#they have to know who he used to be. no voice. it's perfect.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Yandere batfamily x neglected reader

From the moment you were ten, you had sought their attention like a moth drawn to a flame. But the flame was always too hot, always too far away, and with every desperate attempt to get close, they burned you. You had been a shadow in their world, hovering at the edges of their lives, wanting, needing. Needing. That word, so simple, yet it had been the curse of your existence. You needed them. You needed their time, their care, their love. But they never saw you, never acknowledged the pit of loneliness that gnawed at you every time you begged to be included.

They had brushed you aside, every single time.

The family, your family, was never really yours.

It started when you were just a kid. “Not now, kid,” they would say. Or “Go play somewhere else.” Every time you tried to insert yourself into their lives, they shoved you away, like a toy they’d grown tired of. They didn’t need you. Not when there were bigger things at stake. Not when Gotham was drowning in its own darkness, when the Batcave was filled with the hum of machinery and the rush of adrenaline.

You were just a distraction.

You were nothing.

The words didn’t change as you grew older. They only got sharper.

When you were twelve, you tried again—this time with more subtlety. You offered to help, to be something, anything that would make them notice you. I can be useful, I promise. But no. No, they couldn’t have you tagging along. Not when there were more important things to do, more important people to be with. You were only a child.

By the time you turned fifteen, the bitter reality had set in. You weren’t wanted. You weren’t needed. They were a family—their family—and you? You were the outcast, the inconvenience they only tolerated because they had no choice. They didn’t want you, but they had to keep you around. The occasional glance from Tim, a brief acknowledgment from Dick—enough to keep the illusion of familial love alive, but never enough to make you feel like you mattered.

It wasn’t just Bruce anymore. He had become an empty figure in your life, a distant authority figure who only spoke when there was something to be done. Do this. Do that. Don’t ask questions. That was how you learned to live under his roof—like a shadow. Like a nothing.

There were moments when you thought you might be able to break through. When you thought maybe—just maybe—they would see you for who you were, someone who could stand beside them, shoulder to shoulder, not as a burden but as a part of the family.

But those moments were fleeting. They were crumbs, pieces of hope that you clung to like a starving animal, only for them to be yanked away, leaving you empty once again.

By the time you turned sixteen, you no longer asked. No longer begged. You had learned that your needs were nothing but noise to them. So, you stayed quiet, retreating into the corners of their lives. You were there, but invisible. A ghost that haunted the edges of their family but was never invited to sit at the table.

But it wasn’t just the coldness that broke you. No. It was the sharpness of their words.

The day it all ended—the day your last shred of hope died—had come like a storm.

You were seventeen when you finally broke. You had asked, yet again, for something so simple. You wanted to hang out, to spend the evening together, just for once. No work. No patrols. Just them. Just family. But Dick—always so perfect, so composed—snapped.

“Stop nagging, goddammit!” His voice was low, but the venom was there. The venom that cut deeper than any blade. “I don’t have time for this. You’re not a kid anymore. You should know better.”

And it was in that moment, when the words hit you like fists to your chest, that you knew. It was over. They will never care about you.

No more pleading. No more silence. You were done.

You wanted to scream, to break down and tell him how it felt to always be ignored, to always be pushed aside. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. All you could do was stare at him, the person you had once looked up to, the brother who had made you feel like you belonged. And now? Now he hated you. He resented you. You were just a thorn in his side, something he couldn’t wait to get rid of.

The Batfamily didn’t need you. They didn’t even want you. You were just a memory in the background of their perfect little world.

And so, you left.

You packed your things and left Gotham without a second thought. You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care about them. You didn’t care about the lies you had told yourself for years, that someday they would come to love you. No. You were done.

You found a small apartment in a city far, far away. The rent was cheap. The food was okay. It didn’t matter. For the first time in years, you felt a strange kind of peace. No more begging. No more hoping for something that was never going to come.

But the peace didn’t last long. It never does.

Months passed, and the Batfamily went on without you. It wasn’t like you expected them to notice, but they did. They always did.

It started slowly at first. A message from Bruce, terse and businesslike, asking how you were. A phone call from Dick, his voice hesitant, full of uncertainty. Tim sent an email—just a few lines, but still. He’d written “We miss you.”

You didn’t respond. The first few days, you let it sit there, those words ringing in your ears. We miss you. The words came so easily now, but where had they been all those years? You stared at the screen, a hollow laugh escaping your lips. Miss you? They had pushed you aside when you needed them most. They had ignored you, told you to shut up, told you to go away.

Now they missed you?

You threw your phone across the room and sat down, gripping your hair, letting the quiet take you over.

It wasn’t until the second month that they started to call. At first, it was Tim—his voice softer than it had been in years, like a penitent ghost, when he called you.

“Please… just talk to us. We’re… we’re worried about you.”

You didn’t pick up.

Then, Dick. His voice cracked when he asked if you were okay. Just talk to us. How many times had you told them that? How many times had you begged? And now, they were begging you? You felt the rage swell inside you, the bitterness of those years threatening to break you apart.

And that was when they came.

It wasn’t just a phone call. It wasn’t just messages anymore. They came looking for you.

Nightwing was the first. He showed up at your door, standing there in his familiar suit, but his smile was tight, his eyes uncertain.

“Please,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “We just want to talk.”

You stared at him, the same person who had once smiled at you like you meant the world to him. And now? Now he looked like a stranger. Someone who didn’t know who you were. And maybe, in a way, he didn’t.

“Why?” you asked, your voice rough from months of silence. “Why now? Where were you when I needed you?”

The guilt in his eyes only deepened. “We were wrong,” he said, the words fragile, like he was afraid they would break if spoken too loudly. “We… we miss you.”

The anger rose in your chest. They missed you?

The words sounded so hollow. What good was their love now?

They all came. One by one, each member of the family arrived at your door, apologizing, begging for forgiveness, for your attention, your love.

But it was too late.

They had pushed you away for too long, and now you could feel it: the suffocating weight of their regret, the twisting hunger of their need.

They needed you. They needed you so badly. They would never let you go again.

It wasn’t just about family anymore. It wasn’t just about reconciliation. Now, it was about possession.

And the family would do whatever it took to keep you close—no matter the cost.

Gotham had never felt farther away, yet the shadows of the family loomed larger than ever.

You weren’t sure if you were ready to go back, to reopen that door. But deep down, you knew one thing.

They would never let you leave again.

And now?

Now, they were willing to do anything to make sure of it.

(A/n: no part 2 becuz it's a one shot 😸)

[fastandcarlos]

Wedding Nerves : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: it's the night before your wedding and lando can't bare to spend it all alone

Your head shook as another knock at the door came, knowing exactly who was on the other side. You tried your best to ignore it as you unpacked your suitcase, but they were ever so persistent, knocking once again. 

“Lando, you shouldn’t be here,” you called out, walking over to the door. “You can stand there all night long but I’m not opening the door. The boys will all be wondering where you are.” 

“I don’t care abou them,” Lando replied, leaning against the other side of the door. “I just want to see you one last time before tomorrow, just a couple of minutes, that’s all that I’m asking for.” 

Your eyes closed as you leant on the door, hearing Lando sigh. His voice was desperate as he tapped on the door once again, letting you know that he was still there. You could only smile at how determined Lando was, refusing to go without seeing you. 

“You’ll get to see me forever after tomorrow,” you tried to assure him, “it’s only one night away from each other, we’ve done it hundreds of times before.” 

Lando’s head shook, “this time it’s different, it’s our wedding morning tomorrow.” 

“Why are you here Lando?” You groaned, beginning to think that there was more to things than he was letting on. “Something’s not gone wrong, has it?” 

His head shook, remembering that you couldn’t see him. “I spoke to George and he said Carmen told him that you were feeling nervous. I wanted to come and see you and make sure that you were alright, I don’t want you to be nervous, you should be excited.” 

“I am excited,” you responded, dropping down to the floor, “tomorrow is just such a big deal, and there’s so many people going to be there. I hate having all that attention on me, that’s all.” 

Lando remained where he was, only wanting to see you more now that he knew how you felt, keen to settle your nerves and reassure you not to worry. 

“Let me see you and just give you a hug,” Lando requested, tapping the door once again. “We’re fine to see each other, tradition is only tomorrow morning, not that either of us really care about that anyway.” 

The sound of the lock turning made Lando jump up, watching as you opened the door slightly. It was wide enough for Lando to see you, but not open enough for him to be able to reach in and hold onto you. 

“Lando, I promise you that I’m absolutely fine. Go and enjoy your evening.” 

“I can’t see well enough to be sure,” he grinned, refusing to give up quite that easily, trying to push the door to fit his hand through it. “What’s the point of just letting me see a bit of you, why not just open the door all the way?” 

“Because once you’re here I know you won’t go away,” you chuckled. 

Lando’s eyes widened at your assumption, shaking his head in reply to you. The smile on his face told you otherwise though, you knew exactly what he was up to, and once he was in, there was no way that he was going to be walking back out again. 

You tried your best to keep the door shut, but Lando was far stronger than you were, digging his heels into the ground and pushing the door open, stumbling over his feet and falling straight into your hotel room. 

“Serves you right,” you grinned, offering your hand to help him up.  

Lando stood himself up and straightened his clothes before heading in your direction. His arms wrapped around your frame as he tightly held you against his chest, pressing several kisses against the top of your head, refusing to let go now that he had a hold of you. 

Lando kicked the door to your hotel room shut, keeping you in his hold as he walked you both over to your bed, dropping down in the middle of it with you by his side, making himself comfortable like he was there for the night. 

After a few moments, Lando’s hand trailed along your back. “There’s no need to worry about tomorrow you know, it’s going to be perfect, I’m sure of it.” 

With all the efforts you and Lando had put in, you knew there was no reason to worry, there was no chance of anything going wrong. You had the perfect place, perfect theme, and everyone who you wanted to attend was doing so, there was nothing more you could ask for. 

“Maybe if you are nervous, it might be a good idea for me to stay here,” Lando added, catching your eyes roll. “I mean we both know how much it helps when you sleep next to me when you’re worrying, so it makes perfect sense, right?” 

“I’m not going to let you stay,” you said, quickly shutting Lando down. 

Lando hummed in reply to you, “we both know how this is going to work, I’m going to wear you down until you say yes, you know that, don’t you?” 

“Nope,” you laughed, “I refuse to cave tonight, you’ll be gone soon.” 

“You’ll have to get rid of me,” Lando told you, “and judging by your hand against my chest, I’d say that you’re pretty happy for me to stay a while still yet.” 

You quickly moved your hand off of Lando’s chest, shuffling across the bed to create some distance between you both. Lando looked at you in surprise, trying to move back towards you again, only for you to move back too. 

“It’s going to be a pretty rubbish stag do if you’re not there,” you reminded him, standing up from the bed. “Plus, you only said that you wanted a couple of minutes of my time.” 

“I don’t need a stupid stag do, not when I could spend my night with you instead,” Lando sighed, sitting up in the middle of the bed. “Do you really actually want me to go?” 

You tried to ignore the little voice in your head telling Lando to stay, nodding your head. You didn’t want him to miss out on his stag do, the party that he had been looking forward to for so long. 

“I should probably go,” Lando pouted, sliding off of the bed. His shoulders hung low, his feet dragging along the floor dejectedly. “But all you have to do is give me a call and I’ll forget all about the boys tonight and rush straight over here to be with you instead.” 

“Go on,” you grinned, opening up the door. “I’ll be alright without you for one night.” 

Lando stood in the doorway, turning back to face you one final time, letting you see just how disappointed he was that you were making him leave. 

“In five years, I think this is the first time you’ve declined to spend the night with me,” Lando mused, “and the night before my wedding too.” 

“I’m not declining to spend the night with you,” you protested, “this is what we agreed on, you’re going to be stuck with me for the rest of your life after tomorrow anyway.” 

“I can’t believe it,” Lando smiled, “the rest of our lives together.” 

“Only if you go,” you teased, pushing Lando out of the door. “Go and enjoy your evening, I’ll see you tomorrow Lando.” 

“I can’t wait to marry you sweetheart.” 

“I know, me too Lan.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[aventurineswife]

i had a fluffy req idea if ur still taking them -

different hsr boys {main ones being aven and sunday love them sm} after your baby says their first words 🥹 (more of an ask if reqs are too full !!)

hehehe to make up for my more angsty reqs

(also, if it’s not taken, i’d love to be {🪷🤍} anon :>)

First Words

Tags: Aventurine, Sunday, Boothill, Gepard Landau, Fatherhood, Emotional Moments, Parenthood, First Words, Love, Vulnerability, Protective Fathers, Tender Moments.

Warnings: Emotional Intensity, Sensitive Themes (parental attachment, soft vulnerability)

A/N: THE WAY I SCREAMED?! OMGGG 😭💖‼️ I WAS MUFFLING MY SCREAM WHILE WRITING THIS!! BOOTHILL DESERVED TO BE IN THIS!! And, of course, you can be 🪷🤍 anon!!

Aventurine sat at the edge of the bed, his usually calculating eyes softening as he watched his baby cooing in their crib. The soft moonlight filtered through the window, casting a gentle glow on the room. He had been a master of strategy, a man who thrived on risks and uncertainty, yet nothing in his life had prepared him for the overwhelming joy of fatherhood.

The baby gurgled, the first words bubbling up from their tiny mouth in a way that made Aventurine's heart stutter in his chest.

"Dada..."

His breath hitched. It was a single word, but it held so much meaning. He had been waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity, never quite knowing how much it would shake him to hear. His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, one that only those who knew him best would ever witness.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered, though the baby was already asleep. He could have sworn the world had momentarily stopped just to let him bask in the miracle of this sound. There was no strategic calculation, no manipulation of circumstances; just pure, unrefined love. The thought that his baby had chosen him, of all people, to be the first to say such a word filled him with a warmth he didn’t often show.

Aventurine carefully reached over and placed a hand on the crib, gently stroking the baby’s tiny hand. He felt the overwhelming desire to protect them, to ensure that they would never have to face the brutal world he had lived in.

"You're mine now, little one. I’ll make sure the world plays by your rules." he whispered softly, his voice laced with love.

He leaned back, taking a deep breath, feeling the weight of this moment settle into his bones. Aventurine, the master of manipulation, was nothing more than a father in this room—vulnerable, unguarded, and completely enchanted by the simple sound of "Dada."

Sunday had never been one to show much emotion outwardly, his calm and composed demeanor always masking the storm of thoughts beneath. But now, as he sat on the edge of the bed, his golden eyes locked on his baby, his chest tightened in a way that he couldn't explain. He was a man of ideals, of lofty dreams for the world, yet nothing could have prepared him for the heart-stirring moment of hearing his child speak.

"Papa..."

The single word was so simple, yet it rang in Sunday’s ears with the clarity of a thousand bells. He felt as though the weight of all the dreams and hopes he had for a perfect world, a place where his loved ones would never have to suffer, had finally taken shape in that single word.

For a moment, Sunday simply stared, stunned by the beauty of it. His hand, once firm and decisive in leadership, trembled ever so slightly as he reached toward his baby. His heart, so used to thinking in ideals and concepts of the greater good, now beat with a singular, overwhelming sense of purpose.

"You... said 'Papa.'" Sunday whispered, his voice almost breaking. His normally steady hands shook as he cradled the baby, feeling their warmth against him. For a man so convinced of the need for a perfect dream, this moment of imperfection—a baby’s first word—was more than enough to fulfill him. The world of dreams he had always sought to create felt tangible now, as though it had been born in that one precious sound.

As he gazed down at his baby, Sunday felt an unfamiliar surge of protectiveness. The weight of leadership and responsibility melted away, and he realized that no matter what happened, this little one would be his reason to keep fighting, to keep dreaming, to keep striving for a world that would never harm them.

"Papa..." he whispered again, feeling the word vibrate through him. The world he wanted to build suddenly felt like it could be real, because of this one small voice that would grow with love, light, and perhaps even a bit of the dreams he held.

Sunday smiled, a rare and genuine smile, as he looked down at his child. "You have no idea how much you mean to me, little one. I will always protect you."

Boothill had always been a man driven by rage, a cyborg cowboy with a heart hardened by years of loss and revenge. But now, as he stood in the quiet of his cabin, looking down at the baby in his arms, something had shifted. Something he couldn't explain.

His baby, wrapped in a soft blanket, gazed up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Boothill’s usual sharp gaze softened as he cradled the tiny form in his arms, his mechanical hand careful not to hurt them. The sound of the baby babbling was almost too much for him to process.

Then, it happened.

"Pa-pa!"

The world seemed to pause. His metallic fingers tightened slightly, but not out of anger—out of something new. Something tender.

Boothill froze, his heart skipping a beat. The world had once taken everything from him—his family, his home, everything he held dear. But here, now, was something that felt like a new beginning. The word “Pa-pa” rang in his ears, and he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He had never imagined such a moment, never thought it would come in the wake of all the destruction and vengeance he had pursued.

"You said it..." Boothill muttered, his voice rough. His eyes, usually so cold and calculating, were now misted over with something softer. For the first time in years, he felt something akin to peace.

His gaze flicked from the baby to the window, where the stars twinkled above, endless and quiet. He had fought for so long, but maybe, just maybe, this little one was what he needed to remind him of the life he had almost forgotten.

"Pa-pa!" the baby cooed again, and Boothill let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I’m here, little one. I’ll be here."

It was a vow, but it wasn’t one made from the fury of his past. This vow was different. This one was made for a future, for a family he was determined to protect.

Gepard stood in the nursery, his large frame leaning against the doorframe as he watched his baby sleep in the crib. The weight of his position as Captain of the Silvermane Guards was always with him, but now, in this quiet moment, it seemed almost insignificant compared to the tiny life he had brought into the world.

His eyes softened as the baby stirred slightly, their small hands reaching out as if sensing him in the room. It was then that the baby spoke—barely a whisper, but enough to make his heart stop for a brief moment.

"Buba!"

The word echoed in his mind, and a small, stunned smile spread across Gepard's face. His hand instinctively reached toward the crib, resting on the edge as he leaned down, his heart overflowing with emotion. It was as if the weight of all his responsibilities had suddenly been lifted, replaced by this singular, precious connection.

"Buba!" the baby said again, their voice soft but filled with trust.

Gepard’s breath caught. He had spent so much of his life focused on the welfare of others, on the grand ideals of justice and protection, but now, as he looked at this tiny soul, he realized that this was where his true duty lay. He would protect them at all costs, no matter the challenges that lay ahead.

"Yes, my little one," Gepard murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Buba’s here. Always."

He carefully scooped the baby into his arms, cradling them close. For the first time in a long while, Gepard felt something other than the weight of duty—he felt love, deep and unyielding. And as he rocked the baby gently in his arms, he knew he would fight for them, not as a captain or a warrior, but as a father.

I'm gonna be sick because of this 🥺😕💖😭

[areislol]

ㅤㅤAN ACCIDENTAL CONFESSION — AL HAITHAM + KAVEH

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤAnd what the hell were we? ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTell me we weren't just friends

pairings. al haitham x fem/afab! reader x kaveh

warnings. MDNI/READ WITH CAUTION, lowercase intended, not an established relationship but kaveh/al haitham both harbour feelings for you and vice versa, college! au, best friends, reader is a virgin, accidental confession, both al haitham and kaveh focus on you, 18+ themes, explicit content, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), porn with feelings, foreplay, threesome, p in v, praise, protection kings!! rough/soft kissing, needy kaveh, soft dom! kaveh, dom! al haitham

synopsis. both al haitham and kaveh are fed up with an upset you arriving home at 1 in the morning, eyes red and puffy from crying over your date who turned out to be like the rest of the other guys you've went on a date with, a jerk.

wordcount. 9.3k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤfriends

you stood before the mirror, meticulously adjusting the folds of your outfit, every detail carefully curated after hours of contemplation. tonight was yet another date—your fifth one.

however, as you made your final preparations, alhaitham's voice cut through the air like a sharp blade, his tone laced with veiled annoyance.

"where are you going?" he questioned, his gaze scrutinizing your dolled-up appearance.

with a sigh, you turned to face him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of resignation. "i'm going out," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of exasperation. "another date."

alhaitham's brow furrowed in frustration, a deep sigh escaping his lips. "another date?" he repeated, his annoyance palpable. "you know how these always end up. every man you go out with ends up being a jerk."

beside him, kaveh nodded in silent agreement, his expression mirroring alhaitham's. "it's like you're drawn to the wrong kind of guys," he added, his voice filled with concern.

"i know," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "but i have to keep trying, don't i? i can't give up hope that someday, i'll find the right one sooner or later."

kaveh's expressions softened with understanding, alhaitham on the other hand wouldn't let this slide. his brows furrowed hidden anger as he continued to stare at you.

after a couple of seconds, kaveh stepped forward, enveloping you in a warm embrace. "just promise us one thing," he murmured, his voice gentle yet firm. "promise us that you'll be careful, that you won't let anyone hurt you."

you returned the embrace, feeling the weight of his words resonate deep within your soul. "i promise," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "i'll be careful."

alhaitham let out a deep sigh, his eyes screwed shut. "i still don't approve of this but you better keep your promise. just give us a call if anything happens, we'll be waiting."

you nod your head, offering him a tender smile. you make sure that you look perfect before putting on your shoes and waving goodbye to your best friends. they return the wave, wishing you luck.

the door clicks shut, leaving the apartment shrouded in a heavy silence.

"... why did you wish her luck?" alhaitham asked, raising his brow. kaveh groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair. "i don't know, i did it by instinct, i think." he replied.

they had been down this road countless times before, watching as each of your dates inevitably ended in disappointment and heartache.

with a heavy sigh, alhaitham sank into the nearest chair, his features etched with a mixture of frustration and concern. "i don't know how much longer we can keep doing this," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

kaveh nodded in silent agreement, his gaze fixed on the floor. "i know," he murmured with regret. "but what can we do? we can't just sit back and let her do this to herself."

a heavy silence descended upon the room, broken only by the soft hum of the city outside. for a moment, alhaitham and kaveh sat in contemplative silence, grappling with the weight of their unspoken feelings for you—their roommate, their best friend.

finally, alhaitham broke the silence, his voice tinged with determination. "we need to do something," he declared, his gaze meeting kaveh's with unwavering resolve. "we can't keep ignoring how we feel about her."

kaveh nodded in agreement, a flicker of determination sparking in his eyes. "you're right," he replied, his voice low and almost airy. "but what can we do?" alhaitham didn't respond, he stared down at his slippers and sat up straight.

"i don't know. we'll just have to wait and see."

standing in front of the elegant restaurant, bathed in the soft glow of the evening lights, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest.

the anticipation of the evening ahead filled you with a sense of eager anticipation as you checked the time on your phone—7:00 PM, right on the dot of your agreed time.

as you wait for your date to arrive, you can't help but admire the appearance of the restaurant, its ornate facade and inviting ambience promising a night of culinary delights along with the loud and enchanting conversation.

yet, as the minutes ticked by and your date failed to make an appearance, a knot of unease began to form in the pit of your stomach.

you glanced at your phone once more, the digital clock mocking you with its unyielding display of time. 7:05 PM. 7:10 PM. still no sign of your date. a sense of disappointment washed over you like a wave crashing against the shore, mingled with slight frustration at being kept waiting.

for a brief moment, doubt crept into your mind—had your date forgotten about your plans? or worse, had they stood you up altogether? amidst the whirlwind of emotions, you couldn't help but cling to a glimmer of hope, a small voice whispering that perhaps there was a reasonable explanation for their lateness.

with a deep breath, you resolved to give him a few more minutes, your nervousness was gnawing at your heart. you stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the evening lights. as the minutes stretched into an eternity, you finally made the decision to go inside the restaurant, with a heavy heart and a sense of resignation weighing heavily on your shoulders.

you made your way to a table for two, the empty chair across from you a stark reminder of your dashed hopes and unfulfilled expectations.

as you settled into your seat, the waiter approached with a warm smile. "good evening, madam," she greeted, her tone gentle and reassuring. "are you ready to order?"

you shook your head in response, a bitter taste lingering on your tongue as you explained the situation. "i'm actually waiting for my date," you admitted, "but it seems they're running late."

the waiter's smile faltered slightly, a pang of sympathy flashing across her features as she nodded in understanding. "i'm sorry to hear that," she murmured, her voice laced with genuine concern. "i hope they show up soon."

the waiter couldn't help but bite down on her lower lip, she had seen this scenario play out countless times before—lovers left waiting, hopes dashed, and dreams shattered. and even so, she couldn't help but hold onto a sliver of hope, praying that your date would arrive.

with a sympathetic smile, the waiter left you to your thoughts, giving you the space and time, you continued sitting there, surrounded by the soft hum of conversation and the tantalizing aroma of delicious food.

as the minutes dragged on and the sympathetic looks from surrounding tables grew more pronounced, you found yourself struggling to maintain your composure under the weight of their silent scrutiny.

the whispers and glances sent in your direction felt like daggers to your already wounded heart, with a heavy sigh, you realized that you couldn't bear to endure another moment of the pitying stares and hushed conversations.

you couldn't help but feel a wave of disappointment and regret crashing into you, you really should've listened to them. your eyes remained on the clothed table,

pushing back your chair, you rose from your seat and made your way towards the exit, the eyes of the other diners following your every move with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

as you reached the door, you ignored the prying eyes and hard gazes, you stepped out into the cool night air, the weight of disappointment heavy on your shoulders.

with each step you took away from the restaurant, a sense of relief washed over you, the oppressive atmosphere of the dining room gradually fading into the distance.

alone with your thoughts and emotions, you stopped just a couple of steps from the door—reaching into the pocket of your jacket you pulled out your phone, about to call alhaitham and explain, once again, about how your date went.

just as you were about to press the "call" button your finger was just hanging above the screen, was it really a good idea to call him now? you knew how this would play out.

"i told you so"

"what did i tell you?"

"when will you ever learn your lesson..."

the last thing you wanted to hear was alhaitham scolding you and his "i told you so". letting out a frustrated sigh you click your phone shut and stuff it back into your pocket. you decided to just walk home instead.

it wasn't that dark out, the sky was a mixture of dark blue and a slight tinge of orange hue. you tried your best to distract yourself with what was in your view but that was to no avail. you already knew what was going to happen as soon as you opened the door.

it was a reoccurring thing between you, kaveh and alhaitham. every time you went out on a date they would sigh in disappointment and try to talk you out of it but of course, it never worked.

despite your differences, a bond had quickly formed, forged through late-night conversations, shared meals, and the occasional movie marathon.

as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months and months turned into years, your apartment became a sanctuary—a haven where laughter echoed through the halls and memories were woven into the very fabric of the walls.

unbeknownst to each other, alhaitham and kaveh harboured feelings for you, their affections hidden behind smiles and casual banter. and in the quiet moments of the night, as you lay in bed lost in thought, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps your own feelings mirrored theirs—a thought that both thrilled and terrified you.

as you made your way to your shared apartment you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt right through your chest, your two best friends who you knew cared deeply about you were always trying to help, and yet here you were, walking back home in the darkness after being stood up by your fifth date.

you heaved a great sigh, disappointed in yourself. once i go inside, i'll definitely apologize to them! you said to yourself before finally arriving at your apartment. you mentally prepared yourself and let out a sigh before shoving the key into the keyhole and turning the lock.

you were finally home with... two clearly disappointed and concerned men.

you knew that as soon as you opened the door, a wave of bickering would hit you in the face, not that you really minded most of the time.

—

the memory of that night still lingers vividly in your mind, more so when your dates leave you staring at the ceiling, wondering where things went wrong. you’re at the akademiya, seated at a study table under the soft, golden light of a desk lamp.

kaveh sits across from you, gesturing animatedly, a frustrated yet passionate artist explaining his latest design concepts. alhaitham sits beside you, quiet but ever-present, nose buried in a book, his occasional interjections laced with sharp wit aimed squarely at kaveh’s more extravagant claims.

"listen," kaveh says, leaning forward, his blonde hair falling slightly into his eyes. "do you know how hard it is to convince some people that aesthetics and functionality can coexist? alhaitham, for example, wouldn't know—"

"they can coexist," alhaitham interrupts, not looking up from his book. "but not when your design priorities lean toward creating monuments to your own ego."

you laugh, the sound drawing both of their gazes to you. kaveh’s annoyed expression softens, while alhaitham finally looks up from his book, his usual unreadable mask slipping just slightly.

"maybe if you stopped bickering for five minutes, i could help you settle this debate," you suggest, playfully bumping alhaitham’s arm. he looks at where your elbow touched his sleeve, then back to your face, the faintest twitch of a smile on his lips.

"unlikely," he says, but his tone lacks its usual sharpness.

kaveh groans. "honestly, how do you even put up with him? the man has the emotional range of a piece of petrified wood."

"better than being a storm of emotions no one asked for," alhaitham counters smoothly, making you laugh again.

the tension between them eases slightly at the sound, though neither of them would admit it. for a brief moment, there’s a silent understanding between the three of you, a shared connection that feels warm and unspoken. it’s a moment you’d later remember with a pang of nostalgia during one of your many failed dates—a reminder of the comfort and ease you find in their presence, even amid their constant bickering.

the night stretches on, and kaveh’s complaints blur into alhaitham’s occasional quips, you catch them both stealing glances at you when they think you’re not looking. kaveh’s gaze is warm, like sunlight filtering through leaves, while alhaitham’s lingers, as if trying to decipher a puzzle he hasn’t yet solved.

it’s a memory that clings to you, even as you sit through yet another disastrous date.

—

you pushed the side of the door open, being careful and slow with your movements as if that would magically make alhaitham and kaveh not notice you.

the door swung open, revealing the dimly lit interior of your apartment, a wave of apprehension washed over you like a cold, unforgiving tide. and there they were, just as you had feared—alhaitham and kaveh, sitting opposite of each other on the couch, their expressions a curious mix of concern and amusement.

alhaitham, ever the observant one, wore a knowing smirk on his face, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he met your gaze. he didn't need to hear your explanation—he knew exactly what had transpired during your date, and he was more than eager to tease you about it.

suppressing a sigh, you mustered up a weak smile, steeling yourself for the inevitable barrage of questions and teasing remarks that were sure to follow. "hey guys," you greeted, "i'm back."

kaveh nodded his head, his expression more subdued than alhaitham's, yet no less filled with concern. "welcome back," he murmured, his tone gentle. "how'd the date go? judging by the looks of it..."

his voice trailed off as he observed your face, you were clearly upset. "it didn't go well. you didn't call me or kaveh because you knew that we would scold you, right? did you really think that i wouldn't know?"

alhaitham's words were abrupt and caught you off guard. you swallowed the lump in your throat before letting your eyes rest and nod your head hesitantly, you were just going to blurt out everything.

"you're right. i just... look i'm sorry that i never listen to you guys, i know you guys care about me and i never listened to your advice and—"

you were cut off by the sudden sensation of a warm palm cupping your cheek. your eyes peeled open and to your shock alhaitham was right there, right in front of you. his face just inches away from yours.

caught off guard by alhaitham's sudden gesture, you froze in place, your breath catching in your throat as his warm hands cupped your cheeks gently. his touch sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a flutter of butterflies in the pit of your stomach as you met his sharp gaze with wide eyes.

his eyes held a warmth and intensity that sent your heart racing, a faint blush painting his cheeks in a delicate shade of pink. have you ever seen him so flustered before?

words failed you as you searched for something, anything, to say in response to his unexpected display of affection. the air between you crackled with unspoken tension.

there was a pregnant pause, and before you knew it alhaitham's lips parted, his voice a soft murmur that sent shivers down your spine. "i've been wanting to do this for a while," he admitted, his tone laced with longing.

a rush of emotions surged within you—confusion, excitement, love… lust. you had always harboured a deep affection for alhaitham (and kaveh), a connection that transcended the boundaries of friendship, yet you had never dared to voice your true feelings, fearing that the confession would change your friendship for the worse.

kaveh's sudden intervention shattered the intimacy between you and alhaitham, leaving a palpable tension hanging in the air. as kaveh placed his hand on alhaitham's shoulder, his glare bore into his roommate with intensity.

"i thought we agreed that we would take this slow," kaveh's voice was low and laced with a hint of frustration, "and that i could do the first move?!"

take this slow? kaveh doing the first move? what did he mean by that? were they planning something?

alhaitham remained silent, his focus unwavering as his eyes remained locked on you, his expression unreadable as his gaze roamed your face with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine.

you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the intensity of his scrutiny stirring a whirlwind of emotions within you.

in that moment of hesitation, uncertainty gripped you like a vice, squeezing tight around your chest as you struggled to make sense of the tangled web of emotions unravelling before you. a part of you longed to just smash your lips against his.

but another part of you wants to push him away, you knew someone like alhaitham or kaveh wouldn't be interested in you, absolutely no way and chance. maybe alhaitham just had no sense of space? no it couldn't be... alhaitham was always cautious of the space between the both of you.

as the seconds ticked by, the weight of your decision bore down upon you like a heavy burden, you spoke up, breaking the tense silence that hung between you and your roommates. "i... guys?" you began, your voice trembling slightly. "what..."

your voice trailed off as your eyes flickered between alhaitham's and kaveh's, your eyes said more than enough. kaveh sighed, glaring at alhaitham once more before removing his hand from the pearl-grey-haired roommate's shoulder.

kaveh’s glare softened as he turned his gaze back to you, his expression shifting to something almost… vulnerable. he hesitated, but his eyes held a warmth that sent a flutter through your chest, despite your earlier doubts.

"look," kaveh said, softer now, "i wanted to tell you how i felt for a long time. i was just… scared, i guess." he let out a small, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "i didn't want to mess things up. we’ve all been living together for so long, and i thought, if i just took my time, maybe you’d—"

"maybe you’d what?" alhaitham cut in, his voice calm yet firm, though his gaze softened as he glanced between you and kaveh. "kaveh, you were dragging this out. i was tired of waiting for you to make a move." he then looked at you, his gaze piercing, his voice a low murmur. "but you have a say in this too."

both their eyes were on you now, waiting, and you felt a wave of vulnerability crashing over you. part of you was ready to tell them to forget it, to insist it was impossible that two people like them could actually feel anything for you. but that other part—that part that had wanted nothing more than to close the distance between you and alhaitham moments earlier—begged you to take this chance.

heart pounding, you took a shaky breath and decided to lay everything bare. “i thought… you two were just teasing me all this time. like this was some kind of game.”

kaveh’s face softened as he reached out, his fingers grazing yours, sparking something electric between you. “it was never a game, not for me,” he murmured, voice low and rough with barely contained longing. “i’ve wanted you for so long. every time i held back, every time i watched you with him… it drove me crazy.” he shot a glance at alhaitham, his jaw clenched, before looking back at you, his eyes intense, burning with something raw.

alhaitham’s gaze was unwavering, filled with a hunger that sent a rush through you. he stepped closer, his fingers brushing your cheek, tilting your face to meet his gaze. “i don’t share easily,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “but for you… i’d rather share than let you go.”

the weight of their words crashed into you, heat pooling in your chest, spreading through your veins as you struggled to process the intensity of their confessions. your heart hammered as their gazes bore into you, each one daring you to respond, to give in to the passion simmering between you.

“i don’t want you to walk away,” you breathed, barely able to get the words out, your voice trembling with anticipation. the moment you said it, their expressions shifted—like wolves finally catching sight of their prey.

kaveh let out a shaky exhale, stepping in close, so close you could feel his warm breath against your skin. “so… you’re really choosing both of us?” his tone was teasing, but the edge of desperation was clear as he reached for your hand, squeezing it, his gaze dark with want. 

alhaitham’s lips quirked into the barest hint of a smirk as he leaned down, his mouth ghosting over yours, sending a shiver down your spine. “good,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a murmur. “because i’ve been waiting far too long for this.” then his lips met yours, not gentle this time but demanding, claiming you with a passion that left you breathless. his hand tangled in your hair, pulling you close, deepening the kiss as if he wanted to drown in you.

the kiss ended, but your head was spinning, your breath shallow as kaveh took his turn. he didn’t hesitate, capturing your lips in a heated, needy kiss, his hands gripping your waist, pressing you against him as he let out a low groan against your mouth. he kissed you like he’d been starved, pouring every bit of pent-up desire and frustration into that kiss, his fingers digging into your skin like he never wanted to let go.

as they pulled back, their gazes seared into you, hot and possessive, leaving you trembling and flushed. alhaitham’s hand found your chin, lifting it to meet his gaze again. “we’re not holding back anymore,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “you’re ours now. understand?”

you swallowed, nodding, feeling the intensity of their words settle deep inside you. every inch of you was alive, buzzing with the thrill of finally being theirs.

kaveh’s fingers tightened around your waist as he pulled you closer, pressing his body flush against yours, his mouth moving with a fierce, desperate hunger. each kiss from him was deeper, rougher, as if he couldn’t get enough of you, and couldn’t stand the thought of letting you go for even a second. his hands slid up your sides, feeling, exploring, setting every nerve on fire.

alhaitham’s hand slipped under your chin, turning your face toward him as kaveh’s lips left a trail along your neck. his gaze held a dark intensity, his eyes blazing as he lowered his mouth to yours once more, this time with a slow, tantalizing hunger that made you melt against him.

his kiss was deep and claiming, his hand tangling in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp. he broke away just enough to murmur against your lips, his voice low and possessive. “tonight, you’re not leaving either of us.”

they moved as one, guiding you backwards, step by step until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. you barely had a chance to react before kaveh’s hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly and lowering you onto the sheets. he climbed over you, his breath heavy and uneven, his eyes fixed on you with a need that made you shiver.

alhaitham was right beside him, his gaze roaming over you, drinking in every inch with a dark, dangerous smirk that sent a thrill through you. his hand slipped to your shoulder, pushing you back onto the bed as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your collarbone, sending waves of heat through you.

“we’ve waited long enough,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. his hand drifted over your waist, firm and possessive as if to remind you exactly where you belonged. “and we’re not stopping until we’ve had our fill.”

kaveh’s hands roamed over your sides, his touch both soothing and electrifying, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that left you breathless, completely lost in him. you felt his fingers trace down to your hips, his touch growing bolder, needier, as he let out a low, throaty groan against your mouth. he pulled back, his face inches from yours, his voice husky with desire. “i’m not letting you go, not tonight.”

their hands intertwined as they held you between them, their breaths coming faster, hotter, their gazes locked on you with an intensity that made you feel utterly exposed.

their hands moved in unison, each touch lighting up every nerve as they explored, learning each curve, each reaction that drove you to the edge of your senses. alhaitham’s fingers trailed down your collarbone, pressing firmly as if marking you, his lips following close behind, leaving a scorching path along your skin. he moved with a confidence that left you dizzy, his gaze locked on yours with a look that was both possessive and admiring, making you feel utterly consumed.

kaveh, on the other hand, was all fervent energy, his hands eagerly roaming over you, his touch alternating between gentle caresses and firm grips, as though he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t believe you were actually there with him. his eyes met yours, softening for a moment, before he leaned in close, his voice a low, heated murmur in your ear. “i wanted this for so long... didn’t think i’d ever get the chance.”

their hands intertwined as they hovered over you, each touch driving you deeper into a haze of desire, their combined warmth pressing in on every side. alhaitham’s hand slid around to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leaned down, his lips barely grazing yours before capturing them in a slow, searing kiss that stole your breath.

he pulled back only to press a trail of kisses down your jaw, his hand sliding down to meet kaveh’s as they both moved over you, their touches merging, amplifying, until you were lost in them.

the way they worked together, each knowing instinctively how to push you further, was overwhelming, every movement calculated to keep you teetering on the edge. alhaitham’s smirk flickered at the sight of you, utterly undone, and kaveh’s smile softened, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of wonder. 

“you’re ours,” kaveh whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his lips grazing your ear before pressing a kiss there. “no more waiting, no more doubts. just us.”

the words hit you like a tidal wave, their weight sinking into your chest and filling every hollow corner of your heart. you couldn’t help but feel your legs tremble, though whether from the intensity of their presence or the truth of kaveh’s confession, you weren’t sure.

alhaitham, ever the steady one, noticed immediately, his arm wrapping securely around your waist to keep you grounded. his touch was firm yet tender, anchoring you to the moment while kaveh’s words pulled you further into an ocean of emotions.

kaveh’s hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing along your cheek in a gesture so gentle it nearly made you break down. “do you know how long we’ve waited?” he asked softly, his honeyed voice trembling just enough to betray his own vulnerability. “how long have we watched you chase after things you didn’t need because you were too scared to see what was right in front of you?”

the words brought forth a flood of memories, moments you’d tried to bury in the recesses of your mind because they felt too intimate, too confusing. you thought back to that time in the akademiya library when you had worked late into the night, determined to finish your research. kaveh had arrived first, arms laden with snacks and tea, a dramatic sigh escaping him as he plopped into the chair beside you.

“you’ll burn yourself out like this,” he had said, offering you a bite of his food as though it was the most natural thing in the world. his hand had brushed yours when you reached for the tea, lingering just a second too long. 

then alhaitham had joined, quiet as always, slipping a warm blanket around your shoulders with an almost imperceptible sigh. “if you’re going to work yourself to death, at least have the decency not to catch a cold,” he’d said, but his hand had stayed on your shoulder a beat longer, giving it a squeeze that spoke volumes.

at the time, you’d chalked it up to kindness, their unique ways of looking out for you. but now, standing here with both of them, you realized how much of their affection had been buried beneath subtleties you’d chosen to ignore. 

—

“i can feel you overthinking,” alhaitham’s voice cut through your haze, sharp yet not unkind. he tilted your chin with two fingers, his piercing teal gaze meeting yours. “stop it. you’re here now, with us. that’s all that matters.”

kaveh let out a soft laugh, though it carried an undercurrent of frustration. “you really do make things harder than they need to be, you know that?” he teased, though the tenderness in his expression betrayed his words. “running off on all those pointless dates... what were you even trying to find, huh?”

heat crept up your neck at the mention of your failed attempts at dating. you looked down, only to have kaveh gently nudge your chin upward with a finger. “look at me,” he said, and his voice was so soft, so unbearably full of emotion, that you couldn’t resist. “you didn’t need any of them. you never did. did you think we wouldn’t notice? that we wouldn’t care?”

the vulnerability in his question broke something inside you. “i didn’t think... i didn’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “i thought i was just—someone to bicker with, someone to tease. i didn’t think i meant that much to either of you.”

kaveh’s eyes widened briefly, shock and something deeper flickering across his face. “you didn’t think—” he cut himself off with a disbelieving laugh, though there was no humor in it. “you’re everything to us,” he said, and the rawness in his tone made your chest tighten. “do you have any idea how much you mean to me? to us?”

alhaitham’s hand slid to the back of your neck, grounding you once more. his touch was steady, reassuring. “we’ve waited long enough,” he said, his voice low but firm, his teal gaze unwavering. “you’re ours now. there’s no need to run anymore.”

the truth of his words settled over you like a blanket, warm and inescapable. memories of their quiet devotion played in your mind like a reel. kaveh dragging you out for “fresh air” after a particularly grueling day, his arm slung casually around your shoulders but his concern evident in the way he kept glancing at your face. alhaitham staying up with you during a storm, his usual stoicism giving way to a quiet patience as he read aloud to distract you from the howling winds. they had always been there, waiting, even when you didn’t realize it. 

—

“you don’t have to keep fighting it,” kaveh murmured, his lips brushing your forehead. “let us take care of you for once.”

“don’t give them a choice,” alhaitham added dryly, though the smirk on his lips was softened by the way his fingers caressed the side of your neck. “we’ve already decided.”

you laughed softly, the sound shaky but genuine. “you two really are impossible,” you muttered, but there was no malice in your words—only affection, deep and unrelenting.

“and yet, you’re still here,” kaveh pointed out with a grin, his hand finding yours and squeezing it. “which means you’re stuck with us. so stop running, and let us love you the way you deserve.”

the tears you hadn’t realized were building finally spilled over, but they weren’t tears of sadness. as kaveh’s lips met yours, warm and insistent, and alhaitham pressed his forehead against yours, grounding you in his steady presence, you felt something shift. the weight of doubt and fear melted away, leaving only the overwhelming truth: you were theirs. entirely, irrevocably theirs. 

kaveh’s lips found yours next, his kiss softer but no less intoxicating, filled with an urgency that made your knees weak. his fingers tangled in your hair as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing into yours while alhaitham’s hands explored your curves, his touch firm and deliberate. “you’ve always been ours,” kaveh whispered against your lips. “you just needed to realize it.”

“and now you will,” alhaitham added, his voice steady but carrying a dangerous edge. his teeth grazed your jawline, sending another shiver through you. “we’ll make sure of it.”

your body melted between them, every nerve alight as they overwhelmed you with their presence. kaveh’s lips moved back to your neck, and his tongue flicked against a sensitive spot that made you gasp. alhaitham smirked at your reaction, his hands finding the curve of your waist and pulling you flush against him. “so sensitive,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

kaveh chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. “let us spoil you,” he said, his tone softening but his grip on you unwavering. “let us show you how it feels to be truly adored.”

your hands clutched at their shirts, grounding yourself as the heat between you all grew unbearable. their touches, their words, the way they worked together—it was dizzying, intoxicating, and everything you hadn’t known you needed. with every kiss, every touch, they erased your doubts, replaced them with a certainty you could no longer deny.

kaveh lingers there, lost in the sensation, nuzzling into the soft heat of your belly as if it were his lifeline. suddenly, he lifted his head up, moving closer to your breasts, you watched him impatiently, and just before you could speak, his tongue traced your sensitive buds, and a shiver ran down your spine.

his hot breath tickled your skin as he slowly dragged his lips over each tiny bud. you let out a soft gasp, my hands coming up to tangle in his hair. "fuck, that feels so good," you moaned, arching into his touch.

“wait, it’s my first time…” your hands place themselves over his shoulders, heat rushed to your cheeks at the lewd scene before you.

kaveh gazes into your eyes, his expression softening with tender affection as he cups your face in his larger hands "i promise to be gentle with you, darling. this is a special moment for us, and i want it to be perfect." his thumbs stroke along your cheekbones as he leans in to place a sweet, lingering kiss on your lips. "just breathe deeply and focus on the pleasure... let me take care of everything else."

he quickly dips his head, the soft hums of pleasure escaped his lips as he trails hot kisses along your sensitive nipples, lapping at the hardened nubs with a flick of his tongue. his hand kneads your breast, fingers sinking into the supple flesh as he pinches and rolls her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

as he takes one nipple into his mouth, suckling greedily as he flicks his tongue rapidly over the bud. he grazes the sensitive skin with his teeth, sending jolts of pleasure-pain straight to your core. his other hand braces against the mattress, supporting his weight as he presses closer, his rigid length grinding against your thigh.

releasing your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva connected with his lips to the abused bud. he blazes a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your body, nipping and sucking at the smooth skin of your stomach before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pants. “wait–”

with a tug, he yanks your pants and panties down your legs, baring your glistening folds to his hungry gaze. he takes a moment to admire the sight, his cock throbbing with need. he watches it for a couple of seconds, completely entranced and mesmerised before diving in to feast on your cunt. his tongue delves between your slick lips, lapping up the sweet essence as he holds your hips steady with bruising force.

all the while, alhaitham watches from the side, his palm resting behind your neck as he turns your head towards him, crashing his needy lips onto yours, brows furrowed as he kissed you impatiently.

kaveh moans softly at the sight of your perfect tits, the way your body shivered and trembled with each lick. his mouth waters at the scent of your arousal permeating the air. without hesitation, he buries his face deeper in your pussy. he licks a broad stripe up your slit, swirling around your clit before plunging his tongue deep inside your tight hole.

muffled gurgles emanate from his throat as he worships your cunt, slurping on your juices greedily. his eyes are transfixed on the mesmerizing dance of your engorged clit peeking out from beneath its hood, begging for attention. he obeys, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves mercilessly with the tip of his tongue, making sure to catch every drop of your ambrosia.

his hands roam higher to fondle your breasts at the sounds of your praise and moans. "ohhh f-fuuuckkk! yes, just like that!" your shameless moans fill the room as he feasts on your sopping cunt. you writhe against the mattress, grinding your dripping core against his eager mouth. "don't stop, mmmnnn!" you cry out wantonly, throwing your head back in ecstasy. your hand's fist in his hair, holding him tight against you.

your thighs quake around his ears as his tongue works you over, stoking the fires burning in your loins higher and higher. "oh god, yessss!! right fucking there! ahn…!" the intense waves crash over you, threatening to drown you whole. he doesn't let up though, fucking your convulsing channel with long, hard laps of his tongue as your cunt clamps down around him, milking him for everything he has.

before you've even begun coming down, he surges forward and crashes his mouth to yours in a passionate, sloppy kiss. his whiskered cheek slides along yours as his musky scent invades your senses – equal parts salty-sweet from his kiss – bringing back up essence and uniquely man. the mingling scents and flavours of both of you mingle into one delicious medley you'd burn for.

still kissing you fiercely, he rolls your sensitive nubs. he pulls back from the kiss and you can clearly see how he smirks up at you with a wicked glint in his eyes, still savouring your shared flavour on his tongue. you gasp as he pulls back, his saliva mixing with your juices as he gazes hungrily down at your flushed face.

he glances down at your dishevelled appearance, noting the pearly essence dripping down your chin and neck. slowly, teasingly, he traces a finger through your sticky mess, collecting your release before bringing it to his lips. you whimper as he swirls his tongue around the digit, cleaning off the intimate proof of your mutual satisfaction.

without warning, he grips your hips and spins you around, pushing you face-first against the dirtied sheets. your legs wobble slightly from the aftershocks still rippling through you, but he holds you steady with one large hand resting between your shoulder blades.

his hard, heavy cock springs free from its confines, thick and veiny, already drooling with pre-cum. the head smears against your soaked entrance as he kicks your feet further apart. he groans, grinding the leaking tip along your slippery entrance. he teases the tip along your wet slit, coating himself in your slick arousal.

slowly, oh so slowly, he sinks into your welcoming heat, groaning low in his chest as your velvety walls stretch and accommodate his impressive girth. "fuck…” he begins with a shallow thrust, letting you feel every ridge and vein dragging against your fluttering walls, drawing a loud and erotic moan from you. 

once he bottoms out, he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust. then he starts to move again, withdrawing almost completely before sliding back in with a lewd squelch. he sets a deliberate pace, taking you slow and deep, relishing the way your cunt squeezes around his length. each thrust rocks you forward, his heavy balls slapping obscenely against your sensitive clit.

you’re pinned firmly against the bed as he fucks you, his hips pumping at a steady, torturous pace. the wet glide of your slick walls hugging his aching cock sends shivers racing up his spine.

"mmmph, unghh… you’re so tight—" kaveh groans quietly against your shoulder, hot breath puffing against your overheated skin. his hands skim lower to grip your full, rounded ass cheeks possessively, rolling the globes in his palm and kneading the flesh. he drives into you harder then, forcing the breath from your lungs with each powerful snap of his hips.

he slams into you harder and faster, his hips pistoning erratically as he chases his pleasure. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes loudly in the bathroom, interspersed with your shameless moans.

"uunf! nngghh…!" he moans and whimpers are broken, lost in the feral rut. he bites down on your shoulder, leaving a vivid mark on your flawless skin as he continues to pound into you like a man possessed.

sweat beads on his brow and he grips your hips so hard bruises form, grinding you down onto his shaft as he rails you relentlessly. “f–fuck! cum for me…!” he demands breathlessly after hearing your moans grow erratic as he nears his peak.

suddenly, his entire body goes taut as a bowstring. with a guttural groan, he slams into you one last time and explodes, flooding your spasming walls with jet after jet. he pulls out of you abruptly, leaving you feeling empty and wanting. before you can protest, he flips you over onto your back and settles his weight on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head.

he’s breathless, his chest heaving up and down almost in sync with yours, his eyes trailed around your clit, drinking in the sight of your naked body splayed out.

at that moment, alhaitham places his hand over kaveh’s chest, successfully moving the tired man out of his way, kaveh whines but slumps down beside you, lazily groping your breasts.

alhaitham hooks his hands under your thighs and pushes them back towards your chest, folding you nearly in half and exposing your dripping cunt to his hungry gaze before trailing a single finger through your slick folds and circling your swollen clit. at his touch you whined, legs quivering.

“fuck me,” you breathed, adding a small whine to it. he releases your wrists and grips your hips once again, the tip of his girthy cock nudging insistently at your entrance. with one swift thrust, he sheathes himself fully inside you, stretching you deliciously around his pulsing length. he lets you adjust for only a moment before setting a ruthless pace, pounding into you with animalistic abandon. the sounds of the obscene slaps of flesh and your increasingly high-pitched moans made it all the more lewd.

the new angle allows him to hit that spot deep inside you with each punishing stroke, sending you into complete bliss. at his command, his powerful hips stutter before finding a new, unhurried rhythm. he continues thrusting slowly yet forcefully, working his massive cock deeper into your clinging heat. “nghhhh..."

the renewed slowness allows him to fully explore the intimate clutch of your pussy as it grips his throbbing length. each languorous slide has his shaft nestling against the fluttering ridges and bumps that line your most sensitive canal. he swivels his hips sinuously, grinding his swollen tip against the hidden spongy spot deep within you with every withdrawal and penetration.

a fresh rush of tingling warmth starts building at the base of his spine as he picks up steam once more, the sensations growing more intense by degrees. your eyes practically roll behind your eyes at the euphoric feeling, your moans bounced along with every thrust of his long cock. “fuccckkk, more.. please..!”

he continues his unhurried, sensual rhythm as the last vestiges of your shared climax fade, your bodies still intimately entwined. his shaft pulses lazily inside you, twitching in time with each roll of his hips. slowly, the intensity ebbs, replaced by languid aftershocks wracking your frames.

you both shared your breaths, sweat, juices and cum all mixed together everywhere, on both your skin and the bed, he leans down your face, pressing feather-light kisses along your sweat-dampened collarbone. “you like that?” he groans into your ear as he grips your hips tightly, his claws digging into your soft flesh as he pounds into you relentlessly.

the wet slapping sounds of skin on skin fill the room, punctuated by his guttural grunts and your high-pitched moans."fuck yes, take it all…" he snarls, his voice dripping with lust and dominance."your tight little cunt was made for my cock, wasn't it? tell me how much you love being used like the cum dump you are" alhaitham’s pace becomes even more frenzied, his thrusts growing erratic as he chases his release.

he reaches around to roughly grope your breasts, ignoring the whines and complaints from kaveh, pinching and twisting your nipples as he continues to pound into you. "gonna fill you up...breed this hungry pussy...mark you as mine," he growls, his words becoming more disjointed as pleasure overwhelms him.

with a forceful thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you. Leaning in close, his hot breath fans across your ear as he begins to move, setting a punishing pace. his voice is low and husky as he whispers, "you feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock, such a tight little pussy, gripping me like you never want to let go. you're mine to use, to fuck, to fill. i'm going to ruin you for anyone else." his hips snap against yours relentlessly, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the room. he continues his filthy litany in your ear, punctuating each thrust with a growled word. "take. it. all."

your cries of pleasure echo through the room, the thrusts were too aggressive, too harsh, too much. but you liked it. kaveh slides in behind you, nestling his thick shaft between your ass cheeks. he grinds against you teasingly while alhaitham continues to relentlessly pound your pussy from the front. kaveh’s hands roam over your body, pinching your nipples and trailing down to circle your clit.

"such a greedy little girl," he growls in your ear. "two cocks and you still want more? let's see how much you can really take."With that, he lines himself up with your puckered rear entrance and slowly pushes inside, stretching you deliciously as he fills you completely. you're now stuffed full of cock from both ends, caught between two muscular bodies using you for their pleasure. the sensations are overwhelming as they begin to move in tandem, fucking you relentlessly.

alhaitham’s relentless pounding from the front shows no signs of letting up, his powerful thrusts driving you wild with pleasure. meanwhile, kaveh behind you moves at a much more languid pace, savoring every inch of your stretched hole as he lazily pushes in and out. "Mmm, so tight...like a warm velvet glove around my cock," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear as he nibbles on your lobe.

your moans grow louder and more wanton as these contrasting sensations overwhelm your senses. you can feel alhaitham shaft throbbing inside you, hitting all the right spots with each forceful stroke. behind him, kaveh’s slow drag provokes electric tingles that make you clench reflexively around both cocks. "ohhh fuck yes! just like that!" you cry out desperately. The dual penetration is too much to bear for long.

“‘s—s too much!” tears welled up in your eyes at both the pleasure and pain of both their cocks in you, you were getting overstimulated, it hurt so good. “s—slow down! ah…!” alhaitham’s thrusts slow slightly at your desperate plea, but he still manages to hit all the right spots inside you. he leans down to capture a tear rolling down your cheek with his tongue, savoring the salty taste. "shh, it's okay baby...i know i'm being rough. but you're so fucking perfect like this," he murmurs against your skin as he continues to move within you at a slightly more measured pace.

kaveh behind slows his movements as well, allowing you a moment of respite before picking up again in time with alhaitham’s renewed rhythm. the sensations are almost too much to bear now—the deep stretch and drag from behind contrasting beautifully with the relentless pounding in front. "nnngh...so good..." you whimper, overwhelmed by pleasure and emotion.

as your climax hits, your inner walls clench and ripple around both alhaitham and kaveh still-throbbing shaft. the sensation pushes them over the edge as well. " fuck yes! cumming so deep inside you...!" with a guttural groan, he buries himself to the hilt and unloads, his hot seed flooding your spasming pussy in long spurts. kaveh soon  follows suit moments later, grinding against your ass as he fills you with his own release. his warm cum coats your insides along with alhaitham’s, creating an intimate mix of their essences within you.

alhaitham carefully eases out of your still quivering heat, watching transfixed as his release slowly leaks out to trickle between your thighs. he scoops up some of the creamy fluid and brings it to his lips, humming appreciatively at the taste.

“ah.. alhaitham give me—give me a moment—” you breathed, trying to catch your breath after the intense session. “but i need to clean up your mess, look how dirty you are” he chuckled. He can clearly see how your eyes widen at your words, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. he takes in your thoroughly debauched appearance with hungry, satisfied eyes before nodding.

slowly, he lowers himself off you onto his hands and knees behind you as he reaches beneath you to run two large fingers through the mess of slickness leaking from your freshly-fucked hole. lapping his fingers clean with kittenish swipes of his tongue, he gives your sensitive bud one final teasing flick that has you bucking back into the bed. crawling onto the mattress with cat-like grace, he positions the swollen head of his shaft at your fluttering opening.

alhaitham grins mischievously as he teases your slick entrance with the tip of his cock, spreading your juices around in a tantalizing display. his eyes gleam with dark hunger as he watches you squirm beneath him. "mmm, look at that...my cum leaking out of your greedy hole already. you can't get enough, can you?" he chuckles lowly and slowly pushes forward, sinking into you once more.

“i—i don’t think i can take another round…” you breathed, face flushed with sweat slicken strands of hair stuck on your forehead.

“this is just the beginning," he purrs, resuming his sensual rhythm as he claims you again. alhaitham’s hips undulate against yours in a slow dance of pleasure, each deliberate thrust sending ripples through your connected bodies. "i’m going to fuck this pussy all night long until it's raw and sore from my cock."

kaveh stretches out beside you on the bed, a lazy smile playing on his lips as he watches alhaitham work your pussy over once more. he reaches out to lazily stroke your sweat-dampened skin, tracing patterns along your curves. "you two enjoy each other so much," he muses, his voice low and content. "i think i'll just lie here and watch...for now." He settles in comfortably, propping himself up on one elbow to continue admiring the erotic display before him.

alhaitham seems perfectly happy with this arrangement, continuing his slow but thorough fucking of your willing body. His thrusts grow slightly more urgent as he feels kaveh’s gaze upon them, driving him to make the most of their moment together.

his eyes flash with a predatory gleam as he hears your soft whimpers, his cock twitching within you in anticipation. "mmm, i’ve craved this moment for so long," he growls, his voice low and husky with desire.

"you don’t know how long i’ve been wanting to be in this pussy...every inch of that luscious body. and i'm going to take my time savoring each delicious moment." he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep into your mouth as he continues to move inside you at a slow, deliberate pace.

“i'll fuck you until dawn breaks," he promises against your lips, "and even then maybe not be done exploring every sweet spot on this perfect pussy." his hands roam over your curves possessively as he speaks, mapping the terrain of your skin like an explorer claiming new lands.

“all night long…”

—

a few weeks later, the sun shone through the curtains of your cozy shared apartment, its golden rays highlighting the organized chaos within. a half-finished bookshelf project leaned against the wall (kaveh’s idea, naturally), while alhaitham’s books were scattered across the coffee table in a way that made your neat-freak self twitch. it was a scene of domestic tranquility, punctuated by the occasional bickering that had somehow become oddly endearing.

kaveh was in the kitchen, attempting to cook breakfast—a noble endeavor that would inevitably end with alhaitham stepping in to prevent the fire alarm from going off. you sat cross-legged on the couch, watching the spectacle unfold with a mug of tea in your hands.

“this doesn’t need your interference, alhaitham!” kaveh snapped, waving a spatula threateningly as alhaitham leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his expression as unimpressed as ever.

“i’m merely ensuring we don’t end up eating charcoal,” alhaitham replied coolly, reaching over to adjust the stove’s temperature.

“can you two not start world war three before i’ve had breakfast?” you asked, trying to suppress your laughter.

they both turned to you at the same time, as if suddenly realizing you were watching them with that fond look you couldn’t quite hide.

“we’re not fighting,” kaveh said quickly, though his defensive tone was softened by his sheepish grin.

“it’s just a discussion,” alhaitham added, though the faintest twitch of a smile betrayed him.

you set your mug down and walked over, slipping yourself between them. “whether it’s fighting or discussing, i’m calling a truce. we’re all having breakfast together, and no one’s allowed to sabotage it.”

kaveh gave you a mock salute, while alhaitham raised an eyebrow but gave a slight nod of agreement.

later, the three of you sat around the dining table, sharing a surprisingly decent meal that kaveh had insisted on plating himself.

“this is nice,” you said, glancing between them with a contented smile.

alhaitham looked at you from over his book, which he’d brought to the table despite kaveh’s protests. “i suppose it is.”

“you suppose?” kaveh scoffed, though there was no real heat in his voice.

you laughed, leaning back in your chair as a warm sense of belonging settled over you. it wasn’t perfect—there were still arguments, quirks, and a lot to figure out—but it was yours.

and as kaveh started another impassioned rant about alhaitham’s lack of appreciation for the “art” of cooking, you realized you wouldn’t have it any other way.

note: wowie this is the first time i've written quite a long smutty fanfic ever, what an experience.

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

another note: if you found any spelling/grammar mistakes PLEASE tell me (i don't want to be embarrassed)

[starsjulia]

baby fever // alexia putellas

a/n : maybe it’s because i’m ovulating, but i feel like im having withdrawals from my child (i don’t have a child)

warnings : none!!

“Alexia,” you said, flopping onto the couch dramatically, your phone clutched in one hand. “Look at this baby. Look. Isn’t this proof we should have one?”

She glanced up from her iPad, one brow raised. “That’s the fifth baby you’ve shown me today.”

“Because they’re soooo cute! And we could have one!” You shoved the phone under her nose, showing her a TikTok of a giggling infant in a tiny onesie. “Imagine our baby. They’d have your eyes, my—”

Alexia cut you off with an amused smirk. “We’ve talked about this, cariño.”

“No, you’ve talked about logistics,” you shot back, sitting cross-legged beside her. “I’ve talked about how I want a baby, like, yesterday.”

She sighed, setting the iPad down. “I’m not saying no. I’m saying it’s a big decision. And with everything we have going on—your work, my schedule—it’s not the right time.”

“Then I’ll carry!” you declared, your voice rising with excitement. “You can keep playing, and I’ll do all the hard parts. It’s perfect!”

Alexia blinked at you, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve… really thought about this, haven’t you?”

“For months,” you said earnestly, grabbing her hand. “I don’t care about logistics or timing. I just know I want to do this with you.”

Her gaze softened, but there was still hesitation. “I’m not against it, amor. I just want to make sure we’re ready. Both of us.”

You groaned, flopping backward into her lap. “If you won’t listen to me, I’ll get backup.”

Alexia frowned. “What does that mean?”



————————

It meant enlisting Mapi and Ingrid.

“Finally!” Mapi said when you brought up your idea at training. She threw her hands in the air dramatically. “I’ve been telling Alexia for years she needs to let loose a little. Having a baby is perfect.”

“Right?” you said, clutching Mapi’s arm. “Imagine her as a mamá. So nurturing, so responsible—”

“And terrifying,” Mapi added, smirking. “Disciplining kids with that captain energy? Iconic.”

Ingrid chimed in from beside her. “Honestly, we’re on board. Do it, and we’ll be the godparents.”

“You’d have to fight Mariona for it,” you teased.

Mapi scoffed, draping an arm over Ingrid’s shoulder. “Please. I’m already the cool tía. It’s a done deal.”

Ingrid smiled softly, giving you a nudge. “Besides, we think you’re for perfect carrying the baby. You’re already glowing just talking about it.”

“You get it,” you said dramatically, pointing at Ingrid like she’d solved world hunger. “Why can’t Alexia see it?”

“Oh, she does,” Mapi said knowingly. “She’s just pretending to be logical about it. She’ll come around. Trust me.”

—————————

The breakthrough came at a team barbecue, thanks to Ingrid and Mapi’s nephew, little Liam, who’d stolen your heart the moment you met him.

“You’re so perfect,” you cooed, holding him close as he gurgled in your arms. “The cutest baby ever.”

Across the yard, Alexia watched you from a distance. Mapi elbowed her lightly, smirking. “You’re staring, capi. You look like you’re about to cry.”

“I’m not crying,” Alexia muttered, though her gaze softened as she watched you bounce Liam gently.

“You’re thinking about it, though,” Ingrid said, stepping up beside them.

Alexia sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I just—”

“You’re overthinking,” Mapi interrupted. “Classic Alexia. Look, you’re already a leader. A protector. It’s who you are. Being a mom? You’d be incredible. And (Y/N)? She’s ready. You can see it in her face.”

Alexia didn’t answer, but her thoughtful expression spoke volumes.

Later, as you cradled Liam, Alexia finally approached.

“Look at him,” you said, smiling as Liam giggled and reached for her. “He’s perfect. And soon, he’ll have a little friend. Isn’t that right, Ale?”

Alexia raised a brow. “What?”

“Our baby!” you explained, beaming. “He’s gonna have a friend, and they’ll grow up together, and it’ll be so cute.”

Alexia reached out hesitantly, letting Liam grab her finger. She froze, visibly melting at the tiny hand gripping hers. Mapi and Ingrid exchanged smug looks from across the yard.

Alexia sighed, her voice quiet. “You’re really not letting this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” you said, grinning. “Come on, Ale. Let’s do it. I’ll carry, you’ll be the hot football mum, and Mapi and Ingrid are already fighting to be the godparents.”

“We’re winning,” Mapi called from nearby, raising a beer.

Alexia laughed softly, shaking her head. “Fine.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait. Fine?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling at your stunned expression. “But we’re doing this properly. No rushing.”

“Whatever you say, mamá,” you teased, setting Liam in his stroller before throwing your arms around her. “Let’s go make a baby!”

“That’s… not how it works,” she said, pulling back slightly.

“Oh, right,” you said, blushing. “I knew that.”

Her laughter was warm as she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I can’t wait to see you glowing, amor. And for the record… Mapi and Ingrid are not automatically the godparents.”

“We’ll see about that!” Mapi shouted, earning another laugh from both of you.

As Alexia’s hand rested gently on your stomach, you knew everything was about to change. But for the first time, it felt like a change you were both ready for.

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Bonus Sessions

In which you interview 2 multi-world champions in one sitting.

Warnings: discussions of the traumatic 2021 Abu Dhabi race (lol) Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 2k words

(quick note. shoutout to @shelbyteller for the inspiration for this one. Hope it lives up to your expectations bb!)

"I can't believe you got him to agree to this." You say, shuffling a few papers on your desk in the Monaco apartment you share with Max.

Max looks at you, brow raised. "Are you kidding me? I didn't have to do any convincing. That man loves you. Honestly, I should probably be a little jealous of how eagerly he agreed to come on the show."

You roll your eyes, knowing that Max is being ridiculous. "As if I'd ever look at anyone but you." You tease, rising from your desk chair before crossing the room to sit on Max's lap.

When you had moved in with Max earlier in the year, one of the things he had insisted on was turning one of the spare rooms in his (well, now it was yours too, he had insisted on putting you on the deed to the property after your engagement, much to the dismay of his lawyer) apartment into a dual recording studio and office for you.

Tucked away in one of the corners was a large mahogany desk that you spent most of your time at. On the other side of the room that's decorated in tones of gold and champagne pink sits your podcasting setup with 2 comfy sitting chairs, microphones, and side tables. It's the perfect cozy setup. You didn't use this room all the time for your guests, a lot of the time you were traveling to meet them. This room was used for when you did your 'bonus session' episodes and when you had more personal friends on the show, like today's guest.

Max wraps his arms around your middle, pulling you closer into his chest. "Have I ever told you that I love you?" He murmurs, breath tickling the shell of your ear.

You hum, small grin spreading across your face as you lean your head further into the crook of his neck. "Not in the last ten minutes."

"Well, let me remedy that terrible fact." Max's lips skate over your jaw before they find their home. "I love you beyond words, schatje." His words are mumbled against your lips but you understand them all the same.

When he slips his tongue into your mouth you can't help the sigh that leaves your body. It doesn't matter how many times Max kisses you because every time his lips land on yours, it feels like the first time.

The make out session continues for several moments before you're interrupted by a buzzing on Max's phone. "Looks like he's here. You ready?"

You glance down at your outfit, casual but put together for the interview that you're sure will make some waves in the F1 world. Not only because of who it is but also because of what you got him to agree to discuss today. "I hope so!"

Max leaves the office to retrieve your guest as you begin prep on the room. You had decided to just run the entire episode by yourself today, giving Steve and Shannon the day off from filming since it was in your home and you liked to keep this environment as relaxed and low key as possible.

Voices float towards you as you finish up the last bits of preparation. And then, they're standing in the doorway.

"I hear congratulations are in order!"

"Lewis!" You croon, setting down the papers in your hands before crossing the room to your friend's opened arms. "Thank you so much."

Lewis chuckles before holding you out at arms length, "Let me see that rock. I'm sure Instagram did it no justice."

You happily hold out your left hand for Lewis to take, grinning like an idiot over his shoulder at Max, who is leaning against the door frame with the same goofy grin on his face. The word 'proud' didn't seem to do what he felt for you in this moment justice.

"He did good, didn't he?"

"Ma'am, that man is so wildly in love with you." Lewis chuckles before looking over his shoulder at Max. "Good taste there, mate."

Max nods. "Thanks. Can I get you anything before you guys get started?"

Lewis shakes his head and just like that, you go into work mode. You give Lewis a brief explanation on how it's going to work, just like you did for Max over a year ago. Meanwhile, Max sits at your desk and watches you work. In the last year, he hasn't really had the opportunity to watch you film and record a show because he's always felt in the way but this time is different. He had been the one to ask Lewis onto the show and it had been Lewis that insisted he stay to watch the entire interview when he had tried to excuse himself moments before.

You were so in your element is left Max in awe. The way you moved around the room with such confidence, setting up the cameras and microphones, talking to Lewis like he was a brother or an old friend, you really commanded the room and made both of these drivers, who were used to wrestling flying torpedos around hairpin curves going fast enough to kill someone was just awe inspiring.

now, i want to preface this by saying that both of you have 100% agreed to talk about this so I'm blindsiding anyone, right? right

"Okay, but seriously, before we wrap this up we need to talk about one more thing." You giggle a bit, watching as Lewis reaches down to scratch Rosco on the head.

"Shit." Lewis hisses while Max laughs from his spot at your desk where he's been watching the entire interview quietly. "I thought you were going to forget about that."

You toss your head back, laughing maniacally. "And blow the chance at having two fan bases hate me? As if, Hamilton. Max, do you want to join us?"

Although you have the air of someone who couldn't care less about the upcoming topic, secretly, your stomach twists with anxiety. When Max had suggested the finale to your landmark interview with Lewis and when Lewis had agreed to is, you had been confident that you could handle such a touchy subject but now? Now that you were face with actually having to talk to your friend about it on camera to be released for the entire world to see? You were having second thoughts.

Max stands and sits next to you in the chair that you had pulled out moments before.

"And before we even get started, I want to preface this final segment by saying that you both agreed to this before hand and I am not blindsiding anyone, right?"

Both men grin at you where you sit between them and nod. "We both agreed to this." Lewis says.

"Well I, for one, feel a bit like a hostage here having to agree to this on camera." You reach across and smack Max on the shoulder, causing him to smile even wider. "Yes, of course. We both agreed to this."

"We're a few years removed from the 2021 season. Lewis, looking back do you think there's anything you could have done differently to change the outcome?"

Lewis shrugs, "If you would have asked me that a year ago, I would have probably said yes but as we get further away from it I think we did everything we could have. Sometimes, there are decisions made and things happen that are outside of your control. As a racing driver, you want everything to be under your control and even when it's not, it's in our nature to take on everything as if it is under our control."

"Are you calling me a control freak?" Max quips from your other side.

"We're all control freaks, man." Lewis says with a chuckle.

"What's that saying? Hindsight is 20/20? Looking back, there are always things you see and go 'well that was a terrible decision." Max says, smiling over at his rival. "But at the time, we all made what we thought were the best decisions we could with the information we had in front of us. I don't think there was anything either of us could have done to have change the outcome based on what we knew then and there."

You nod, grinning at both of the men. "Can we talk about Abu Dhabi for a second? I don't want to talk about the race, that's been done to death. But, can you walk me through what was going through your head in the days after?"

"I isolated big time." Lewis says, looking down at his hands before reaching to scratch Rosco's head. "I took off and spent time alone and just did a lot of thinking. I hated that my championship came down to the decisions of one man. Had we been better and more consistent the entire year, it wouldn't have come down to the last lap. That was on me and no one else. I had to take that on and figure out how I was going to face the team after letting them down."

"But you didn't let them down." Max insists. "That entire season was a masterclass in never giving up and making something out of nothing. I mean, sure I was the beneficiary of that final call from Race Control but it could have easily went the other way. I don't know what I would have done had I been in your shoes after that race."

"You would have been fine." Lewis says. "You've always been better at compartmentalizing things on the track. I take a lot of my work home with me. It's why I struggle to let people in. I'm often caught up in my own world focusing on what I need to do to perform better and improve, racing takes up my whole life and I'm content with that. You're a different breed. You don't take work home with you and that's how you were able to land this gorgeous girl."

"Hey, lay off the flirting with my fiance." Max snaps good naturdly, reaching for your hand and giving Lewis a wink. "Your singular focus is how you've won so many championships though and no one can fault you for that."

The rest of the interview continues for a few more minutes before you begin to wrap things up. It's been almost two hours at that point and the last 30 minutes of the interview is just Max and Lewis talking racing, Max threatening to retire, and Lewis threatening to pull an Alonso and never retire.

When the episode it released, it is a complete surprise and incredibly well received by everyone inside and outside the F1 community, which was somewhat surprising to you as you know what a hot button issue the 2021 season was and how polarizing discussing that very last race could be. In the end, it's one of your more favorite episodes and it opens up the doors to many more sports interviews, including a partnership with F1 TV for some mid-season post-race work that has you doing even more of what you love: getting to know the people beneath the sheen and shine of their own celebrity.

TheYappingHour Posted:

928,991 likes liked by charlesleclerc, ferrari, roscolovescoco, and others theyappinghour newest episode drops today featuring this handsome boy and his dad! ;) make sure you listen to the entire hour...there may be a surprise guest at the end! lewishamilton pleasure being on with you. and once again, congrats on the engagement! max is a lucky man! >>>theyappinghour oh lewis! you're the best. thank you <3 user028 i cannot get over how good she is at making people feel comfortable talking to her about hard things. i've NEVER heard lewis open up about 2021 like that before. >>>user9281 seriously. she is a magician. user0911 the cameo at the end! the yapping about the engagement! lewis sounding so genuinely happy for them! this may just be one of my favorite episodes ever.

tags: @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99

[y3sterdaysproblem]

you’re not sorry - m.s.

summary: could’ve loved you all my life if you hadn’t left me in the cold

warnings: angst, sensitive topics, no happy ending.

{read with caution}

wc: 3k+

Another night.

Another night waiting up for your boyfriend who could never be bothered to let you know when he’d be home; if he’d even be coming home that night.

It was like this for months at this point. Day after day of you waiting up just for him to stumble inside smelling like alcohol and weed, clothes disheveled as he plows through your front door. You didn’t even know what had changed, but it had.

Things were so good, beyond good, to the point where you guys were considering marriage, considering a family. Maybe it was all too much for him, but that wasn’t your burden to bear.

Your perfect, loving boyfriend had turned into someone you barely recognized, having to look so hard to find pieces of the man you fell for in the man you no longer knew.

You were about to give up and head to bed when you heard keys jingling at the front door, the man outside clearly struggling to unlock it. You stayed planted on the couch, waiting for him to finally come crashing in and make up some excuse about what he was doing out so late. You never believed him anymore.

When the door swung open and your boyfriend stumbled through it, his eyes met yours almost instantly, a small, forced smile appearing on his face. “Hey, baby,” he calls out, shutting the door behind him and kicking his shoes off before he made his way towards you, tripping over his own feet once or twice until he sat down next to you.

You let out an aggravated sigh, standing up and walking away from the couch, not wanting to sit next to him and smell the alcohol leeching off of his breath. It was beyond disgusting and if the smell didn’t make you sick, the thought of everything would. The thought of your life crumbling in a matter of months was enough to make you cry so hard you threw up on multiple occasions, the depression caused by this man that swore he loved you being the culprit of so many breakdowns you couldn’t even count anymore.

“You’re drunk, Matt,” you grumble, crossing your arms.

His eyes trail up to you, shaking his head quickly. “I’m not drunk, just tipsy, I swear. I stopped drinking a few hours ago.”

Your heart dropped. A few hours ago?

“And where have you been in those last few hours, hm?” You question, not really knowing if you wanted to know the answer.

Matt groans, throwing his head back on the couch. “Here we fucking go. All you do is nag on me fucking constantly, why do you think I’m gone all the time? I’ll tell you. Because you can’t fucking shut the fuck up and let me live for two minutes. You’re always up my ass asking me what I’m doing or who I’m with.”

Your heart starts to race in your chest, knowing you’re about to get in another fight with the man you used to never argue with. You used to have perfect communication, always able to work through your issues and things that bothered you, but now it was like a flip switched and he wanted to argue about everything, sober or not.

“I never see you anymore, Matt! You’re never home to just spend time with me! All I fucking want is to lay in bed and watch a movie with my boyfriend who cuddles with me and tells me he loves me! You act like I don’t exist and it hurts and I’m trying to stay but sometimes I wonder why I do.” Your voice is shaky as you speak, the adrenaline and emotions quickly getting to you. You never were good at fighting without crying.

“Why?” Matt questions quietly, dropping his gaze to his lap.

You’re confused. “Why what?” You ask him dryly, arms still crossed in an attempt to protect yourself, almost like you were protecting your heart.

He’s quiet for a moment before he speaks. “Why try to stay? If I’m so awful?”

Your breath catches in your throat. Was this it? Was this the fight you’ve been fearing for the last few weeks? Has everything you both have worked towards finally hit a wall?

“Because… because I keep hoping this is just a phase and you’ll snap out of it and love me again,” you choke out, tears filling your eyes. “I don’t understand what I did to make you not love me anymore and every day that I sit here by myself and think about it, I can’t come up with an answer and you won’t tell me. I would do fucking anything for you and you can’t even tell me you love me anymore.”

Matt let out a big sigh, picking at a rip in his jeans absentmindedly. “I do love you, I just… I need some time to myself.”

You scoff, crying now and not trying to stop it. “You don’t think I would’ve given you time? Space? Matt, all you had to say was that you were getting overwhelmed and needed time think about what you wanted, I would’ve understood that. Do you understand the fucking weight behind that? You have a woman who would let you take a step back from a relationship just because she knows how much you value your own space and time and your own autonomy. You will never fucking find a woman that will treat you the way I treat you. You will never find someone who loves you unconditionally through everything, including this. I swear to god, Matt, you better get your act together before you come home to fucking nothing.”

“Maybe that’s what I want!” Matt yells suddenly, getting up from the couch to walk over to you. You weren’t afraid, you knew he’d never hit you, but he’s also never yelled in your face like this either. “Maybe every fucking night I come home hoping you’ve packed up all of your shit and left. Hell, you could pack my shit and I’d be happy, I don’t fucking care, I just want to come home and know that you’ve finally given up on me. Don’t you get it? I’m trying to make it easy for you. I’m trying to be the worst boyfriend I could possibly be and you still won’t leave!”

The moment he’s done speaking you swear you could hear a pin drop. You felt like your world had completely stopped spinning on its axis.

You’re lightheaded as you stare at Matt, tears flowing freely down your face. He really was completely unrecognizable.

“What did I do?” You cried, still wanting nothing more than to feel your boyfriend’s arms wrap around you and tell you everything was going to be okay. But he wouldn’t, and it wasn’t. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Matt listened to your cries with a straight face, barely even seeming like he cared. “I just… don’t want to be with you anymore. Our relationship has run its course.”

You drop your head and let out a broken sob, reaching a hand up to try to wipe away your tears, but it was to no avail, they would just keep coming. “I love you with everything I have, I… I need you, Matt, how could you do this?”

Matt is silent, feeling like he��s already said all he needed to say. If he cared at all, he really didn’t show it.

You pick your head back up and look at Matt, your own eyes red and puffy, when you see it. You think it’s a shadow at first, but the more you stare, the more you realize your eyes aren’t deceiving you. You take a step forward and reach towards Matt, pulling the hood off his head and tugging the collar down, another choked cry falling from your lips.

“Is that a fucking hickey?” You accuse, looking up to meet his eyes. “You’re fucking cheating on me, too?!”

Matt grabs your wrist and pulls it away from him, throwing your arm back towards yourself before pulling his hood back up. “Back the fuck up, dude, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You laugh in his face, shaking your head in disbelief. “You are so fucking pathetic, Matt,” you spit at him. “You are so much of a pussy that you couldn’t even be a man and break up with me, you needed me to do it for you. Do you feel good about yourself? Knowing you cheated on someone who would literally give you the world? God, I can’t believe I almost gave you a fucking kid, you’re a joke of a partner. I feel bad for anyone that has to deal with you for the rest of their life.”

Matt clenches his jaw tightly at your words, hating how you knew exactly how to strike a nerve with him. “You think I feel good about this? I fucking don’t but I didn’t know what else to do, you would’ve never listened if I tried to leave you, you would’ve talked me into staying and I would’ve been miserable for the rest of my life!”

“You are the one that said you wanted a family! The one that said you wanted to marry me and buy our own farm and live in the middle of fucking nowhere! You said all of those things, not me!” You wanted to hit him so bad. To shake him, to kick him, to do anything to make him see how none of this made sense to you. How could he say all of those things and turn on you so quickly?

You two were laid in bed under the blankets, neither of you ready to get out of bed for the day just yet. The sun shone through the blind, illuminating Matt’s face perfectly, his blue eyes reflecting the light in a way that had you damn near in a trance, unable to pull your own eyes away from him. “I hope our babies have your eyes,” you tell him quietly, both of you laying on your sides to face each other.

He smiled shyly at you, closing his eyes for a moment. “Stop admiring me, it makes me awkward.” He mumbled, making you laugh.

“I’m your girlfriend, I’m supposed to admire you. Plus, it helps that you’re really hot and easy to admire.” You reach up and brush your hands through his hair that definitely needs a trim, pulling it back from his face to get a better view. “I’m serious, though. Your eyes are so pretty compared to mine.”

Matt opens his eyes and shoots you an annoyed look. “Stop it, our kids would be lucky to have any of your features, you’re fucking stunning.”

You giggle and roll over onto your back, staring at the ceiling for a few moments before speaking. “Do you ever think about that? Like what our kids will look like? I think about all the time. Especially like… a little girl, running around with your bright blue eyes and your big smile. I just know if we had a little girl she’d be so beautiful, Matt.” You turn your head towards your boyfriend to see him already smiling at you.

“I think about it all the time,” he starts, reaching a hand out to rest on your stomach that had been exposed by your shirt riding up, softly trailing his thumb back and forth. “I think about how protective I’d be if we had a daughter, or daughters. I think about how much of an honor it would be to raise a son with you. I think about what would happen if you got pregnant with twins or, god forbid, triplets.” You laugh at this, knowing it would be an absolute shit show. “I think about our kids, sure, but a lot of times I think to myself, ‘wow, if I love her so much now, I can’t imagine how much I’ll love her when she’s the mother of my children.’ That’s what I think.”

Your eyes become glossy and your vision goes slightly blurry as you stare at Matt, seeing the sincerity in his eyes as he spoke to you. “I love you,” you tell him and his face lights up, leaning in to place a small kiss on your lips.

“I love you more.”

“I did,” Matt shrugs his shoulders like it was no big deal. “But feelings change. People change.”

You shake your head angrily, not believing him. “No, not like that. Feelings don’t change like that, Matt. You met somebody else, didn’t you? All this time you’ve been seeing someone else.”

Matt groans, rubbing his eyes harshly. “So what?! It doesn’t matter, we’re over now, right? I’ll sleep on the couch and pack my shit tomorrow, can we just go to bed?”

You sniffle, the truth finally setting in that he’s completely given up and there was no getting him back. The Matt you once loved was gone forever and there was nothing you could do about it.

So you decided to land the final blow and make him realize how stupid he really was.

You grab his right hand with your left, facing it palm up as you reach your free hand into your pocket, grabbing the strip of paper you had kept in there, waiting for the perfect moment to drop this bomb on him. You slap the paper into his open hand before taking a step away, crossing your arms again.

“What is this?” Matt asks, staring down at the photos in front of him, panic setting in his chest. “Babe… babe, what is this?” He looks up at you, eyes wide. You swear you could almost hear his heart pounding.

“It’s an ultrasound, jackass.” You snap at him, completely over his shit.

Matt’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, eyes snapping between you and the photos. “You’re… pregnant?” He chokes out. Despite all the alcohol he’s consumed tonight, he feels the most sober he has in weeks, the reality of the situation crashing into him like a truck.

You laugh at his reaction, hating how he suddenly cared about you again. “Was,” you tell him bluntly, shrugging your shoulders like nothing you said mattered. “Turns out never getting any sleep and stressing out over your loser, lowlife boyfriend isn’t good for a baby.”

Matt lets out a huff of air like his lungs had collapsed in on him, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. “You… you were pregnant, and now you’re not?” He asks quietly, his own voice now shaking.

“Yes, Matthew, I was and now I’m not. That’s how that fucking works.” You walk over and snatch the pictures from him, ignoring his pleas of denial. “While you were out doing whatever the fuck or whoever the fuck you wanted, I was here throwing up every day by my fucking self, barely even able to eat oatmeal without getting sick. I was here reading up on how to get through pregnancy or how to be a good mother. I was here shopping for fucking baby clothes and decorations. And I was the one here miscarrying in our bed, by myself!” You have no idea when you started crying again, but you were, and there was no stopping it this time. “I was the one going to doctors appointments and listening to our baby’s teeny tiny heart beating. I was here looking at pictures of her tiny feet and tiny toes, wondering if she’d look like you or like me. I was here picking up the pieces when I found out her teeny tiny heart had stopped.”

Matt’s eyes had filled with tears now, too, his bright blue eyes only made brighter by the reflection of the lamp lit in the corner of the room. “Her?” He croaked, voice failing him. “It was a girl?”

You let out a sob, nodding your head weakly. “I found out the day I found out she was gone,” you cry, voice entering a higher pitch from your throat tightening. “I wanted her so bad, Matt, and I was just waiting for you to come around so I could tell you, and… you just never did and now we’re over. I went from a girl who wanted nothing more than a family with the man she loves to being a girl who’s oddly grateful she lost a baby so she doesn’t have to deal with looking at her daughter that reminds her of the man that broke her heart.”

Matt reaches up to wipe the tears from his cheeks, releasing a shaky breath out. “I’m sorry,” he whimpers, looking you dead in the eyes. “I’m sorry, if I had known-.”

“If you had known then what? You wouldn’t have treated me like shit? You wouldn’t have cheated? That should’ve been the bare fucking minimum, Matt, and now you’ve let down who was supposed to be the two most important girls in your life.” You point your finger at him as you speak, wanting to drive your point home and let him know how badly he had fucked up. “I would’ve done fucking anything for you, including growing your baby, and you threw that away, not me.”

“I was just scared, it was all happening so fast!” Matt wails, reaching out for you. “I got overwhelmed with the thought of settling down and I freaked out, I’m sorry.”

You push his hands away, ignoring his pleas. “You said it yourself, Matt. It’s over. Besides, I can’t bring her back. I’m always going to look at you and remember how you treated me when I had your baby inside me, and how you treated me when I dealt with the loss of our baby.”

Matt sobbed, placing his head in his hands as his shoulder shook. “I didn’t know!”

“You shouldn’t have to know!” You cried, hands flailing in front of you as you spoke, or more yelled. “You shouldn’t have to know I’m pregnant just to treat me like your fucking girlfriend! I would’ve done anything for you, including give up my body for nine months to give you a family, and you couldn’t even be loyal, and you have to live with that for the rest of your fucking life.”

Matt sunk to his knees in front of you, head resting on your stomach as he wraps his arms around your hips. You just stare down at him, your tears dripping into his hair. “I’m so sorry, please let me fix this,” he sobs into your sweater, hands gripping the back of it. “I fucked up so bad, I see that now.”

The sight of him made you want to crumble. You wanted to give in, to comfort him, to forget these last few months and go back to being the perfect happy couple you used to be. You didn’t know how you were supposed to live without him after all this time.

But you deserved better.

“Get up,” you tell him quietly and he turns his head up to look at you, cheeks soaked with his own tears. You reach down and cup his cheek, thumb swiping under his eyes to wipe new tears that fell. “Get up, Matt.”

He sniffles and obliges, standing in front of you once again, closer this time.

“You’re not sorry you hurt me,” you start, voice surprisingly calm. “You’re just sorry it backfired so badly.”

Matt grabs your hand that still rested on his face, holding it close and leaning into it. “Please,” he says, voice raspy. “Can we spend one more night together?”

You break eye contact to drop your eyes to the floor, shoulders shaking with the sob that ripped through your body.

“Yes,” you croak out, immediately melting into the arms that wrapped themselves around you like you’d disappear if he let go, your face tucking into his neck that smelled like cheap floral perfume, the scent feeling like a dagger to your heart.

You ignored it, though. Anything for one more night with the love of your life.

-

taglist

[caitified]

Hey, can you write some more Kate stories please ? They are really good 😊

puppy love

kate martin x reader

warnings: none! more family series coming soon

kate’s been quiet since the loss. she’s not one to show it too much—always trying to be strong, for her teammates, for you—but you can see it in the way she moves around the apartment, slower than usual, her usual spark dimmed.

it’s been a tough adjustment, this first season in the league. vegas has been good to her, to both of you, but the end of the playoffs hit harder than either of you expected. you’ve been wracking your brain for days, trying to find a way to cheer her up.

and then it hits you—the idea you’ve been holding onto for years.

kate’s always wanted a dog. she talked about it all the time in college, her face lighting up as she’d scroll through adoption websites, dreaming of the day you’d finally have a place big enough, a schedule steady enough, to make it happen.

now feels like the perfect time.

you spend a few days researching, visiting shelters while she’s at practice, and finally, you find the one. a golden retriever mix with the sweetest brown eyes, one that practically melts into your hand the moment you meet him.

the adoption papers are signed that afternoon.

when kate comes home from her workout the next day, the apartment’s unusually quiet.

“babe?” she calls, setting her bag down by the door.

“in the living room!” you reply, barely containing your excitement.

she rounds the corner, her brows furrowing as she takes in the scene—you sitting on the couch, and the dog sitting at your feet, wagging his tail like he’s already claimed her as his favorite person.

“oh my god,” kate breathes, dropping her water bottle as her eyes widen.

“surprise,” you say softly, your smile growing as she just stands there, frozen.

“is this—?”

“he’s ours,” you confirm, patting your thigh to call the dog closer. he trots over to you, but his attention quickly shifts to kate, sniffing her cautiously before pressing his nose against her hand.

“you—” kate’s voice catches, and she sinks to her knees, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “you got me a dog?”

“i got us a dog,” you correct, watching as her eyes start to glisten. “i know how hard this season’s been for you. and i thought… maybe this would help.”

kate lets out a shaky laugh, wrapping her arms around the dog, who happily licks her cheek. “you’re amazing, you know that?”

“i try,” you tease, moving to sit beside her on the floor.

she looks over at you, her eyes still wet but filled with so much love it makes your chest ache. “seriously, i can’t believe you did this. he’s perfect.”

“you’re perfect,” you counter, leaning in to kiss her temple.

she laughs again, this time lighter, and rests her head on your shoulder. “what’s his name?”

“i was thinking you could pick,” you say, watching as the dog flops onto his back, clearly at home already.

kate grins, brushing a hand over the dog’s soft fur. “how about lucky? because that’s how i feel right now.”

you laugh softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. “lucky it is.”

[daisymbin]

dino x f!reader

fluff prompt 28. "you’ve been carrying that photo of us in your wallet this whole time?"

reader finding out that Dino carries around a Polaroid photo in his wallet and it makes her emotional and feel really loved 🥺

omg this is so cute...thank you for requesting!! 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // chan's m.list

fluff prompt #28: "you've been carrying that photo of us in your wallet this while time?"

chan leaned against the doorway, watching you shuffle through the stack of polaroids spread out across the kitchen counter. the late afternoon sun bathed the room in warm light, but you didn’t seem to notice, your brows furrowed in concentration. he smiled softly—he loved seeing you like this, so focused, even if you were clearly frustrated.

“babe, are you okay?” he asked, stepping into the kitchen and resting his hands on the counter.

you looked up at him with a sigh, your lips pressed into a pout. “no. i can’t find it.”

“can’t find what?” he tilted his head, concern flickering across his face.

“the polaroid,” you said, gesturing to the mess of pictures in front of you. “the one that the old man offered & took of us on our first date. remember? the one by the fountain?”

chan froze for a moment, and his heart squeezed at the mention of that day. of course, he remembered. it had been one of the best days of his life.

“it’s the perfect picture for the fridge,” you continued, your frustration evident as you ran a hand through your hair. “it’s meaningful, and it’s... us. but it’s gone. i don’t know where it could be.”

chan watched as you shuffled through the pictures again, muttering to yourself. he could see how much this meant to you, and he felt a pang of guilt for keeping it away from you all these years.

“oh, this?” he said casually, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet.

you froze mid-motion, your eyes narrowing slightly. “what do you mean, ‘this’?”

chan grinned, flipping open his wallet and carefully pulling out the slightly worn polaroid. he held it up between his fingers, the corners frayed from years of being carried around. “this is the one you’re talking about, right?”

your jaw dropped. “you’ve been carrying that photo of us in your wallet this whole time?”

he laughed sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “uh... yeah. is that bad?”

“bad?” you stepped closer, taking the picture from his hand and examining it like it was a treasure you’d thought you’d lost forever. “chan, this is... you’ve had it this whole time?”

he shrugged, his cheeks turning a faint pink. “i don’t know. i just... liked having it with me. it reminds me of how lucky i got that day.”

you looked up at him, your expression softening as the frustration melted away. “you’re such a sap,” you teased, but your voice was warm, your smile unmistakably affectionate.

“hey, don’t act like you’re not flattered,” he shot back, leaning against the counter with a smirk. “i mean, come on. who wouldn’t want to carry around a picture of the best day of their life?”

“the best day of your life?” you repeated, arching a brow.

“okay, maybe not the best,” he admitted, grinning. “but it’s definitely up there. it was our first date, after all.”

you stared at him for a moment, the polaroid still in your hands. “i can’t believe you never told me,” you said softly.

chan’s smile faltered, and his gaze dropped to the floor. “i don’t know. it felt... personal, i guess. like something just for me.”

you reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “well, now it’s something for both of us. and i think it belongs on the fridge.”

he looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. “are you sure? i mean, i can keep carrying it if you want—”

“chan,” you interrupted, your voice firm but kind. “we’re putting it on the fridge. it’s too special to keep hidden away.”

he hesitated for a moment before nodding. “only if we take another one together to put in my wallet. deal?”

“deal,” you said with a laugh, holding out your pinky.

he linked his pinky with yours, his heart feeling lighter than it had in days.

“thank you,” you said quietly, your eyes meeting his. “for keeping it safe. for always keeping us close, even when i didn’t know.”

chan’s smile softened, and he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “always,” he murmured. “you’re everything to me, you know that, right?”

you nodded, your eyes shining with emotion. “i know. and i feel the same.”

as the two of you placed the polaroid on the fridge together, chan couldn’t help but think that this moment—this quiet, tender moment with you—might just be his new favorite memory.

[zvdvdlvr]

‘mama’ + Spencer Reid

Author’s note: This gif made me think of single dad!Spencer for some reason.

     “Whaddaya got, little love?” You ask Louisa as she runs over to where you were laying with Spencer on the couch. Spencer draws random equations and shapes on your back (it soothes you even though you don’t actually know what he’s tracing) as the television plays the movie ‘Interstellar’ quietly- a favorite of yours.

     Louisa brandishes a mildly crinkled paper and shoces it into your faces. “I drew us!” She points to a tall stick figure with a brown curly mop for hair, saying: “That’s you, daddy.” She points to the littlest stick figure on the paper with black lines (arms) connecting to the end of Soencer’s black line arm on the paper to another adult sized stick figure labeled ‘Mommy’. 

     “That’s me,” Louisa informs the two of you solemnly as she points to the littlest figure. She has her dad’s curly brown hair in the picture.

     You hold your breath. You had been dating Spencer for almost a year now. Louisa was his perfect baby girl from a pregnancy with a woman he’d gotten to comfortable with. The thing was, Louisa hadn’t called you ‘mom’ yet, always sticking with y/n/n- something she started saying after hearing Spencer call you that once. Truthfully, you were fine with little Lou calling you by your name. Even though she didn’t know her real mommy, you didn’t want to force her to call you mom. It was a whole mess of emotions, really, but you wanted Louisa to feel comfortable calling you her mother instead of feeling obligated.

     So when she did point at the smiling stick figure with (your colored hair) and a big smile and say, “That’s you, mama!” you felt your heart swell.

     “That’s beautiful, Lou,” you told her with a shaking voice. You reached over and brushed a curl behind her hair.

     Spencer felt a similar surge in his chest as he watched his little girl smile brightly at her ‘mama’. “Go put it on the fridge,” he told her. “Then come back and snuggle with us.”

     You waited until Louisa left the room to look up at Spencer with teary eyes. “Did you-? Are you-? I love that girl so much,” you whispered to him as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck and bury your nose into is chest. “She called me mama, Spence. You heard it right?”

     Spencer’s large hands came to settle on your waist. “I heard it, angel, I heard it. She was actually calling you that the other day.” At your disbelieving gasp, he laughed. “She said, ‘Daddy, is mama going to have dinner with us again?’ and I asked her who mama was and she rolls her eyes and goes ‘y/n, daddy. Who else?’”

     An embarrassingly tearful laugh escapes you. “I’m going to cry,” you state. 

     “You already are,” Spencer points out, making you sigh exasperatedly. “I’m just saying that you are!”

     “Louisa! Daddy’s being mean to me!” You shout loudly, hearing loud shrieks of laughter followed by giggling. “Hurry up so we can tickle him!”

     “Don’t be mean to mama, daddy!” Louisa screams as she barrels into the room. She takes a flying leap and you catch her in your arms. “You said the being mean is bad,” reprimanded the little girl. 

     You could see Spencer trying not to laugh as Louisa wags her finger at him. “I didn’t do anything, Lou-girl!”

     “Don’t listen to him, Louisa! He was saying how mama smelled bad!” You tell her, holding her close in your arms. “I think we should tickle him, Lou…”

     The little girl squirms in your arms as she giggles deviously. “I think we should tickle you, daddy,” she says. You don’t have a moment to think before she flies out of your arms and starts jabbing her fingers into Spencer’s torso.

     You almost fall backwords with laughter as Louisa immediately is rendered immobile when Spencer retaliates. The brown-haired, laughing blurs in fromt of you are your whole world and you couldn’t be more grateful for moments like these.

[heartowan]

★ WINTER VISITOR : red hood x reader!

( cuss words ) ──────────────── ★

* im not from america so i have absolutely nooo idea how much is -20°c in fahrenheit im sorry 😭 *

You used to enjoy winter so much more when you were a kid. The snow, the warm clothes, the atmosphere, your mom's hot chocolate... everything was so perfect back then. Now, though, you didn't like it as much.

Not because you grew up to be an insufferable grump, but things weren't as easy. At 9, you didn't have to walk on snowy streets from campus to work to your house in a -20°C weather. Freezing your ass used to be fun when it was voluntary.

But, fortunately, the holidays were already coming, so you wouldn't have any more classes during these few weeks, and you'd also get a few breaks from your job at the bookstore. Finally, some rest.

That's what you thought when you approached your porch, pulling out the keys to open the door in a practiced movement, but you stopped when your eyes caught a glimpse of something red. Then you walked a little closer, and you were able to make out the shape of someone sitting down with their legs stretched, hand cluching their side, a weird helmet on their head and a little cropped brown jacket... what a weird combination.

You knew that helmet, though. You lived in his area, after all.

"Can I help you?" Anyone, literally, anyone, would advise you to not speak to him and simply go find some place else to crash for the night until he went away. The thing is, you wouldn't listen anyway.

He raised his head in your direction, the white eyes of that creepy/fucking weird helmet staring at you, sizing you up and probably judging the fact that you were wearing green tights and red shoes. But, hey, who even was he to judge your style choices?

"Actually, yeah." He said, and even with the modulator distorting his voice, you could hear the hoarsness and the faint tireness. "I'm fucked up over here, I'm not sure I can walk anymore."

You furrowed your eyebrows at that and reached for the phone in your pocket. Carefully, you crouched down beside him and turned on the torch to be able to see his wound better. "Let me see." You said, urging him to take his hand away.

He revealed the wound to you, and God, it was nasty. A bloody and very bumpy gash started from the left side of his abdomen to a little bit before the height of his shoulder blade. Absolutely disgusting. Whoever did that was probably trying to split him in half.

"Oh, my God." You mumbled, your eyes widened at the sight.

"Yeah." He added, nodding his head in understanding to your shock. "Can you at least let me in to... I don't know? Clean it up? It just starts bleeding more if I walk, and I don't wanna get an infection."

What kind of stupid fucking little dumbo would let a stranger dressed like that into their house, especially in Gotham?

"Yeah, come on in." You said, your eyebrows furrowing even more at your own brainlessness. They were almost knitted together like a unibrow.

★...

He sat down on your couch like his body weighted tons, and you noticed how his wound did an odd ripple movement. It just got weirder.

"I have a first aid kit in my bathroom." You said, stripping off your coat and your jacket. "I'll go get it. Do you need anything else?" He just shook his head, and you quickly disappeared into the little hallway.

Red Hood used this moment to look around your house, trying to distract himself from the pain and dizziness. He took in how your walls weren't white, but some kind of eggshell color and there was a green wall too, that one covered in framed paintings, pictures and many posters, as well as some hanging plants.

There were just so many plants. Your couch was more comfortable than his bad, and you had a fluffy mat at the center of the living room, between the couch and your bookshelves, which were full of books he could barely recognize in the dim light.

Oh, yes, the lamps. You had little lamps everywhere and one big lamp beside the couch, but they were all warm and barely even illuminated a thing. They made the room very cozy, though.It was so homey, and it looked like you. If he saw you randomly on the street and for some reason he decided to guess what your house looked like from the inside, that would be it. Maybe not as many lamps, but still.

"Okay, I'm back." You walked out of the little hall in hurried steps, a little red box in your hands. You kneeled close to him on the couch. "Fuck, the lights." You mumbled, and he though your annoyed tone was funny, so he smiled a little under his helmet.

After switching on the big, white light, you kneeled again and gently moved the ripped fabric of his shirt away from the cut. He was staining your couch with blood, but you decided not to care at that moment. With some gauze and saline solution, you cleaned the whole thing up, the sides, and what you could reach of the insides, then, you sprayed some antiseptic on it.

"This is disgusting, but I don't think you'll need stitches." You murmured, not looking at him. Your eyes were focused on the wound. "At least not on the whole thing."

"I can manage." It was all he said.

"I'm gonna patch it up so it isn't exposed." He simply nodded at that, and you started covering the extension of the gash with the little pieces of gauze you had, and then, you secured them with some adhesive tape. "All done."

He stayed there for at least forty minutes, and you noticed how he seemed to have fallen asleep at some point. Maybe he was too tired. You didn't care, but you let him rest anyway.

When he woke up from his nap, you had changed outfits into something more comfortable than the jeans you wore before. A pair of gray sweatpants and a very soft brown hoodie on top of your black Iron Man t-shirt.

"You want some tea?" You offered, looking down at him as he seemed to access the situation — probably forgot what the hell had happened for a second.

"Yeah... yeah. What is it?" He mumbled, his distorted voice sounding groggy. You smiled faintly at that.

"It's peach and ginger." You said. "I like it."

You poured a small amount of it in a little mug you had. It was one of your favorites, with little leaves painted all over it.

"I put honey on it, tastes better." You handed him the mug. And then it hit you... how the hell was he gonna drink the tea with that weird ass helmet on? "How do you- oh."

He shut you up when he removed the helmet after one little click at the back of it.

"You wear a mask under your helmet?" You arched one eyebrow, and he chuckled at your reaction.

"It's for the effect." He said and took a sip of the tea. "Very sweet."

You took a moment to look at the exposed parts of his face. He had a few scars all over it, a sharp jaw and slightly plumpy lips, which were rosy from drinking the tea. He also had flushed cheeks, probably from the cold and a seemingly straight nose. You couldn't really tell the shape from that distance.

"Thanks for taking care of that... and for te tea. And for letting me nap on your couch." He said, looking up at you.

His voice sounded so melodic now without the modulator. It was just slightly raspy, not absurdly deep, but not even a little bit high, and just so much more easy on the ears than you'd ever expect Red Hood's voice to be.

"You're leaving?" You asked in a slightly exasperated tone that surprised both of you and put your own mug down. "You sure you're gonna be alright?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Don't worry." He shook his head, waving his hand as if to say it wasn't a big deal. You just shrugged at that.

He put his mug down, it was almost empty. So he liked the tea. With his helmet in hand and walking a little more stable than before, he offered you a small smile before stepping over to your door.

"Bye." He murmured. "Thanks again."

You stood there after he left, in your living room, with the big light on, staring at the door. What an unusual night. Your eyes drifted back to the blood stain on your couch, and you groaned internally at the fact that you were the one that was gonna have to clean that.

That only reinforced your belief that vigilantes only brought more and more trouble.

☆

[musingsofahufflepuff]

Just to Stop the Feeling

bi!Theodore Nott x m!reader; angst & fluff

summary: in the wake of his mother’s death and his father’s ever increasing expectations of him, Theodore finds love in a place he never would have expected

a/n: a year in the making and this might be the gayest thing i’ve ever written. big shout out to @suugarbabe for listening to me yap about this for weeks, the anon who requested this, and everyone who’s been supporting me the past year. here's 6.2k words of bi awakening, enjoy ♡

The Great Hall was loud, too loud if you asked Theodore. The Sytherin was sat at his house table, head propped up on one hand as his friends chattered around him. The sorting ceremony had just wrapped up which meant everyone in the Hall was catching up about their summers. Theo thought back to just a couple days ago, the oppressive silence that haunted the Nott Manor in stark contrast to just how lively and crowded it was now. His father was rarely in common spaces nowadays, thank Merlin, but that left Theo to stalk around the Manor much like the ghosts floating above him now. If only it was as interesting an existence as Sir Nicholas or even Peeves. Not even a poorly rolled cigarette in the garden brought much enjoyment to him these days.

“Theo! Are you with us mate?”

His eyes drag up to meet the inquisitive look on Enzo’s face. He hums in acknowledgement.

“We’ve been talking to you for the past five minutes.” Theo takes the cue to look around and see the group looking at him, some in amusement and some—Mattheo specifically, though he tries to hide it—with concern.

He slips on his signature lazy half smirk with minimal effort, rehearsed and perfected. “Tired from the train, what did I miss?”

Enzo perks up and launches them back into conversation, Mattheo visibly relaxing in his peripheral. Arm still supporting his head, he jokes and laughs and nods along to everyone recapping their summer breaks, feeling hollow.

The Slytherin common room wasn’t cozy in the traditional sense, with its cool lighting and excess of stone architecture, but Theo found it comforting nonetheless. He was sitting on one of the leather couches in front of the fireplace, this time only in the company of Mattheo and Draco.

Cool leather against his skin contrasted nicely with the heat of the fire, the familiar voices of his friends putting his soul at ease for the first time in months. He loosely kept up with what they were talking about, his mind simultaneously wandering to thoughts about the new term. Evidently, Draco and Mattheo were on the same wavelength as the topic shifted to Hogwarts and—much to Theo’s dismay—girls. “So Nott, got your eye on anyone this year?”

Theo rolled his head against the back of the couch to face Draco, that smirk back on his face. “Eh, hadn’t thought about it too much. I know Pansy has hers on you, Malfoy.”

The blond scoffs, “as if I wasn’t aware.”

“Like a predator on prey,” Mattheo cracks, smile evident in his voice. Theo allows himself to chuckle as Draco looks at them helplessly. Theo feels Matt’s elbow nudge at his side. “Too bad it isn’t Granger looking at him that way.”

A pillow flies past Theo’s head and smacks the boy next to him square in the face. Mattheo dramatically falls back onto the couch before erupting into laughter.

“Too bad you aren’t a beater, huh Malfoy?” Theo quips, quickly putting up his hands to potentially block another projectile pillow.

Draco just groans, “I’m going to bed.”

The first month of classes flies by fairly quickly, everyone falling into their usual rhythm. Quidditch practices a few times a week, late nights smoking in the astronomy tower and the odd party here and there. Theo is itching to get off the castle grounds.

That’s why he jumped at the opportunity to go when Enzo asked the group for company on his shopping trip that Saturday morning. Theodore loved Hogsmeade in the fall. The shops would put up festive decorations and the entire atmosphere of the small village grew extra cozy.

With a Slytherin scarf loosely draped over his shoulders and Butterbeer on the brain, he met his group of friends at the beginning of the path to Hogsmeade.

The breeze was comfortable as they walked through the village, stopping every couple of shops to peruse the new inventory. They finally make their way to the Three Broomsticks, finding a table for the group.

Theo groans as he gets voted to go up to the bar for drinks. Sitting at one of the stools is a guy in scarf showing off a badger emblem. As he gets closer, he realizes he vaguely recognizes the Hufflepuff. Theo settles himself down on the stool next to him, causing the guy to look over.

He has a quizzical expression on his face, eyes lighting up as he figures out who he’s looking at, “You’re Nott, right? I think we have a couple classes together.”

His heart thumps a little harder at his name on the boy’s lips. The boy in front of him tilts his head when Theo doesn’t respond, reminding him to give a quick nod.

The Hufflepuff’s lips tug up into a small smile as he offers up his name.

Theo blinks a couple times and stammers out something about seeing the guy around sometime before he’s speed walking back to the table, no drinks in hand.

“Whoa, who got Nott blushing?”

Theo furrows his brows together in confusion, a hand coming up to his face. And sure enough, heat was radiating off his cheeks.

“Never mind that, Theo! Where’s the butterbeer?”

Monday morning Theo is sitting in History of Magic before class starts, getting ready for an hour of boredom, when books hitting the desk with a thud catches his attention. He’s startled to see you, the Hufflepuff boy from the Three Broomsticks, standing there already looking at him.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Theo nods, feeling like an idiot. Why was this Hufflepuff boy able to completely shut off his ability to speak, let alone think?

That bright smile is back on your face as you take the seat next to him. And his heart flutters.

“So glad this is the last year of having to put up with Binns and his masterclass story telling,” he can practically feel the sarcasm dripping from your voice and finds himself cracking a smile. An actual smile, not the smirk he usually puts on.

“I know, it’s a wonder anyone manages to stay awake.”

You gesture to the travel mug in your hands, “gotta keep at least a bit of caffeine on me for emergencies. One of my muggle-born friends gave me something called an energy drink? It’s…a lot, to be quite honest.”

Theo huffs a laugh, “energy drink? You’d be better off with some espresso than whatever muggles put in those things.”

You give a contemplative nod, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Before he can figure out something else to say, to keep existing in the surprising warmth of conversation with you, Binns is starting up his monotone ramble. Theo feels his heart sink as you look away from him to at least make an attempt to pay attention. He silently looks through his textbook, trying to ignore the weird sensation in his chest.

“Hey Theo, wanna come to the Astronomy Tower tonight?” Mattheo’s voice comes from behind where he’s sat in the common room the next evening after dinner.

He pulls his nose out of the book he was buried in as he thinks it over. It had been a while since he’d had a proper smoke with the lads, and he didn’t need to ask to know that’s what Mattheo had in mind. It doesn’t take long for him to set his book down on the table with a nod, “yeah, sure.”

As he turns around to face him, he sees Enzo right behind the other boy, grinning with a thumbs up. The look on his face makes Theo debate changing his mind, but he walks out of the common room with the pair anyway. 

The walk up to the Astronomy Tower is long and filled with so many stairs that Theo is very quickly reminded why he doesn’t bother coming up here as often as he thinks he’d like to. Enzo and Mattheo walk slightly in front of him, talking about something Theo doesn’t really bother to listen in on, Quidditch perhaps? How those two don’t run out of things to talk about, he’ll never know. He’s so lost in thought he barely notices the last two flights of stairs to the top and he’s suddenly hit with the cool air of early fall. He’s also suddenly aware that Mattheo and Enzo are no longer talking, but instead looking at him. He blinks.

“Huh?”

“Told ya he’s just been on a different planet lately,” Enzo quips, nudging Mattheo with his elbow. Mattheo nods in agreement but doesn’t comment on it, instead repeating his question, “I said do ya got your own smokes or are you taking one off me? Cause if you are, we’re fucked. I’m out.”

Theo isn’t surprised in the slightest, “is that why you invited me? Free cigs?” Nonetheless, he pulls a pack out of his pocket and holds it out for him.

Matt grins as he swipes one, “nah, but it doesn’t hurt. You’ve always got nicer ones than me.” Enzo immediately scoffs.

“It’s cause you’re broke Matty—”

“Shut up, no I’m not!”

“Then explain why you keep mooching off of me—” they continue to bicker before Theo cuts them off. “Matt, got a light?” 

Mattheo shuts up and holds out a lighter, flicking it to life with practiced ease. Enzo swoops in with his joint before Theo can even pull a cigarette out of his pack, rolling his eyes at his friend. Mattheo raises an eyebrow quizzically, “weed? Seriously?”

Enzo just shrugs nonchalantly, cocky little smirk on his face. “Not my fault neither of you know how to have fun—hold on, is that my fucking lighter?!” Mattheo gives him a shrug, moving it away from where Enzo’s leaning in to get a better look. 

Theo sighs, “I think he meant on a school night—”

“Who are you? My mum? Didn’t think you cared about actually attending lessons, Teddy—” Theo immediately scowls at the nickname, making Enzo raise his hands in surrender, smirk still planted on his face. Merlin, he could be insufferable.

Theo returns the shrug, trying to play it off, “just figured with OWLs coming up—”

He’s cut off once again, this time by Mattheo, “don’t tell me, you wanna make sure you don’t miss sitting by that Hufflepuff.” Damn his ability to see straight through him. “Don’t think we didn’t notice you two sitting together yesterday in Binns’ class.”

“Well, I didn’t…” Enzo interjects but is ignored by Mattheo other than an exasperated eye roll.

“You seemed pretty chatty; wasn’t that the same guy at the Three Broomsticks last Saturday?”

Theo quickly lights the cigarette on Mattheo’s still flickering flame and shoves it between his lips. He receives an unimpressed look at his attempt to avoid the question, but to his credit, Matt refrains from pressing further. The same cannot be said for Enzo.

“So what, you’re fraternizing with Hufflepuffs now, are ya mate? Never thought I’d see the day—” his teasing is abruptly ended by Mattheo whacking him upside the head.

Mattheo lights his own cigarette before putting the lighter away, taking a deep drag from it. There’s a beat of silence between them. A gentle breeze passes through the tower as Theo looks out at the Scottish Highlands bathed in the light of the moon.

“He’s just…nice, I guess. Doesn’t seem to mind I’m a Slytherin,” Theo finally answers, releasing a stream of smoke.

Enzo chuckles, rubbing the back of his head where he was whacked. “Fair enough. I feel like usually only girls that want a little fun are willing to break that barrier.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively as he takes a drag as well. Mattheo snorts with a nod. “At least it's not a Gryffindor.” Theo’s nose subconsciously scrunches.

“Yeah, remember that Gryffindor Enz was all over end of last term because word was going around he had a good pot stash?” Now it’s Mattheo getting shoved, but he barely reacts besides a huff of a laugh. 

“Didn’t even have the goods,” Enzo pouts petulantly, “wasted a whole 2 weeks for nothing.”

“I think you’ll live, mate.”

Theo leans back against the railing, cigarette between his lips as he watches his best mates as their bickering shifts into them laughing and joking like it always does. He adds a couple quips here and there, mind wandering to the Hufflepuff boy periodically as the cigarette slowly dwindles. Once it’s reached the end of its life, he snuffs it out, pushing himself off the floor where they’d ended up sitting for the past hour. “I think I’m heading back down to the dorms, it’s getting late.”

Mattheo shares a look with Enzo. With a smirk, Enzo wolf whistles, “gotta get your beauty sleep for your little badger, eh Nott?”

Theo just flips him the middle finger as he crosses the tower to the first of many, many stairs. As his descending footsteps echo through the stairwell, Enzo turns to Mattheo, “poor fucker is whipped.”

Mattheo nods, “and down right oblivious…how many galleons are we betting for how long it takes him to figure it out?”

There’s a mischievous smirk on the other boy’s face. “How much you got?”

The next morning, Theo is once again startled by the Hufflepuff boy dropping his books on the table with that same dramatic thud. If Theo didn’t know any better, he would start to think it was intentionally to get his attention. This time, he speaks first.

“Morning.” 

There’s that bright smile again and Theo’s chest feels…odd.

“Morning!” you chirp as you slide into the seat. “I took your advice and got some espresso, much better than that muggle concoction. Figured since it was your suggestion, I’d bring you some. Mum got some beans from a cafe in London when I wrote her about it.”

Once again a warm sensation floods Theo as a second mug is set on the table and slid his direction. He carefully picks it up and takes off the lid, finding a double shot inside. It’s still hot from what he assumes is a temperature charm on the mug and the warm sensation in his chest gets stronger.

He raises the cup to his nose, inhaling the comforting aroma of coffee before taking a sip. It’s not quite the taste of home, but it’s close. He nods appreciatively. 

Then before he can stop himself he’s making an offer, accent a hint thicker than he typically tries to control, “I’ll have to make you a cup the way I had growing up sometime. This is good though.”

Theo doesn’t have time to backtrack or change his mind before your smile is turning softer. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

To hide the flushing of his cheeks, he quickly downs the rest of the liquid and hands the mug back. For maybe the first time ever he’s glad Binns decides now is the perfect time to begin the monotonous period. 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you put the mug back in your bag, soft smile still on your face. And maybe Theo doesn’t hate this class as much as he thought he did.

Over the following weeks, Theodore does the unthinkable: he looks forward to bloody History of Magic, just for the opportunity to chat with you before class. 

His friends share looks at breakfast as he starts leaving earlier and earlier each Monday and Wednesday, hoping to get even just a bit of extra time with you. Because he’s too nervous to ask you to hang out. And he cannot for the life of him figure out why. 

He’s Theodore Nott. The stoic, level headed and lusted after Slytherin. Right? He makes people nervous. He flusters pretty girls. So what the bloody hell is going on? 

He’s never, not once in his 5 years at Hogwarts, ever considered the possibility that someone could do this to him. Let alone a stupid, pretty Hufflepuff boy with a gentle, excited smile that’s way too eager to mingle with a snake. But somewhere in his gut Theo knows he’d be devastated if the other boy stopped. 

And that terrifies him.

One morning after several weeks of sitting together, you once again drop your books onto the desk with the theatrics Theo’s come to expect from you. He subconsciously finds himself perking up at the sound just before you start chattering away, something he’s also grown almost fond of. He likes that you tend to fill the space he’d otherwise find awkward or tedious in conversation, seemingly undeterred by his often quiet nature. And he’s more than happy to just listen to you and bask in your welcoming presence. 

This time you’re talking about the History of Magic exam coming up in a couple weeks and your lack of a study partner, something that instantaneously catches Theo’s attention. 

“Yeah, my usual study buddy bailed on me, the nerve,” you laugh. “So now I’m on the hunt for a new one…” 

Theo’s heart rate picks up as you trail off, there’s no way you’re going to say what he’s hoping you will. Right? There’s no way he’s that lucky. Hell, there’s no way someone like you would want to be around him outside sitting next to each other in the worst class offered at Hogwarts. He’s pretty sure you have less controversial friends to ask than a brooding Slytherin whose best mate is the son of Voldemort, for fucks sake—

His internal pity party is cut short by you looking at him almost… nervously?

“Would you maybe be free to, I dunno, study together some time next week? It’s cool if you’re not, I just thought—well, I’m not sure what I thought—other than that I would offer,” your question starts to shift into a ramble and your cheeks flush as you seem to realize it. Meanwhile, Theo’s heart has stopped and his breath catches in his throat. He has to hold himself back from shouting a thrilled “Yes!”

He clears his throat, desperately clinging to his composure. “Yeah, sure, I could make that work. When did you have in mind?”

Theo feels nearly sick with nerves as he sits at the Central Hall fountain outside of the library waiting for you. He was at least 15 minutes early, mostly because Enzo said he would hex him if he kept pacing around the dorm room like he had been for the prior half hour. His foot taps anxiously in a way he is not used to. He's no stranger to stress, but this is on a different level. All he's going to be doing is go over the most boring aspects of wizarding history with you for a couple hours and here he is, worried he's going to end up in the Hospital Wing with heart palpitations. He takes a deep, shaky breath as he looks up at the snoring dragon mural above the library. Just breathe you idiot!

“Hey Theo, sorry I'm late. My dormmate would not shut up.” He hears your voice before he sees you, his head turning to follow the sound. And he tries to keep the surprise off his face at hearing you call him Theo instead of Nott like you had been since that afternoon in the Three Broomsticks. “You ready for the most exciting next couple hours of your life?” Oh, and what he wouldn't do to see that teasing little grin on your face more—

“Ready,” he stands from the fountain bench, following behind you through the heavy wooden doors of the library.

He walks half a step behind you as you weave your way through the tables and shelves, finding a relatively remote spot in the already quiet space. For maybe the first time in—your friendship? Theo hopes that's what you two are at least—the entire time he's known you, your set your books down without the slam.

You must have noticed the look he was giving you because you smirk. “I don't just go throwing books when you're not around. And close your jaw, you'll catch lacewing flies.”

Theo lightly bites on his lip as he sits next to you at the table, your shoulders almost touching. You flip the massive textbook open and pull a couple quills and parchment from your bag as you settle in to go over the material.

There’s a feeling of familiarity with you that Theo wasn’t anticipating. Conversation comes more naturally than when he’s spoken with you before class and he realizes he really, really likes spending time with you. There’s no bickering like there is with Matt and Enzo, no snarky comments thrown around for laughs. It’s peaceful and warm. 

He feels like that around you a lot, he realizes, warm. Comfortable. His arm brushes against yours.

Theo and you spend the next couple hours working through the exam material, interspersed with getting to know each other. He listens to you ramble about your favorite classes this term, your friends—anything you’re willing to tell him, he wants to drink it all in.

Neither of you seem to notice how close you’ve gotten to each other until he can feel your breath on his face and that warmth that seems to radiate off of you. Then, you’re getting closer.

There in the back of the library, Theo’s world comes to a standstill as you gently press your lips against his, his heart threatening to pound out of his chest. It takes him a couple seconds to regain his senses before moving his lips back against yours, losing himself in the kiss. 

He notices you taste like earl grey which blends with the woody scent of your cologne in an intoxicating mixture. Much too soon for his liking you’re pulling back and he has to stop himself from whining at the loss of contact. 

His eyes flutter open to find you haven’t gone far. In the silence he thinks about how pretty your eyes are and maybe—no, definitely—that’s his new favorite color.

“Was that okay?” your voice is just above a whisper.

Theo just leans forward and recaptures your lips in another kiss. First his mind swirls with this is what kissing is supposed to feel like. He’s dumbfounded that it really can feel like fireworks and it’s not just some sappy bullshit made for the romance novels Pansy and Daphne read.

Then it all comes crashing down.

The next thing he feels is dread. Overwhelming, overpowering dread. He can’t quite place why, but it’s there. And suddenly he’s pulling away from your lips like he’s been burned.

He sees the shock on your face, but before he starts to apologize or explain, his father’s voice is itching in the back of his mind. He steps back.

Your voice saying his name is muffled by the ringing in his ears and your concerned expression is taken over by that all too familiar disappointed look in his father’s eyes. He runs away, feeling more like a coward than he’s ever felt in his life. 

And the worst part is he knows he’s leaving you alone, confused and hurt. But he does it anyway.

After wandering the corridors of the castle for the better part of 10 minutes, lost in thought, he finds himself in front of the music room. Like his body instinctively knew where he needed to be. He pushes the door open, relieved to find it empty. The wooden stairs creak as he walks up. He sits on the rug by the piano, hugging his knees to his chest.

Theo is alone in the music room not 20 minutes before Mattheo finds him. A bloodhound that boy. Or maybe he just knows Theo too well. 

“Your little badger sent me.” Mattheo eases down onto the rug next to him, close enough for his knee to lightly graze Theo’s thigh. “He was freaking out like the world was ending or he kicked your cat or something. Didn’t know where to find you, but he did find Berk and I in the Astronomy tower. So I said I’d take care of it, you’re welcome.”

Theo just hums in acknowledgment.

“So…did he actually kick your cat or what?”

Theo shakes his head.

“Well it must have been pretty bad since you came here. Haven’t seen you hiding out here since, well—” his mum died. Mattheo doesn’t have to finish his sentence, they both know.

A long breath he didn’t realize he was holding breaks out in a sigh as his eyes shut. The soft enchanted piano music is the only sound for a moment as he wills away the emotions threatening to surface. “I don’t know, maybe the world is ending.”

A couple more beats of quiet. “Wanna talk about it?” He knows deep down it’s a question Matt will respect the answer to. And he briefly debates turning him down, but something compels him to slowly nod.

“He—we kissed.”

“Was it bad?”

“No.”

Mattheo nods as he considers the response he was given. “So the problem was that it was good?”

“Yes? No? Maybe?”

“That’s kinda dodging the question, mate.”

Theo groans, “I don’t know, okay?” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I just— cazzo! This is wrong, isn’t it? Feeling like this?”

“Theo—”

“I can’t feel this way for another guy. My father would disown me and it’d ruin my life. I’m supposed to marry a pureblood witch and produce an heir and—”

Before Theo has time to stop him or even process what’s happening, Mattheo is grabbing him by the face and pressing their lips together, and that same fluttering sensation is back. It’s not as strong and thrilling as kissing you, Theo’s not sure that’s even replicable, but it still feels nice in a way none of his previous kisses have been. Where he was going through the motions for some reason even he didn’t understand. But no, once again he can understand why people would want to do this.

Then as quick as he was pulled in, his best friend is pulling away, silently observing him for a moment.

“Did the world end?” 

“…No.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

They sit staring at each other as Theo’s brain struggles to formulate a response. 

“Matty, I—” he hesitates like this is going to be what destroys their friendship, “I don’t think I’m…straight.”

“I didn’t think you were.” 

And something about the way he says it makes Theo feel better. Like he’s not being judged or ridiculed for feeling this way. Like it’s something natural. A no-brainer, boring fact of life. Theo thinks he might cry. 

Instead he leans forward and connects their lips again, just briefly. And part of him knows Mattheo can feel the underlying sadness and fear in it. But when they pull apart once again, neither of them comment on it. A weight feels like it's been lifted off him.

“I think,” Theo pauses as he debates speaking about this out loud for the first time, like it will make it real. “I think I haven’t really felt like myself since my mum...y'know?” He says it like it’s a question, but they both know the truth. “I know it’s been 2 years, I should be fine. But I’m not.”

Mattheo, who had been quietly listening, speaks. “I don’t know Theo…I’ve barely heard you talk about her since you came back to school third year. Have you talked about it to anyone? Hell, have you let yourself grieve?”

“I…I don’t know how. My father stopped mentioning her after the funeral and—he barely acknowledged she was even gone.” He pulls his knees back up to his chest. “I miss her.”

He feels the comforting warmth of Matt’s hand on his shoulder blade. And the gentle touch of his thumb across his cheek, wiping a tear away is the first indication that he’s started to cry. He quickly sniffles in an attempt to stop the tears, but it doesn't work. If anything, it just makes them fall faster. He tucks his head down, forehead against his knees. Mattheo's hand gently rubs his back as they sit in silence as he cries. He's grateful Matt doesn't try to help by speaking, the gentle piano filling his ears like a warm hug after being lost in the cold for days with no reprieve.

The silent sobs eventually slow, his body no longer shaking from the force of them. And weirdly, he feels better. He’s spent his whole life being told that men don’t cry, especially pureblood wizards of their status, so when the weight comes off his chest he’s shocked at how easy it is to just breathe. 

He pulls his head up to look at Matt, who isn’t looking directly at him but keeps his hand on Theo’s back. A soft murmured, “thanks,” passes his lips and causes the curly haired boy to return his attention to him. Mattheo doesn’t comment on how red and tear-stained his eyes are, much to Theo’s relief. 

“You good, mate?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Mattheo hesitates before speaking again, “you don’t have to listen to me, cause what do I know, but I think you should talk to him.” Theo thinks back to you, how lost and hurt you looked when he ran from the library and he sighs. 

“When did you get so wise?”

Mattheo shrugs, “we’ve all had to grow up pretty fast…you’re my best mate Theo. It sucks seeing you like this, y'know?” He lightly nudges Theo’s shoulder, “kinda ruins the vibe.”

Theo can’t help but chuckle, “you’re an idiot.”

“And here I thought I was wise.”

“I was wrong, you’re fully a dumbass.”

“Nah, that’s Enz. But seriously, talk to him. We’re all tired of you pretending this isn’t something you want, whether you realize it or not.”

Theodore reluctantly nods, “fine. Fine, you’re right. I think I like my, what did you call him? Little badger?”

Mattheo grins and shifts away from Theo, looking a bit too happy for a man that just watched his friend cry over a crush.

“What are you so cheery about?” Theo raises an eyebrow as Mattheo gets up to return to the Astronomy Tower.

Mattheo throws a smirk over his shoulder as he lingers at the top of the stairs, “Enzo owes me a hundred galleons.”

“Wait! You two idioti bet on this?!”

Despite feeling somewhat better after his talk with Matt, Theo avoids you for the rest of the week. Come Wednesday morning, he’s sliding into the seat next to Mattheo in History of Magic, ignoring Enzo’s annoyed “Hey!” in protest and Mattheo’s side-eye.

He doesn’t turn around to see the disappointed look on your face as your books softly thunk on the desk behind him where you two usually sat. But he doesn’t miss the lack of usual flair the sound has. His heart aches.

“Riddle said you’d be in here.”

Your voice breaks through Theodore’s thoughts, pulling his eyes toward you walking up the steps and over to him.

He'd been finding himself coming back to the music room over and over again since he started avoiding you. He wasn't entirely sure why, maybe he just wanted to stop the dull ache of loneliness in the absence of you. He pushes the thought out of his mind.

You settle down on the rug next to him, jarringly similar to the position he'd been in with Mattheo a week ago. Only you were further away, and while he couldn't blame you, he hated it.

“Sorry for kissing you so suddenly, I just—I’d been wanting to for like a month and I guess I was hoping you wanted it too. I didn’t mean to scare you off.”

He quickly shakes his head, “no, don’t apologize, it was—I liked it. I’m sorry for running off like that. I think I got…overwhelmed. I didn’t exactly know I was, y’know, into guys before…you.” He forces it out despite his embarrassment, cheeks a light shade of pink.

You look at him with a small, somewhat sad smile, “it’s fine. Kinda reminds me of that day we properly met in Hogsmeade. You ran then too.” You pause briefly before adding, “and don’t worry about it, this is new for me too.”

Theo flushes more intensely at the memory as you turn your head to look around the music room. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in here before. Riddle had to give me directions...Why here?”

His mouth goes dry as he stares at you. “My, uh, my mum used to play the piano. She tried to teach me, but I couldn’t fully get it before…” he trails off for a moment before pushing past it, “I come here to feel close to her.”

A look of realization passes over your face, “oh, I—I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t really like to talk about it.”

A hesitant hand reaches out to rest on his knee. He didn’t even realize he’d relaxed his legs down from his chest. 

“We don’t have to talk about it, Teddy—”

He gasps at the nickname, soft and filled with raw emotion. “I want to.”

“She was… the only person I felt truly got me, before Mattheo at least. And she uh, she used to call me Teddy. So since she—” he hesitates, the finality of it all hitting him at once like it’s the first time he heard the news all over again, “since she died, I haven’t let anyone call me that.”

He sees the way your eyes soften further, but it’s not from pity, like he’d come to expect from the topic, no, it’s deeper than that. It’s empathy. “I didn’t know,” your voice is quiet, like you’re about to apologize, but truthfully that’s the last thing he wants. So he keeps speaking.

“She would have loved you.” His hand shifts to rest over yours, still on his leg. “She would have loved how…happy you make me. So, I want you to call me Teddy, please.” It comes out a bit more desperate than he intended, but when did anything ever go as planned when it came to you?

But you don’t run. You don’t look at him in disgust for showing emotion. You just nod with a soft, “okay Teddy.”

And god, that fluttering sensation is back. A small smile tugs on his lips; before he knows it he’s leaning forward, needing to be closer, as close as you’ll possibly let him. And this time, without any guilt or shame or fear, he kisses you.

And he feels like he’s drowning. Drowning in your lips, in your scent, in you. Like water filling his lungs, it burns so sweet. Surrender to the unknown, letting his lingering heartache and worries about his father’s expectations go until all that’s left is you.

It’s pure bliss. 

As your lips move together in sync, his body heats up and he finds himself craving more. He’s just received a taste, but he can already tell he’s going to be insatiable; the need to devour you, to become one with your very essence, is overwhelming. But he doesn’t run away. He pushes deeper. 

He feels your hand cupping his face, almost to steady yourself from falling over as his tongue brushes against your lips, begging, pleading for mercy. Like he’ll fall apart if you don’t let him explore every inch of you. Your lips part. 

Tongues dancing together, he pushes you down until your back hits the rug, his torso hovering over yours as his hands on either side of you hold him up. Your fingers caress his cheek, touch featherlight. 

The kiss lasts until neither of you can breathe, parting only to gasp and pant, inches from each other’s face. You suddenly laugh, a sweet sound that rivals the room’s quiet piano in its beauty.

“You’re still here,” your eyes search his, like you’re trying to find doubt in them, but there is none. He wants to kiss you like that for the rest of his life.

“I don’t think I’m scared anymore.”

Your arms coming up to wrap around his neck and pull him back into another kiss catches him off guard, but he melts into it like his body was made to meld with yours. It’s soft and sweet and feels like home.

The next morning at breakfast, you’re sitting next to him like you belong at the Slytherin table, at his side and getting acquainted with his friends. Enzo’s in the middle of asking you for details on which Hufflepuffs have the best weed when Draco comes over and sits down, an apprehensive look on his face. “I suppose this is something you just expect us to get used to?” 

“Yes.” It’s Mattheo who speaks, grabbing a bit of toast off Draco’s plate and taking a bite. “He makes Theo happy, he’s one of us now as far as I’m concerned.”

Enzo pipes up from beside him, “I’ll do anything to never have to listen to Theo hopelessly pine like that ever again.”

Draco huffs and as Theo’s about to say something, he hears you laugh softly next to him as your hand gently squeezes his thigh. “Just gonna have to live with some yellow brightening your mornings, Malfoy.” The other two boys snicker at the defeated look on Draco’s face and start to tease him that he’s just jealous Nott grew a pair and managed to ask someone out. But Theo barely notices.

He presses a kiss to your temple, heart fluttering as you grin up at him and for the first time in a long time, he’s happy.

[yourstrulysylus]

Burn the world for you

The room was filled with a thick tension, the air practically crackling with the animosity between them. They had been lovers once, but now they were nothing more than enemies - their love reduced to a distant memory.

Sylus stood across from you, his eyes burning with anger as he spoke. An unexpected visitor trespassed in his house as the thunderstorms being heard across from the windows at night.

“What do you want, my Queen?” He spat out, his voice laced with venom. He was standing in his own study the only place where he would find solace and it was something that he always maintained in his manor since this was the very room where their love began and he felt that it was about to end here as-well.

She pointed her silver revolver at him while his body stiffened with the silent threat of violence in his presence. The audacity to aim a gun at his own home and yet he chuckled as his eyes playfully glinted at the woman that he once loved before him.

She was silent and he didn’t like it - he missed her witty remarks. Their conversations where he feels like the world does not matter but them. Her voice. He would do anything just to have her utter a word disclose her reasons as to why she was here standing before him wearing that beautiful dark maroon strapless dress that shows off her perfect curves and that fine slit of her skirt that reveals a bit of her long leg that’s laced with a black stockings to pair with her high heels after all these years.

Of all things she chose to wear a ravishing dress while attempting to annihilate him. He caught a glimpse of her scent. Oh my love. Her familiar sent shivers down to his spine because he knew how much that was his favorite perfume of hers. Pomegranates and black orchids.

“You really want to go down this path, my lady?” He mocked her knowing that her powers may be an equal to his however not exactly experienced as he was putting it into good use.

She clicked the safety lock off as a response so he pointed his gun at her as well, a flawless aim all it takes is one shot and it shall be done. The sound breaking the silence of the room his eyes brows frowned his body tensing as he realizes the gravity of the situation.

“You’re serious,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff. “You’re really gonna do it.”

He heard her gasp the sudden surprise on her face giving away the awful feeling that she had at that moment despite the intense situation a part of him was amused by her reaction.

“What’s the matter, my love?” He asked, a small smirk on his face. “Suddenly having second thoughts, aren’t we?”

She used her evol to get closer in a snap now both feeling each other’s breaths approximately she pointed her gun at his head intensifying her aim. This moment felt like a deja vu - as that lifetime ago he was forcing her to resonate with him desperate for her to remember their life together. Their marriage.

His smirk faded instantly replaced by a sudden surprise and disbelief. He tensed further as she pressed her gun harder at his head the cold metal scraping against his skin.

“You’re insane,” he said, his voice low and dangerous he pointed the gun deeper at her chest where her aether core is - her heart. He was only mirroring her actions.

“They sent me to kill you.” She finally spoke.

His expression hardened, his eyes darkening with anger. Was that really the reason? He could his evol at this very moment to see if she was telling the truth but he loved her too much to doubt her word.

“Ordered to murder me? By who?” He frowned but his voice softened now that she’s standing close before him.

“My father, he knows you’re after his kingdom and then bedded his daughter? You provoked him more than enough times.”

He changed his position he was now standing beside the door of his study by using his own evol while she’s now by his window distancing himself to compose himself once again. He was being hunted and now his love was the chosen one to kill him.

The guns were still aimed at each other the metallic click of the triggers still filled the air. The air in the room was thick with tension, the weight of the situation almost suffocating.

He locked his eyes with her his gaze unwavering and intense. “You’re not pulling that trigger, my love.” He said as a matter of fact tone. “You’re too much of a spoiled precious little kitten to do it.”

Not looking away from his gaze she said,

“Try me.”

Time seemed to slow down as he watched her cock the gun and aim it at herself she pointed it at her own neck where her carotid artery is located a fastest way to take one’s life. His eyes widened with horror a mixture of panic, confusion and shock. He lunged forward and caught her lifeless body his hands trembling as he gently caressed her face. His eyes were filled with despair and misery - he felt like he’s losing his breath at the scene before him.

He gently placed his forehead against hers “No, no, no..” she placed her hand to cup his cheek slightly tasting Sylus’ salty tears on her mouth.

“I’d rather die than kill you.”

His hands continued to cradle her lifeless body as he whispered to you his voice thick with grief and despair.

“You… your foolishness this isn’t what I…” his voice shaking “you’d throw your life away like that just to keep me alive? I could have died with you.”

“Sylus, I love you.” Her eyes closed as she said her final words her hand fell from his cheek. The sight of her still lifeless body was too much for him to bear. It took him a few moments to compose himself still holding her in his arms and vowed to himself that he would burn the world for her.

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔙𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱

Mike munroe x male reader

A request that I received from a really nice person here on tumblr: a small idea I liked for a fic if you like the idea as well. Nothing too big, just a fic about Reader and Chris being brothers and constantly nagging each other about their crushes on Ashley and Mike.

I expanded the request a bit, sorry if I went overboard with it. Hope you enjoyed it.

Tags: set before the event of the game. Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Chris and the reader are brothers. Some very quick shifts of pov between characters. Jealousy. Mike and Jess/ Emily are not together in this. Friends to lovers. Mike is a flirt.

Words count: 4000

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢'𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔪

𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯

𝔄 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲

𝔍𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥 Part 2 of it

For anyone interested, I took inspiration from this clue that you can find while playing as Chris.

The music thumps in the background, a mix of bass-heavy beats and voices blending into a dull roar. You and Chris sit at a small, round table near the back, well out of the action but with a good view of everyone mingling.

"So," Chris says, taking a long, dramatic sip. "You actually spent the whole night staring at Mike. Dude, seriously, you're lucky your eyes didn't burn a hole in the back of his head."

You scoff, leaning back in your chair with a mock sigh. "Like you're any better. When are you actually gonna talk to Ashley? She's cool, she's cute, she's well, out of your league but hey, a guy can dream.”

"Hey, I do talk to her," Chris retorts, feigning offense.

"Uh-huh," you say, raising an eyebrow. "It’s a lot if you can manage to squeak out a sentence before turning red.”

Chris chuckles, crossing his arms. "Fine. Why don't you go up to Mike and tell him what you think? 'Hey, by the way, I've been thinking about how perfect your jawline is all night!’ I'm sure that'll go over great." He did a horrible interpretation of your voice to mock you even further.

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks flush just a bit. "First of all, I would never phrase it like that. And second, at least I actually know things about him beyond his favorite book."

"Oh, really? Let's see who knows more about their crush. No cheating. No wimping out. Winner gets bragging rights." Chris leans forward, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Bragging rights? How about you admit I'm objectively hotter than you when I win?" you echoed, folding your arms.

"Sure. Whatever fantasy helps you sleep at night," Chris said, grinning as he dramatically cracked his knuckles. “I'll go first since I know you're just dying to hear all the juicy Ashley knowledge."

You chuckle. "Go with your in-depth research, Sherlock."

Chris clears his throat, sitting up straighter. "Fine. For starters, her favorite color is purple."

You make a face, unimpressed. "That's it? You think knowing her favorite color makes you the expert here?"

"Let me finish, smartass. She loves thriller movies. She also has this little habit of chewing on her nails when she's nervous."

You raise an eyebrow, genuinely impressed but unwilling to give him the satisfaction. "Okay, okay, not bad. But that's kid stuff. Let me show you how it's done."

Chris rolls his eyes, clearly not expecting much. "Alright, hotshot. Give me your best Mike trivia."

You sit forward, lowering your voice like you're letting him in on a secret. You have always been good at noticing things. Maybe it was a result of growing up with Chris and when it came to Mike Munroe, your crush, the small things were more than just interesting, they were revealing.

For one, every morning, without fail, he was up before the sun. He’d go for a quick run to stay in shape. You’d always catch glimpses of him at college heading back to his room in a tank top, earbuds in, eyes focused ahead and glimpses of sweat on his forehead.

He had this tough, confident exterior. He wasn’t loud like some of the others in the group. He had a way of using humor to deflect, to keep people from getting too close. You saw it when he’d brush off any talk about specific topics.

And then there were his tastes.

He likes his coffee black. Pretends it's macho. He had a surprising amount of nostalgia in his preferences. You couldn’t forget the time you’ve talked together casually on the lodge, his face lighting up as he talked about his love for old action movies.

Chris raises an eyebrow. "Alright. Maybe you’re better equipped than me. But, let's be real, you wouldn't even know where to start."

"Better than starting with nothing," you counter. "Besides, I could charm him if I wanted to."

Chris raises an eyebrow. "What would you even say?"

You grin, leaning in like you're revealing a grand plan. "I'd just walk up and ask him about his football season. Mention that time he scored the winning touchdown. You instead are hopeless"

Chris nods, pretending to take you seriously. "Oh, sure, because that'll definitely make him swoon. Hopeless? Me?" Chris laughs, leaning back with a smirk. "At least I don't have to worry about being mistaken for a stalker."

You both burst into laughter. For all the banter, you know neither of you would really judge the other for these harmless crushes. It's what makes the night so much fun.

From across the room, you caught sight of Ashley standing awkwardly near a table stacked with half-empty snack bowls and crumpled napkins. She shifted from foot to foot, clearly trying to blend into the background.

"Hey, Romeo. This is your chance," you said, leaning closer and nudging Chris with your elbow.

Chris snapped out of his trance, his head swiveling toward Ashley. His brows furrowed slightly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in amusement before settling back into a more thoughtful expression.

Chris groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "What am I supposed to do? Walk up and make everything even more embarrassing?"

"News flash: she knows you're a loser," but she clearly likes you anyway. Stop overthinking it. Just go talk to her. Be romantic for once. She loves that whole 'awkward and sincere' thing you've got going on."

"First of all," Chris said, pointing a finger at you, "I'm not awkward. I'm, uh, charmingly self-aware. Second, what if I say something dumb? Or worse, nothing at all? I can't just walk up to her and-"

"You're a coward," you interrupted, shaking your head in mock disappointment.

"Yep," he said, popping the "p" and lifting his cup in mock toast.

You were scanning the room until your gaze landed on Mike Munroe.

He was leaning casually against the wall, drink in hand, chatting with a girl you vaguely recognized from English class. His tuxedo fit him perfectly, tailored in all the right places, the dark fabric catching the light just enough to highlight his athletic build. The black foulard tied loosely around his neck was an elegant touch, a little different from the usual bow ties and neckties most guys wore. His hair was perfectly tousled, like he hadn't even tried but still managed to look effortlessly handsome.

You felt your chest tighten. For a moment, your imagination betrayed you, painting a picture of Mike turning toward you, smiling like he did when he told one of his dumb jokes when he got elected class president. You could almost hear his laugh, warm and inviting, as if it were just for you. But reality snapped back into focus when the girl he was talking to leaned closer.

"Mike would never look twice at me like that." You mumble more to yourself without thinking, unable to keep the disappointment from your voice.

Chris, placed a hand on your shoulder. His touch was light but reassuring. "Don't do that to yourself. You're a catch. If Mike doesn't see that, he's an idiot."

You looked up at him, grateful but unconvinced. Chris stood up, brushing imaginary lint off his jacket. "I'm getting us drinks. Let's make it through the rest of this night together, yeah?"

You nodded, watching as he made his way to the bar. You glance around, your gaze landing once more on Ashley and an idea strikes you. Chris is now far away from your position. It’s your chance to do something.

You stride over to her, flashing a friendly smile, keeping your movements casual so you wouldn't startle her. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed you, but she relaxed as you softly took her arm.

"Hey," you said, grinning playfully as you gently guided her away from the corner.

Ashley laughed, the sound light and genuine. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement but no resistance as you led her toward your table.

"Come on, you can't let Chris and I have all the fun sitting in the corner judging everyone." you replied, glancing over your shoulder with a mock-serious expression.

"That's what you two have been doing all night? Very productive." She scanned the place as you reached the table and she managed to spot Chris at the bar, meticulously mixing something with an unusual level of focus. But then her gaze shifted, catching Mike watching the two of you.

Jaw set, lips pressed into a firm line, eyes tracked the way you gently tugged Ashley along. His gaze lingered on your hand before flicking back up to your face. Lips pressed together in a faint, almost imperceptible scowl, as though something about the sight of the two of you together unsettled him. There was a slight tension in his posture, the way his shoulders seemed just a bit too stiff for someone casually enjoying a party.

Chris returned with two drinks in hand. "Okay, I've done it," he announced dramatically. "The ultimate drink. If you don't like it, I'm never speaking to you ag-" He cut himself off mid-sentence when he saw Ashley sitting at the table, smiling up at him.

"I... uh..." Chris stammered, turning an impressive shade of pink.

"You made this for me?” Ashley asked sweetly, taking the drink from his hand before he could respond. “Thank you, Mr. Bartender."

Chris blinks and he lets out a nervous laugh, giving you a quick glare as he hands the drink to Ashley.

She giggles, taking a sip and you watch as Chris visibly relaxes. They share a smile and there's a warm, unspoken understanding between them, a quiet moment that you can't help but feel a bit envious of.

The music shifts, slowing into a softer, more romantic melody. Couples move onto the dance floor, swaying together in a slow embrace. Ashley’s eyes light up as she turns to Chris, her cheeks flushed with a faint rosy tint from the slight inebriation she feels. "Come on, Chris," she says, tugging at his hand. "Want to go there for a bit?"

Chris's eyes dart to you, searching your face for reassurance, his expression almost apologetic. He's asking, without words, if you'll be okay.

You manage a smile, giving him a nod.

Chris lets out a laugh, his tension melting away as he lets Ashley pull him onto the dance floor. They disappear into the crowd, leaving you alone at the table. You watch them go, feeling a bittersweet pang in your chest as you take in the sight of them together, laughing and smiling, fitting together so effortlessly. Chris fumbling his way through the first few steps before finding his rhythm.

They looked so happy.

And you were here instead, alone at the table, your thoughts inevitably drifting back to Mike.

Chris feels his heart race as he stands on the dance floor, his hands resting lightly on Ashley's waist, her arms draped over his shoulders as they sway to the gentle rhythm of the music. Her gaze meets his every so often, a smile warm and genuine, making him feel like the only person in the room.

"I didn't know you had these moves." she teases, her eyes twinkling.

Chris chuckles, shaking his head. "Oh, trust me, I don't. I'm just doing my best not to crush your toes."

Ashley laughs, her grip tightening on his shoulders as she rolls her eyes. "You're doing just fine. I don't mind if you, you know, relax a little."

"Relax? Yeah, I can... I can do that," he says, voice faltering as he tries to ease into the rhythm, matching her movements as the song continues.

His focus wavers after a while, gaze drifting over her shoulder as he catches sight of his brother sitting across the room at one of the tables with Matt nearby.

There's something off about the way you're holding yourself. You're smiling, sure, even laughing at something Matt is saying, but Chris can tell that the smile doesn't quite reach your eyes. It's the kind of forced expression he's seen on you before, usually when you're trying to act like everything's fine when it really isn't.

Matt, on the other hand, seems entirely oblivious, leaning in a bit too close, his face lit up with that typical over-eager grin. He's almost leaning into your personal space as he chats away, looking way too thrilled to have your undivided attention, his eyes never leaving yours. The proximity feels a bit too familiar, too comfortable, with his arm casually resting on the back of your chair.

Chris feels a pang of protectiveness twist in his gut. He glances around the room, half-expecting Emily to appear and pull Matt back to the dance floor, but there's no sign of her. Instead, he spots her on the far side of the room, tipsy and laughing as she spins around with some stranger she's apparently mistaken for Matt. She's caught up in the music, oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend is practically glued to your side.

Ashley notices his distraction, her gaze softening as she studies him. "Chris?" she asks, her voice gentle, bringing him back to the moment. "Is everything okay?"

He blinks, snapping his attention back to her, guilt creeping in as he realizes he's been distracted. "Yeah, yeah, sorry," he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Just... got a lot on my mind."

Ashley smiles, tilting her head as she searches his face. "You sure? You can tell me, you know."

Chris hesitates, glancing around the room one more time. His gaze lands on Mike, who's slow-dancing with the girl in glittering dress. She's leaning against him, her head resting on his chest, but Mike's attention isn't on her.

His eyes are locked in your direction, his brow furrowed and his jaw set in a subtle scowl that's hard to miss. There's a tension in his gaze as he watches you and Matt together. There's a faint scowl tugging at his mouth, a subtle clenching of his jaw that makes it look like he's holding back the urge to step in but doesn't quite know how to act on it. His brows are drawn together and his eyes flick between you and Matt with a guarded intensity.

Chris frowns, glancing back at you. It's clear now that something is brewing beneath the surface, something he doesn't fully understand but can sense all the same. He looks down at Ashley, his expression softening as he makes up his mind.

"Hey, Ash?" he asks quietly, feeling a bit awkward but determined. "Would you mind helping me out with something real quick? I, uh... I owe someone a favor.”

You were mid-laugh at something Matt had said about his latest sports practice when a shadow loomed over the table. You looked up to find Mike standing there, holding his drink loosely in one hand and the other casually tucked in his pocket.

"Hey, Matt," Mike said, his tone light but carrying a subtle edge like he's asking for a favor he already expects to be granted. "Mind if I steal him for a bit?"

Matt's smile falters, and he glances at you, a bit reluctant, as if he doesn't quite want to let go of the moment he's carved out. "Uh... well, we were just-"

"Looks like Emily's about to make out with that guy," Mike interrupted, tilting his head toward the dance floor. "You might wanna handle that before it gets messy."

Matt whipped his head around, his face paling slightly as he spotted Emily drunkenly giggling and leaning far too close to the stranger. "Shit," he muttered, scrambling to his feet. "I'll, uh, catch you later." he says to you, giving you a quick nod before he disappears into the crowd.

"Yeah, sure," Mike said smoothly, his smirk widening as Matt hurried off. You glance back at him just in time to catch a wicked grin flash across his face as he watches Matt weave his way toward Emily.

He turns back to you and without a moment's hesitation, he slides into Matt's now-empty chair, shifting it even closer to yours with an obnoxiously loud scrap of wood against the floor. He dropped into the seat with a satisfied sigh. His arm resting along the back of your chair but soon sliding fully around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

The warmth of his body, the faint scent of his cologne, earthy with a hint of spice, made your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. From this close, you could see every detail of his face: the light beard perfectly trimmed along his jaw, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the infuriatingly perfect way his smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. He was leaning into his persona, that cocky, playful charm cranked up to eleven and it was doing things to your brain you weren't sure you were ready to admit.

"Well, this is cozy," Mike said, his voice low and smooth. "Didn't think Matt was ever gonna leave. Guy's got some stamina for talking, huh?"

You blinked, struggling to form words. "Uh, yeah. He's chatty"

Mike chuckled, the sound warm and teasing "Chatty? That's the nicest way to put it. Bet he's been boring you to death, huh?"

"Not entirely," you said, though your voice was far too shaky to be convincing. "He's enthusiastic."

Mike raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. "You're too nice, you know that? If I had to sit through more than five minutes of that guy's rambling, I'd be asleep in my chair."

You laughed, though it came out a little too breathy. "Maybe I'm just better at pretending to be interested."

"Pretending, huh?" Mike's smirk widened. "So, what about me? Are you pretending to enjoy this little moment we're having?"

Your brain short-circuited. "I... I mean, no. I-uh... you're not boring. Definitely not boring."

"Good to know," Mike said, his voice dipping slightly as he leaned in just a fraction closer. "I'd hate to think I was putting you to sleep."

"You're not," you managed to say, your face burning.

Mike grinned, clearly reveling in your flustered state. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?"

“I’m not nervous,” you said quickly, though your gaze flickered away from his, betraying you.

“Sure you’re not,” Mike murmured, his fingers brushing just a little too close against your shoulder, the touch lingering for a beat longer than necessary. “What were you and Matt talking about? You looked a little bored." His tone was smooth but there was a faint edge to it now, like he was testing the air.

You noticed the subtle shift in his expression. His jaw tightening just slightly, his eyes narrowing for a fraction of a second as if he didn’t quite like the idea of you and Matt sharing a private moment.

You shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Just sport stuff and his latest victory for his team. He was just being friendly,” you added, trying to sound indifferent.

You didn’t miss the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes flickered just briefly toward the ground before locking onto yours again.

Mike’s lips quirked into a knowing smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, he looked real friendly.” The smirk that followed didn’t help, pulling at the corner of his mouth as if he was more amused than you thought he should be.

You raised an eyebrow, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

For a moment, Mike just stared at you, his expression unreadable. “Nothing,” he said too quickly, the innocence in his voice so forced that you could almost feel the tension cracking around him. The grin stretched wider, like a challenge. “Just saying, if I didn’t know better, I’d think Matt was hitting on you.”

Your breath caught in your throat and a flush of heat spread across your cheeks. You tried to play it off, but there was no denying the way your heart stuttered in your chest. “He wasn’t,” you said quickly, your voice coming out a little more defensively than you intended.

"Either way. Figured I'd come over and I don't know... make the night more interesting for you. Prom only happens once, right? Gotta make the most of it. Besides—” His voice softens, his gaze locking onto yours with a sincerity that takes you off guard. "—I've been waiting for an excuse to spend some time with you."

You swallow, feeling the heat rise to your face as his words sink in. "You have?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a slow, deliberate motion. "I mean, I could've come over sooner but you were busy with your brother. Then you were with Matt and I figured, maybe it's time I got a little selfish."

The intensity in his gaze makes it hard to breathe and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, caught between disbelief and exhilaration. "I... didn't think you noticed me like that," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mike's grin softens, his hand moving from your shoulder to gently rest on your waist, pulling you even closer. "I notice a lot more than you think," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Like how you always look away when you think I'm watching, or how you get that little crease in your forehead when you're trying not to smile too much."

Mike makes a silent note to himself to later thank Chris for the insights he’d shared minutes ago.

You laugh, feeling both embarrassed and overjoyed. "Okay, now you're just showing off."

He chuckles, his arm tightening around your waist as he dips his head a bit closer, his voice a soft murmur. "Can't help it. You’ve got me so close to losing it and you don’t even realize it." His fingers press gently into your side.

“Dance with me,” he murmurs, his voice low and laced with a tenderness that surprises you. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, a vulnerability that makes your heart race. “Let me be the happiest guy in this place tonight.”

You feel your pulse race at the invitation, your mind whirling with both excitement and uncertainty. "What about that girl you were with?" you ask, your voice quiet and hesitant, unable to stop yourself from wondering.

Mike's smirk returns, his hold on your waist tightening slightly as he leans in, his voice a soft, almost possessive murmur. "She's not you. You’re the only one I can’t get out of my head.” His voice is rough, coated in something darker.

You meet his gaze, feeling your breath hitch as you search his face, trying to process the weight of his words.

He takes his chance to lean in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that leaves your heart racing. His lips crashing into yours with a desperate urgency that leaves you reeling. His hand slides around your waist, fingers tightening as he pulls you against him. The heat of his body sears through your clothes, and his thumb traces a slow, deliberate line along your cheek, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, that familiar cocky edge in his eyes. His eyes burn with that familiar, dangerous gleam-a challenge, a promise. His breath is ragged, as if he's barely holding back.

"Still up for that dance? Because I've got this new boyfriend I'd really like to show off." he whispers, his voice low and teasing. His breath brushes your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. He looks at you with that trademark mischievous grin, the one that could melt anyone’s defenses.

A rush of warmth floods your chest at his words, a mixture of giddiness and disbelief. Your heart skips, caught between the sweetness of the moment and the thrill of his presence. The corners of your mouth twitch up as you meet his gaze, and though you can barely keep your composure, you nod.

Mike's grin widens and as he takes your hand, guiding you to the dance floor, you feel as if you're floating, lost in the warmth of his gaze and the excitement of being his.

Note: if you liked this, please leave a comment. I love reading them <3

[inkandtension]

Cupid’s Bow.

Request: Minho x fem reader, angst, Enemies to lovers, inspired by : the beach by the neighbourhood

requested by: @hannamoon143

this is kinda long…. Sorry it took a long time! 😀🧍🏽‍♀️

Y/N, a fiercely dedicated archer training for an upcoming national competition, finds her already packed schedule upended when she's forced to collaborate with Minho, a renowned digital artist, on a promotional campaign celebrating diverse skill sets. From the moment they meet, sparks fly—but not the good kind. Minho, known for his sharp tongue and stunning creativity, quickly dismisses archery as “a medieval hobby trying to stay relevant,” while Y/N fires back with equal venom, calling digital art nothing more than "drawing for lazy people who don't know how to use a pencil."

The tension is palpable during their first brainstorming session, held in a sleek, minimalist studio that feels worlds away from Y/N's earthy training grounds. Minho's snide remarks about her calloused fingers and outdated sport clash with Y/N's pointed criticisms of his reliance on technology. Neither wants to back down, their arguments simmering with the kind of intensity that draws everyone's attention.

“Guys, please stop, now’s not the time!” they’d all start complaining and half of them lose the will to work seeing the fight almost everyday.

Y/N is at the archery range, her focus razor-sharp as she nocks an arrow and lets it fly, hitting the bullseye with ease. As she adjusts her archer's glove, Minho strolls in, a sketchpad and tablet under his arm. His amused smirk makes her blood boil before he even speaks.

“So this is it? Shooting at a target over and over again? Sounds thrilling,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his words.

She glares at him, holding up her glove-covered hand.

“This is precision and skill. Not that you’d understand with your stylus and Photoshop shortcuts.” Minho lifts his own gloved hand and wiggles it mockingly.

“Right, because my work, which takes hours of layering and digital rendering, is just so easy. Sure.”

Y/N narrows her eyes, stepping off the shooting line to face him fully, the faint creak of her leather glove breaking the silence. "It is easy," she fires back, her voice calm but cutting. "You make a mistake? Undo button. I make a mistake? That arrow’s gone. There's no second chance."

Minho raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he sets his sketchpad and tablet on the nearest bench. "You think every line I draw is perfect the first time? Newsflash, Robin Hood, creativity doesn’t come with a manual. At least you’ve got a fixed target to aim at. My job is creating something from nothing."

Her lips tighten into a thin line, the insult stinging despite her resolve to keep her cool. “Creating from nothing? Is that what you call copying filters and adding shadows? My three-year-old nephew could do that.”

Minho lets out a short laugh, the kind that feels more like a jab. “Oh, sure. And let me guess—he could also spend days conceptualizing a campaign while having to work with someone who thinks flinging pointy sticks at hay bales is the pinnacle of human achievement?”

Y/N’s jaw tightens, her patience thinning. She takes a slow step toward him, each word deliberate. “It’s not about flinging arrows, Minho. It’s about discipline, control, and hitting a goal with precision every single time. Something tells me that’s a little out of your league.”

He mimics her slow step, closing the distance between them, his smirk fading into something sharper, more competitive. “And you think shooting at the same target all day makes you superior? Try creating something people actually care about—something that’ll outlive you. That’s real skill.”

The air between them crackles with tension, their glares locked as if daring the other to make the next move. Finally, Y/N breaks the silence, her voice steady but icy. “You know, you talk a lot of trash for someone who’s never even held a bow.”

Minho’s eyes flash with challenge. “Oh, is that an invitation? Because I wouldn’t mind showing you up at your own game.”

Y/N crosses her arms, a smirk tugging at her lips now. “Go ahead. But don’t cry when you miss every shot.”

Minho picks up the nearest bow, holding it awkwardly as Y/N watches with thinly veiled amusement. The moment he tries to nock an arrow and fumbles, her laugh escapes, low and mocking.

“Precision and skill, huh?” he mutters, fumbling with the string again.

“And patience,” she says, leaning against a post as she watches him struggle. “But I wouldn’t expect you to have that, either.”

He tries once, his aim steady but completely off-target, and instead of hitting the mark, he accidentally strikes the ground near a worm. She gasps in mock horror, dramatically rushing toward the unsuspecting creature as if to shield it from further harm. Kneeling down, she peers at the worm, her expression turning to exaggerated relief.

“You didn’t even hit the worm. Not even close. The worm didn’t even flinch.” She raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re aiming at all, or are you just trying to give the worm a heart attack?” “I bet you won’t be good at drawing, either” He said.

“I never said I was.”

…

She’d just released a perfect arrow, the kind that sliced cleanly through the air and struck the target dead center, when her focus wavered. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Minho sitting a few feet away, cross-legged and absorbed in his tablet. His stylus moved deftly over the screen, his brow furrowed in concentration, though his expression carried a hint of annoyance.

“Don’t you have a real job to do?” she snapped, lowering her bow and fixing him with a sharp glare.

Minho didn’t even flinch at her tone. His eyes stayed locked on his screen as he added another stroke to his sketch, shading with meticulous precision. “Funny,” he murmured without looking up, “I thought the same about you.”

He tapped his screen once, then swiveled it around to face her. The drawing was a surprisingly detailed sketch of her—her stance, her bow mid-draw, and her intense focus on the target. But there was an unmistakable exaggeration in her expression: her eyes were wild, her jaw tense, her features twisted with mock ferocity.

“Look,” he said dryly, holding it out with a smirk. “It’s a very angry archer.”

Y/N bristled, her grip tightening on the bow. “At least I’m not hiding behind a screen all day, imagining what it’s like to actually do something,” she shot back, her voice clipped.

Finally, Minho tilted his head up to meet her glare, his lips curving into an infuriatingly slow smirk. “Well, some of us use our creativity a little more… digitally,” he countered, his tone maddeningly calm.

Her frustration flared, and she stepped closer, extending her gloved hand toward him. “You think this is just imagination?” she challenged, her voice low but charged with irritation. She held up her hand, pointing out the distinct design of her glove—the archer’s glove, snugly fitted to her hand, with the fingers for the index, middle, and thumb covered for grip and precision.

Minho’s gaze flicked to her hand and then to his own. He raised his hand slightly, revealing his own glove, sleek and minimal, with only the pinky and ring fingers covered to avoid smudging his screen.

“See?” she said, her tone icy. “We’re just cut from different cloths.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them as they stood there, their gloves a stark contrast to each other. Minho’s smirk softened, replaced by something quieter, more thoughtful. He let out a soft laugh, glancing down at their hands before meeting her eyes again.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice calmer now, almost musing. “But maybe that just means we could complement each other. I mean if you look closely, our gloves together make a whole.”

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion lingering. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, his lips twitching as if suppressing another smirk. “Who knows? Maybe you’re good at hitting targets, and I’m good at seeing the bigger picture. You never know what that could lead to.”

She scoffed, but there was a faint flush creeping up her neck that she didn’t care to explain. “Get back to your drawing, Minho,” she muttered, turning away before he could notice.

“Gladly,” he replied, his voice laced with amusement. As she stepped back to the range, she could still feel his gaze on her, a quiet tension lingering in the air between them.

…

something terrific happened.

Something that absolutely ruined well, everything.

Y/N arrived at the studio early, as always. She was already irritated, not just by the thought of spending the entire day with Minho, but by the very fact that he had been the one to suggest she’d be the problem. The studio itself was newly constructed, still echoing with the sounds of a place trying to find its identity. The walls were barely dry with paint, and the sharp scent of fresh lumber lingered in the air. There was an unfinished quality to everything—the kind of rawness that made her skin crawl.

She set her bag down with a sigh, pulling out her gear for the shoot—her bow and quiver, her leather gloves. The anticipation for the day’s work was drowned out by the vague sense of discomfort that settled in her chest. She was already imagining the hours ahead: forced smiles, shallow small talk, and of course, Minho’s smug attitude.

She didn’t have to wait long for him to arrive, though. Of course, he showed up late, walking through the door with the same casual stride, as if time was something he could bend to his will. He muttered something under his breath, loud enough for her to hear, though he likely didn’t care if she did. “What’s the rush? Archers must have nothing better to do than sit around and wait.”

Y/N shot him a look, her eyes narrowing with the same irritation that had already been brewing. He didn’t even seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care. She ignored his comment, choosing to focus on the task at hand—setting up her gear, making sure everything was in place. She was too professional to get caught up in petty remarks.

Minho, on the other hand, took one look around and immediately began to complain. “This place looks like a construction zone,” he said loudly, as if no one else could hear. “How is anyone supposed to focus with all this mess? This is unprofessional.”

Y/N gritted her teeth but held her tongue, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But her patience was wearing thin. “Maybe if you spent less time whining and more time doing your job, we’d already be done,” she snapped, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Minho’s gaze flicked toward her, his expression amused. “I’m just trying to make sure this whole thing doesn’t end up being a disaster,” he retorted, completely unfazed. The session proceeded like this, with them bickering back and forth—her quick to respond to his jabs, him seemingly incapable of shutting up for more than a few seconds at a time.

The photographer kept trying to get them both to focus, but the tension between them was palpable, and the shoot felt anything but smooth. Y/N’s frustration only grew as the minutes ticked by, with Minho’s commentary getting more and more grating. She was starting to wonder if this day would ever end.

Then, just as she was adjusting her stance for another shot, a loud creak echoed through the room. The noise was unsettling, like the very structure of the building was groaning under pressure. Y/N froze, her eyes darting upward as the ceiling above them groaned again, a deep, foreboding sound.

Before anyone could react, a loud crack rang through the room, followed by the distinct sound of something large and heavy breaking free from its supports. The floor beneath them seemed to shudder as part of the ceiling collapsed in a sudden crash, sending debris scattering in all directions. The dust clouded the air, making it impossible to see for a moment.

Y/N was on instinct, ducking as a chunk of wood fell inches from where she’d been standing. Her heart hammered in her chest as she scrambled to her feet, adrenaline flooding her system. She could hear Minho cursing, his voice rising above the chaos.

“What the hell?!” he yelled, coughing through the dust. He sounded genuinely rattled now, a rare occurrence for him. Y/N didn’t waste time looking back at him—her focus shifted entirely to the damage, the pieces of the ceiling that had fallen, some still dangling precariously from the exposed beams above.

“Is everyone alright?” the photographer called out, voice shaking.

As Y/N took a step back to assess the damage, her foot caught on a loose piece of rubble, sending her stumbling forward. She barely registered the movement before something heavy crashed down from above—a massive chunk of ceiling, debris still tumbling in its wake, slammed directly onto her arm.

The pain was immediate and sharp, a searing agony that shot through her entire body as she let out a strangled gasp. Her vision blurred for a moment, the weight of the fallen ceiling pressing down on her arm, pinning her to the floor.

Minho's voice cut through the chaos, sharp with panic. “Y/N!” He was at her side in an instant, his hands reaching to lift the debris, but it was heavy, too heavy for him to move alone. “Shit, are you okay?!” His voice was frantic now, the usual arrogance replaced by something far more raw and urgent.

Y/N gritted her teeth, refusing to let the pain break her focus. She tried to shift her arm, but the pressure from the broken ceiling was relentless. The dust was thick in the air, and every breath she took seemed to make her chest tighten more.

Minho immediately reacted, pulling at the debris with all his strength, but the piece was large, and it barely budged. His face was taut with concentration, his usual smirk completely gone. “Hold on,” he said, voice shaky, but his hands were steady as he tried to lift the chunk of ceiling.

Y/N winced, biting back a cry of pain as the weight shifted slightly. 

Finally, Minho managed to shift enough of the debris off, as staff rushed there to help and evacuate the place. It revealed her arm, now bruising quickly from the force. She inhaled sharply as the weight finally lifted, but the relief was short-lived. Her arm felt heavy, almost useless. She could feel the pain radiating from her wrist, where the ceiling had come down the hardest.

“Shit,” Minho muttered under his breath, looking at her arm with wide eyes. He knelt down beside her, his voice softer now. “Is it broken?”

Y/N clenched her teeth, unwilling to show how badly it hurt. “I don’t know,” she snapped, pulling her arm back slightly to test it. The pain flared up again, sharper this time. “Just help me get out of here.”

When the ambulance finally arrived, its sirens wailing in the distance, Y/N felt a mix of relief and anxiety wash over her. The pain in her arm had only intensified as the adrenaline began to wear off, but she clenched her teeth and focused on the paramedics as they carefully worked to stabilize her.

Minho, however, wasn’t about to let anyone else take charge. As the paramedics made their way to assess her injury, he immediately stepped forward, blocking their path with a protective glare. His usual aloofness had disappeared completely, replaced by a fierce determination.

“I'm coming with her,” he said, his voice low but firm. The paramedics exchanged a quick glance, but neither of them argued, clearly used to people being adamant about staying with loved ones.

Y/N couldn’t help but watch him, her mind a blur of pain and confusion. What was he doing? Why was he being so... concerned? He wasn’t supposed to care. They were just colleagues—rivals, even. Yet, here he was, hovering over her like he couldn’t bear to let go.

When the paramedics gently helped her onto the stretcher and into the back of the ambulance, Minho slid in beside her without a second thought, his hand immediately finding hers. He squeezed it gently, as though reassuring himself more than her.

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly as the door slammed shut behind them, the engine roaring to life as they sped toward the hospital. She was grateful for the warmth of his hand, but she couldn’t quite understand why he was doing this. The words from earlier about how they were “cut from different cloths” echoed in her mind, but his actions now seemed to contradict that.

His thumb brushed over her knuckles in a comforting motion, his gaze fixed on her face. “You okay?” he asked softly, the usual teasing edge gone from his voice.

She didn’t answer right away, not because she didn’t want to, but because she wasn’t sure how to respond. She hated feeling vulnerable, especially in front of him. But his steady presence, the way he refused to let go of her hand, made something inside her shift.

“Do you think it’s broken?” she asked, her voice tight from the pain. She hadn’t even dared look at it yet, but she could feel the weight of the injury in every movement, a dull throb that was becoming sharper with each passing minute.

Minho’s expression darkened slightly, his jaw clenched as he looked at her arm. “I’m not sure. But we’ll know soon enough.” He shifted closer, almost unconsciously leaning over her, like he was willing to shield her from whatever came next.

Y/N felt her chest tighten, her mind swirling with thoughts she didn’t want to address. She could hear the ambulance’s sirens fading as they raced through the streets, and for a fleeting moment, everything outside of the small space between her and Minho seemed to vanish. The only thing that mattered was the pressure of his hand in hers, the soft rhythm of his breathing, and the unspoken understanding that had settled between them.

She glanced at him, catching his eye. “Why are you really here?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

Minho didn’t flinch or back away, his gaze unwavering as he held her stare. “Because you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he said with a small, but genuine, smile that reached his eyes. “And because I don’t think you’d let me, even if I tried.”

Y/N couldn’t suppress the tiny spark of warmth that flared up at his words, despite everything. She wanted to argue, to tell him to stop pretending like he cared, but deep down, a part of her was grateful for his presence.

The ambulance continued its swift journey toward the hospital, the distance between them closing in ways Y/N hadn’t expected. In that moment, the smirk, the teasing, the tension—all of it faded away, and she was left with only one undeniable truth: Minho wasn’t going anywhere.

The sterile, bright hospital room felt suffocating as Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of the doctor’s words pressing down on her like a boulder. The doctor had just finished delivering the devastating news, and the silence that followed felt suffocating.

“I’m sorry, but with these injuries, archery is not something you’ll be able to pursue again at the competitive level,” the doctor had said. His tone was gentle, but it made the words no less crushing. “Your fingers will need time to heal, but they may never fully recover.”

Y/N felt her heart drop to her stomach as she processed what the doctor had said. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, her mind racing through a whirlwind of disbelief and dread. She stared at her arm, still wrapped in a cast, and then down at her fingers, which felt oddly stiff and foreign, as if they were no longer a part of her.

My fingers… Her mind spiraled. Archery had been her life, her passion—her future. She’d spent years working to get to this point, training endlessly, sacrificing everything for the sport. To hear that all of that could be taken away in an instant was like being ripped apart from the inside out.

The tears threatened to surface, but she refused to let them fall. She’d never been one to show weakness, not when everything she’d worked for was being stripped away in one cruel blow. Instead, she clenched her jaw, willing the tears to stay back, even as her chest tightened painfully.

The doctor gave her a sympathetic glance before walking out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. She didn’t notice his departure; she couldn’t focus on anything but the silence that now filled the room, the stillness that matched the numbness creeping into her bones.

The only sound that broke through the heavy silence was the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead, and the soft scrape of a chair being moved. She glanced up to see Minho standing by the door, his posture tense as he took in the situation.

He hadn’t said a word since the doctor left, but she could feel his presence like a weight in the room. He didn’t have to speak; his quiet support was enough. Y/N hated that, hated how much it comforted her, how much his silent understanding meant in that moment.

Minho took a few steps toward her, his eyes avoiding her gaze for a moment before locking with hers. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by something deeper—something unspoken, but heavy. He didn’t offer empty platitudes or pretend to know how she felt. He simply stood there, a steady presence in the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Y/N muttered, her voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. She wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or to herself. “I know what it means.”

Minho’s gaze softened, and he sat down in the chair beside her bed. For a moment, he said nothing, just letting the silence stretch between them. Then, quietly, almost as if he were speaking to himself, he said, “I know how much it meant to you. It’s… it’s unfair.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. It wasn’t something she expected from him—not the way he usually teased her or the sharpness he often wore as armor. This felt different. Real.

“I’ve worked so damn hard for this,” she murmured, her voice shaking just a little. “And now… now I’ll never get it back.”

Minho didn’t say anything for a long time, his eyes fixed on her fingers, the ones that had been her lifeline, now broken and uncertain. Then, after a beat of silence, he spoke again, his words slow, deliberate.

“Maybe you don’t need to be an archer to be… you.”

The words hung in the air between them, and Y/N didn’t know how to respond. Part of her wanted to shout, to tell him that he didn’t understand—that she was nothing without archery, that it was her whole identity. But another part of her, buried deep beneath the shock and grief, felt the pull of his words, like a lifeline thrown out in the dark.

He gave her hand a tentative squeeze, his thumb brushing against her skin gently. “Whatever happens… you’re not alone in this,” he said quietly.

Y/N didn’t know what to say to that. She was used to carrying everything on her own, used to handling things alone. But in that moment, she found herself reluctantly leaning into his presence, the weight of his words settling into her chest.

She didn’t say anything else, just looked at her casted arm and the mess of emotions swirling within her. Minho didn’t push her to talk. He stayed with her, silent and steady, his presence an anchor in the midst of a storm that threatened to tear her apart.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N didn’t feel quite as alone.

As the days blurred into weeks, Y/N’s world continued to shift beneath her. The weight of her injury hung heavily over her, a constant reminder of what she had lost. Archery had been her life, her identity, and now, it seemed as if that identity had been stripped away in the blink of an eye.

Her parents, furious and protective, rallied around her in their own way. They had always been fiercely invested in her success, and the sight of their daughter in pain triggered something primal in them. They couldn’t bear the thought of her suffering without justice. The idea of her future—her dreams—being destroyed without any accountability gnawed at them until they decided to take matters into their own hands.

They hired a lawyer and filed a lawsuit against the studio. The claim was simple: negligence. The studio had failed to properly inspect the building before using it for interviews and promotional shoots, and it was this failure that had caused the ceiling to collapse, injuring their daughter beyond repair. They argued that the accident wasn’t just a freak incident—it was a direct result of the company’s lack of care and attention.

Y/N hadn’t wanted to get involved. She wasn’t interested in dragging things out or seeking revenge. She just wanted to heal, to find a way to move forward. But her parents insisted, convinced that justice could only be found through legal action.

The court case dragged on for months, a bitter reminder that her life was no longer in her own hands. Every time she thought about the process, she felt her chest tighten. It wasn’t about the money, not for her. But her parents insisted it was a matter of principle. They fought for accountability, for the principle that a company shouldn’t get away with causing harm so carelessly.

And in the end, the court found the studio guilty. The evidence was clear—the building had not been properly inspected, and the structure had been deemed unsafe before being used for commercial purposes. The company was ordered to pay a significant settlement to Y/N, though the amount seemed paltry compared to the injury she’d suffered, the career she’d lost, and the dreams that had been shattered.

When Y/N found out about the ruling, she felt numb. She sat in the sterile waiting room of the hospital as the lawyer called her parents to relay the news. The words blurred together, but the impact was undeniable. The settlement was a victory for her parents, something they could hold on to, but to Y/N, it felt hollow. It didn’t change anything. The money wouldn’t heal her fingers. It wouldn’t erase the long nights of training, the years spent perfecting her craft, the agonizing loss of something that had been everything to her.

Her parents were thrilled, their anger temporarily quelled by the ruling. But Y/N couldn’t bring herself to share in their relief. All she could think about was how much the settlement had cost her. The studio had paid for their mistake, but the price for her was far steeper than any check could cover.

Later that evening, after the celebrations had died down, Minho came to visit her. His presence was a steady comfort, but tonight, it felt like there was an unspoken weight between them, something they hadn’t addressed in all the chaos that had surrounded the lawsuit and her recovery.

When Minho entered her room, he didn’t offer any words of congratulations. Instead, he sat beside her, his expression serious. “You okay?” he asked quietly, looking at her like he was waiting for her to crack.

Y/N stared out the window, watching the lights of the city twinkle in the distance. The hospital room felt cold, sterile, a place she never thought she’d be spending so much time in. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve got money. I’ve got a settlement. But what’s it all worth? It doesn’t bring back what I lost.”

Minho didn’t try to offer words of comfort or reassurance. Instead, he just sat there, quietly, letting her process. He knew better than anyone how difficult it was to watch something you loved be taken from you. He had seen it in the way she held her bow before the accident, the way her whole body came alive when she shot, like she was a part of something bigger. The way her spirit had dimmed since the accident had left a mark on him too.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “I don’t know what it’s like to lose something like that. But... I know you’ll find a way to get through it. Even if it takes time.”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. She just leaned back against her pillow, her gaze distant. There were so many things she didn’t know anymore—so many things that had been ripped from her hands. But for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to admit that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have to face it alone.

The legal battle had given her parents what they wanted, but it hadn’t given her what she truly needed. Justice was one thing, but healing—true healing—was something only time could offer.

And, perhaps, with Minho’s quiet support, maybe even a little bit of hope.

In the days that followed the accident, Minho never stopped showing up, despite the fact that Y/N kept pushing him away. He came to her room with the quiet persistence of someone who understood more than he let on, but also respected her need for space—even if she didn’t realize it.

Each time he appeared at her door, a mixture of frustration and longing flickered in her chest. She didn’t want him here—not like this. She didn’t want his sympathy, his pity, or his attempts to help her in a way that only made her feel more helpless.

One evening, after he suggested helping her with simple tasks—like tying her shoelaces or even feeding her left-handed—Y/N snapped. The anger that had been building within her over the last few weeks finally erupted, spilling out in a sharp, jagged voice.

“I don’t need you to ‘teach’ me how to be anything,” she hissed, her gaze hard and unforgiving. Her fingers, stiff from the injury, curled into a fist. “Just… leave me alone.”

Minho took a step back, his expression unchanged but his eyes betraying a flicker of hurt. Yet, he didn’t leave. He never did.

“Okay,” he said quietly, as if letting her have her moment. But the silence that followed felt like a heavy weight, a shared understanding hanging in the air between them. He didn’t push any further that day, though he left behind a small package on her bedside table—one she hadn’t even noticed.

The next day, Y/N opened the package to find a book of poetry—one she had mentioned loving before. Her fingers brushed over the cover, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she softened. Minho was still finding ways to care for her without demanding anything in return. She knew he wasn’t expecting a thank-you, but she couldn’t help the pang of guilt that hit her.

Over the next week, his visits became a mix of awkwardness and tentative kindness. He’d show up with bags of food from her favorite takeout place—nothing fancy, just comfort food that somehow felt like a small balm for the chaos of her life. He even brought her a sketch one evening, left silently by her door.

It was of her—his hand-drawn portrait of her in her prime, holding her bow with the same fire that used to light up her world. His delicate lines captured the way she held herself, strong and focused. The drawing felt so real it almost hurt. It was like he had seen her, really seen her, not just the version of herself she had become after the accident. She swallowed back a lump in her throat.

Despite her resistance, despite her frustration, his quiet presence seeped into the cracks of her heart, mending parts she hadn’t even realized were broken. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t forced kindness. It was the kind of gentleness that spoke of understanding, of time spent in silence, waiting for her to heal at her own pace.

One evening, as she struggled with trying to tie her own shoelaces with her left hand, Minho appeared again, standing in the doorway, arms laden with a small basket of fresh fruit.

“You’re trying to tie your shoes with your non-dominant hand again?” he asked, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “You know, the doctor said you’re supposed to take it easy for a while.”

“I’m fine,” she muttered, not looking up, irritated by the truth she didn’t want to admit. “It’s just a stupid shoelace.”

Minho walked over slowly, setting the basket down on the table beside her. Without a word, he crouched down, taking the laces from her clumsy hands. He worked in silence, his movements deft as he tied the shoes with the care he had shown for her in the past few weeks. When he was done, he stood back up and met her gaze, his expression serious but soft.

“Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders alone.”

She opened her mouth to snap at him again, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she looked at him, truly looked at him, and for the first time in a long while, her anger faded into something else.

Minho wasn’t here because he thought she was weak. He wasn’t here because he pitied her. He was here because he saw her—he saw the woman who had been so strong before, and he believed she could be that woman again, even if it took time.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she muttered, but this time, it lacked the bite of her earlier words.

“I know,” Minho replied simply, his voice warm and steady. “But I’m not leaving.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that. She wasn’t ready to admit that she might need him, but in the quiet moments that followed, she couldn’t deny the comfort his presence gave her. Even in her resistance, she felt something softening within her, a fragile thread of trust she hadn’t realized she was willing to weave again.

“I can help you, please let me, you know I’m ambidextrous.”

…

One night, Minho comes to her house, as he has so many times before. Y/N’s frustration has reached its peak, and she can’t hold it back anymore.

“I’m not a broken doll that needs fixing. I’m not someone you have to pity.”

Minho sits down across from her, knowing it’s her daily depressing hour. his expression unreadable. For a moment, the silence feels suffocating. Then, he speaks softly. “I can’t teach you archery, but I can teach you how to draw. I can teach you how to use your other hand.”

She looks at him, and for the first time, the bitterness fades just enough to let a tiny flicker of hope in. Maybe she can still create something. Maybe it won’t be the same as archery, but it could be something new. Later that evening, her mother enters the room with a tray of snacks, trying to lighten the mood. She sits down next to Y/N, looking between her and Minho.

“You should’ve been more careful, sweetie. You’re an archer. You should’ve known how to take care of yourself.”

That’s the breaking point.

Y/N stands up abruptly, the frustration boiling over. “It’s not my fault! I couldn’t have known the ceiling was going to fall! it’s not like I give everywhere assuming unexpected things happen !” She’s shaking with the intensity of it now.

“I didn’t choose this! I didn’t choose for this to happen. I didn’t choose for everything I’ve worked for to get destroyed in an instant!” Minho watches her, his gaze soft but firm. He steps closer, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Y/N’s breath is shaky, her chest tight with the rawness of her emotions. She blinks rapidly, trying to stop the tears that threaten to spill over, but they come anyway, hot and relentless. Her hands tremble as she wipes them away, but it’s futile—no amount of effort can hide the grief that swells inside her.

“I don’t know how to live without it,” she whispers, her voice cracking as the pain surges. “Archery wasn’t just something I did. It was who I was. It was everything to me. And now… now I’m just… broken.”

Her words crack like glass shattering, each one a reminder of the life she thought she had and the future that was ripped away in a single moment. She had spent years training, dedicating herself to something that made her feel whole, something that defined her in a world that often felt too large. And now, that piece of her was gone. The path she had been walking for so long had been torn away, leaving nothing but jagged edges and an aching emptiness.

Minho’s heart twists as he watches her, the storm of emotions in her eyes threatening to consume her. He doesn’t know what to say—he can’t fix this. He can’t give her back what she lost, no matter how much he wishes he could.

“I know,” he says quietly, his voice soft but resolute. “I know it feels like everything’s falling apart right now. But you’re not broken. You’re… you’re just lost. And it’s okay to feel like that. You don’t have to have all the answers right away.”

Y/N shakes her head. “You’re wrong. I am broken, Minho. I’ve lost the one thing that gave me purpose. How can I be anything but broken?”

Minho’s heart aches, but he doesn’t step away. He doesn’t let go of her shoulder, grounding her as she trembles. “I don’t think you’re broken, Y/N,” he says softly. “I think you’re hurting. And that’s okay. It’s okay to hurt.”

She pulls away from him abruptly, her face flushed with frustration and sorrow. “You don’t get it. You’re not the one who had everything—everything—taken away in an instant. You don’t know what it feels like to lose yourself.”

Minho stands still, the weight of her words settling deep into his chest. “No, I don’t know what it feels like,” he admits. “But I do know that I’m not going to let you go through this alone. I may not be able to fix what’s broken, but I’ll be here to help you pick up the pieces. Even if you can’t see it now, I believe you’re strong enough to rebuild. I believe in you, Y/N.”

Y/N doesn’t know how to respond. Her anger and sorrow have clouded her judgment, making her feel like she’s trapped in a storm she can’t escape. Her gaze drifts to the window, where the soft evening light pours through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room. The stillness of the world outside is so far removed from the chaos in her heart.

“I didn’t choose this,” she murmurs again, this time more quietly, as if the words are a confession rather than an accusation. “I didn’t choose to be here… like this.”

Minho watches her carefully, his voice gentle. “No, you didn’t. But sometimes, life doesn’t give us a choice. All we can do is keep going, one step at a time.”

Y/N is silent for a long moment, her thoughts tangled in the mess of her grief and anger. Finally, she lifts her eyes to meet his, her gaze softened by the exhaustion of it all. There’s a flicker of something—something small but there—inside of her.

“I don’t know how to keep going,” she admits softly, her voice barely a whisper.

Minho steps forward, his heart aching for her, and pulls her into a hug. She stiffens at first, not used to accepting comfort, but after a few moments, she melts into his embrace, her body trembling with the weight of everything she’s been holding back.

“Then let me help you find your way,” Minho murmurs, his voice low and steady. “One step at a time.”

And for the first time in weeks, Y/N lets herself lean into someone, just a little, feeling the fragile thread of hope that Minho’s words offer. It’s not a solution. It’s not a cure. But it’s a start.

Minho knows that words won’t fix this. So, he takes her to the beach the next day—just the two of them, no distractions. Her arm is still in a sling, but they sit down on the shore, letting the sound of the waves fill the silence.

Y/N’s emotions are raw, and the weight of everything hits her again. The tears she’s been holding back finally spill over, and she doesn’t try to stop them. She doesn’t want him to look, but she can’t control it.

“I’m sorry,” she says through her sobs, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to burden you with all this. I don’t want to need you. I don’t want to need anyone.”

Minho doesn’t look at her. He knows. But he stays by her side, silent and steady.

When she calms down, he reaches out, gently cupping her face in his hands. She looks up at him, her eyes red from crying.

“You’re not a burden to me, Y/N,” he says softly. “I’m here for you. I’ll always be here.”

She shakes her head, her tears still fresh. “But I don’t know how to do this anymore. I don’t know how to be anything without archery.”

Minho smiles, his eyes filled with an understanding that she’s not ready to face yet. “You’ll find a new way. And if you need me, I’m here. We’ll figure it out together.”

“You’re still you,” he says softly. “And you’re going to find a way to be even more.”

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat, feeling a flicker of something deep inside her—a spark, barely there, but present. It’s not a solution, not even close. It’s just the tiniest glimmer of hope. But right now, that’s enough.

She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and nods slowly. "I’m not sure what the future holds, Minho," she says, her voice quieter now. "But maybe, for the first time, I’m starting to think it’s okay not to have everything figured out."

Minho smiles, a small but genuine smile that reaches his eyes. “Good. Because you don’t have to have it all figured out. Not yet.”

They sit in silence again, letting the sound of the waves wash over them, and for the first time in a long while, Y/N doesn’t feel completely broken. She still doesn’t have all the answers, and she knows the road ahead won’t be easy. But with Minho by her side, maybe she doesn’t have to face it alone. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a way forward after all.

You’re dangerous with your bow anyway, he thought, you’re Cupid.

And you close your eyes, in peace.

[tokkiwrites]

"Summer nights like this had a way of unfolding secrets. The kind of nights when the air hung heavy with pine and smoke, the moon glinting like a shy voyeur against the rippling surface of the lake. This wasn’t your first time at the Washington family cabin, but it was the first time that everything felt different. No parents. No rules. And, worst of all, no escape from the fact that Josh Washington was here, and he wasn’t yours."

summary: Your best friend invites you to their annual summer trip to the family cabin in the mountains—something you've done before. But this year is different: no parents. After years of secretly harboring feelings for your best friend’s brother, Josh, you decide this is the perfect chance to finally confess.

tags: best friend's brother!joshua washington x f!reader, childhood crush, both josh and reader like each other but act oblivious (josh more than reader), reader is low key obsessed with josh, minor age gap, alternative universe where Hannah and Beth are still alive, some angst, p in v (protected), virginity loss (reader), kind of fluff, josh talks you through it (yummy!!), fingering (f receiving), idiots in love 🫶🏻

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ tokkis note 𑁯 ✿ hey... how yall doing... the rami malek fever is so real i had to write something. so i did. 6,45k words to be more exact, teehee! i dont quite know what this is, but i had fun writing it, like it got me giggling and shit so yeah 💀 if you see any typos close your eyes, forget you saw anything. enjoy!

7th grade. That was when you stopped thinking of Josh Washington as just Hannah’s annoying older brother. Between the way he stayed behind after soccer practice to teach you how to kick a penalty and the smirk he threw over his shoulder, like he knew you were watching him. The first time when you actually considered Josh not being a jerk like other boys. In 9th grade, he became the hottest guy you had ever met. or maybe you just got so used to his face that you didn't want to look at other boys. Fast forward to now, you're starting college in one month, and things have changed in a way. maybe for the worstㅡ because he's all you can think about.

“You’re staring again.” Hannah’s voice snaps you out of your daze. She’s grinning, nudging your ribs as the two of you sit on the couch in the cabin. “You’re so obvious.” You blink and turn toward her, cheeks heating. “I—I wasn’t staring!”

“Oh, you were,” she teases, popping a chip into her mouth. “What is it this time? The hair? The jawline? Or did you finally notice his arms? I mean, have you seen him chop firewood? That’s peak Josh.”

“Hannah!” You hiss, smacking her arm. She only laughs, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. But she’s not wrong. Somewhere between your senior year of high school and now, Josh had gone from the boy who made stupid puns to the man who could take your breath away just by walking into a room. Unfortunately, it seems like he doesn’t notice.

“Still no move, huh?” Hannah says, lowering her voice. “You’re not seriously going to spend another summer in silent agony, are you?” You sigh. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Josh, remember me? The girl who used to wear braces and cried when I lost my retainer? Cool. Wanna make out?’” Hannah snorts so loudly that Beth, sitting nearby with her book, looks over with a frown. “What are you two laughing about now?”

“Nothing,” you and Hannah say in unison, though she’s still stifling giggles. Beth looks at you both, arching a brow. “Sure,” she says, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t push. She returns to her book, leaving you free to squirm under Hannah’s knowing gaze.

Josh doesn’t stick around to witness your humiliation. He’s already disappeared into the kitchen, and the sound of the fridge opening and the clinking of bottles is the only thing tethering you to the moment. “Do something this trip,” Hannah murmurs, leaning close so Beth doesn’t overhear. “Seriously. You’ve been mooning over him since forever. And now—” she waves a hand at the open windows, the twilight stretching wide like a stage—“this is your moment.”

“Hannah, it’s not like that,” you say, but even you don’t believe it. Not when your heart skips every time Josh is within ten feet of you. “It’s exactly like that,” she shoots back, voice low but insistent. “He likes you, too, you know.” You look at her sharply. “What?”

“Oh, don’t give me that face,” Hannah says, rolling her eyes. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s just... Josh. Oblivious as hell.”

You’re about to argue, to tell her she’s wrong, that there’s no way Joshua Washington— carefree, clever, confident Josh, could ever see you like that. But before you can, his voice carries from the kitchen. “You two plotting something?” Your breath hitches, and Hannah, ever the instigator, grins. “Maybe,” she calls back. Josh reappears, beer in hand, and leans against the doorway. His green eyes flick between the two of you, and for a moment, you swear they linger on you. “Well, don’t blow up the cabin,” he says with a crooked smile before heading out onto the porch.

That night, the cabin settled into quiet. Beth retires early, Hannah tucked away in the room you’re sharing, and yet you can’t sleep. Your thoughts swirl—images of Josh’s hands, the way his eyes looked into yours, his voice, smooth and teasing, the way his smile felt like a hook tugging you somewhere you shouldn’t want to go.

The room feels suffocating, the summer heat pressing against your skin. You slip out of bed as quietly as you can, grabbing a towel and slipping into your swimsuit. The lake isn’t far. You’ve been there a hundred times before, but tonight, it feels like it’s waiting just for you. The water is cold when you first step in, but it’s a welcome relief, a shock that clears your head. You wade in deeper, letting the towel drop onto the shore, and soon, the swimsuit feels like too much. You hesitate, glancing back toward the cabin, but it’s silent and still. “Just you and the lake,” you whisper to yourself. The swimsuit peels away, and the water envelops you like a second skin. You float, staring up at the sky, letting the cool liquid carry the weight of your thoughts.

But then a voice shatters the stillness.

“Didn’t take you for a midnight swimmer.”

You jolt, water sloshing as you whirl toward the shore. Josh is standing there, hands in his pockets, his head cocked in that infuriatingly casual way he always manages. “Josh!” You shriek, sinking deeper into the water. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, stepping closer to the water’s edge. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Something like that,” you mutter, your cheeks burning even as the water cools your skin. His eyes sweep over the lake, lingering just long enough to make your heart race. “You always were full of surprises,” he says softly, almost to himself. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me, or are you joining?” you ask before you can think better of it. The question hangs in the air, bold and daring, and for a moment, you think you’ve scared him off. But then he grins.

“Alright.”

You watch, half in awe, as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the toned lines of his chest and the faint trail of scars along his ribs. He doesn’t stop there, shucking off his jeans until he’s left in his boxers.

The water ripples as he drops in, and suddenly, he’s closer than you expected, the space between you charged with something you can’t quite name. “This is nice,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. You nod, the words caught in your throat. “Do you ever feel like...” He trails off, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Like there’s something just out of reach? Like you want to grab it, but you’re scared of what happens if you do?”

Your heart thuds. “All the time.” His gaze shifts to you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something—something that will change everything. Instead, he leans back, letting himself float. “Good thing we’ve got the whole summer,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself. But one thing is clear: you’ll spend every moment of this summer trying to pull him closer.

The next morning, the cabin feels alive with the quiet rustle of summer. Birds trill in the trees, and sunlight pours through the open windows, a golden invitation to start the day. Hannah is already on the deck with a cup of coffee, scrolling on her phone when you step out. “You’re up early,” she says, not looking up. You shrug, trying to hide how restless you’d been all night after what happened at the lake. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She raises a brow but doesn’t press. “Josh is down at the dock,” she says, nodding toward the lake. “Probably sulking. You know how he gets.”

You hesitate. “Why’s he sulking?”

She snorts. “Because the rest of the group isn’t getting here until tomorrow. You’d think one day without his entourage wouldn’t kill him.” You glance toward the lake. the memory of last night. Josh’s quiet words, the way the moonlight danced in his eyes, it's still fresh in your mind. “You should go,” Hannah says, smirking now. “Cheer him up. Or stare at him some more. Whatever works.”

“Hannah!” But she’s already gone, slipping back into the cabin and leaving you with no choice but to head toward the dock.

Josh is sitting on the edge of the wooden dock, his feet dangling in the water. The air smells like cedar and the faint tang of sunscreen. for a moment, you almost turn back. But then he glances over his shoulder and sees you. “Morning,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “Hey,” you say, stepping onto the dock and sitting a few feet away. For a while, neither of you speak. The lake stretches out before you, endless and still, and it feels like the world has shrunk to just the two of you.

“Big day ahead of us,” Josh says eventually, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Yeah,” you reply, matching his smile. “So many exciting activities. Staring at trees. Staring at water. Staring at each other.” He laughs, and the sound is warm and unexpected. “Careful. I might think you’re obsessed with me.” Your stomach flips, but you keep your voice light. “Who says I’m not?”

Josh looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve said too much. But instead of teasing, his expression softens. “I don’t get you sometimes,” he says quietly.

“What do you mean?” He shrugs, kicking at the water. “You’re just...different. Not like everyone else.” oh boy. “Good different or bad different?” you ask, your heart in your throat. Josh doesn’t answer right away. His gaze shifts to the endless forest, and when he finally speaks, his voice pangs through you.

“Good,” he says. "Definitely good.”

The rest of the day is a blur of lazy activities—helping Beth organize the kitchen, listening to Hannah’s playlist on the deck, and avoiding Josh just enough to keep your heart from imploding. By sunset, the air is thick with the anticipation of the group’s arrival tomorrow. Hannah flops onto the couch beside you, phone in hand. “Sam says they’re leaving first thing in the morning,” she says. “So, enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”

“Quiet?” Beth calls from the kitchen, laughing. “Have you met us?” Hannah rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Tomorrow it’s going to be chaos. Jess and Emily bickering, Chris and Ashley pretending they’re not totally in love, Matt trying to keep the peace...and then there’s Josh.”

“What about Josh?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Hannah gives you a look. “You tell me.”

That night, you find yourself back at the lake, drawn by the same restless energy that kept you up the night before. You don’t plan on skinny dipping again—it feels too risky with everyone around—but the water calls to you anyway, soothing and eternal.

And maybe, just maybe, Josh feels the same right now.

You’re sitting on the shore, toes dipping into the cool water when you hear footsteps behind you. “Couldn’t sleep again?” You don’t have to turn around to know it’s him. “I could say the same to you,” you reply, glancing back. Josh sits beside you, his shoulder brushing yours, and the warmth of him is enough to set your skin buzzing. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” he says after a while.

“What is?”

“Being back here. Without... you know. Adults. Rules.” You nod, the weight of his words settling over you. “Feels different.”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Makes you think about stuff.”

“Like what?” you ask, heart pounding.

Josh doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he picks up a stone and skips it across the water. One, two, three perfect skips before it sinks. “Like what happens next,” he says finally. “For all of us. Feels like everything’s about to change.”

You don’t know what to say to that. So, instead, you reach for your own stone, throwing it as hard as you can. It skips once before plunking into the water. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and figure it out,” you say, keeping your voice light.

Josh looks at you, his eyes shadowed and searching, and for a moment, you think he’s going to say something. what you want to hear, maybe. something important. But instead, he smiles, that same lopsided grin that’s been haunting your dreams for years. “Good,” he says.

“I’d miss you otherwise.”

The cabin feels too small the moment the others arrive. It’s a blur of bodies, laughter, and chaos as the others spill into the space, dragging in bags, cooler boxes, and enough energy to wake the dead. It’s not that you mind them—you’ve known most of Josh’s friends for years, but something about the way the cabin hums now feels different. The tight, intimate bubble you’d shared with Josh, Hannah, and Beth is gone, replaced by noise and the easy rhythm of their group. You feel...adrift, to say the least. And watching Josh slip seamlessly back into his role as the charismatic center of attention only makes it worse.

By the time night falls, the cabin is alive with music, the sharp pop of bottle caps, and the low buzz of conversation. You find yourself perched in a corner of the living room, a half-empty drink in hand, watching the others like a ghost at your own party.

Josh is at the center of it all, as always. He’s standing near the couch, laughing at something Sam said, and the sound is enough to send your stomach twisting into knots. Sam, of course, is radiant—effortlessly pretty in her cropped sweatshirt, her hair catching the light like spun gold. She’s animated, gesturing with her hands, and every time Josh leans closer to hear her, you feel like the room tilts off its axis. “Hey,” Hannah says, sliding in next to you with a knowing look. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie, taking a sip of your drink. Hannah snorts. “Subtle.” You glance at her, frowning. “What?”

“You know what,” she says, tilting her head toward Josh and Sam. “Seriously, if you’re going to keep looking at him like that, you might as well do something about it.”

“I’m not looking at him,” you protest weakly. Hannah rolls her eyes. “Sure. And I’m not your best friend.” She pauses, watching you for a moment before her expression softens. “Look, you’re not exactly subtle when it comes to Josh. But for what it’s worth? I think he’s just as clueless about how he feels as you are.” Her words settle into your chest, a mix of hope and frustration, but before you can respond, Jess calls out from the other side of the room.

“Hey! Who’s up for Spin the Bottle?” You couldn’t escape it, let's be honest.

You don’t know how it happens, but somehow, you end up in the circle. Maybe it’s the drinking, or maybe it’s Hannah giving you a pointed nudge as everyone sits on the floor, but before you know it, you’re sandwiched between her and Ashley, your pulse pounding in your ears. Josh is directly across from you, his green eyes bright in the firelight. Sam is to his left, Jess to his right, and the knot in your stomach tightens. “Okay, ground rules,” Jess says, grinning wickedly. “No chickening out. You spin, you kiss. Period.”

There’s a chorus of laughter and a few groans, but no one protests. Chris goes first, spinning the bottle with dramatic flair. It lands on Ashley, who blushes furiously but leans in to kiss him. The group erupts in cheers and wolf whistles, and you can’t help but smile despite yourself.

One by one, the bottle makes its rounds. Jess and Emily kiss, Matt kisses Ashley despite him protesting, and eventually, it’s Josh’s turn. He spins the bottle with a lazy flick of his wrist, the glass neck twirling endlessly before it slows, stops, and lands on Sam.

Your stomach drops.

“Oh, come on,” Jess says, clapping her hands. “This is gonna be good.” Josh raises an eyebrow, glancing at Sam. She shrugs, smiling, and leans forward.

You can’t look away.

Their lips meet in a brief, playful kiss—nothing dramatic, nothing earth-shattering. but it’s enough. Enough to make your chest ache, your fingers tighten around the drink in your hand. When they pull apart, everyone cheers again, and Josh laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your turn,” he says, handing the bottle to Sam. But you don’t care. You’re too busy swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the way your vision blurs at the edges.

Later, when the game ends and the group begins to disperse, you slip outside, the cool night air a welcome relief from the suffocating cabin. The lake stretches out before you, dark and endless, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe.

“You okay?” The voice startles you, and you turn to see Josh standing there, hands in his pockets. “I’m fine,” you say quickly, brushing at your eyes. He frowns, stepping closer. “You sure? You looked kind of...I don’t know, off.” You force a laugh, crossing your arms. “I’m fine, Josh. Really.” For a moment, he just looks at you, his brow furrowed like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says softly. The words hit harder than they should, and before you can stop yourself, you snap. “What do you want me to say, Josh? That I didn’t love watching you kiss Sam? That it didn’t suck seeing you two all cozy earlier?” His eyes widen, caught off guard, and for a second, you regret everything. But then his expression shifts—something softer, something almost...guilty.

“I didn’t...” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to...” You shake your head, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. “Forget it. It’s not your fault.” Josh hesitates, like he’s weighing his next words carefully. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You glance at him, your heart aching at the look in his eyes—conflicted, searching. “I know,” you say quietly. “It’s fine. Really.” But it’s not fine. And as you turn back toward the cabin, leaving Josh standing by the lake, you can’t help but wonder if this summer is going to break you before it’s over.

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the cabin in hues of orange and gold. The group was scattered—Jess and Emily were bickering over sunscreen, Chris and Ashley were curled up on the deck talking in low tones, and Sam was by the lake with Hannah, skipping stones. It was all too perfect, too idyllic, except for the hollow ache in your chest.

Josh had been avoiding you all day.

It wasn’t like he was being obvious about it—Josh had a knack for slipping into conversations, filling the room with his sharp wit and charm like nothing was wrong. But you felt it. In the way his eyes would dart past you when you entered a room, the way his laugh seemed just a little louder when you weren’t around.

And maybe you were just as bad, lurking in the corners, pretending not to notice how often he touched Sam’s arm when they talked.

Written across your heart was all of your will to make him see—make him realize there was no in-between. There was either you and him, or the hollow echo of “I’m so sorry for your loss.” And wasn’t that what it felt like already? Like mourning something that never got the chance to live?

But it was his fault, wasn’t it?

For making you want him so much that your heart bled angel tears. For teaching your lips to sing sweet once-upon-a-times about a boy who was all sharp edges and hidden softness, who didn’t realize how much space he took up in your world.

By late afternoon, you found yourself back at the lake. It had become your refuge, the only place where you could breathe without the weight of Josh’s absence pressing against your ribs. Your toes skimmed the water’s edge, the cool ripples kissing your skin. You weren’t thinking about anything in particular—just the endless horizon, the way the light danced on the surface of the lake. But then a voice broke through your thoughts.

“You hiding out here now?” You didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. Again.

“Maybe I am,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. Josh sighed, stepping closer. You could feel the heat of him at your back, the way his presence wrapped around you even when you didn’t want it to. “Look,” he said finally, his voice softer. “About the other night...” You turned to face him, cutting him off. “It’s fine, Josh. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“Yes, I do.” His eyes—those endless green eyes—searched yours, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “No, you don’t,” you said, forcing a smile. “We’re friends. That’s all we’ve ever been, right?”

Josh flinched, like the word “friends” was a physical blow. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said quietly. For a moment, you believed. But then you shook your head, stepping away. “You didn’t, Josh,” you said. “I’m fine.”

That night, the group decided to make a bonfire by the lake. The air was thick with laughter, the sharp scent of burning wood mingling with the sweetness of roasted marshmallows.

You sat with Hannah and Beth, listening as Chris tried to tell a ghost story that kept getting interrupted by Jess’s sarcastic commentary. Josh was across the fire, sitting next to Sam. He wasn’t touching her, wasn’t even looking at her, but it didn’t matter.

Your hair cascaded like Niagara under the firelight, your lips so soft—even if he had never felt them under his. Josh couldn’t stop looking at you. Your eyes glowed like an eternity, and your voice—when you laughed at something - it was the only antidote he’d ever had for all those sleepless nights.

He didn’t know how to fix this.

Didn’t know how to reach across the chasm that had opened between you since that stupid game of Spin the Bottle. And maybe it was selfish—maybe it was cruel—but he wanted you to look at him the way you used to. Like he was something worth believing in.

The fire burned low as the group began to drift off, one by one. Eventually, it was just you and Josh, the silence between you heavy and unspoken. “Shouldn’t you be with Sam?” you asked, your tone biting. Josh frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, standing. “I’m going to bed.” But before you could leave, his hand shot out, catching your wrist. “Wait,” he said, his voice urgent. You froze, refusing to look at him. “Can we just—” He hesitated, his grip loosening. “Can we talk?” You pulled away, your chest tightening. “Not tonight, Josh.” He didn’t stop you this time, and as you walked back to the cabin, you felt the weight of his gaze on your back.

Neither of you slept that night.

The stars were muted behind a veil of clouds, the air heavy with the promise of rain. The cabin was quieter now. Days of forced smiles and lingering silences had worn you thin, and tonight, you found yourself outside again, pacing the gravel path that led to the lake.

You didn’t mean to cry.

It started as an ache in your chest, spreading to your throat until the tears came unbidden, hot, and relentless. You wiped at them furiously, hating the way they betrayed you, but the anger only made it worse.

How could he be so blind?

You heard footsteps behind you, familiar and deliberate. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Josh. “Go away,” you said, your voice raw.

He didn’t.

“Hey,” he said softly, his tone careful, like he was afraid you’d shatter if he spoke too loud. “What’s wrong?” You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the stillness. “You really have to ask?” Josh shifted, running a hand through his hair. “Look, if this is about—”

“It’s not about Sam!” you snapped, whirling to face him. “It’s about you, Josh. It’s always about you.” His brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his green eyes. “What are you talking about?” You threw your hands up, frustration spilling over. “Do you know what it’s like? To feel like you’re screaming into the void, hoping, praying, that someone will hear you? To love someone so much that it hurts, only for them to act like you don’t even exist?” Josh’s expression shifted, the confusion replaced by something deeper, something raw.

“I—”

“You don’t get it,” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “You never have. And maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I should’ve said something years ago, but I didn’t, and now... now I can’t even look at you without feeling like I’m suffocating.” The tears came harder now, and you didn’t bother to stop them. Josh took a step closer, his jaw tight, but he didn’t speak. “Say something,” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Anything.”

He didn’t.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until you shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Of course,” you said, turning away. “Why did I even expect—” But before you could take another step, his hand caught your arm, spinning you back toward him.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft.

It was desperate, messy, like he was trying to say all the words he couldn’t find through the press of his lips. His hands cradled your face, grounding you even as the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet. For a moment, you froze, too stunned to move. But then your hands found his shirt, clutching the fabric like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I’m sorry I made you feel like this.” Your chest ached, the anger draining from your body as quickly as it had come. “Josh,” you started, but he cut you off, his green eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I know I don’t. But you’re all I think about. You always have been.” The words broke something in you, and the tears came again, but this time, they weren’t born of anger or frustration. “Then why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Because I’m a coward,” he admitted, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “Because I’m an idiot who didn’t realize what he had until he almost lost it.” You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his hands still framing your face. “I can’t.” You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you did the only thing you could: you kissed him.

This time, it was softer, slower, filled with all the things you couldn’t put into words. And when you pulled back, his lips curved into a small, hesitant smile. “Does this mean you’ll stop avoiding me?” you asked, your voice shaking with a mix of laughter and tears. Josh chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You'll start wishing I would."

The first low rumble of thunder rolled across the sky as you and Josh lingered, the sound so faint at first that you barely noticed it. But then it came again, louder this time, accompanied by a flash of light on the horizon, pulling you both from your kiss. You glanced up at the clouds gathering above, your chest tightening. Josh followed your gaze, a grin tugging at his lips. “You afraid of a little rain?” Before you could respond, the heavens opened up. The rain came in a sudden, torrential downpour, drenching you both in seconds. You yelped, the cold droplets soaking through your clothes as Josh let out a startled laugh. “Come on!” he shouted over the sound of the rain, grabbing your hand.

He led you up the path, past the cabin and deeper into the woods where a small gazebo stood, tucked beneath a canopy of trees. The structure was simple but charming, with its whitewashed beams and ivy creeping up the sides. Inside was a weathered but cozy couch, draped with soft blankets that someone—Hannah, probably—had left there.

You stumbled under the shelter just as another crack of thunder split the sky. The sound was deafening, but you couldn’t help laughing as you leaned against one of the beams, rainwater dripping from your hair and clothes. Josh stood across from you, his hands on his hips, his shirt clinging to his chest in a way that made your heart race all over again. His hair was a mess, dark strands sticking to his forehead, and yet he looked unfairly good—smiling at you like this was the best night of his life.

“Well,” he said, shaking water from his hair, “so much for staying dry.” You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around yourself. “You think?” He stepped closer, his grin softening into something warmer. “Here.” He reached for one of the blankets on the couch, shaking it out before draping it over your shoulders. His fingers brushed your arms as he adjusted it, and you shivered, though it wasn’t from the rain. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice quieter now.

Josh sat beside you on the couch, his arm resting along the back as he leaned into the cushions. The rain pattered against the roof of the gazebo, a rhythmic hum that filled the silence between you. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice low, “I kind of like this.” You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Getting caught in a thunderstorm?”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “Being here. With you.” You looked away, focusing on the rain streaking down the gazebo’s wooden beams. “Josh...” “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now. You felt his hand brush against yours, tentative, like he was testing the waters. “Look at me.” You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. The rain softened the world around you, muting everything except the warmth in his gaze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was just the two of you, sitting close on that old couch, the rain falling like a curtain around the gazebo. You could feel it, that familiar warmth creeping up within you, curling in your stomach every time Josh was near. Your heart thuds as his rough palm drags itself up your exposed thigh. Before you could stop yourself, the words rushed out of your mouth. “I’m a virgin!” Your face flushed a deep crimson as soon as the words left your lips, and you immediately covered your face with your hands in embarrassment.

Josh froze for a beat, his hand still resting on your thigh. You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t dare look up. And then, to your surprise, you heard him laugh softly, the sound low and warm. “Wait... really?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement but also something softer, something affectionate.

You peeked up at him, still hiding half of your face behind your hands, the flush on your cheeks deepening. “Yeah, really,” you mumbled, not sure whether you were embarrassed or relieved to finally say it out loud. Josh’s grin widened, and there was a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned a little closer. “I gotta admit, that’s a little... surprising.” He paused, his tone teasing but gentle. “But, hey, no rushing." Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of him being your first. You nodded, your eyes searching his face, still unsure whether to be embarrassed or... maybe a little proud?

His hand gently moved from your thigh to rest on your knee, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, reassuring circles. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said quietly, his voice soft. “I'm not trying anything unless you want to.” You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and found only kindness there— no teasing, no judgment, just understanding. And somehow, that made everything feel a little easier. "I do want to... you know.." The words won't come out. “Still,” you muttered, “it’s... kind of awkward, don’t you think?” Josh chuckled, that warm smile never leaving his face. “Don't think so” he said, his voice low and serious now, “if you’re gonna share something like that with anyone, I’m glad it could be me."

You nod, scooting closer to him, palms now flush on his chest. his eyes scan your every inch, and you try to look away, but he captures your lips into another kiss. his lips trail down to your neck with a low "can I?" And you hum, trying your best to stay quiet as you get used to the feeling.

in no time, you're under him, both entangled, half naked and out of breath. he finally pulls off your panties, tossing them to the floor as he spreads your cunt wide open with two of his fingers, and god, you looked so erotic, all shying away as he loomed over, fingers playing with your pussy. "You ever touched yourself like this before?" You nod, bottom lip captive between your teeth. "J-just a little..." Oh, god. "You're so beautiful, fuckㅡ" And he's already losing his mind. Nights of fantasizing couldn’t have prepared him for this.

placing his palm behind your knee, he lifts up your legs, laying light pecks onto the plush of your thighs, thumb now tracing down to your puffy clit. Josh starts slowly, swirling his finger and still kissing your soft flesh. "Thank you for letting me do this." tracing the entrace with his index, he pushes his finger slow and deep inside, and you arch against him. this was it. he was where all of his dreams led him to. you looked like something straight out of a 80's porno. cunningly, josh moved his finger, and before you knew it he added another one. you squeezed perfectly around his digits, the sounds you and your pussy made driving him to the brink. "You hear that?" he asks, curling up his fingers, the wet sounds amplifying. "don't think I've ever had a pussy this wet before..." you whimper ans wrigle under his hold. "Josh.."

"What? It's the truth." he chuckles, speed picking up, his other hand now flush to your lower belly. "Want you to come. Can you do that for me?" he looks up, doe eyes searching for yours, and you can already feel your body convulsing. it didn't take long for you to finally give in and gift him what he asked for, coming just from his fingers. the way you thighs squeezed together, trapping his hand between them, soft pleads dripping from your lips like honeyㅡ he was done for. you were embarrassed, to say the least, hiding your face into his shirt he had taken off long ago. "Stop that, heyㅡ look at me, baby." Baby. did you just come again? "You did great. so good." he leans in over you, pressing a soft kiss on the bridge of your nose. "Do you wanna keep going?" and you say the most eager 'yes' known to man. "i got you." he smiles, eyes tracing every curve of your body. he takes off his pants along with hus briefs, letting his shaft spring free, small pearls of precum already gathered at the tip.

your eyes opened. what the fuck? is that normal? you knew your first would hurt, but seeing what Josh had going on for him you knew it would be the most painful experience for you yet. "Don't worry. I'll go slow." he stumbles a bit back, grabbing a hold of his trousers, palming his pockets before he mutters a soft 'there we go.' and takes out a shiny wrapperㅡ a condom. the opens it and carefully takes it out, lining it with the tip of his aching cock. "If you ever wanna stopㅡ" he start, whilst rolling the condom down his length. "Tell me. Yeah?" you nod.

taking his length into his fist, Josh pumps it a few times before he aligns it with your entrance that trickled with juices. he lets it slip in, and your eyes close as tears threaten to fall. you claw at his back, but Josh kisses you as he slides in some more, your walla wrapping perfectly around himㅡ just like it was meant to be. "It's okay, you're okay, baby."

after going in the last couple of inches, he starts to move, gently holding down onto your waist as he lets you adjust. "Doing so food for me."

just a few strokes after he feels you wrapping your legs around his hips, urging him deeper. "Please.." You plead, the sweetest sounds escaping your plump and swollen lips, and he swears he could come just by that. "Fuck, yeah, okayㅡ" he groans, with the way your teary eyes stared up at him. He starts to move his hips, harder, deeper, each sound you made an encouragement. His palms make his way under your back, pulling you up, almost to sit on his lap. He fucks up into you, your arms lazily draped over his flexed shoulders whilst his lips kiss soft blooms onto your chest. you clench around him. "J-Josh..." he shakes his head, laughing as his fingers dig deep into your flesh where you know bruises will appear later. "Don'tㅡ ha, I'm gonna come if you keep doing that." whines slip past your lips as his speed picks up. "Shit, shitㅡ" he pulls you closer, lips now stuck to your neck like a locket. "Y-you gonna come?" he prys. "Mhm.." you squeal as your eyes roll back. "Go ahead, for me." that's all it took. you come once again, nimbly wrapping around josh like a vine, walls squeezing him so tight. your mind goes blank, only soft moans gripping your throat as Josh pumps into you, finally releasing inside of the condom with a few thrusts.

you both breathe heavily, hearts beating in a sing-song, as you come down from your high. realization sets in as you meet each other's gaze. it was real. it really just happened.

"You okay?" he leans in, pressing a lazy kiss onto your lips. "Yeah... How okay can one be after having sex for the first time..?" and he laughs, playing with the strands of your hair. "Thank god for the rain covering the sound. You were super loud just thenㅡ"

"Josh!"