'll even go so far as to let you think you paid, just to console your pouty bottom lip and incessant need for independence. Then, when you're not looking, he'll go to the cashier and swap the cards.

Which is exactly why you’re so dead set on surprising him this time.

Yes, you could just buy chocolates or any random bouquet.

But this is different. This needs to be special—meaningful. Something that comes straight from the heart.

You want him to see right inside you—to your beating heart that only beats for him.

And today marks your one-year anniversary.

You still remember the day you met him. You were stuck in that shitty café job, your manager constantly harassing you and treating you like a scapegoat. You were itching to quit.

And then he walked in.

Glorious. Breathtaking. He made your entire body freeze, your breath hitch, your cheeks flush red.

He looked like no one you had ever seen before.

The sun had just risen, bathing him in molten gold. His messy blond strands fell over his face, his strong arms flexed under a tight compression shirt, and his glorious, large red wings shifted at his back.

He looked like an angel.

Then, he walked right up to you and ordered the most insanely sweet coffee. You actually giggled.

He cocked his head to the side, golden strands falling back to reveal more of his chiseled face. And then, he flashed you the most boyish grin.

And you fell to your knees.

Well—let me rephrase.

You fell because your incompetent manager had spilled a drink and never bothered to clean it up.

It was supposed to be humiliating—a cruel twist of fate, embarrassing you in front of the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

But then—he hopped over the counter.

And proceeded to fall flat on his face.

Whether it was deliberate or he was actually a klutz, it didn’t matter. Your heart pounded all the same.

Then, he laughed—airy, full of life, so refreshing.

And then, he spoke the words that sealed your fate.

"See? I fell too. Guess we’re both klutzes, huh?"

You were sure your heart was about to beat right out of your chest.

Positive your face was a deep shade of rouge.

But you couldn’t seem to care.

Because then—he stood up, extending his hand. It was rough, jagged, yet inexplicably soft against your own.

And when he pulled you to your feet—

The sunlight caught him once more, pouring through the café windows. A golden shimmer of orange and yellow, illuminating his sandy blond hair, casting a soft glow against his tanned skin.

He looked like—

"tiger lilies!"

The word bursts from your lips, snapping you back to the present. Passersbys give you weary glances as you let out a meek, "Sorry."

You blink, reality settling back in as your gaze falls upon a display of fiery orange lilies. And that’s when you realize—

You’re only a block away from your shared apartment.

Keigo had insisted you move in with him after last year's holiday—when he had given you an entire truckload of flowers.

“Kei, there’s no way I can fit all this in my place,” you had sputtered, overwhelmed and on the verge of tears.

But he had just grinned, cupped your face, wiped your tears away, and cooed, "Shhh, it’s okay, baby. Just come live with me."

And before you knew it, you were sharing an apartment with the No. 2 Pro Hero, Hawks.

Your gaze returns to the flowers—realizing they’re right in front of your favorite floral shop.

The little old lady is outside, flipping her sign to Open.

You bolt.

Nearly tackling her in a hug, you babble incoherently. She barely makes out the words "boyfriend" and "flowers" before smiling and ushering you inside.

Which leads to now.

Opening the apartment door, flowers in hand—

And being met with a completely exhausted Keigo.

His entire body visibly relaxes at the sight of you, but the scuffs, loose feathers, and ripped shirt tell you everything you need to know.

Still—despite his rough day—he rushes toward you like an overexcited puppy, melting into your arms.

Then, you pull the flowers from behind your back, grinning.

“Kei, my sweet boy. Look.”

His ears perk up at the name, golden eyes locking onto the bouquet of fiery hues.

“These for me, babe?”

He’s ecstatic. Exhaustion completely forgotten, he effortlessly picks you up, smothering you in messy kisses. Your giggles fill the air.

Then, you nudge him slightly, a pout forming on your lips—only for him to kiss it away.

“Sorry, had to. Now, continue,” he murmurs, amused.

You sigh, relieved, before teasing, “Don’t you wanna know why I got them for you?”

Keigo tilts his head, clueless.

“Because it’s Valentine’s Day?” he guesses. “Which, don’t forget, I have plenty more surprises in store for you—”

You cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips.

“Shh.”

He immediately sits—obedient, waiting.

As you explain the meaning behind the flowers, recalling the first time you met him—how the morning light made him look exactly like a tiger lily, wild and beautiful—

His golden eyes soften.

And then—

He kisses you.

Deep, fervent, breathtaking. A kiss that tells you everything you need to know.

A slick trail of saliva connects you when he finally pulls away, his breath uneven, his golden eyes glossy and intense.

And you know.

He loved his Valentine’s gift more than you ever expected.

p.s commissions are open as always! alsooo trying to find a good ending for this was so hard bc i did not want to drag it on.. but this is my valentines gift for all of uu mwahhh xo

[magicalbats]

Persist and Resist (Sunday x Reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7730

Warnings: afab!reader, handjob, cum eating, a pinch of femdom, canon typical Catholic guilt

A/N: Happy Valentine's everyone! I actually started writing this one in response to an ask I got back when I was working on last years kinktober but at some point in shuffling the text around from here to Google docs it seems Tumblr ate the initial message, which is a big bummer. I do, however, recall that the sender wanted to know what I liked about Sunday ... and the answer to that is clearly 7730 words long! lol Please enjoy the fic and if you're still around, anon ... this one is for you. ❤️

⭐

“Just relax,” you murmur, ignoring his startled gasp when you lean in from behind to rest your chin against his shoulder. “You’re always so stiff. That’s not good for your health, y’know.”

He hesitates, seems to think about it. Deciding how he should react. 

Forcing himself to draw a slow, carefully measured breath this time and further betraying his feelings on the matter, Sunday grits out a terse laugh. It’s soft and quiet. A barely there chuckle that carries with it only a very small fraction of the self assured confidence he’d displayed back on Penacony. 

You knew now that the real Sunday was not quite so sure of himself or as comfortable in his own skin as he’d first appeared, although he still tries very hard to hide that insecurity from you despite being far, far away from his old home. Like some sort of defense mechanism meant to protect and shield the delicate fragile parts of him from threat of the outside world, but it doesn’t work. Not when you were sitting so damn close to him as to feel every stuttering beat of his heart.

Pressed right up against his back like this, there’s not much he can keep from you, in fact. You’re keenly aware of even the most imperceptible shift in him, from the steady expansion of his lungs down to the loose flex of his hands where they’re resting across his lap. His body language makes it clear that he’s not accustomed to sharing such close proximity with another person and he’s not quite sure what to do with it. Right down to the molecular level it’s obvious he’s way out of his comfort zone given his subtle fidgeting, as if he just couldn’t help himself.

He was nervous. Maybe even a little scared, too.

“How interesting.” He finally murmurs. “I wasn’t aware you filled the important role of medical expert on board the Express. I’ll have to make note not to end up in need of your services again.”

Turning his head, Sunday pointedly looks elsewhere in your new room on the train, much preferring to focus on anything other than its owner at the moment. 

Situated above the party car and effectively cut off from the more heavily used common areas, the privacy here is absolute and precisely why you’d extended an invitation to him. There was more than enough room for you to share this space with the wayward traveler who, as far as you could tell, had been sleeping on the bench seats in the car below while you worked to get everything set up to your liking. But he never complained about it or tried to demand better accommodations even though you were certain it was a drastic downgrade in the comfortability he was used to. Like some self flagellating martyr, almost. 

The thought that he might be using the Express’ lack of additional rooms to further punish himself, convinced he deserved that or even less, was what ultimately swayed your decision to open your door to him. You wanted to show Sunday that there were still good things in this world that he could have, things he could enjoy and appreciate the same way he had in his previous life even if they weren’t quite as luxurious or posh as he was accustomed to. 

You also wanted to show him that you were willing to forgive him and, in the process, maybe even convince him to forgive himself. 

“Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No.” He insists, just a bit too tightly for it to be believable. “But I’ve seen you in action before. You’re not exactly what I’d call a gentle hand, and this … bedside manner is beyond me.”

That makes you smile into his shoulder as you wind your arms more securely around him, gently nudging Sunday back against your front. Still, he refuses to relent though. Staying perfectly motionless and straight as a board now, he almost feels like a statue made of solid granite sitting on the edge of the haphazardly made bed with you. Would have, were it not for the slightest hitch in his chest.

You realize in a distant, immaterial sort of way that his subconscious reaction was in response to your breasts pressing into his spine. He must like it then, even if he was loathe to say it. This was admittedly something you found to be charmingly cute in its guileless unassuming but it also made you want to tease him even more for it at the same time.

“That might be for the best,” You softly coo at him, keeping your voice light and barely more than a whisper as you trail a single hand higher up to pull at one of the clasps on his jacket. “I don’t have a medical license, after all.”

He sucks in another inhale, sharper this time. “You’re shameless.”

“That may be true, but I don’t see you trying to stop me.”

A strange little sound puffs out of him, something equally torn between indignation and fluster.

He either can’t or he won’t bring himself to reject your advances though, and he just sits there while you make careful work of unfastening his cozy coat. Idly, you wonder if this was the first time he’s ever had someone touching him like this. But he’s either making an attempt to be more polite than he otherwise would have been when someone was invading his personal bubble like this or, more likely, he considered it another facet of his penance. Further punishment for a sin he’s already been punished for twice over in your eyes. 

Sighing a quiet sound against his neck, you tentatively slip your hand into the inner layer of his shirt once you’ve got it nudged up enough to reach inside.

The skin along his stomach is enviously soft and smooth when you brush your fingers against it, and he outright jolts at that first hint of contact. Even then he still does not protest or try to pull away, though. His breathing deepens, coming slightly harder and faster now, but he makes no move to disengage from you, and you finally rouse yourself to tip your face up at him in question.

“I was only joking, Sunday. You can tell me if you don’t want me to keep going.”

“So you can hold it over my head later? I think not, Miss Stellaron. Against all odds, I still have some pride left in me.”

You frown at that. “I wouldn’t do that to you. You’re not a prisoner here and I’m not your jailer, so you’re free to make your own choices. I just want to help you.”

For a drawn out moment it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any kind of response from him, and you’re just a bit disappointed about that. But then, ever so slowly, he turns his head to cautiously glance back at you. The deeply embarrassed flush staining his cheekbones manages to surprise you, making your brows climb up to your hairline before you can suppress the reaction and stop it.

“I fail to see how this could be in any way helpful to me.” He intones, keeping his wing tucked forward across the lower half of his face so he can hide his mouth from your line of sight. Acting as a final barrier in case you were to decide to take that last inch from him. 

“I thought this might help you relax. You are pretty stiff, you know. I wasn’t joking about that.”

That defensively tucked in wing gives a brief flutter to make the soft feathers ruffle slightly, like a helpless bird trying to puff itself up to look bigger. It would have been adorable had his eyes not narrowed at you in warning in the same breath.

“I’ve never heard of such a method for relaxation. This isn’t how the Family does things.”

“But you’re not part of the Family anymore, are you? It’s okay to do things differently now.” Holding the air in your lungs, anticipating the coin drop, you slide the hand inside his shirt a little higher up to rub over a tiny nipple. “Let me show you, Sunday. Please?”

He twitches at the touch of your fingertips and quickly swings his attention back around to avoid having to look at you any longer. You can feel the shudder that runs through him but he still refuses to utter the one word that would make you back off. ‘Stop’. That’s all he needed to say. And you would, if he really wanted that. 

Something told you he didn’t completely hate what you were doing though, and it’s not like he’d ever admit to liking it anyway.

So you take your time softly petting over the petite bud, coaxing it to full stiffness which even then doesn’t leave much for you to play with. Every part of him was so slim and compact that as you feel over his chest you find yourself wondering if he was perhaps malnourished despite the life of relative luxury he’d lived back on Penacony. He shouldn’t have had to go without food, at the very least.

Deciding to find him a slice of cake in the kitchen after this, or at least a cookie, you redirect your hand to the opposite side of his chest to tease that nipple as well. Sunday stiffly arches against you in response, nudging his narrow chest up at the sensation even as he whimpers a quiet noise into the still room. He was slowly getting more and more fidgety, like he wasn’t quite sure how to react to what you were doing. How to process it or how to reconcile any of it in his mind. 

But a simple glance down at the front of him tells you everything you need to know without having to break the static charged silence by asking him how he was feeling. He wouldn’t have been honest with you anyway, of that you were certain, so there would have been no point in it.

The reluctant tent pushing up through his pants speaks for itself though, and this part of him could not lie. No matter how much he tried to fight it or wrestle it back under control, there was simply no subjugating the natural urges of his body. He couldn’t fully control it no matter how much he might want to and you can tell that bothers him a great deal in the way he softly seethes under his breath.

He was supposed to be disciplined and steadfast, not easily swayed by the compunctions of flesh and blood. And after rejecting it for so long, stuffing it down into a sealed box in the back of his mind where he wouldn’t have to look at it or think about it, he was now quickly succumbing to the full brunt of his neglected sensitivity. All you’ve done so far was tease his nipples a little bit and his cock was already needily flexing up into the placket of his slacks as if with a mind of its own. A hungry beast that couldn’t be contained no matter how hard its master might yank on the leash trying to bring it back to heel. 

It’s a little sad, in a way. You can’t help feeling sorry for him and all the simple pleasures he’s denied himself for the sake of exerting some amount of control over his own existence when he otherwise had none, but you also feel a sharp stab of arousal too. There were so many things you could teach him, if given half the chance. So many different avenues of pleasure and satisfaction, and intimacy that the two of you could explore together if he’d just allow himself the freedom to experience them for once in his life.

In truth you’d found Sunday quite interesting from the moment you first set eyes on him in front of the check-in counter of the Penacony Grand Hotel, like there was some sort of magnetic force at work urging you closer into his orbit. You knew now that at least part of that compulsion was a result of the Harmony and the other was his natural charisma as a Halovian. But there’s something else there too, something not so easily explained or written off.

He was not that much unlike you, was he? Someone who was so utterly bereft of a home to call his own in this vast cosmos that the nomadic existence of a star-bound wanderer was the only feasible option left to him. Everything from his identity right down to his own sister had been taken from him and he was alone now, save you and the rest of the Astral Express crew. You could understand that well enough even if you didn’t have any memories of what you’d lost before ending up here, just the same as he eventually had.

But you wanted to show him what having that freedom was really like, even if it was just a tiny glimpse of what awaited him on the other side now that he was free of Penacony’s slumbering birdcage.

“Do you trust me, Sunday?”

He tries to laugh again, fails miserably at it, and all that comes out is an odd little croak instead. “I don’t see that I have much of a choice in the matter, do I?”

“Of course you do.” 

Carefully sliding your hand out of his shirt, you reach down to tug at his belt buckle with deliberate slowness, giving him ample opportunity to protest. He just groans the most threadbare little sound you’ve ever heard though, and finally allows himself to reluctantly ease back into you. Still unfalteringly stiff and halting, but at least you were making progress.

With a brief clink and a rattle, his belt comes loose. You set your sights on his pants next, fumbling with the top button just as slowly so as not to spook or startle him. He really was like a defenseless bird caught in the sights of a much larger predator and unable to fly, to flee or to fight. He remains passive in your arms, luckily, but the building anticipation of what you were doing does make him start to squirm. He quickly forces himself to stop and be still though, merely watching what your hands are doing with his face tipped down towards his lap.

Soon enough you have those neatly pressed slacks open and you slip your fingers inside to feel along the band of his underwear before trailing even lower. You find his straining cock easily when it’s already stiff and rigidly pushing up from his body, giving it a gentle squeeze through the last layer of laughably thin cotton, and he responds with a tortured, half choked gasp.

“M - Miss Stellaron …”

You can hear the hoarse rattle in his voice as much as you feel it where you’re pressed right up against him like you are. At some point your breathing seems to have synced with his and you find yourself quietly panting right along with him as you work to nudge his pants down far enough to free him from them. 

Clearly picking up on your intent, Sunday hesitates to do it and he sways almost unsteadily between your arms before he at last manages to shyly angle his hips off the edge of the mattress to help you in your endeavor. He whimpers softly while he does it, and you consolingly coo at him as you press your face into the crook of his elegant neck to breathe deep the smell of him. Soap and clean linen, and a hint of downy fuzz that makes your head feel light with the impression of warmth. Perfect for cuddling. 

“Shh. Just relax for me. I promise I’ll take good care of you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Tipping forward, you place a tender kiss to his drooping wing and you’re delighted by the sensitive inhale he sucks in at the sensation of your lips brushing against the feathers. You’d always wondered if they were as delicately receptive as they looked and you were glad to have your answer even as you tug at his underwear to slide the band underneath his straining length.

And it immediately springs up into the air, already flushed and leaking as it weakly twitches in his lap as if in a desperate bid for attention. You’re amazed at not only how beautiful his cock is, average in size at best and yet so perfectly shaped as to look somehow beyond the pale of mere flesh, but also at how satiny soft and smooth it is. The flawless texture almost makes it look like something made of alabaster, and you eagerly reach around to take him in your hand.

“Oh!” His back dramatically arches against you, his hands flying up where they hesitate over yours for a harrowing moment before he allows himself to latch onto your wrists. It’s the first hint of reciprocity on his part, intentionally touching you instead of remaining a bystander as he had up until now, but you still hold your breath as you wait to see what he’ll do next.

If he was going to push you away this would be the time. The situation had clearly escalated beyond what could be excused as simple platonic affection and you brace for his reaction. His rejection. 

To your genuine surprise, however, Sunday just holds onto you by the wrists and weakly rolls his hips up in a shuddering, painfully stiff thrust. The motion sends his cock stuttering across your fingers before pulling back when he eases down to sit fully on the mattress again, wheezing softly at just that brief stimulation. You sorely wished you could see his face again but Sunday’s attention remains down and that fluttering wing stays an ever present screen for him to hide behind as well. 

No matter though. You didn’t really have need for visual cues when you could feel everything in stunning high definition through the point of contact between his body and yours. 

Closing your fist tighter around his cock, you gently begin to pump him, hand dragging from the base where ticklishly coarse hairs tease your knuckles straight up to the tip to make his foreskin bunch over the head. You can hear the sticky wet click of precum but it’s quickly lost under the harsh, frazzled gasp he raggedly pulls in. And it almost manages to surprise you, how sensitive he really is and how vigorously he twitches at your ministrations. There was some part of you that hadn’t been sure if he was even able to put on such an animated display, thinking he’d fight tooth and nail to keep up that implacable facade no matter what manner of duress he was made to endure. 

That is not what happens though. 

Instead he suddenly comes alive, unable to stop himself from full on shuddering and twisting his narrow hips against your hold. Hissing an overwrought sound into the otherwise still and silent room, he clutches at your arms in such a tight deathgrip that the leather of his gloves softly creaks. Not to stop you or to push you away, you dully realize when he groans your name like a plea. But because it felt good and it overwhelmed him, and he needed to hold onto something or risk shattering into a million pieces right then and there. 

Stealing another quick, almost giddy look down at the cock gripped in your fist, you don’t think that’s going to help him or stop the inevitable though. He’s flushed pink and raw from nothing more than just a few brief pumps of your hand, and you can feel the intense throb of him pulsing under your fingers. Not only was he going to cum quick and hard, considering how fiercely he shakes for you, but it was also going to take an embarrassing lack of effort on your part to get him there. 

“Oh, Sunny. Are you enjoying yourself now?” You purr into his shoulder, delighted at how abruptly he’d changed his songbird’s tune. From proud and immovable to a writhing, pathetically whimpering mess in just the blink of an eye. And all it had taken was the firm hold of your hand on him. It was in many ways astounding. “I always knew you had it in you.”

“I told you — nnghn! Not to … not to call me that.” 

Humming a low sound of agreement, you slowly drag your hand back down the length of him to peel away his foreskin in a tortuously stilted motion. Another sticky click hits your ears and he grunts a harried noise of distress when the cool air wafts against his exposed glans unimpeded, making him judder wildly in response. But you keep him held tightly against you even when his back dramatically bows, using your anchoring arm wrapped around his flexing stomach to keep Sunday pressed into you while the opposite hand gives his base a pinched squeeze to stave off his release. It wouldn’t hold it back for long but you were happy with even just those few extra seconds you’re given to admire him. 

And admire him you do. He’s sticky with an excess of eager, dribbling precum that coats the glistening head in a filmy sheen, inviting you to reach out and rub him there. You knew that would undo him in alarmingly short order though, so you hold off for the moment. Rather, you gently smooth your touch down to caress over his balls and wrap your fingers around their delicate weight, cradling them in the palm of your hand. 

Surprising you a great deal, Sunday outright yelps at the sensation and jolts as if you’d just electrocuted him despite how careful you’d been in handling his testes. Slim chest heaving on an uncontrollable, stuttering rhythm, he heavily leans back into you and tips his head to keen up at the ceiling. The sound itself as much as the volume of it makes your heart leap into your throat where it threatens to suffocate you. He was getting much too loud, wasn’t he?  

Your thoughts immediately flash upon the idea that someone might be just downstairs in the party car but you aren’t sure how well sound travels between the two floors, and that makes you nervous. Would they be able to hear him clearly and figure out what was happening just over their heads, or would it only seem like muffled and distant noise? Hell, even if one of your other crewmates wasn’t down there Shush almost certainly was. That damned robot hardly ever moved from behind the polished bar unless it was to pester someone with its awful jokes. What would it even say about the things it could hear going on up in your room? 

Quickly deciding you really didn’t want to test fate like that, you unlock your arm from around his middle and reach up to lightly palm over the graceful line of his throat instead. His Adam’s apple bobs thickly under your hand with the rough inhale he pulls in, swaying between your thighs when he turns his head to blink at you as if he were drunk and seeing double. But at least it looked like you had his attention again. 

“You need to watch your volume. If someone hears us, that's going to make having breakfast together way more awkward than I’d like.” You warn him, keeping your voice gentle and soft. For someone who’d acted with such overwhelming confidence on his home turf he’d quickly proven himself skittish and easy to fluster once you got your hands on him. You didn’t want to scare him off after all the effort you’d had to put in just to get this far. 

“I … I’m sorry.” He mutters with no shortage of Herculean effort. Gone are the impeccable manners and lofty words of the head of the Oak Family, and in their place there was now only a raw vulnerability you hadn’t expected to see in him. “It seems I’ve — forgotten myself. How embarrassing. I - I’ve never …”

“Been touched like this?” You supply, giving his balls a featherlight palpitation for emphasis. 

It’s enough to make Sunday hiss through tightly clenched teeth though, squeezing his eyes shut against the sensation as he turns his head away. “Yes. I mean n - no. This is my … first time.” 

That makes you smile. “I can tell. You’re so sensitive, Sunny. Haven’t you ever thought to touch yourself before?” 

His little wings flutter in response, flapping an irritable rhythm that makes the feathers softly smack against your face as if to bat you away. It’s hard to say if he was offended that you would even think to ask that of him in the first place or if it was because you’d used that insufferable nickname again but either way his reaction makes you laugh. 

Yes, there were a great many avenues of mischief the two of you could get into. It would be fun exploring them together, and this was only the first activity on a very long list of things you wanted to introduce him to. It was a bit out of order but maybe you could try kissing next. 

Your own excitement grows at the thought, and you eagerly swing your attention back around to Sunday’s lap. Giving his balls one last, gentle squeeze, you curl your hand upward so you can wrap it around his shaft and feel that silken skin under your fingers again. The seething noise he makes sounds suspiciously like that of a tea kettle getting close to boiling but he makes a valid attempt to keep his voice in check when you offer that rigid length another slow, savory tug. 

Unfortunately he quickly loses hold of that threadbare control as you reach the glans and the drag of your fist makes his foreskin slide up to bunch over the fleshy slit. The sensation seems to nearly bowl him over and he judders helplessly, squawking an oversensitized sound. Even with the threat of discovery an ever present danger, you still can’t quite stop yourself from grinning at his decidedly innocent, unassuming reaction. 

“Oh, Sunday … what are we going to do if someone comes knocking on the door because they heard you? Something tells me that look on your face would give us away no matter how we tried to explain ourselves.” 

He full on whimpers at that, sounding sad and deeply ashamed in at the implication of guilt. It’s clearly getting harder for him to maintain his usual cool the longer your hands are on him though, and you realize you’re going to have to do something to help him out. He was much too sensitive, too easily overwhelmed to roll the dice in this particular situation when getting caught together could mean the end of everything. 

Licking your lips, you momentarily consider choking him just enough to cut off his air supply and make it impossible for him to cry out. Your fingers idly flex around the bobbing curve of his throat at the thought. Although it’s certainly a tempting idea you ultimately think better of it, sliding your hand higher up to brush over his jaw instead. 

Finding Sunday’s mouth, you slide your palm over it and press down firmly to elicit a startled yet blissfully muffled sound from him. He jolts and lurches in your hold, as if only just now realizing the true scope of the danger he was in, but it’s much too late. 

Readjusting your hold on his cock in the other hand, you firmly drag your fist down and then back up, settling into a steady rhythm that continuously works the foreskin over his receptive glans. Back and forth, back and forth, up and down; rubbing, sliding, sticky slick clicking in your ears. And Sunday outright shrieks behind your fingers, twisting and tossing his head like a wild animal caught in a trap. His belt rattles softly where it’s spread open across his thighs, still twisted up in his pants, and his wings slap a furious beat that has you turning your face into his shoulder to avoid the full brunt of his ratcheting alarm. 

He’s hard to keep ahold of like this, especially when he digs his heels into the floor and tries to wrench himself free, but your physical strength proves greater. Despite being a man and in spite of having a few inches on you in height, he just isn’t equipped to fight you off. Not when you’ve got his cock in one hand, stroking it with the continuous glide of your palm over all of that sinfully smooth flesh, and the halfhearted way he shoves at your arms quickly morphs into desperate grabbing instead. 

Blindly, he latches onto you; your thighs where they bracket his shuddering hips, the bend of your arm, so he can squeeze tight and hold on for dear life. His muffled sounds of pleasure turn dazed and intoxicated as he rigidly slumps against you at last. And when he tips his head back to rest along your shoulder, tiny wings still fluttering helplessly but starting to weaken and droop, you dare to lift your face to look at him. 

Wrecked is the only word that immediately comes to mind. His usually perfectly styled hair is tousled and sweat damp where it sticks to his skin in a few places. Cheeks so hot with color you know he’d be warm to the touch. It’s the far-away glisten in his golden eyes, once so sharp and pointed, now distant and too heavy to keep fully open anymore, that really seals the deal though. Sunday’s higher functioning mind may still have been fighting against it but his body was singing like a deftly plucked chord while the violently crashing waves of pleasure slam into him with every slide of your fist. 

Feeling devious and a little too eager to stop yourself, you take advantage of his draining will to fight it and adjust your hand over his mouth so you can plunge two of the fingers inside. He squawks a decidedly undignified sound at the sudden intrusion but even his attempt to turn his head away is half hearted at best. Only somewhat reluctantly does he allow you to probe at his squirming tongue, feeling the perfect line of his teeth scrape over your knuckles when you reach back just far enough to make him gag. 

The compulsion is an odd one, you understand that much, but it’s as if your own pounding excitement won’t be satisfied until you’ve thoroughly torn down every one of his mile wide defenses. You needed to leave him debauched and utterly disillusioned from his old role, his previous identity, or this wasn’t going to accomplish what it was supposed to. How else could he be expected to move on and undertake the journey ahead of him if he was still clinging to his old ways and holding himself to the same standards as before? 

Sunday needed to see that despite his once high-minded ideals he was still just human, that his flesh and blood body was not some great sin for him to reject or punish. That he didn’t need to self sacrifice and martyr himself just for his life to have meaning. You wanted him to understand that it’s okay to be a little messy sometimes, and there’s nothing wrong with letting go of his almost fanatically held control. 

So it is with a great deal of pleasure that you keep his jaw wedged open with your fingers, carefully moving them back and forth over his tongue while he whimpers and whines so sweetly for you. It doesn’t take long for the excess of saliva to build up and dribble out at the corners of his lips, his spine dramatically flexing when he feels that first unseemly rivulet run down his jaw. His mouth works futilely around your digits, alternating between trying to spit them out or to somehow swallow around them but it doesn’t work. The drool just keeps coming, slowly bubbling out to track sticky paths down his face. 

You even catch a glimpse of shuddering moisture wetting his lash lines but you politely look away despite the eager jump in your pulse at the sight of those tears. It would have been all too easy for you to tease him for them, really lean into the humiliation he was probably feeling, but that was not your goal here. Not this time, at least. 

Instead you focus your attention back on the hand wrapped around his cock. Your ministrations had slowed to a stop while you were stuffing his mouth full and now you can see the length of him, flushed a pretty pink that almost matches his face, flexing needily against your hold. He was leaking enough precum to smooth the glide of your next upward stroke, watching in fascinated wonder as the fleshy hood of his foreskin comes up with another soft click to make the clear discharge slowly ooze down the sides of his shaft. 

His hips wildly buck and he wails a garbled noise as he needily arches up off the bed, jutting his pelvis out as if in desperate supplication for more. Both of his hands have latched onto your thighs now and he squeezes them tight enough to hurt. But you give him what he wants, what he so clearly needs, pumping your fist up and down the length of him on a steady, energetic rhythm. 

Sunday freezes like that, poised with his back bowed and his body flexed away from the mattress. Distantly, you realize that he seems to have stopped breathing altogether, holding the air in his aching lungs while the rest of him stiffly shudders and twitches steadily closer to the edge of oblivion. He was beautiful like this, like something out of a tawdry, lurid painting of some ethereal being from legend or myth. 

“Oh, Sunday,” You coo at him, so soft and gentle. Coaxing him ever towards his own ruination. “Are you going to cum for me?” 

Wailing a frazzled sound of distress around your spit soaked fingers, he gives his head the barest shake as if to deny the simple reality of what was happening. Unfortunately his own body betrays him almost instantly, and you stare in rapt fascination when his narrow hips stiffly lock up before nudging forward in a reluctant thrust. He’s holding himself far too unrelentingly to execute the full range of motion but it’s enough to have him fucking into your hand in painful, tortuously slow increments. 

He just can’t seem to help himself or smother the urge completely, even when the rolling grind of his pelvis was clearly something foreign to him. But it’s instinctive and hard coded, muscle memory carved into the very atoms of his body more than anything else. And you can see the musculature in his slim thighs trembling fiercely, the flex of his stomach dramatic while he wheezes and gasps his pleasure into the otherwise still air. You knew your fingers weren’t doing as sufficient a job at muffling him as your palm would have, but you can’t quite bring yourself to move or even care very much about that right now. 

Especially not when he gives one final, stuttering thrust into the squeeze of your hand and his cock positively erupts in a sudden spray of white. Creamy and thick, it shoots up into the air on what you would consider an impressive arc before splattering across his front. A second jet quickly follows the first, and then a third, while Sunday all but sobs through his orgasm, wetly choking on it even as he gradually sinks back down to the bed in a drained heap of splayed limbs. 

The eager pulse along his length quickly slows, oozing yet more of that clear discharge to dribble down the length of his shaft in sticky tracks before at last subsiding completely. He’s already a complete mess with various bodily fluids coating his skin but you still give him one final squeeze and drag your hand up to draw the last little bit of his release out of his flagging cock. He seethes a delirious sound in response, head lolling back in doped out bliss while he tries to even out his breathing again to no avail. 

“How was that?” You prod, smiling to yourself as you withdraw your fingers from his mouth. A sticky wad of saliva follows after you, catching on his bottom lip, and you brush your thumb up to helpfully wipe it away, ignoring the mirthless, gasping laugh he rattles out. “It looked like you enjoyed it to me. Was that really your first orgasm?”

Somewhat awkwardly clearing his no doubt dry and scratchy throat, Sunday pointedly turns his head to look elsewhere. Still shy and reticent to openly show any of his emotions, but he certainly felt more relaxed in your arms than he had before. “I wouldn’t have any reason to lie about that, would I? Or do you take me for some kind of shameless masochist?” 

Allowing a brief giggle to slip out, you lean further into him so you can find his neck and deliver a soft peck to the still thrumming pulse under his skin. Sucking in a deeply flustered inhale, he snaps his attention back around to look at you with wide, startled eyes. That makes you laugh too, much to his pouting confusion. 

“What?” He demands at last. 

“Nothing. I was just thinking how cute you really are, that’s all.” 

His brows shoot up almost too fast for you to track the motion. “Cute? M - me? But I don’t —“

“It’s alright, Sunday. Just go with the flow. You feel pretty good right now, don’t you?” Grinning at the uncertainty that flashes across his face, you lower your chin to rest against his shoulder, much like how you’d first started. Realistically only a few minutes had passed but it felt like an entire lifetime had come and gone, and yet you were still right back to this again. 

In the following silence while Sunday chews on that and mulls it over, you rove your attention down to inspect the damage you’d caused. Luckily his coat had been more or less out of the way where you’d spread it open earlier, and it looked like the quickly cooling evidence of this sneaky tryst had mostly landed in harmless flecks across the darker inner shirt underneath. That was a small relief, if you were being honest. You didn’t even want to think about all the fussing he’d do if you stained his white jacket like that. 

“Well,” he says at last, rousing you from your thoughts. “While I still think your methods are unscrupulous and incredibly underhanded … I suppose I still owe you my thanks. I do indeed feel more at ease than I did before. Now if you’ll excuse me —“ 

Quickly looping your arms around his middle when he makes a move to stand up, you yank him back against you with another laugh. “Nuh-uh. We’re not done yet, Sunny. I need to help you clean up that mess first.” 

Choking on a protest, he reaches down to shove at your arms but you don’t budge, pointedly nuzzling into him from behind as if to prove that he wasn’t going anywhere until you decided to let him go. After another brief moment of cursory struggle, he finally gives up and slumps against you with a terse click of his tongue. 

“Really, is this truly necessary?” He grumbles under his breath, lifting a hand to subconsciously wipe the remaining spit off his chin with an air of distaste. “Haven’t you gotten what you wanted out of me already? I'd think you would be satisfied by now, Miss Stellaron.” 

You hum a sly sound at that, coquettishly walking two of your fingers up the front of his shirt to one of the bigger globs of milky white bleeding into the material. He goes still against you, mouth dropping open in what could only be abject shock when you swipe one of the digits through the mess before lifting it up to your face. 

Looking appropriately scandalized now, Sunday tracks the motion with wide, horrified eyes. “Wh - what are you doing? That’s —“ 

Popping your cum coated fingertip into your mouth earns you a strangled gasp and he tries to reel back from you as if in disgust. But you keep your arm locked around his middle, holding him firmly in place while you suck the digit clean. Sunday’s wings flutter an anxious beat and tuck forward to curl defensively over the lower half of his face but it does very little to hide the furious blush staining his cheeks. He looked even more like a ripe cherry ready to be plucked than when you’d been holding his cock in your hand. 

“It’s nothing to be so embarrassed about.” You tell him candidly when you slide your finger out and reach back down to swipe it through the sticky fluid on his shirt again. “You don’t taste bad, if that’s what you’re thinking. I like how you feel in my mouth.” 

His eyes nervously darting from side to side, up and down, anywhere but directly at you, he tries to speak, croaks, and then awkwardly clears his throat again. “But - but that’s … unhygienic, isn’t it? That came out of my … my - -“ 

Softly laughing at how dangerously close he seems to fainting dead away like some sort of swooning maiden in an old movie, you catch a clinging glob of his spend and lift it up towards his face this time. “It’s fine, I promise. You taste good, Sunday. I wouldn’t lie to you. Here, try it for yourself?” 

He makes a face at that, reminding you of a kid that doesn’t want to take his medicine, but at your gentle prodding he slowly lowers his wings. The drooping feathers brush against your curled fingers just so, almost making you tremble at their light touch as you watch him differentially drop his gaze. Submissive and pliable, a clear sign of his bending to your will. 

Your earlier arousal flares back to life with a vengeance, making you feel uncomfortably warm and damp between the legs. Holding the air in your lungs, you nudge your hand closer and he obediently parts his lips for you with a tiny, shuddering whimper. Eyes slipping shut when you slide into his mouth again so you can drag your fingertip across his tongue and smear the salty discharge, making sure he got a good taste of it, he issues a faltering breath that puffs against your knuckles. 

“See? Not so terrible, is it?” You murmur, your voice drawling at a lower octave than usual. Watching him come to terms with his own body was almost as distracting as the need pulsing in your loins, demanding attention and relief in equal measure. You wanted him. More of him. All of him. 

But would he have you? 

Groaning a threadbare little sound, Sunday flutters his lashes and cautiously opens them to peer over at you. For a drawn out moment the two of you just stare at one another, gazes locked and searching. Questioning. Begging. 

And then, ever so sweetly, he closes his mouth and gives your finger an experimental suck, swallowing down the evidence of your illicit activities. A stuttering exhale escapes him as you slowly withdraw your hand, giving him just enough space to breathe for a second. You wanted him to decide for himself how he wanted to proceed, what his next move should be. 

Because what you’d said earlier was the truth. You were not his jailer, nor were you going to willingly facilitate that self flagellating streak of his either. If he wanted to come to you it would be in mutual pleasure and enjoyment, as equals with a vested interest in each other's happiness. Not as punishment or penance for something you’d already decided to forgive him for. 

“M - Miss Stellaron, I …” 

The way his wings start to shyly curl inward again, wanting to hide behind them, brings another smile to your face. He really was too cute like this. “What is it, Sunny?” 

He sucks in a mildly bothered breath at that. “I told you not to — never mind. It doesn’t really matter, I suppose. And you were right. It wasn’t terrible. In all honesty, nothing you’ve done today was … entirely disagreeable in my eyes. So if you’d like to … I mean, if it pleases you we could …”

“Keep going?” You helpfully offer up, making his expression pinch in obvious embarrassment. 

“W - well, should you insist I … I guess I wouldn’t have any complaints about that. But only if you want to. I don’t care either way.” 

“Sure you don’t.” Practically grinning from ear to ear now, you place your hand against his shoulder and push to get him turned around. He still refuses to look directly at you, evidently finding the pattern on your bedspread far more interesting in that moment, but he doesn’t change his mind or try to pull away when you lean into him. 

Tipping your head so you can dip into the space between his nervously fluttering wings, you find Sunday’s mouth and kiss him. Tentatively at first to see how he’ll react, but when all he does is whimper a flustered sound against your lips you press harder, letting your hunger for him dictate your actions. His hands carefully come up to slide around your neck while his wings slowly fall open, letting you in as he holds you against him, and you feel like you just might burst. 

To be wanted by someone like him felt like a blessing and a curse all wrapped up in one. By initiating this had you only sped up his ruination from perfect and holy to mere mortal, or had you just engineered your own downfall in the same breath? 

You’d find out soon enough.

⭐

Cross posted: here

[randomasfuk]

Hi, I just saw your post criticizing people calling Dick “a whore,” and I agree with it all; expect “Tim and Bruce are the family whores.” I just wanted to point out that I think it’s equally wrong to call Tim a whore because of the amount of times that boy has been sexually assaulted and/or harassed. If you criticize people calling Dick a whore, I personally think it’s in equal bad taste to call Tim one.

I see where you’re coming from but Tim Drake is a serial monogamist with a hole dam roster of love interests. He has had two love interests at the same time, balancing relationships both as Red Robin and as Tim Drake.

After abit of digging to refresh my memory, here’s an expanded, detailed breakdown of his confirmed romantic relationships, including what runs they were from and whether they were fully developed or just implied crushes/flings.

Tim Drake’s Canonical & Consensual Relationships (Confirmed Roster)

1. Stephanie Brown (Spoiler/Batgirl) – The OTP

• First Appearance: Detective Comics #647 (1992)

• Main Relationship: Robin (1993) #16–#183, Batgirl (2009), Red Robin (2009)

• Status: Longest and most iconic love interest

• Notes: This was Tim’s longest relationship, though very on-off-again. They had multiple breakups, but DC consistently revisited them. Strong emotional connection, and one of the few love interests who truly understood Tim.

2. Ariana Dzerchenko – His First Girlfriend

• First Appearance: Robin (1993) #1

• Main Relationship: Robin (1993) #1–#74

• Status: Official girlfriend before Stephanie

• Notes: she was his first real gf and the relationship was actually pretty stable, they broke up bc she thought he was cheating

3. Zoanne Wilkins – High School Girlfriend

• First Appearance: Robin (1993) #148

• Main Relationship: Robin (1993) #148–#183

• Status: Civilian love interest

• Notes: very similar to his relationship with Ariana

4. Tam Fox – Love Interest in Red Robin Era

• First Appearance: Batman: The Dark Knight #1 (2011)

• Main Relationship: Red Robin (2009) #1–#26

• Status: Strong romantic subplot

• Notes: Daughter of Lucius Fox, and Tim’s love interest while he was leading Wayne Enterprises. Very close to becoming serious, but Tim’s mission got in the way.

5. Cassie Sandsmark (Wonder Girl) – Grief-Driven Romance

• First Appearance: Wonder Woman (1996) #105

• Main Relationship: Teen Titans (2003) #92–#100

• Status: Brief, grief-fueled relationship

• Notes:

Happened after Superboy died and it was more about coping with loss than real romance. Ended quickly once they realized it was unhealthy.

6. Bernard Dowd – Current Canon Boyfriend

• First Appearance: Robin (2004) #121

• Main Relationship: Batman: Urban Legends (2021)

• Status: Tim’s first confirmed same-sex relationship

• Notes:

Bernard originally appeared in the early 2000s but was reintroduced in 2021. Their relationship officially confirmed Tim as bisexual.

Lesser-Known or Minor Romantic Connections

These relationships weren’t as major but still counted as actual romantic interests.

7. Darla Aquista – Briefly Dated, Became a Villain

• First Appearance: Robin (2004) #121

• Status: Brief romance, turned into a villain

• Notes:

She was introduced as a civilian love interest. Later became the magic-powered villain Vittoria under Penguin’s gang.

8. Dana (Last Name Unknown) – Minor Love Interest

• First Appearance: Robin (1993) (exact issue unclear)

• Status: Barely developed romance

• Notes:

She existed, but not much is known about her. Possible high school crush that went nowhere.

9. Zoe (Last Name Unknown) – Another Minor Love Interest

• First Appearance: Robin (1993) (late 90s issues)

• Status: Minor high school romance

• Notes:

Similar to Dana—barely developed and mostly forgotten.

10. Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe (Mademoiselle Marie II) – Short-Lived Romance

• First Appearance: Batgirl (2006) #53

• Status: Brief romantic interest

• Notes:

• hardly a relationship, during his Red Robin era. Nothing serious came of it.

Thares also Xin Liu but I believe that was retconned although I wouldn’t have used it anyway bc she’s a manipulative bitch wtf was that.

Also if I’m wrong about anything please let me know as much as I do read comics I don’t actually own many which makes it hard to go over what happened, I had to kinda research to refresh my memory so if I’ve got anything wrong let me know.

SIDE NOTE: really needs to stop using sexual assault in storylines it’s so unnecessary especially when it never gets mentioned again.

[abbottfansstuff]

Something Real:

**Chapter 1: New Teacher, New Problem**

Author's Note: What can I say? I have hit the inspiration zone... I have an outline completed and a week of vacation. Let's do this!

Abbott Elementary had seen its fair share of new teachers. Most came in bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, determined to change the world, only to find themselves deflated by budget cuts, broken copy machines, and kids who had no interest in learning. Melissa Schemmenti had learned not to get too invested. Newbies either sank or swam, and she wasn’t a lifeguard.

But the moment Y/N walked into the staff lounge, something about them put her on edge. Not in a bad way, necessarily—just in a way that made her sit up a little straighter and fold her arms a little tighter. Y/N was confident. Not in an overeager way, but in a way that suggested they knew exactly what they were getting into. That was unusual. And irritating.

Melissa watched as Barbara greeted them warmly, her voice filled with the kind of patience Melissa could only hope to emulate one day. Jacob had already attached himself to Y/N, rambling about some podcast he thought they’d love, while Janine was grinning ear to ear—no doubt thrilled to have another ally in her relentless optimism.

Melissa snorted into her coffee. “Oh great, another idealist.”

Barbara glanced at her with a knowing look. “Be nice, Melissa.”

“I am nice,” Melissa said defensively. “I’m just saying, let’s see how long that shiny new teacher energy lasts.”

As if on cue, you turned your attention to her, offering a friendly smile. “Hey, you must be Melissa. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow, already suspicious. “Yeah? Don’t believe everything you hear.”

You chuckled, unbothered. “Noted. Still, I’m looking forward to working with you.”

There was no sarcasm, no forced charm—just sincerity. That was worse. Melissa could handle arrogance and cut through fake politeness like butter, but sincerity? That was harder to deflect. So she defaulted to what she did best—snark.

“We’ll see if you can keep up.”

Your grin widened. “Oh, I plan to.”

Melissa turned away, pretending to be more interested in her coffee than in the weird way her stomach flipped when you smiled.

By the end of the week, Y/N had already made themselves comfortable at Abbott. Quick on their feet and—most annoyingly—getting along with everyone. Melissa found herself noticing it more than she wanted to. You fit in too quickly, like you had always been there. When Melissa first started at Abbott, she had to fight to find her space and earn respect. But Y/N? You were already laughing with Janine and Jacob, even cracking jokes with Mr. Johnson.

“Hey, Melissa,” Ava called from across the lounge. “Your new little friend is getting cozy with Janine. Should I be worried about another teacher power couple forming?”

Melissa rolled her eyes. “Oh please, they just met.”

“Uh-huh,” Ava said, clearly enjoying herself. “Still, wouldn’t be the first time a new teacher got swept up by Janine.”

Melissa scoffed but glanced over at you and Janine anyway.

Before she could stop herself, she was walking over. “Janine, don’t you have a class to get back to?”

Janine blinked. “Uh… lunch break?”

“Right.” Melissa turned to you. “How’s your first week going? Still think you can handle it?”

You smirked. “Oh, absolutely. But thanks for checking in on me.”

Melissa scoffed. “I wasn’t checking in, I was just—” She stopped, realizing she had no real reason for coming over. “Whatever.”

“I think I can handle it,” you teased, eyes glinting with something unreadable.

Melissa turned on her heel and walked away, ignoring the way her ears felt hot.

This was going to be a long school year.

Later that afternoon, Melissa found herself paired with you for an impromptu supply closet restocking mission. Apparently, you two were the only ones who hadn’t successfully dodged Ava’s request for “volunteers.”

As you sorted through bins of markers and glue sticks, you glanced at her. “So, be honest—what’s your problem with new teachers?”

Melissa didn’t look up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you were skeptical. And I’ve noticed you watching me,” you said while counting the blue markers.

Melissa’s hand froze over a stack of construction paper. “I’m not watching you.”

You just smirked.

Melissa sighed, leaning against the shelf. “Look, nothing personal, all right? I’ve just seen a lot of teachers come and go.”

You nodded. “Fair. But you don’t seem to be testing anyone else.”

Melissa frowned. Damn, you were perceptive. “You’re just… different.”

You tilted your head. “Different how?”

Melissa opened her mouth, then closed it. She didn’t have an answer. Or at least not one she was ready to admit. Instead, she grabbed a box of pencils and shoved it into your hands. “Just don’t prove me right, rookie.”

You held her gaze for a second before taking the box with a smirk. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Melissa turned away before you could see the small, reluctant smile tugging at her lips.

This was going to be interesting.

[sociologyoffashion]

The most surprising part of Kendrick Lamar's Superbowl halftime show to most people wasn't his deeply thought-provoking theme or cinematic performance but his bootcut Celine jeans. According to Kendrick's stylist, they pulled a lot of denim to go for a sort of Americana look for the performance. The unexpected part that caused internet uproar was the fact that the jeans they decided to go with were a size 29 Celine women's pair of bootcut jeans that "hugged [his] hips perfectly". When you ask why this caused so much conversation most of the answers you'll see online are labeling Kendrick as a trendsetter and calling this look something new and never done before. In reality, Kendrick is no stranger to this silhouette and perhaps people have just yet to notice. In my opinion, the reason this is such a hot topic has to do with the femininity we associate with a bootcut jean. Even Kendrick's stylist himself echoed that these jeans hugged his hips which is not something we usually hear in reference to idealized men's fashion. I also think it's interesting to note that the fact Kendrick could get away with wearing a "feminine" silhouette is because of his influence and respectability in the rap genre. He is one of the biggest rappers right now and is widely respected in a field that celebrates and rewards hyper-masculinity. It was such a shock to people when he came out in these jeans that his fans completely sold them out on Celine's website within a day. Instead of the public being critical of Kendrick's choice of jeans, they embraced it and maybe it will even move the needle on the public perception of what is considered appropriate cuts of jeans for men to wear. Perhaps Kendrick's performance will be the moment that sparks a further revolution in men's style and masculine presenting people will start to embrace more form-fitting styles as the pendulum swings back to a less baggy silhouette.

Sophia L.

[nmhdreamscape]

stumbling hearts ✧ n.jm (valentine's gift series)

pairing | friend!jaemin x fem!reader

content | friends to lovers, fluff, jealousy, suggestive

word count | 647

request | jaemin + 13

notes | struggled a little with this one, hope it's okay!

you stumbled into your apartment with a laugh, stumbling over your heels as you entered your hallway. the alcohol had long worn, and you were now left with a terrible the pain in your feet, instant relief coming as you shucked them off. jaemin stepped into your apartment after you, shutting the door behind you. he had demanded he walk you home after your night out, wanting to make sure you got home safe in your inebriated state.

jaemin had opted to stay sober, he wasn’t really feeling it. that feeling only got worse as the night progressed, being subjected to watching you go off with every guy who had approached you. wishing it was him who had the courage to come up and ask you for a dance. wishing that he could get the chance to hold you like that. it all left a sour taste in his mouth that he knew would only be made worse with alcohol.

you had picked up on jaemin’s mood on the walk home, not greeting you with the same warmth and kindness he usually did. he was ignoring you, something that was very out of character for him. that resulted in most of the journey being spent in silence, that continuing as you entered your apartment. when you looked over at him, you saw how his gaze rested on you. at this point you were done, sick of his attitude. you needed to know why he was acting this way.

“you’ve been acting weird all night, are you okay?” you asked with your eyebrow raised. he didn’t even bother to respond, simply moving to put your shoes on the shoe rack next to the door. you let out a scoff, that catching his attention. he finally turned to face you, but still no response. you stormed over to him.

“you can’t just keep ignoring me!” you yelled, staring straight into his eyes. jaemin’s eyes fell to your lips before looking up into your eyes again. he was about to do something he would probably regret in the morning, but at least he could say he tried. gripping you by the waist, he pulled you into a kiss, lips pressing harshly against yours as he took you all in. 

you simply stood there in shock. had you hit your head on the way home? there was no way this was real? months of subtle touches, flirtatious comments and shameless pining had done little to get his attention. you had all but given up on the prospect of him being interested in you. and yet here you were. by the time your brain had caught up to your body, jaemin was already pulling away, much to your disappointment.

“watching you with all those other guys tonight, it was torture. it made me realise i just need to let it all out and tell you. i just... i want you, all of you. and that might be selfish, but i don’t care.” jaemin whispered, staring into your eyes as he cupped your cheek. your face lit up with a bright smile at this, hand coming to rest on top of his.

“you have me.” you reassured, squeezing his hand. “plus, they meant nothing. the guy i like wouldn’t dance with me, so somebody had to” you joked, rolling your eyes. jaemin looked down at you with his signature bright smile, still somewhat in disbelief at how things were turning out. 

“well, let me make it up to you then.” jaemin smirked, lifting you up off of the ground and into his arms. you let out a squeal, legs instinctively coming to wrap around his waist. he once again joined your lips in a kiss, whisking you off to your bedroom. he had thought of many different ways to make it up to you, and he couldn’t wait to show you them all. 

valentine's gift masterlist

[starscream-is-my-wife]

I'm having fun going through the G1 cartoon production archives, here's some of the voice audition notes that were used when casting

What's interesting is that they included ages for them, note that this isn't their "actual" ages but this is just for fun!

For Optimus they wanted a 35 year old, i'd thought that he would be 40 but alright that's pretty understandable

ALTHOUGH THEY WANTED MEGATRON 5 YEARS YOUNGER?? No wayy, Megatron is younger then Ninja from fortnite that's hilarious, also we barely get to see this personally im the cartoon wonder what the audition tape sounded like?

You know I thought that starscream would be 10 years older but I also thought the same for Megatron so yeah whatever, if Megatron is a bit younger then Ninja, then Starscream is a year younger then Mr.Beast. His voice was pretty low in the first couple of episodes too, I also wonder what the audition sounded like

Young! 😭 Most of the other bots are 25+, (Like Wheeljack was listed as a 40 year old) meaning that the only bot I'm older then is bumblebee smh, there's gotta be more bots that are in the undeveloped frontal lobe gang come on

I love that him having a "special relationship" with Optimus needed to be known for the audition 👀 he really is a swinger!

Prowl is same age as Megatron alright, he doesn't have a "special relationship" or talks to Optimus over personal comms about lube smh

HES 35???

RODIMUS IS OLDER THEN EVERYBODY ELSE EXCEPT PRIME? He's older then Megatron... that's crazy...

It's a shame they don't have one for Ratchet because I know that he was originally a young, hip, party guy, I'd place bets that he's mid to late 20s

[alaia777]

every valentine’s day, without fail, a small note would appear beneath your window, never signed.

for years, you wondered who it could be. you tried everything—staying up late, keeping watch from your window, even sneaking outside in the middle of the night. but every time, you either fell asleep or missed them by seconds. once, you almost caught them. you saw the blur of a figure slipping into the shadows, the edge of a hoodie that looked so familiar. but it was dark, and maybe you were just imagining things.

eventually, you stopped searching. maybe it was easier that way—easier to leave it as a mystery, easier to pretend it didn’t make your heart race.

but still, every year, the notes kept coming.

“hope you smiled today.”

“the stars were extra bright tonight, just like you.”

“i wonder if you ever think about me too.”

you had mentioned it to isagi before, casually bringing it up in conversation. he’d always listen, nodding along, but whenever you tried to actually talk about it, he would steer the conversation elsewhere.

“you think they’ll ever tell me who they are?” you had asked once, twirling the latest note between your fingers.

“maybe,” isagi had shrugged. “or maybe they’re just waiting for the right time.”

“and when’s that?”

“dunno,” he had muttered, suddenly very interested in tying his shoelaces. “probably when they stop being a coward.”

it wasn’t until this year that you finally caught them.

you hadn’t been waiting for them, not this time. you just happened to wake up in the middle of the night, feeling restless. with a sigh, you rolled over, planning to go right back to sleep—until you heard something. the faintest rustling outside your window.

curiosity got the better of you. you sat up, pushed your blankets aside, and tiptoed over to peek out.

and there, standing just outside your window, carefully slipping an envelope beneath the frame—was isagi.

your heart stilled.

he didn’t notice you at first, too focused on making sure the note was perfectly placed. but then he hesitated, as if second-guessing himself. before he could change his mind, you tapped the glass.

his reaction was instant—he stiffened, his whole body going rigid. slowly, he turned his head toward the window, eyes wide, face pale like he’d just been caught committing a crime.

for a long moment, neither of you said anything.

then, in the most pathetic attempt at playing it cool, isagi very slowly shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets, clearing his throat.

“…hey.”

you blinked. “hey?”

his face turned red. “so, uh. crazy coincidence, huh?”

“isagi.”

you stared at him. he stared back, looking like he was debating whether to bolt or dig himself into the ground.

and then, because you couldn’t help it, you started laughing.

he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “shut up.”

but you only laughed harder, leaning against the window frame. “isagi, what the hell—”

“okay, yeah, fine, it’s me!” he blurted, voice rising slightly in panic. “but in my defense, i was gonna tell you! i just—i don’t know, maybe after we were, like, eighty or something.”

you smiled, warmth bubbling in your chest. “so you’ve been writing me love letters for years and just never planned on saying anything?”

his ears went red as he rubbed the back of his neck. “i—listen, it made sense in my head, okay?”

you shook your head, still grinning, as you climbed out your window and stepped onto the cool grass beside him. he looked at you, nervous, shifting on his feet.

“so, uh, are you mad?”

you exhaled a small laugh, shaking your head. “not even a little.”

his shoulders sagged in relief, and after a beat, he chuckled, soft and a little embarrassed. “so, does this mean i can finally sign the next one with my name?”

you hummed, pretending to think about it before tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie, pulling him just a little closer. “we’ll see.”

[skzhua]

episode 3.

MASTERLIST

pairing: XO, Kitty's Min Ho x Female Reader

genre: Fluff, angst, exes-to-lovers, slow burn, coming-of-age.

word count: 5.3k (not proofread yet!)

warnings: cussing, jealousy, heist (aka don't do that kids).

summary: despite you and min ho growing closer once again, he still sends you mixed signals about what he wants. and you don't know how long you can handle this back and forth. especially when you know you'll be spending seollal with him... and stella.

note: Bold - Korean, Italic - Over the phone

(let me know by filling the form in my bio if you want to be added to the taglist!)

As soon as you saw Stella, you pushed Min Ho away from you. She was beyond mad, she was hurt. Before you could say anything, she shook her head in disappointment and left as she disappeared into the school building. You looked at Min Ho, who was avoiding your eyes.

"You didn't tell her you weren't interested, did you?"

With a sigh, he shook his head no. "I didn't get to speak to her, let's say."

"A text, Min Ho, no?" you said in disbelief.

"The one I was really trying to text was not responding."

"Yeah, and you should have taken it as a sign maybe."

His Adam's apple bopped. "Then why did you kiss me?"

You pointed at him. "You're the one who kissed me."

"What? Why would I want to kiss you?"

It felt like a knife went through your heart. You were baffled that, only seconds ago, you were letting yourself fall in love with him again. Although he was noticeably frustrated with you, it wasn't hard to see he regretted what he said right after the words left his mouth.

"Sorry, it just-"

"Whatever, Min Ho..."

Crossing your arms, you held them close to your body. To this, he took his jacket off and wrapped it around you. Your face still showed anger but you did nothing to stop him.

"I'll talk to Stella," he assured.

"Yeah, and I will too. I'll say this was in the spur of the moment."

He scoffed. "So, it meant nothing?"

Your shoulders dropped. "What do you want me to say?"

His mouth opened to say something but nothing came out. Visibly, he was as confused as you were. And while you didn't hate it, you were afraid you only hurt yourself.

"Sure," he finally spoke. "It was in the spur of the moment."

The corner of your mouth lifted the slightest, a sign of gratitude. "Thanks. We're good?"

"We're good."

You shared a hug that you could describe as the most awkward physical interaction you'd had in life, and you went your separate ways, not forgetting to give back his jacket beforehand. By then, hunger had died down and the softness of your mattress was all you could think of. You dreaded the discussion you'd have to share with Stella, but you couldn't just stop yourself from going home.

When you walked in, she was on her laptop and sat on the couch. At the sound of you entering the place, she glared at you before focusing on the screen again. You slowly approached her.

"Hey, can we talk?"

She frowned. "About how you promised nothing was going on with Min Ho before giving me his number, only to kiss him right in front of me?"

Ouch. As much as you hated hearing that, you couldn't deny that she was pretty spot on.

"It's not what it looks like-"

She suddenly shut the laptop before looking at you right in the eyes. "Did you do it to humiliate me or something?"

"What? Of course not!"

"Then explain to me what is going on," she breathed out, her voice softening.

You allowed yourself to take a seat next to her. "Min Ho and I, we have a complicated relationship. I am trying my best to become his friend again, no feelings involved. What you saw earlier was nothing but a moment of weakness where we both fell back into old feelings. I swear, it was nothing."

She cocked her head to the side. "It seemed pretty passionate to me."

"I promise, it meant nothing. Have him all you want, I won't overstep again."

Even if you were more trying to convince yourself than her, she ended up accepting your explanation, thanking you for being honest with her. But were you?

You hurried to join Dae and Kitty as soon as you saw them in the crowd. Q had been showering the whole gang with messages about how the track meet was important to him, meaning he wanted everyone to be there for him. Your only surprise was to not see his face among the team, who was already settled for the track to start. Out of breath, you joined your two friends who seemed as lost as you were.

"This is crazy. Where is Q?" Dae spoke what everyone was thinking.

"I have no idea, but that is the guy he was all over last night at the club," Kitty pointed to one of the track members.

Dae scoffed. "Q ditched me for Jin? But he's Q's rival, and he's a big jerk."

"Yeah, well, looks like Q might have gotten played," you sighed before turning to take a look around in hopes to spot Q.

That when you saw Min Ho and Stella, seated in a very cozy manner on the bleachers. While Stella waved at you kindly, Min Ho stared at the floor, visibly ashamed you 'caught' him hanging out with the person he was supposedly not interested in — also considering he kissed you the day prior. You were not going to let it affect you. Like you had both established, it meant nothing.

Alex coming out to announce start of the race was enough to make you forget about that weird feeling in your stomach. "Runners, please take your marks for the 100-meter dash qualifying. The winner will represent KISS-"

"We have to do something!" Kitty exclaimed.

You nodded. "I have an idea."

Before either could question you, you ran to the track. You purposefully dropped your bracelet, one that belonged to your mother, and began to act distressed as you looked around the ground. You didn't hesitate to let out grunts of frustration and comments on your foolishness for losing your jewelry.

The crowd began to chatter amongst themselves, wondering why you were interrupting the race. Kitty and Dae were trying to tell you with hand movements to stop, but you couldn't let Alex start the run when Q wasn't here.

"Y/N, get off the track!" Alex called out.

Out of panic — well mostly because you ran out of ideas — you dropped on the ground, faking to have fainted. Frankly, the ground was quite comfortable as you closed your eyes, only feeling the wind grazing against your skin... and fingers?

"Y/N!" Min Ho yelled, worried. "Y/N, you all right?"

As he rubbed your shoulder, shaking it slightly to see if you were fine, you opened an eye to glare at him. "I'm trying to cause a diversion, dummy!"

His shoulders relaxed, but he couldn't help but roll his eyes. He held his hand out for you to grab, and by hearing Q finally arriving, you took it. Helping you up, he could only chuckle.

"What?"

"That's the last thing I'd have expected you to do. I mean, since when do you like being the center of attention."

It was your turn to roll your eyes. "I don't. But I care about Q, who should be both our focus right now."

You didn't let him reply as you joined your friends — and Stella, to cheer on Q. As soon as the race started, your eyes were fixated on him. He started out great, being the first up. However, it didn't take long for Jin to surpass him.

"Come on, Q," you muttered to yourself.

"Let's go!" Kitty encouraged.

Unfortunately, the cheers you heard were all for Jin who made it first. You still all clapped, although you were visibly disappointed.

"Have I been mean to Juliana?"

You groaned, throwing your book at the end of your bed. All you wanted was one morning without Kitty complaining about ruining Yuri and Juliana living together by letting it slip out in front of Principal Lee. So far, so good since you were the one to take Yuri's bed in their room. That worked out for you since you wanted to avoid Stella. Yeah, because Min Ho clearly did not turn her down and they continued to be 'a thing'.

"What did you do, now?"

"Nothing!" she almost yelled, making you jump. "She was eating her cereal, then I tried to confide to her about Praveena, but she just left. She said she had stuff to do but I think she's making up excuses. Did I say something?"

"Beside the fact you were the cause for Yuri to move out?"

She deadpanned at you. "Yes, beside that."

You shrugged. "She might actually have something to do."

She whined. "You're not helping."

"Forget about them," you said, getting off your bed and grabbing your school bag. "We have to get to the assembly anyway."

Min Ho: Y/N?

"Uh..." you stopped on your tracks.

"Everything alright?" Kitry questioned, trying to catch a glimpse of your phone screen.

"Yeah, you go ahead. I'll join you at the assembly."

She seemed unsure but nodded nonetheless before leaving you alone. You looked in her room to see if Stella was still home, and when you noticed no signs of her, you dialed Min Ho's number.

He picked up right away. "I thought you'd ignore me!"

"What do you want?" you cut right to the chase.

"I was just grabbing coffee before class. Since we don't live in the same dorm anymore, I just wanted to know if you wanted one."

You scoffed. "What about your girlfriend? What is she going to say when she learns you're getting your ex coffee?"

"Hey, we're still friends, no? And Stella's not my girlfriend."

You hesitated. But, coffee is coffee after all. "Alright. You know how I like it?"

"How can I forget?"

You could hear the smile from his voice and, ultimately, it made you smile too. "I'll join you in a bit, then?"

"Just hurry before it gets cold."

And so, you took off, not forgetting to grab your umbrella in the process since it was raining lightly. It took you less than five minutes from your dorm to the coffee trailer. Min Ho, in all of his glory, stood patiently next to it with two cups in hands and his hair slightly damped since he put his umbrella away until you arrived. He was rocking his body back and forth, visibly waiting.

"You could have gotten me a large," you commented, grabbing his attention.

He chuckled. "For you, m'lady," he held the coffee to you.

You grabbed it, glad to see it was still warm. "Thanks."

He opened his umbrella again and you walked side by side towards the school building. Taking a sip, you were more than happy to get warmed up. Plus, it was just how you liked it.

"The ones you make are still better," you pointed out.

"I know," he cocked an eyebrow. "I hate to say this but it is different without you at the dorms."

"Don't get all nostalgic, it doesn't suit you."

He sipped his coffee before shrugging. "It's a fact, though. I have nobody to bicker with."

Your eyes grew, offended, and just when you were about to give him a slight slap on the arm, you were quickly interrupted by his father.

"So, how's my favourite student doing?" Mr. Moon asked, only for Min Ho to react disgusted.

"A bit early for blatant nepotism, dad."

"I was talking to your girlfriend, the shark," he pointed towards you and you body stiffened.

"Sorry about that... again. And we're not-"

He cut you off. "It's okay, I loved it," he complimented before turning to his son. "So, have you decided about the cabin for the long weekend?" Noticing Min Ho only seemed confused, he continued. "Just you and me, one-on-one on the slopes? You used to love when I took you skiing as a kid."

"That was Joon Ho. Not me. Anyways, Stella and I have plans this weekend."

"Oh I thought-" Mr. Moon started, glancing at you for a second. "Nevermind. Well, it would be a shame to let this house go to waste, again," he said before leaving the two of you be.

"Y/N-" Min Ho started, obviously wanting to explain the Stella thing.

But you ignored it. "Your dad's not doing a Seollal get-together with the whole family?"

He sighed, upset by your avoidance but he still answered. "All my siblings are spending the holidays with their moms. Joon Ho is on tour, meaning I'm his last resort."

"I mean, he is still putting in the effort of asking you. Who knows, maybe it's a chance for you to-"

"Torture myself?" he interrupted you. "Forget it. We have an assembly to go to before class."

The assembly in itself was not so interesting, as per usual. Stella joined Min Ho, to begin with, which did not please you much. Especially seeing her hold Min Ho's arm the way you used to. Otherwise, Alex was trying his best to catch the students' interest, which was pretty sad to watch. Madison was being the Korean obsessed girl that she is. And Mr. Moon had to steal the show. He announced a student talent showcase at the end of the semester where the winner would receive a cash prize. At the mention of it, you immediately looked at Dae.

And by the end of the assembly, your friends seemed to have the same thought as they encouraged Dae to sign up for it, while Kitty and Stella followed behind the four of you, having a conversation of their own.

"You have to enter the contest," Q said excitedly. "You have the voice of an angel."

Dae nodded. "My family could use the money. But singing is just, like, my hobby."

"I got you, bro. I'll coach you. Manager-performer dream team, baby," Min Ho offered. "And, I won't even take commission."

Dae chuckled, remaining doubtful. "But do you think I could actually win?"

"Yeah," you and Q affirmed.

That visibly encouraged him. "Okay, then. Let's do it."

Arriving at the dance studio, you came to fetch Dae after he texted you. Apparently, Min Ho and Eunice were making his first rehearsal hell and knowing you, he hoped you could get him out of it. As you walked in, you were less than surprised to see Stella tagging along as she observed Dae dancing messily. You chuckled to yourself, leaning on the door frame to not disturb them. You wanted to see Dae suffer a bit, it was kind of funny.

"This isn't going to work," he let out, discouraged.

Eunice scoffed. "It is not my fault that you can't handle a little constructive criticism."

Stella sighed. "Okay, why don't you tell them your brilliant idea?" she asked Min Ho, not forgetting to touch his arm in the process.

You swallowed whatever feeling you were having as Min Ho spoke. "Well, I thought of the cherry on top for your performance. When the song ends, you spin around, bend her back, and lay one on her."

Dae frowned. "What do you mean, 'lay one on her'?"

"What I mean is..."

You wanted a show, you got a show. Spinning Stella around, Min Ho swiftly held her before bending her back, just like he had described. And he laid one on her. Their lips met briefly but the small gesture was enough to make your eyes water. What hurt even more was Stella's satisfied grin, like she had won something. Maybe she did.

"My boy's right."

You jumped at the voice while Mr. Moon walked in the room past you. Finally, Min Ho spotted you. You couldn't tell what his face was saying, but it was nothing good. It was a mix of shame, fear, guilt... And to be honest, you couldn't care less about how he was feeling.

"Your instinct is so spot on, son," he continued and Min Ho nodded, thankful. "All right, I won't distract you. I just wanted to say Baek Jong Won said he'll be happy to cook a dinner at the cabin this weekend. I know how much you love his ramyun."

"The famous chef?" Stella asked, stars in her eyes almost.

"Yeah, he's just a family friend. Think about it." He turned around to leave and smiled at you in acknowledgement as he went past you again. "Miss Park, always a pleasure."

"Your dad's really trying," Stella said, but was ignored.

"Where were we?" Min Ho went back to Eunice and Dae.

"I was just about to leave," Dae said, looking at you. "Sorry, I can't do this."

He joined you while the others called for him. Min Ho frowned, looking back and forth at the both of you but you just took Dae's wrist and rushed to get him out of there — get you both out of there. Deciding you both deserved food for each of your problems, you went to the convenience store to get some instant noodles together. You insisted that it was on you, and even if Dae tried to pay for himself, he ended up letting you take care of it.

Finally seated, you both slurped in silence, enjoying the flavours rather than speak about your issues. That was something the both of you needed terribly. But you couldn't avoid it for too long.

"I think I won't do the talent showcase," Dae stated.

You moved your eyes from your food to him. "One bad rehearsal does not mean you have to give up."

"Did you see me there, Y/N? I was a mess."

You shook your head. "You were definitely out of your comfort zone, but you weren't a mess. You had three people working with you, that's something. They know you've got what it takes."

He sighed. "I don't know... Ah, and sorry about Min Ho. I didn't know they would kiss in front of you or..."

You smiled. "Thank you for worrying, but I'm fine. You know just like me that it's hard, but you have to accept it won't be the same anymore."

He nodded in agreement. "You and me are pretty much on the same boat, yeah."

"Besides, I'm just glad he at least found someone nice and not some random fangirl."

You both shared some laughter. It felt amazing to spend time with him like this. You reminded yourself once more that he was a true friend you could rely on.

The moment was short as you phone began to ring. Both of you looked at the contact. Speaking of your exes, Kitty was the one calling you.

"What's up?" you answered.

"You know how quiet and subtle you are?"

You raised an eyebrow, unsure as to what she was saying. "I guess."

"I'm planning a small heist with Praveena, but we need help..." she said, trying to not sound too crazy.

"Kitty!"

"I need my mom's time capsule and the only way I can get it is by stealing it."

You shut your eyes, discouraged. "How did you come up with that idea?"

"It was Praveena's, actually. Please, Y/N, I really could use some help."

You breathed out. "You can sneak in without me."

"You know how to walk in a room without being noticed. I could use you as a guide!"

"Ugh... Fine, I'll come."

"Oh my God, you're an angel."

"I am aware," you chuckled.

"I do need one last favor from you, though. Please?"

You paused. "What is it?"

Dressed in dark clothes, you followed Kitty to the archives to join Praveena. For a date, this was... something for sure. You spotted the girl soon enough and she waved at you all.

"Oh, great. You brought the mouse and the muscle."

"I'm the muscle?" Min Ho asked and you lightly kicked his side with your elbow.

"Don't get too excited. Like I said, we just need someone tall enough to reach the high stuff," you snorted. "And Dae and Q were busy, so..."

"Hmm, are you sure it's not because you wanted to see me tonight?"

You glared at him. "After having to disinfect my eyes after you and missy's kiss, no thanks."

"Okay," Praveena stopped your bicker. "Huddle up, here's the plan."

You all formed a circle, huddled up, and it was hard to ignore Min Ho's hand placed around your waist. Of fucking course he was still sending you mixed signals while clearly being happy with Stella.

Praveena went on explaining the plan. You immediately got into action and she walked in, acting as a distraction. She exchanged with the old lady at the front desk before signaling for you three to get in. You discreetly crouched down and you rushed in, making as little noise as possible. Kitty and Min Ho followed your lead and you finally got in. You allowed yourself to stand up and turn on your flashlights.

"Why are we going through all this?" Min Ho complained.

"Because I have a whole other side of my family that my mom came here to find. So if this time capsule has a clue on how I can track them down, I have to have it," Kitty whisper-yelled.

"How touching," he said with no emotion whatsoever, causing you to bump the side of his body again. "Hey, will you stop?"

"Show a bit of empathy, here," you rolled your eyes.

"Well, personally, I'd love to erase the existence of half of my family."

Kitty let out a chuckle before going on about looking through the files. Meanwhile, you and Min Ho looked around aimlessly as you keep discussing.

"Correct me if I'm wrong but did your dad fund an entire arts program to spend time with you?"

"That's his move. Big, shallow gesture to make up for not being there. Like inviting me to a ski cabin for Seollal."

"I mean, do you want to fix things with him? I remember you telling me you do miss him," you pointed out, recalling one of your dates.

"I guess so," he admitted. "But... one-on-one time with him is always stressful. It'd be different if there were a bunch of family members around, like there's supposed to be on Seollal. Or even just very annoying and unpleasant people like yourself. As a buffer."

You hummed, faking a smile. "How kind of you," you said before joining Kitty, starting to get annoyed yourself.

He followed you and placed a hand on your shoulder to stop you. "What if we did that?"

You scoffed. "Use me as your buffer?"

"Well, you and the guys. And might as well ask Covey."

Kitty turned to you at the mention of her name. "Oh! I mean, it'd be more fun than hanging out here for the holiday."

You, for once, agreed. "Yeah, I guess. And we'll have your back if your dad's being difficult."

"Still looking out for me, how sweet," he joked.

"Like you said, I'm still your friend."

He was about to say something but noise coming from the front door made you all hide behind shelves.

"Professor Lee, I can assure you I know aisle 12!" Praveena yelled for you to hear.

"Wait, this is aisle 12!" Kitty whispered making you all change you hiding spot. While Kitty took the left, you and Min Ho too the right.

"Why are you shouting?" Mr. Lee asked Praveena. "I am perfectly capable of hearing you as well. I'm not as old as you think."

"I don't think you're old!"

You tried to peek but Min Ho grabbed you a which inevitably brought you back down. "Are you trying to get us caught?"

"I was just-"

He immediately placed his hand over your mouth to hush you. Meanwhile, his eyes glimmered with the little light there was. You began to breathe heavily and you thought he was doing so too. You did feel his hand getting sweaty and a blush a appeared on both of your faces.

"Y/N, about earlier-"

You stopped him, removing his hand from your face. "I'm happy for you."

He frowned. "No, I'm not-"

"I am, really. Stella seems to care about you."

"Don't fake being happy when I'm hurting you."

Kitty joining you lot made you push him away from you as you both stood on your feet. You hadn't even noticed Praveena and Lee were gone by then.

"Praveena just saved our asses. I mean, it's only our second date," she smiled but you and Minho exchanged a look.

"Date?" you scoffed.

"Kitty, she's sweet-talking an old lady whilst you're third-wheeling who used to be the hottest couple in school."

You buried your face in your hands, getting reminded of his cocky ass. "He just meant that it's not much of a date."

"Why don't you bring her skiing?"

Kitty shrugged. "That's kind of a big step." You and Min Ho sighed but Kitty's eyes then lit up. "Oh my God, I think that's it."

Following whete she was pointing at, you finally located the time capsule. Min Ho was quick to get to work, grabbing it for Kitty. Once you've acquired it, you lost no time in getting the hell out of there to join Praveena who was patiently waiting outside. Kitty ran to her for a hug.

"I cannot believe that actually worked. Oh, I wish I had a way to thank you."

"Oh, please," she brushed it off.

Again, you and Min Ho exchanged a look, knowing damn well that you were thinking the exact same thing. And of course, you hated that you still had this type of dynamic.

"Praveena, do you ski?" he asked.

"No, but I snowboard."

Kitty jumped in. "Any chance you want to come with us this weekend to Min Ho's dad's ski cabin?"

"You're inviting me to the Kris Jenner of Korea's vacation home? Hell yeah I wanna come."

"Cool," Kitty giggled. "I can't wait!"

They both began to walk away. As you were about to do the same, Min Ho stopped you by grabbing your hand. You immediately broke away from his hold.

"What?"

He cocked his head to the side. "Don't make this face with me."

"What do you want?"

Seeing you were going to keep the attitude, he spoke. "I know you wanted to cause a diversion the other day, but you forgot your bracelet on the ground."

He took it out of his pocket, presenting it to you. It was still as pretty as shiny as it always has been, maybe even more.

"Min Ho," you breathed out, taking it from him.

"I got it cleaned and I wanted to give it to you when we got coffee. But my dad kind of ruined the moment, so..."

You held it to your chest. "Whatever, I'm just glad I have it back. I forgot that's when I removed it. Thank you."

He nodded. "My pleasure."

He started to walk away, but you were the one to stop him now. "I... My aunt gave me a letter from my father. I haven't opened it yet and I thought we could open it together? I mean, it would definitely help me to read it and maybe it could help you with everything going on with your dad."

He couldn't keep his smile to himself. "I would love to."

The Seollal festival was something everyone had been looking forward to, but especially Juliana. Being the one who she shared her room with now, you listened to her nervousness about exposing her art more than enough. So when it finally came, you were ecstatic to not have to hear about it. And you were also happy for her, obviously.

"Thanks for helping me with setting up the booth."

"No worries," you smiled. "I do want to get food before it runs out..."

She laughed. "Go! Anyway, Yuri should be here any minute."

You ran to get any food you could lay your hands on. It went from Korean delicacies to traditional sweets. And man those sweets were good. From afar, you caught a glimpse of Dae. He seemed to have seen you at the same time since he was already signing for you to come join him. You made your way through the crowd and finally reached him. When you spotted Bora, his little sister, you saw she was eating the same one you had just gotten for yourself.

"Bora, look! We like the same things."

Her eyes grew. "Dae keeps saying it's too sugary, but I think he has bad taste."

You crouched to whisper in her ear. "Between you and me, I think you're right."

She laughed and Dae could only sigh. "Bora, that's your last sweet," he warned and she nodded.

As you sat down, you finally noticed the happy couple who was sat just next to Bora. While you gave Stella a warm smile, you bluntly ignored Min Ho. When you were alone, you were more than happy to be friendly. In front of his new girlfriend, however, it was better to not interact to avoid any argument — that included between you and him, them, or you and her. She was your roommate, you had to have her back somehow.

"Since when do you like children?" he asked.

"You don't know everything about me. That, or you don't pay attention when I talk."

You stared at him with mischievous eyes and he quickly caught on you were simply teasing him. Two could play this game.

"Try me."

Stella put her hand on his arm. "Min Ho," she said in a warning tone.

"What? I like a challenge."

You raised an eyebrow. "Rain check on that, your girlfriend's right. Save your knowledge for trivia night at your dad's cabin."

She seemed to agree with you. "That sounds fun, we should do that instead."

He huffed. "Fine, but we'll see who knows the other better."

The rest of the event went on smoothly surprisingly. Min Ho and you did bicker a lot but Stella joined in instead of being bothered about it. In fact, she and you kind of bonded over some quirks you could not stand about Min Ho. In a way, it felt bittersweet to know she was now the one to enjoy Min Ho's chivalry. On another part, bonding with Stella allowed you to see this as a new chapter. Yes, maybe there will always be a weird tension between Min Ho and you, but you knew you could go past it.

And now, it was time for ski.

"Have you packed?" Stella asked after knocking at your door.

"I just need a few more things and I'll join you."

"I'll be waiting at the cars outside."

You exchanged a smile and you continued to pack. Min Ho did mention there would be a hot tub. And Q did encourage you to buy that one swimsuit when you went shopping. That can never hurt, right? The only thing missing now was the letter. And for the life of you, you could not find it. You were convinced you left it in the bottom drawer of your desk but it was like it vanished into thin air. To say you were frustrated would be an understatement. You were on full panic mode. This was one of the last things your dad left before dying, and your aunt entrusted you with it. How could you lose it?

Seeing that time was passing, you concluded you'd have to look for it when you'd be back. Maybe ask Kitty or Min Ho to help you. Closing your suitcase, you grabbed your coat and headed out.

Only... when you opened the door... you were at loss for words. Not even that, you completely froze at the sight in front of you.

"Covey, cars are here. Let's go!" Min Ho yelled out as he bursted in your dorm.

When his eyes landed on Kitty and Yuri kissing, his reaction was identical to yours. Joining him, you were then noticed by the pair who showed nothing but shame.

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