#when i have time i might make this into something a little longer…….

[harrysfolklore]

christ-max -mv1

summary: you invite your boyfriend max to spend christmas with you for the first time, however, your family doesn't quite believe you're dating a formula 1 world champion. wc: 5.8k

folkie radio: HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOUUUU! i hope you're having the best day ever with your loves ones. this fic ended up being longer than i intended but i hope you like it!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You're nestled into Max's side on his couch, wrapped in the soft throw blanket he keeps specifically for these quiet moments together. The afternoon light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his Monaco apartment, casting a glow across the room. Your feet are tucked under you, and you can smell the lingering scent of the coffee you both made earlier.

The Netflix show you'd put on - some random documentary about deep-sea creatures - has become mere background noise. Max's fingers are threading through your hair in that gentle way that always makes you melt, occasionally stopping to massage your scalp. .

"I can't believe the season's actually over," you murmur, tracing lazy patterns on his arm. "Feels weird not having to plan around race weekends anymore."

Max chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rests. "Yeah, but now we have to plan around all the end-of-year events instead. Did you see how many galas and ceremonies are coming up?"

"At least those don't involve you flying halfway across the world," you tease, tilting your head to look up at him. His hair is slightly messy, free from its usual styling, and you resist the urge to reach up and run your fingers through it.

"True," he agrees, then glances at his phone on the coffee table. "Speaking of events, I can't believe it's already December. Christmas is going to be here before we know it. Guess time flies when you're busy winning championships."

Your heart skips a beat. This is the opening you've been waiting for. You've been thinking about this for weeks, planning how to bring it up. "Actually… I wanted to ask you something about Christmas," you start, sitting up slightly to face him better.

Max's blue eyes meet yours, curious. "What's on your mind?"

"Well…" you bite your lip, suddenly feeling nervous despite knowing there's no reason to be. "I was wondering if you'd want to spend Christmas with me and my family this year? I know we've kept things private, but I really want them to meet you, and-"

"Wait, really?" Max interrupts, his whole face lighting up with that boyish excitement that made you fall for him in the first place. "You want me to meet your family?"

You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Of course I do. We've been together almost a year now, and they keep asking why I'm always smiling at my phone." You playfully poke his side. "Which is your fault, by the way."

He catches your hand, intertwining your fingers. "My fault? I'm just being my naturally charming self," he grins, then his expression turns slightly more serious. "But are you sure? I mean, won't they be surprised when you show up with, well…"

"With a four-time World Champion?" you finish for him, laughing. "Actually, my dad might pass out. He's been watching F1 since before I was born. He has no idea I've been dating his favorite driver."

Max's eyebrows shoot up. "I'm his favorite driver?"

"Don't let it go to your head," you warn playfully. "But yeah, he's got your merchandise and everything. It's actually kind of embarrassing how much he talks about you during race weekends."

Max throws his head back laughing, and you can't help but join in. "Oh God, this is going to be interesting," he says, wiping at his eyes. "What about the rest of your family?"

"Well, Mom will probably try to feed you until you burst - she's like that with everyone. And my little sister Ruby, she's seven and she's going to have so many questions. She's in that phase where she wants to know everything about everything."

"I can handle questions," Max says confidently, then hesitates. "What kind of questions are we talking about?"

You pretend to think about it. "Oh, you know, probably things like 'How fast have you ever driven?' 'Have you ever crashed?' 'Do you want to marry my sister?'"

Max nearly chokes on air at the last one, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "You're joking, right?"

"About Ruby? Nope, she has absolutely no filter," you laugh, then soften your voice. "But seriously, they're going to love you. Just be yourself - the you I know, not the racing driver everyone else sees."

He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'd love to spend Christmas with your family. I can't wait to meet them." He pauses, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Should I wear my race suit when I meet your dad?"

You swat his arm, laughing. "Don't you dare! He'll actually faint." You settle back against his chest, feeling warm and content. "Thank you for saying yes. It means a lot to me."

"Thank you for asking me," he murmurs into your hair. "I love you."

"I love you too," you respond, smiling as his arms tighten around you. The documentary continues playing, forgotten again as you both start planning for Christmas, trading ideas and jokes about how to break the news to your family.

You're sitting cross-legged on Max's bed while he's in the shower, your phone propped up against a pillow as you FaceTime your family. Your mom's face fills most of the screen, with your dad peering over her shoulder and little Ruby bouncing around trying to get a better view.

"Honey, we can barely see you. The lighting is terrible," your mom critiques, and you adjust your position slightly.

"Better?"

"Much better! Now, what's this important thing you wanted to tell us about Christmas?" Your mom asks, while Ruby shouts "Is it presents?" in the background.

You take a deep breath, trying to contain your smile. "Well, I wanted to let you know that I'm bringing someone with me this year… my boyfriend."

There's an immediate explosion of excitement. Ruby starts jumping up and down, your mom gasps dramatically, and your dad's eyebrows shoot up with interest.

"Finally!" your mom exclaims. "We've been wondering when you'd introduce him. You've been so secretive about this boyfriend of yours."

"What's his name?" Ruby pipes up, her face suddenly taking up half the screen as she pushes closer to the camera. "Is he nice? Does he like Disney movies?"

You laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yes, Rubes, he's very nice. And his name is…" you pause, knowing what's coming. "Max. Max Verstappen."

There's a moment of silence before your dad bursts out laughing. "Good one, sweetheart. Now, what's his real name?"

"I'm serious, Dad. I'm dating Max Verstappen."

Your mom is trying to hold back her laughter now too. "Honey, isn't that the racing driver you and your father are always watching? The one your dad has all those caps and shirts of?"

"Yes, and I'm actually dating him," you insist, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Ruby's face scrunches up in confusion. "The fast car man? From TV?"

"The very same one, Rubes."

Your dad wipes tears from his eyes. "Come on now, what's next? Are you going to tell us you're best friends with Lewis Hamilton too?"

"Dad!" you groan, running a hand over your face. "I'm being serious! We've been dating for almost a year. I'm literally at his place right now!"

"In Monaco?" your dad asks skeptically. "Prove it."

You swing your phone around to show the familiar view of Monaco through the windows, but your dad just shakes his head. "Could be any apartment in Monaco."

"You're impossible!" you huff. "Fine, don't believe me. You'll see at Christmas."

Ruby presses her face closer to the screen again. "Will he bring his race car?"

"No, Rubes, he can't bring the race car," you say, softening your tone for your little sister. "But I promise you'll love him."

After a few more minutes of your family teasing you about your "imaginary Formula 1 driver boyfriend," you end the call with a mix of frustration and amusement. Just as you flop back onto the bed, you hear the bathroom door open and Max walks out, his hair still damp from the shower.

"How'd it go?" he asks, noticing your expression.

You let out a laugh. "They think I'm making you up. They literally don't believe I'm dating you."

Max raises his eyebrows, looking amused as he sits next to you on the bed. "Really?"

"Really. Dad laughed so hard he nearly cried. And Ruby, my little sister, just wants to know if you're bringing your race car for Christmas."

"Sorry to disappoint Ruby," he grins, then looks thoughtful. "You know, maybe we should've waited to tell them in person. The looks on their faces would've been priceless."

"Oh, don't worry," you sit up, wrapping your arms around his neck. "They'll still be priceless. Dad's going to lose it when he realizes all those times he was rambling about you during races, he was actually talking about his daughter's boyfriend."

Max laughs, pulling you closer. "What else should I know before meeting them?"

"Well, Ruby's seven and obsessed with Frozen. She'll definitely make you watch it and probably sing along too."

"I can handle that," he says confidently.

"And recite all the lines?"

"…Maybe not that."

"And act out the scenes with her?"

Max's eyes widen slightly. "What have I gotten myself into?"

You kiss his cheek. "Too late to back out now, Verstappen. You're stuck with us."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he murmurs, pulling you in for a proper kiss. "Even if it means playing Olaf the snowman."

"Oh no, you'll definitely be playing Elsa. Ruby's very particular about casting."

The look of horror on his face makes you burst out laughing, and soon he's joining in too. As your laughter dies down, you can't help but think about how perfect this feels - being here with him, planning to spend Christmas with your family, even if they don't believe you yet. You can't wait to see their faces when you show up at their door with Max Verstappen himself.

"Hey," Max says softly, breaking into your thoughts. "What are you smiling about?"

"Just thinking about how Christmas is going to be interesting this year."

"Interesting is one way to put it," he grins. "Should I wear my race suit when we arrive?"

"Don't you dare! Dad will actually faint."

"That's kind of the point," he winks, and you grab a pillow to hit him with, both of you dissolving into laughter again.

"Let me guess, another text from 'Max Verstappen'?" your dad teases from his spot at the kitchen counter, making air quotes with his fingers. He's wearing one of his many Red Bull Racing shirts, completely oblivious to the irony.

"Actually, yes," you reply, rolling your eyes. "He'll be here soon."

Your mom chuckles while peeling potatoes. "Honey, you can just tell us who your boyfriend really is. We won't judge, even if he's not a Formula 1 champion."

"Mom, I've told you a million times-"

"LOOK!" Ruby crashes into the kitchen, pointing at the TV in the living room where they're showing highlights from the last race. "It's YN's boyfriend!" She dissolves into giggles, clearly in on what she thinks is a funny joke.

"Very funny, Rubes," you mutter, but check your phone again when it buzzes.

Max: "Just turned onto your street. Nice neighborhood 😉"

Your heart starts beating faster. "He's here," you announce, heading toward the front door.

"Oh, we're still doing this?" your dad calls after you, amused. "Should I get my Max Verstappen cap for him to sign?"

"Actually, Dad, yes, you should," you shout back, slipping on your boots.

"Sweetie," your mom starts in that gentle voice she uses when she thinks you're being ridiculous, "you don't have to-"

The sound of a car pulling up interrupts her. You open the front door and step out onto the porch, watching as Max's car comes to a stop in your driveway. Your family has crowded behind you in the doorway, probably expecting to catch you in your "lie."

Max steps out of the car, looking unfairly handsome in his dark winter coat and scarf. His face lights up when he sees you, and you don't hesitate to run down the steps toward him.

"Hi," he grins, catching you in a tight hug and lifting you slightly off your feet. "Missed you."

You hear a loud gasp behind you, followed by what sounds like your dad choking on air.

"Missed you too," you murmur against his chest before turning to face your family, keeping one arm wrapped around his waist.

The scene on your front porch is priceless. Your dad's mouth is hanging open, his face pale except for two bright red spots on his cheeks. Your mom has both hands pressed to her face in shock. Ruby is the only one moving, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"IT REALLY IS THE FAST CAR MAN!" she shrieks, breaking the silence as she barrels down the steps toward you both.

Max laughs, crouching down to her level. "Hi Ruby. Nice to finally meet you. Your sister has told me a lot about you."

"You're real!" she exclaims, poking his arm as if to make sure.

"Very real," he confirms, looking thoroughly amused.

"I… you… but…" your dad stammers, still frozen in the doorway.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. LN," Max says, standing back up and guiding you and Ruby toward the porch. "Thank you for having me for Christmas."

Your mom seems to snap out of her shock first. "Oh my goodness, please come in! It's freezing out here. I… oh dear… the potatoes… I should… more food… I need to…"

"Mom, breathe," you laugh, as Max follows you inside.

Your dad hasn't moved an inch, still staring at Max like he's seeing a ghost. "You're… you're actually… the Brazil overtake…"

"Dad, no F1 talk yet!" you warn. "Let him at least get his coat off first."

"Right! Yes! Coat!" your dad says frantically. "I'll take your coat! And then maybe… could you… would you mind signing my…"

"Collection?" you finish for him, smirking. "The one you thought I was making up?"

Max raises his eyebrows at you, remembering your conversation about your dad's merchandise collection.

Ruby tugs on Max's hand. "Do you want to see my Frozen dolls? And can we watch the movie? Sissy said you've never seen it!"

"Ruby, let him settle in first," your mom calls from the kitchen, where she appears to be panic-cooking. "Oh God, is the food good enough? Do Formula 1 drivers have special diets? Should I-"

"Mom, the food will be perfect," you assure her, then turn to Max. "See? I told you they'd be cool about it."

Max tries to suppress his laugh as your dad continues to stare at him in awe, your mom stress-cooks enough food to feed an army, and Ruby continues pulling on his hand.

"Very cool," he agrees, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Though I think your dad might need to sit down."

"I'm fine!" your dad squeaks, then immediately sits down heavily on the nearest chair. "Just… just give me a minute to process that my daughter is actually dating Max Verstappen and I've been accidentally talking about my future son-in-law during every race and-"

"DAD!" you exclaim, feeling your face heat up while Max chuckles beside you.

"What? I'm just saying… all those times I said 'that Verstappen boy would make someone a good husband someday' and it turns out-"

"Okay!" you interrupt loudly. "Who wants coffee? Max, come help me with coffee!"

As you drag a laughing Max toward the kitchen, you hear Ruby start explaining the entire plot of Frozen to him, your mom muttering about needing to buy more food, and your dad still talking to himself about racing statistics.

"Still think this was a good idea?" you whisper to Max.

He pulls you closer, grinning. "The best. Though you might want to tell your dad to breathe before he passes out."

"Can we build a snowman after coffee?" Ruby calls out.

"Only if Max gets to be Elsa!" you shout back, earning you a playful glare from your boyfriend.

Looking around at your slightly chaotic but loving family, and seeing how naturally Max fits into it all, you can't help but smile. This is definitely going to be a Christmas to remember.

The initial chaos has settled into a cozy scene in your living room. You're curled up on the couch next to Max, who has Ruby practically attached to his side. She hasn't stopped talking since everyone sat down, and Max, to his credit, is giving her his complete attention.

"And then Elsa makes this huge ice castle," Ruby explains, using elaborate hand gestures. "Can you drive as fast as Elsa runs up the mountain?"

"Probably faster," Max answers with a grin, making Ruby's eyes widen.

"Even in the snow?"

"Even in the snow."

Your dad, who's finally regained his ability to form complete sentences, sits in his armchair trying very hard not to bombard Max with racing questions. He keeps opening his mouth, then closing it again when you give him a warning look.

"It's okay, Dad," you laugh. "You can ask him one race question. Just one."

Your dad looks like he might cry from happiness. "The overtake in Brazil-"

"Which one?" Max asks with a playful smirk, and your dad launches into an enthusiastic discussion about racing lines and grip levels.

Your mom returns from the kitchen with a tray of hot chocolate and cookies, having finally accepted that she doesn't need to cook enough food for an entire F1 paddock. "Here we go. I hope it's okay, Max. YN mentioned you like hot chocolate."

"It's perfect, thank you," Max says warmly, accepting a mug.

Ruby immediately reaches for a cookie, then pauses. "Do race car drivers eat cookies?"

"Only the fast ones," Max whispers conspiratorially, making her giggle.

"Ruby, give Max some space to breathe," your mom says gently, noticing how your sister is practically in his lap.

"It's fine," Max assures her. "I have nephews. I'm used to it."

Ruby beams at this information. "Really? Do they like Frozen too?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure they'd love to hear your explanation of it," he says, and Ruby launches into another detailed plot summary.

You catch your mom watching the interaction with soft eyes, all her earlier panic forgotten. She meets your gaze and mouths 'He's wonderful' when Ruby isn't looking.

Your dad has moved on from Brazil to discussing tire strategies, but stops himself mid-sentence. "Sorry, I'm probably boring you. You live this stuff."

"Not at all," Max says sincerely. "It's nice talking about it with someone who understands racing. YN usually just tells me to stop being a nerd when I talk about tire compounds."

"Because you spent two hours explaining the difference between C3 and C4 compounds!" you defend yourself.

"It's fascinating stuff," your dad says eagerly, and Max nods in agreement.

"Oh no, there's two of them now," you mutter to your mom, who laughs.

Ruby tugs on Max's sleeve. "Can we watch Frozen now? Please? You promised!"

"Ruby, let Max rest a bit," your mom starts, but Max shakes his head.

"A promise is a promise," he says solemnly to Ruby. "Should we watch it now?"

Ruby squeals with delight, jumping up to get the remote. Your dad looks slightly disappointed that his racing talk is being cut short, but you can see him hiding a smile at Ruby's excitement.

"Fair warning," you whisper to Max as Ruby sets up the movie, "she knows every word. And she will sing along."

"As long as she doesn't expect me to sing," he whispers back.

"MAX!" Ruby calls, patting the spot next to her on the floor where she's arranged pillows. "You have to sit here! It's the best spot!"

Max obliges, settling down next to her while you stay on the couch, exchanging amused looks with your parents as Ruby starts the movie, already mouthing along to the opening music.

Your mom leans over to you. "I'm sorry we didn't believe you," she whispers. "He's lovely. And so good with Ruby."

"I told you," you whisper back, watching as Ruby explains to Max why Elsa has ice powers.

Your dad joins in the whispered conversation. "Think he'd sign my mug collection later?"

"Dad!"

"What? I'm just saying, Christmas cards would be sorted for the next few years…"

You're about to respond when Ruby shushes you all loudly. "This is the best part!"

Max catches your eye and winks, clearly enjoying himself despite being roped into a Disney movie viewing with a very enthusiastic seven-year-old commentator. Your heart swells watching him with your family, how naturally he fits in, how gentle he is with Ruby.

"Do you want to build a snowman?" Ruby starts singing along with the movie.

"Later, Rubes," you promise. "Let's watch the movie first."

She nods seriously, then turns to Max. "Pay attention to this part. It's very important."

"I won't miss a second," he promises, and Ruby beams at him before turning back to the screen.

Your mom reaches over and squeezes your hand, giving you a knowing look. Even your dad has stopped thinking about racing long enough to appreciate the moment – his youngest daughter sharing her favorite movie with your boyfriend, who happens to be the F1 driver he's been fan-boying over for years.

It's perfect, you think, watching your family and Max together. Different from how you imagined telling them, but perfect nonetheless.

"Shh!" Ruby whispers loudly. "Elsa is about to sing Let It Go!"

Max shoots you a slightly panicked look as Ruby starts to stand up, clearly ready to perform the whole number. You just grin and shrug. After all, you did warn him about the singing.

Later that evening, you finally manage to steal a moment alone with Max. Ruby had fallen asleep during the third replay of Frozen, and your parents took her up to bed before retreating to the kitchen to finish some Christmas preparations.

You find Max on the back porch, leaning against the railing and looking up at the stars. The winter air is crisp, and you can see his breath forming little clouds in the darkness. Quietly, you step out and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his back.

"Hey," he says softly, turning in your arms to face you. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer. "Needed a little break from being Elsa?"

You laugh quietly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "You were amazing with Ruby today. I think you're officially her new favorite person."

"She's a sweet kid," he smiles, then adds with a playful glint in his eyes, "Though I didn't expect to watch Frozen two times in one day."

"Just wait until tomorrow. She'll probably want to act it out."

He groans dramatically, but you can see the fondness in his expression. "The things I do for you."

"Mmm, and I appreciate every one of them," you murmur, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him softly.

Max responds immediately, one hand moving to cup your face while the other pulls you even closer. The kiss is gentle and unhurried, full of unspoken emotions. When you finally pull back, he rests his forehead against yours.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"For what?"

"For being so perfect with my family. For watching Frozen multiple times. For not running away when my dad started his racing commentary."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. "I like your family. Your dad's racing knowledge is impressive, your mom's trying very hard not to mother me to death, and Ruby…" he pauses, smiling. "Ruby reminds me of Victoria at that age."

You snuggle closer, seeking his warmth in the cold air. "I was so nervous about telling them, and then even more nervous when they didn't believe me. But this… this is better than I imagined."

"Even with your dad asking me to sign his entire Red Bull merchandise collection?"

"Hey, at least he waited until after dinner," you laugh. "Though I'm pretty sure he's in there right now planning which items to bring out first."

Max wraps his arms more securely around you, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I love you," he says quietly, and your heart skips a beat like it does every time he says those words.

"I love you too," you reply, tilting your face up for another kiss.

This one is deeper, more passionate, until you hear the back door creak and quickly step apart.

"Oh!" your mom exclaims, looking flustered. "Sorry, I just… wanted to ask about breakfast preferences… but it can wait… carry on!"

She disappears back inside, and you both burst into quiet laughter.

"We should probably go back in," you sigh, though you make no move to leave his embrace.

"Probably," he agrees, but instead of letting go, he pulls you back for one more kiss. "Five more minutes?"

You smile against his lips. "Five more minutes."

In the quiet of Christmas eve, wrapped in each other's arms, you can't help but think how perfectly he fits into your life, into your family, into your heart. Tomorrow there'll be more Frozen, more racing talk, more of Ruby's endless questions, but right now, it's just the two of you, and it's everything.

The winter sun is just beginning to peek through the curtains of your childhood bedroom, casting a soft golden glow across the room. You're wrapped in warmth, nestled against Max's chest with his arm draped around your waist. His steady breathing tells you he's awake before he even moves.

"Good morning," he murmurs against your neck, his voice still rough with sleep. His lips brush against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Morning," you whisper back, feeling his hand slowly slide beneath your sleep shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"Sleep well?" he asks innocently, but his actions are anything but innocent as he presses closer, leaving a trail of kisses from your shoulder to your ear.

"Max," you breathe, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and knowing you should stop. "We can't… my parents…"

"Then we'll have to be very, very quiet," he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. His hand travels higher under your shirt, making your breath hitch.

You turn in his arms, ready to either give in or properly protest - though the way he's looking at you, eyes dark with desire and that signature smirk playing on his lips, makes you lean heavily toward the former.

"You're trouble," you murmur, reaching up to run your fingers through his disheveled hair.

He leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. "You love it."

Just as his hand starts to wander again, a voice pierces through the quiet morning:

"IT'S CHRISTMAAAAS!" Ruby's excited scream echoes through the entire house, followed by the thundering of small feet running down the hallway. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP! SANTA CAME!"

Max drops his forehead to your shoulder with a frustrated groan. "Your sister has impeccable timing."

"Welcome to Christmas with Ruby," you laugh, pressing a consoling kiss to his cheek. "I tried to warn you."

"YN! MAX!" Ruby's fists pound on your door. "GET UP! There are presents EVERYWHERE! And it SNOWED!"

"Five more minutes, Rubes!" you call back.

"NO MINUTES! NOW!" she insists, continuing to knock. "Mom said breakfast is ready and Dad made hot chocolate and I SAW A HUGE PRESENT WITH MY NAME ON IT!"

Max chuckles against your shoulder. "I suppose we should…"

"PLEASE!" Ruby calls again. "I promise I'll let you drink your coffee first!"

"That's quite the offer from her," you tell Max. "She usually doesn't allow any delays on Christmas morning."

"We're coming, Ruby!" Max calls out, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "Give us two minutes to get dressed."

"TWO MINUTES! I'm counting!"

You can hear her dramatically counting down in the hallway, making Max laugh. "She's serious about this, isn't she?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

The living room is a festival of color and chaos when you finally make it downstairs. Ruby's bouncing by the tree in her Christmas pajamas, while your parents are settled on the couch with steaming mugs of coffee.

"Finally!" Ruby exclaims. "I counted way past two minutes!"

"Sorry, princess," Max says, accepting a coffee mug from your mom. "But I'm here now."

"Max, sweetheart, you really didn't have to get us anything," your mom says, noticing the pile of presents he'd arranged under the tree last night.

"Of course I did," he replies warmly. "It's Christmas."

Ruby's practically vibrating with excitement as your dad starts distributing gifts. "Can I open mine from Max first? Please?"

At your nod, she tears into the elaborate wrapping paper, gasping when she reveals a beautiful wooden chest with golden details. "It's like a treasure chest!"

"Open it," Max encourages, smiling.

Ruby lifts the lid carefully, her eyes widening. Inside is a complete collection of princess dresses, each one a perfect replica from different Disney movies, along with matching accessories and a tiara for each one.

"The chest is magical," Max explains, kneeling beside her. "Every time you open it, there might be a new surprise inside. And look at this…" He reaches in and pulls out a small envelope.

Ruby opens it to find a letter with the Disney castle letterhead. "Dear Princess Ruby," she reads aloud, her voice getting more excited with each word. "You are cordially invited to spend a royal weekend at Disney World, where you will have a private breakfast with all the Disney princesses…"

She doesn't even finish reading before launching herself at Max, nearly knocking him over. "Thank you thank you thank you! Can I try on the Elsa dress right now?"

"After presents," your mom laughs. "Let's see what else Santa brought."

Your dad opens his gift next, finding an envelope that makes him pause. "Son," he says, voice thick with emotion as he reads the contents. "This is…"

"VIP passes to the British Grand Prix," Max confirms. "Including garage access, grid walk, everything."

Your dad has to sit down, clutching the passes like they might disappear. "This is… I can't…"

"And this," Max hands him another package, "is just a little something extra."

Inside is a vintage racing jacket from your dad's favorite driver from the 80s, signed and authenticated. Your dad actually tears up.

Your mom opens her gift next, despite protesting again that Max shouldn't have gotten them anything. She unwraps a beautiful pair of earrings.

"Oh, Max," she whispers, "This is beautiful."

Ruby, who has been surprisingly patient, tugs at Max's sleeve. "Can we do my princess breakfast now?"

"After we finish presents," you laugh. "And maybe we should have real breakfast first?"

"But I'm a princess now," she declares. "Princesses have special breakfast times."

Your mom shakes her head fondly. "How about pancakes fit for a princess?"

"With chocolate chips?" Ruby negotiates.

"With chocolate chips," your mom confirms. "Max, honey, how do you like your pancakes?"

"However they're made is perfect," he assures her, but your mom is already heading to the kitchen, muttering about making sure she has enough chocolate chips.

Your dad finally finds his voice again. "Max, this is too much…"

"It's not," Max says firmly. "You're… you're family now. Or at least, I hope…"

He glances at you meaningfully, making your heart skip a beat.

Later, after pancakes and multiple princess dress changes from Ruby, you manage to steal some time alone with Max in your favorite spot on the back porch. The morning sun has warmed the air slightly, but there's still a crisp winter chill that gives you an excuse to stay close to him.

"Your turn," Max says softly, pulling out a small wrapped box from his pocket.

Your hands tremble slightly as you unwrap it, revealing a velvet jewelry box. Inside is a delicate silver necklace with two intertwined pendants - a heart and a tiny racing helmet.

"Max," you breathe, touching the pendants gently. "It's beautiful."

"Look at the back," he says quietly, his voice carrying a note of nervousness you rarely hear.

You turn the heart over to find an engraving: "You're my biggest victory. -MV"

"I love you," you whisper, pulling him down for a kiss. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as if you're the most precious thing in his world.

When you finally part, you hand him your gift - a wrapped box that makes him raise his eyebrows at the weight.

Inside, he finds a handmade scrapbook filled with your personal moments - sneaky paddock kisses, quiet mornings at home, victory celebrations, and candid moments no one else has seen. The final page holds a photo from yesterday - Max on the floor with Ruby, both laughing during their third viewing of Frozen.

"This is…" he starts, voice thick with emotion.

"Wait," you say softly, reaching into your pocket. You pull out a key on a simple keychain. "I thought… maybe… if you wanted…"

"Move in with you?" he finishes, breaking into that brilliant smile that never fails to make your heart race. "Yes. Absolutely yes."

He pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other holds the key carefully.

"MAX!" Ruby's voice carries from inside. "I need help with my Cinderella shoes! And then we have to build a snowman! A FROZEN snowman!"

You both laugh against each other's lips.

"Duty calls, Elsa," you tease.

"Only if you'll be my Olaf," he grins, pressing one more quick kiss to your lips.

"Always," you promise, letting him lead you back inside where Ruby waits, already changed into her third princess dress of the morning.

Your dad catches your eye as you pass, "If you don't marry this boy," he whispers, "I will."

"Dad!"

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, then heads outside to join the snowman-building committee.

Your mom appears at your other side, wrapping an arm around you. "He's right, you know. He's perfect for you."

You lean your head on her shoulder, watching Max let Ruby direct him on where to place the snowman's arms. "I know," you smile. "I know."

"Best Christmas ever?" she asks softly.

Looking at your family, and Max in the middle of it all, belonging there like he's always been part of it - you smile.

"Best Christmas ever," you agree.

[bluzebub19]

I have a request for how the Arcane characters (Viktor, Jayce, Jinx, Vi, Heimerdinger, Ekko) look so that the reader can access their cuteness. Maybe they are doing or saying something to the reader and the reader suddenly starts hugging and petting them, calling them cute. How would they react to this?

Note: So... I'm the only one who thinks Heimerdinger is really cute. Why aren't there fanfics with him? Mysteries of life..

Arcane characters being called cute by their s/o while they're working

Writer's note: Thanks for requesting! It took longer than I expected because I kept deleting some of the dialogue from how cheesy and cringe it sounded lmao. Heimerdinger is not on my list of characters I write for, but I figured I'll write him this one time. I hope you don't mind that I also added Mylo, cuz why not?

Request/s: Open!

Warning/s: Get a dentist. This is some tooth-rotting fluff. Not proofread and english isn't my native language.

Character/s: Viktor, Jayce, Jinx, Vi, Ekko, Heimerdinger and Mylo

● Viktor tends to get lost in his work, mumbling equations or sketching out blueprints for his projects. You find this incredibly endearing, but not when he gets so absorbed that he forgets to eat or sleep.

● If you suddenly hug him or call him cute, he’ll freeze in shock at first. He blinks up at you as if you just said something in a language he doesn’t understand. Then, his cheeks will flush a light pink, and he’ll chuckles softly. “Cute is... not a term I hear often. But thank you."

● Over time, he grows more comfortable and secretly enjoys the affection. He may even lean into it, but he’ll never outright admit it. Instead, he might deflect with a shy smile and, “You should focus on more important matters."

● Yeah no, that's a sign for you to keep doing it.

● Jayce is the golden boy—confident, charming, and ridiculously handsome. He likes to appear professional and put-together, but you know him well enough to see through that exterior to the dorky, hardworking man beneath.

● When you hug him out of nowhere while he cooks and call him cute, he blinks for a second but chuckles as he turns to look at you. “Cute? Babe, I’m going for ruggedly handsome and sweet here. But I'll take it."

● Still, he's flattered and loves the affection you give him. And unlike Viktor, he's not afraid or shy to show you he wants more of it. He might pull you closer and say, "You're one to talk." He's a romantic and albeit cheesy guy.

● Now, you probably might be thinking about why and how is he cooking, but that's for another headcanon! (I just realized how I'm not even sure whose side am I on. Can he cook?? Cuz I feel like he can. But I also see him burning food-)

● Jinx, as we all know, is pure chaos, always working on something explosive or messing around. She has a habit of humming and singing off-key to herself while she works, which makes you think she’s oddly cute in her own... quirky way. To be honest, it’s hard not to find her enthusiasm contagious, even if it’s a little dangerous.

● One day, you catch her doing exactly that while painting her trademark designs on one of her grenades. The sight just makes you smile as you walk up and wrap your arms around her, telling her, “You’re so cute when you’re focused like this,” or something of the sort.

● She’ll throw her hands up and turn to look at you, trying to play off your compliment as a joke. “Woah, you might be crazier than me!" She grins and laughs softly, before making her voice sound more gruff, "Ya buttering up the author nightmares with your mooshy stuff!”

● But after her initial over-the-top reaction, she’ll soften. “Fine, soak it all in.” She shrugs and continues working. But deep down, she really loves the affection and she's getting more and more attached to you. You're giving her the kind of love that she thinks she never deserved in her life, so she really appreciates these little things you do. She might even snuggle up to you later, claiming it’s to “soak in all this ‘cute’ energy.”

● Oh, by the way, she'll make this happen a lot more often. By how, you ask? Well, by doing the same thing to you, of course! It becomes a little challenge betweem the two of you who calls the other one cute first and catching them off guard with it.

● Vi is all tough love and sass, but there’s a soft side she shows only to the people she really cares about. You notice this when she’s being protective or just in those peaceful moments when you're both alone together.

● If you call her cute, she’ll raise an eyebrow and smirk. “Cute? Babe, I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

● Later, she’ll definitely tease you about it, saying something like, “So, how’s it feel dating the cutest person in Zaun?” or "Am I still cute?" with a playful grin. She'll be teasing you and making you smile with that while she's half naked and flexing her biceps (she knows you love them), or when she just got done with a fight and is still holding her gauntlets.

● She loves it, don't let that teasing fool you.

● Heimerdinger is an adorable bundle of wisdom and fluff. You often catch him rambling about science with such enthusiasm that you can’t help but smile. Look at him! He's just adorable!

● One day, as he’s showing you a tiny contraption he just finished, you can’t help but reach out and pet his fluffy head, saying, “You’re the most cutest genius ever.”

● Heimerdinger chuckles, his mustache twitching with amusement. “Ah, well, I suppose I do have a certain charm about me, don’t I?”

● He pretends to be unaffected, but you notice the way his tail swishes slightly when you hug him. “I must say, your affection is quite... energizing! Perhaps I should study its effects further.”

● From then on, he might start subtly seeking out your affection—like casually leaning into your hand when you pet him or “accidentally” bumping into you while working.

● Ekko is talking to you about his plans for the Firelights while sketching upgrades for their hoverboards.

● You were quietly admiring him, the way his eyes light up and the focused furrow of his brows, when you suddenly blurt out, “You’re so cute when you’re focused.”

● He freezes for a second, then looks at you with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “Cute? Me?” He grins, a soft laugh escaping. “You sure you’re not talking about yourself there?”

● He rubs the back of his neck, trying to act nonchalant, but the smile gives him away.

● “You’re not getting away with saying that,” he teases, leaning in to nudge you lightly with his shoulder. He goes back to doing his work before playfully adding, “But if you keep looking at me like that, I might just start believing it.”

● It's these little things that matters. These moments, even if simple, it gives him hope and motivation to make the world a better place. The way his eyes soften when you look at him in that moment, and how he lets his guard down just enough to show you he cares — it’s clear that, while he teases, he loves the attention, and he loves you even more for it.

● Dude's got lines fr fr

● Mylo has always been the type of guy who had a sarcastic, sassy remark ready. We all know that from how he treated Powder.

● When you suddenly hug him and call him cute, he freezes for a second, unsure of how to react. “Cute? Me?” He scoffs, trying to play it cool, but it's very obvious he's a bit flustered by it. “Out of all the compliments you could’ve picked, you went with cute? I’m more like... cool, and handsome.” He throws a dramatic, exaggerated pose, trying to hide his nervousness.

● Despite his teasing, there's a small, pleased grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He tries to act nonchalant, but the way he keeps glancing at you shows how much he’s secretly enjoying it.

● “Seriously, though. I’m cool, alright?” he continues, trying to regain his confidence. “I don’t do cute. But, uh... thanks. I guess.” He says softly as he shrugs, clearing his throat.

● Later on, when no one’s watching, you might catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, a small smile on his face, clearly still flattered.

Can you guys guess which is my favorite based on how long their headcanons are

[vaguely-concerned]

huh. you know something I just consciously put together for the first time about caterina and lucanis' relationship is that through the game we get to hear them talk about each other a lot, but we get very few chances to hear them speak with each other at any length at all. contrast it with other companions whose storylines have elements of 'believed lost/long time no see relative returns!' like bellara and davrin, where we get to see both of them have several pretty in-depth conversations with cyrian and eldrin. hell I think even rook talks with varric longer in the regret prison scene than we ever get to see lucanis and caterina interact directly.

(and when we do see them interact, it's mostly one-sided -- it is, perhaps unsurprisingly, caterina who is doing most of the talking and giving all the orders, as he ruefully observes is her wont after murder of crows. including jumpscaring him with 'you're first talon now btw' and the shocked pikachu face in five acts he goes through in response lmao. perhaps it's more accurate to say that she talks at him and he reacts, than that they talk to each other much.)

it has such an interesting effect too, because in deliberately denying us direct insight or experience and only having this mosaic of description from each of them to go on, as well as forcing us to pay attention to the negative space of what is carefully not said, it's evocative along the same principle that you never actually show the monster in a horror film. if you've read the wigmaker job you have a clearer image of the more uh. worrying elements at play here going in, but there is something fascinatingly insidious and naturalistic in the way it's 'hushed up' in the game itself. she has his complete loyalty both as a member of her house and, more importantly, that of an abused child to a parent figure. he readily admits several times that she's a difficult person to live with, an even more difficult person to be loved by ("even for me. and I was her favourite")... but never once does he actively blame her nor truly conceptualize that he has every right to do so (that he can be angry with her and still love her, because whether he should or not he unavoidably does), or that she might have acted differently than she did, that she made a choice every time to hurt him. even affectionately he speaks of her as a force of nature, an act of god -- something that can't be reasoned or pleaded with or resisted, something you can only hope to navigate with as little pain as possible and pray to survive. let yourself get carried away by the riptide, resisting it will only make it worse. you don't compromise with a hurricane, you just try to find the best shelter you can and cross your fingers while you wait for it to pass and be calm again.

love is that hurricane. you do whatever she asks. you earn her continued affection day by day by never letting her down. you only want the things she tells you it's okay to want and cut everything else away preemptively. ("A wyvern tooth dagger?? I loved wyverns as a boy --Caterina would never let me have one of these, though." and as we have all wept and gnashed our teeth over, it never even OCCURS to him that he's a like thirty-five year old adult man who can buy himself any dagger he wants at any time. she said he couldn't have one. so he'll never have one. that's just how it works. and maybe if Illario could just accept that and find his peace with it like I have, this whole thing wouldn't be so difficult. oh lucanis.)

such is the price -- and the cost -- of being loved by her, it's a loan on which the interest will never stop piling up. you have to keep paying it down in perfection every day if you want to keep it. who got the worse deal there: the grandson who has abandoned everything else in life to live up to that and mostly succeeded, until the day he's so burned out and broken it threatens to no longer be an option, or the grandson who can never seem to scrape together enough worth in her eyes no matter how he begs, borrows or steals it, how he hustles and plays dirty?

one of the worst things that can happen to anyone is to be loved by a selfish god. another one of the worst things that can ever happen to anyone is to not be loved by a selfish god. (hope that helps, boys!) even in betraying everything else, Illario can't bring himself to hurt his grandmother, because that would defeat the whole point. who would he defiantly be proving himself worthy to, without her. in love, devotion, submission, hatred, frustration, bitterness, everything is defined in relation to her, you can spot the gravitational force of it through how the dellamorte family move through time and space. she -- her love and regard and attention -- is still the sun both of their worlds orbit around, even as adults. the game might never tell you outright 'she used to beat and starve them growing up. for their own good you see, so they'd be strong (and broken down enough for her to build them up again however she wanted but I'm sure that's incidental)', but if you know even a little bit about how these dynamics can work the writing is on the wall everywhere you look and all the more unsettling for it.

follow lucanis' freeze-logic and fraught interpersonal catch 22 irreconcilable mixed emotions problems back far enough, looong before the ossuary entered the picture, and you start to see caterina's ghost around every fucking corner. she is so proud of him. (well, she would be. she made him. she forged exactly the knife she needed and it rests willingly, devotedly, in her hands, it would return to her every time because it doesn't know love as anything but to be a knife. his tama never taught him how to be anything else. his biggest fear with her is that she won't even want him back, the way he is now.) to the best ability of her soul, whatever parts of it survived a lifetime of crow politics and 'five children, eight grandchildren, only Illario and me left now', I think she really does loves him. he certainly loves her, with all the sincerity and artless desperation of a child, of the little boy he was once. and what she's done to him (and to illario, for all his shitty gremlin scar-ass antics lol) is awful. the harm is real, and the love is real, and trying to find a way for these two truths to exist in the same space is driving all three of them their own individualized forms of insane. you know. the way only family can and so often does lol.

through implications and short glimpses and having to put the pieces together yourself, you can have the feeling that there is very genuine mutual love and attachment in this relationship... and that beneath that there is something so profoundly wrong. and the sneaking '...oh shit it gets worse the longer I think about it' horror of that is more effective for me at least than the stark in-your-face presentation of the facts of the matter could have been. the love is here. the love is here. it only ever makes it worse.

[fict1onallyobsessed]

Just watched act 1 and I'm actually feral for Sevika. Like omg what?! How is she so hot?! Anyway I've had this idea of sharing a smoke with her. Specially shotgunning. Um. Yeah. Anyway maybe that would turn into something a bit more - NSFW should we say. Definitely biting. You know what I'm talking about lol anyway this isn't a lot to work with I know.. I just saw your post asking for Sevika requests so I figured I'd pop in

Sevika x F!Reader 18+

Her lungs burnt as she inhaled her cigar, watching you fix her arm for the hundredth time this week. Your eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, screwdriver carefully pulling out the broken metal parts in her arm, clinking in the silence.

She could feel your frustration before she even entered your little mechanic shop. People were being more demanding for fixes as Zaun practically relied on prosthetic limbs, and you were rated the best one for the job. Sometimes you felt like a pawn; people didn't even pay that well. You might have to think of increasing the prices...

"You think too much."

You sighed, looking up at your girlfriend who huffed out smoke through her nose. She knew you were busy, and a part of her felt bad last time you stayed late to fix her arm, so she tried really hard to keep it in a manageable state for longer than usual.

Heavy on tried.

"You should learn how to fight." You snapped back playfully, looking back down at the arm for the final few fixes. The arm hissed and popped once, finally being fully functional again. "Even Ran doesn't come in this often. Might have to start charging you."

Sevika scoffed as she watched you stand up to toss your tools onto your very littered desk, your hands coming up to wipe your tired face.

"You're processor is fried. I'll make you a new one soon, but this one should hold up if you can hold off fighting for a few days."

She was listening but all she could focus on is how exhausted your eyes looked. She asked if you were done for the day, if you wanted to go home but you were already backlogged for weeks with new projects and fixes. You politely declined, walking over to her again and taking the cigar from her lips only to put it in your own mouth.

Sevika didn't flinch. It was something you did often, especially on nights where you needed something to keep you awake for a little longer.

Sevika sat on the small couch, looking up at you as you inhaled, smoke escaping your nose before you even got to exhale. She thought for a moment, then grabbed the back on your thighs and pulled you to straddle her.

"'Vika, I need to get-"

"To work. I know." She casually said, taking the cigar from your hands and inhaling deeply herself. Her eyes remained on yours while her hand reached up to grip the back of your neck, pulling you up to her lips.

For a second you thought she was going to kiss you, like she did always in thanks when you fix her up. But instead, she stopped you right before her face, hand now moving to open your mouth with her thumb. Then she exhaled.

You felt dizzy. You had smoked plenty of times, and since meeting Sevika you smoked plenty more. But this was so intoxicating it felt better than any cigarette you've ever tried.

You relaxed on her lap, sinking onto her as you tried to breathe normally. Her mechanic hand held your waist, the other firmly on your jaw to keep it open against her mouth. Just as the smoke began to fade, she pulled you fully against her, lips clashing together in a kiss.

You pulled away only when you felt you couldn't breathe, both of your chests rising and falling as you stared down at Sevika, her pupils blown wide, devouring you.

Work could wait.

You grabbed the cigar back, inhaling so deeply you felt your throat close up momentarily. Still, you leaned down and grabbed her jaw while her hands fell to your hips, gripping tightly to pull you even closer.

You exhaled the smoke as slowly as you could, relishing in the moment for a while before the smoke faded again. You wasted no time in kissing her again, a slight moan escaping your lips and into her mouth. You could taste the smoke in her mouth but it only seemed to rile you up more.

Your hips bucked, unintentionally, and you felt Sevika smirk into the kiss.

"That's all it takes to get you going?" Sevika teased. You replied with a breathy and rushed 'shut up' before going back to her lips, rocking your hips more now she was aware of your intentions. Her grip on you tightened, moving you so that you were straddling one of her thighs.

You really tried to keep your groans in, but the way your clit was grinding against the inside of your jeans. Fuck.

"Fuck. Do it again." You lifted the cigar to her lips, making her inhale it and letting her grab your jaw once more, shot gunning the smoke right into your mouth. You tried to breathe steadily, but her hand made you grind on her thigh more.

"So fucking pretty. Barely touched you and you're gonna cum already?"

You were so fucking close, a whine leaving your lips as you hid your face in the crook of her neck. She could feel the small puffs of air you breathed, trying to maintain some kind of control. Your teeth nipped at her skin, her own composure slowly failing.

You huffed when she accidentally made a sound when you bit into her neck. Your hips stuttered and bucked uncontrollably as you came, lips remaining at her skin until you were stable enough to pull away.

"That's all it takes to get you going?" You teased, mocking her words as angry red marks appeared on her neck. She was flushed and panting, your hips still held by her hands. She smirked, kissing you again before standing up and making you stand on your wobbly legs.

"Home. Now."

[eowynstwin]

Ghoap x reader. Autistic reader. Christmas angst. Allusions to Ghost’s backstory. Salacious use of ribbon. Soap being inappropriate. NSFW.

Soap fidgets on the train the whole way over to the light show. You don’t notice, of course, your earplugs are in, but Ghost, hypervigilant for the season, cocks an eyebrow.

“Itches like mad,” Soap grouses. He tugs at the collar of his sweater, a ghastly thing in fuzzy green, red, and gold, with LED bulbs embroidered down the front.

Ghost scowls at him. Soap purses his lips, not chastened. You sit between them, oblivious, fingering the zipper of your purse.

There’s enough cheer on the train to make up for their collective lack. More than one person wears a dumb Santa hat, and at least every other has on something colorful and festive. It seems like everyone feels some sort of Christmas spirit but Ghost, and it makes his hackles tense up.

Your hand slips into his then, smooth like silk settling over his palm. He looks at you; your gaze is fixed steadily ahead, unfocused. He’s not sure whether you reached for him to find comfort or offer it, but he closes his fingers around yours anyway.

He looks over—Soap has your other hand. Reaching to find, then. He squeezes.

The three of you wait until the very last moment to disembark when you arrive, letting the crowd out first. Ghost’s choice. The absolute last thing he wants is to lose either you or Soap in the stream of people flowing from the train—Soap will get distracted, and you hate it when strangers crowd you. This is going to be a trial as it is.

Ghost has to admit—once they reach the grounds, the displays are something to see. Together, you walk through a tunnel of lights leading you to the beginning of the walk, rings of warm white gently shining overhead, and Ghost, despite himself, can’t help but admire how it makes both of his partners look like they’re glowing.

Then Soap tugs at his sweater again, and Ghost bites down a growl.

“Oh, hot chocolate,” you say at the end of the tunnel, looking over at a cart laden with a few big steel samovars. “I’m going to get some, either of you want any?”

“Cider,” Ghost says, softening the curtness of his tone with the tenner he hands you. “If they’ve got any.”

“Coffee for me, hen, if you don’t mind,” Soap adds with a smile. You nod, and scurry toward the drinks.

Soap eyes him. Ghost knows what he sees—his back has been ramrod straight since the bloody month started. He holds his shoulders the same way he might if he had his rifle across his chest. His jaw has been hard as a cinder block any time the market clerk tossed “happy holidays” at him when he did his best to get away as fast as he could.

“Don’t,” Ghost says.

Soap says nothing.

This is not their first Christmas together, but it is their first with you. The sergeant already knows how Ghost feels about the holiday; you do not, and Ghost wants to keep it that way for a little while longer.

Divining your feelings about anything takes a little longer than it might with anyone else, but he’s pretty sure you’re excited, in your way. Soap, for whom pine trees and glitter and the smell of snow in the air seem to activate a sleeper agent in his brain that orgasms at the mere sight of tinsel, already has a Wellington resting in their shared fridge, and artfully wrapped presents crammed under their pre-lit tree. The two of you together have flooded the flat with lights, candy-cane frippery, crocheted snowflake doilies, and ski-lodge scented candles.

Ghost, for his part, has scrolled various travel websites to figure out if assassinating Santa Claus is something actually feasible. Maybe if he defeats the final boss of Christmas he can actually sleep through the night at least once this month.

It isn’t that he hates it, exactly. It’s just that Christmas, to him, began as a hazy game of roulette, wondering if the wild animal of his father would appear to ruin the exchange of charity-shop gifts wrapped in reused paper, and then solidified as an image reflected in pools of spreading blood.

The last happy Christmas, he had to burn down. That’s no reason that he has to ruin it for everyone else, though.

You return with three paper cups held awkwardly in your two hands, and Ghost and Soap relieve you of your burden. Your cup has a peppermint stick jutting up out of it, and you use it to stir your steaming drink periodically as the three of you proceed.

The path leads through an army of glowing snowmen in mismatched sizes, life-size gingerbread houses, past multicolor balls tossed across the top of a frozen pond. Trees banded with so many strings they look like branches of lightning reaching up from the earth. Electric snowflakes dangling above your heads from netting stretched between lampposts.

Ghost keeps clenching and unclenching his fist. His cider goes rapidly cold in his other hand, untouched. He probably can’t get his money back for it, but he’s agitated enough to start a fight and try.

Meanwhile—it’s obvious, you’re enjoying yourself immensely. You don’t say much as you flit between installations, running a hand over the glowing bulbs, tilting your head this way and that like a curious little bird. You take your phone out more than once to open your camera, and Ghost knows you’re saving pictures to put together a slideshow later on.

More than once, you look back at him and Soap, and grin wide at some novelty or another. Ghost manages to nod his head at you—go on, little birdie, keep having fun.

“Jesus,” Soap mutters, trying to scratch at a spot on his back for the third time.

“Fuck’s sake, Soap, just take the fucking thing off,” Ghost snaps.

“Canna,” Soap says.

“Why the fuck not?”

Soap’s mouth slants sideways. He looks around for spectators, and, finding none within eyeshot, lifts the bottom of the sweater.

Bright, shiny, very red ribbon runs in two lines along the naked cut of his obliques—down past the waistband of his trousers.

Ghost tosses the cider out of his cup and grips Soap by the back of the neck, throws, “OY! Duckie! Bathroom!” at you, and drags his boyfriend to the nearby public loo.

It’s empty, thank god, so Ghost wastes no time yanking the closure of Soap’s trousers open. The ribbon continues downward, downward, the V narrowing and narrowing until—

It converges in a (somewhat lopsided) bow tied right around the base of Soap’s dick.

“Soap, what the fuck,” Ghost says.

The sergeant backs up, and pulls the sweater fully off. It reveals a latticework of satiny red crisscrossing his chiseled torso: lines of ribbon accenting the curves of his pectorals, his toned abdomen, highlighting the small indent of his trim waist.

Soap’s cheeks flush pink.

“Goes further down,” he mutters, not meeting Ghost’s eye.

“What the fuck,” Ghost repeats.

“Was gonna do a big reveal when we got home,” Soap says. “Start stripping when we got the door closed. That rubbish.”

Ghost, incredulously, snorts, and Soap smiles at him.

“First time you’ve laughed this month,” he says quietly. “S’ why I did it.”

Ghost steps up to him and takes Soap’s chin between thumb and forefinger. “You fucking idiot,” he says, and kisses him.

The bathroom door opens, letting in a gust of wind, and Ghost and Soap jump back from each other momentarily, before relaxing when your voice reaches them.

“There better not be a handjob happening in here without me—oh,” you say, stopping short.

Shoving the waist of his pants down further, Soap turns around to show off to you the full extent of what he’s done. It gives Ghost a good look at the pretty intersections happening overtop of the muscles of Soap’s back, and the dip of the ribbon down between the two perfect globes of Soap’s arse.

You blink several times. “There isn’t a lock on this door, Soap. If I get down to suck you off, someone is going to come in.”

Impossibly, Ghost snorts again, and then laughs for real, a full-belly guffaw that comes out a little more harsh than it should. But you grin at him, and the line of Soap’s shoulders, which Ghost suddenly realizes has been as tense as his this whole time, relaxes.

He pecks the bare swell of Soap’s bicep, and then the crown of your head as he passes you by.

“I’ll hold it closed, duckie,” he says. “Do whatever you want.”

He only leaves the door once when he hears you shriek suddenly with laughter—to find that Soap has decorated his cock with a peppermint-loop of red lipstick, all the way to the tip.

“Fucking idiot,” Ghost repeats, and cancels his trip to the North Pole then and there.

[honeytonedhottie]

decentering men and recentering urself⋆.ೃ࿔*:･💅🏽💓

the secret to decentering men and not having ur entire world revolving around them (bcuz it should be revolving around you, duh) is having a fulfilling life. it makes me ICK so bad when im watching a video or reading a post and im rly loving it, and then it'll find SOME way to make it revolve around men. like can we not?…����🎀

WHY WE CENTER THE OPPOSITE SEX ;

a lot of people find themselves centering their lives around the opposite sex in an attempt to fill a void within themselves. they do it because they aren't happy with themselves or their lives, or maybe its learned behavior. whatever the reason is, its NOT hot.

some things that someone who centers men might think are "oh my life is so boring, maybe it would be spiced up if i got with a man" or "maybe it'll bring some excitement into my day" like EUGHHH. obviously the solution is to find ways to make our lives fulfilling but how do we do that? and how do we get to the root cause and squash this self sabotaging behavior?

SELF AWARENESS ;

if u have nothing going on for u, ofc ur gonna be energetically desperate and accepting anything and EVERYTHING. practice self awareness and try to get to the root cause of why u center men through things like shadow work, therapy, or just straight up having an honest conversation with urself cuz i swear it helps.

when you make the conscious effort to build ur dream life you'll notice that people that are on the same mindset as you will vibe with the REAL you. the need to fake/adjust urself to fit in with other people will dissipate because ur fitting into ur own standards and ur connections will be more meaningful because of it.

TAKE UR POWER BACK ;

no ones actions should ruin ur day or make u upset for more then a day (even less) cuz its YOUR world. 💕🍰

make time for YOU, doll. plan self care routines for urself every week. doing face masks, journalling, vision boarding, WHATEVER U LIKE TO DO. making time for urself reminds u that ur the main character of ur life so u dont have to settle for crumbs.

stop giving that power to someone else and dictate how u feel, NOT the actions of a significant other or the opposite sex or anybody. the reason why its important to make sure that ur the center of ur own life is so that you can be happy and fulfilled regardless of if there is a man or if there isnt a man present. so the objective is to decenter men -> and then put yourself at the center

GET A HOBBY ;

find something to make ur life fulfilling. pursue ur OWN interests and try out different hobbies if ur unsure of what ur interests are yet. cultivate ur world to the point where it GLEAMS with perfection and then do a little extra. build a life that u love so much that whether u get male attention or validation doesnt even matter cuz their opinions have little to no relevance 💀

challenge yourself: next time you catch yourself thinking, ‘would a guy like this?’ flip it and ask urself "hey, do i like this?" start checking with yourself first instead of checking with others.

MAKING THE DECISION TO DECENTER MEN ;

decentering men simply means that ur deciding to no longer think, feel, act, dress, or plan ur life around a man or for the validation of any man…💬🎀

relationships will actually get BETTER when u decenter the opposite sex. cuz ur not looking for someone to compete with and ur whole on ur own. this sets the stage for balance and mutual respect and THATS hot.

you can be in a relationship and still decenter men. decentering men simply means that you are the priority, not the relationship. how can we tell if we're decentering men or not? here are a few questions to help you know if u are ->

if i did not care about looking good to the opposite sex what would i actually like to wear?

if i did not get married, how could i create the best and most abundant life for myself?

what hobbies/interests do i have that dont involve being around men/have male attention as a component of it?

[spanktony]

“I’LL DO ANYTHING.” - anora.

summary: when you snap at anora, she leaves your place pissed, and you come back begging to make things right.

words: 2.3k +

warnings: 18+, fem!reader, oral (a receiving), fingering (a receiving), begging, ani calls u a good girl, reader is a meanie for a bit then turns to a lil bitch, this is bad, and yeah let me know if there’s more.

navigation. request.

tired would be an understatement of how you felt right now. your head pounded, each beat following up with a sigh from your boss's mouth, reminding you of the looming deadline for the project that still needed to be completed.

so, here you were on a call at 9:48 in the morning, on a day you were supposed to be off, with three other colleagues discussing the next steps for the project.

you rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the heaviness that had settled deep in your bones. you sat at your desk, a few feet away from anora's side of the bed, which made it harder to resist the temptation to crawl back under the covers and ignore the world for a little while longer. but you knew better. you couldn't afford to.

literally.

your phone buzzed on the desk, shifting your attention from one screen to the other. oh shit. the driver. you had planned a low-key day with anora—just the two of you—but now it seemed like that might have to wait.

your stomach sank as you glanced at the message: i'm here. do you want me to grab anything for you two?

you quickly typed back: no, that's fine. you can come inside and wait. i'm in a meeting; it shouldn't take too long.

hopefully…

you hoped anora wouldn't be too disappointed with the change of plans. the message sent, and you set your phone down again, the screen lighting up, showing the call you've been on for... three ongoing hours?!

behind you, anora stirred, waking up from her deep sleep. "good morning," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

you turned slightly, offering a tired smile as you double-checked to make sure you were still muted on your work call. "good morning, babe. sleep well?"

"mmm-hmm," she hummed, stretching. you heard the soft crack of her spine as she reached her arms over her head, a sound that made your heart swell a little. she padded across the hardwood floor with that familiar grace, her feet quiet but sure.

you could feel her before you saw her, like a magnet drawing you in. then she was there, leaning down to plant a lingering kiss on your neck. it made your skin tingle, sending a shiver down your spine. "you've been up for hours, haven't you?" she whispered, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

"i have to finish this report," you murmured, half-distracted.

but anora wasn't deterred. her lips trailed to your jawline and then to your cheek, playful and persistent.

"ani," you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady. "i'm on a call."

she ignored your plea, her hands sliding over your shoulders as she planted another kiss on your temple.

"ani, seriously," you hissed, though a hint of laughter betrayed you.

"what? i'm just showing my hardworking girlfriend some love," she teased, grinning against your skin. it was sweet; it really was. but your boss's voice in your ear reminded you of the pressing deadline, and her teasing felt like too much in the moment.

"anora, stop!" you snapped, louder than intended.

her hands froze, and the warmth that had been cocooning you suddenly vanished. you heard her inhale sharply, and when she stepped back, it was like a cold breeze had replaced her presence.

"what the hell?" she asked with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows, still in the same position, looking hurt and confused. you felt your stomach twist. "i—" you started, but the words got tangled.

"i'm sorry for trying to spend time with you," she said, her voice raising in pitch before she swallowed hard. "god forbid i... i don't know, make you feel appreciated or something."

"i'm just trying to work, anora! i have deadlines, responsibilities—"

"and i'm a distraction, right?" she shot back, "just a little nuisance in your way?"

you opened your mouth to apologize, to explain, but she was already moving, grabbing her overnight bag from the floor and shoving her things inside haphazardly. it was like a fire was spreading through the room with how quickly she was packing up to leave.

"ani," you called out, your voice more desperate now. "please, wait. don't go."

but she ignored you, shoulders tense and eyes avoiding yours as she zipped up her bag. you heard the soft thud of her bag slung over her shoulder, and before you could say another word, she was at the door.

"y/n? are you here?" your boss's voice reminding you of the meeting you were supposed to be in right now. you looked at your phone, then the door your girlfriend had just rushed out of. sighing heavily, you unmuted your phone and replied, "yes, i'm here."

the hours that followed felt like eternity. the empty apartment was so quiet, so still, that it almost felt suffocating. by the time night fell, you couldn't bear it anymore. you gathered a few things—her favorite snacks, the earrings she had been eyeing for weeks but never bought, and a small bouquet of flowers you'd picked up on a whim.

your driver pulled up to her old place, her place that she rarely stayed at anymore because she was always at your apartment. she had even given you a spare copy of her key so you could move her things to your place when she was busy.

you opened the door and found the living room empty, thankful her roommate wasn't home. you knocked on her bedroom door, calling out her name softly.

the door creaked open, and there she was. anora's head peeked out from behind the door, her eyebrows furrowing both in anger and confusion, as she clearly wasn't expecting you. she was still in the clothes she'd left in, her hair slightly disheveled.

"what are you doing here?" she asked, opening her door slightly further to get a better look at you.

"i... i came to apologize," you said quickly, holding out the flowers like a shield. she eyed them, unimpressed.

"anora, please. i was an idiot. i shouldn't have snapped at you. you were just being sweet, and i let my stress get the better of me." she leaned against the doorframe, silent, her gaze piercing.

"i brought your favorite snacks," you added, holding up the bag. "and earrings. i even... i don't know, i just..."

you trailed off, realizing how desperate you sounded. but you didn't care. "please," you said softly. "i miss you. i miss us. i'll do anything to make it right."

anora sighed, stepping aside to let you in. you stepped inside her room, slowly closing the door behind you, watching as she stood a couple of feet in front of her bed. the tension in the air was thick as you set the flowers and bag on the nightstand beside you.

her expression softened, just a fraction. "anything?"

"anything," you promised, stepping closer, inches away from her.

"you really hurt my feelings," she said finally, a hand coming to cup your cheek, and you stumbled even closer to her, your lips ghosting hers.

you looked so fucking adorable in that moment, with that vulnerable, almost lost look on your face. like a kicked puppy—those sad, pleading eyes. you looked so damn cute, but she wasn't going to let you off the hook that easily.

her thumb brushed gently across your cheekbone. "you said anything, right?"

you nodded quickly, your hand wrapping around her forearm, and her heart skipped a beat. the way you held her arm, like you couldn't stand the distance between you two, made her lips twitch upward.

there was something in the way you looked at her now, something so earnest, so full of regret, that made her resolve waver just slightly. her eyes darted to your lips, feeling the heat between you both rise. god, you were so close, and she was fighting every instinct that told her to pull you in. to kiss you like she wanted to, to let you wrap her in your arms, to hold her.

her gaze flitted up, catching yours.

"anything," you repeated again, barely a whisper.

"get on your knees," she whispered. without hesitating, you lowered yourself in front of her, her hand running a hand through your hair. you stared up at her, waiting.

"beg."

"please," you said, the frustration clear in your voice.

"please what?"

"please forgive me, ani. i shouldn't have snapped at you."

"no, you shouldn't have. you didn't mean it, did you?"

you shook your head.

"that's right. because you wouldn't dare treat me like that. right, baby?" you nodded again, your hands finding their way to her thighs, gripping them tightly. anora's hands left your hair and cupped your face gently. "good girl," she said, a smile playing on her lips.

you licked your lips when your girlfriend began pulling her shorts down, revealing her bare skin inch by inch. she watched you the whole time, smiling, that smile that made your heart race with anticipation.

you leaned in, kissing the insides of her thighs, and she hummed. it was a gentle kiss, the kind that she needed after the day she had today, and it sent a wave of pleasure through her.

"such a good girl," she whispered, and your lips trailed higher, pressing against the clothed heat between her legs. she let out a soft moan, her hands finding your hair again to stop her legs from trembling.

you pressed a lingering kiss to the spot before pulling back, your gaze meeting hers. anora's eyes were half-lidded, her cheeks flushed, and she looked so gorgeous; what kind of an idiot would raise their voice at her? oh, that's right... you did.

"ani," you murmured, looking up at her, pleading.

"i forgive you, baby," she breathed, pulling her underwear to the side, revealing her glistening pussy. you could see the desire in her eyes as she guided you closer, silently inviting you to continue. with a soft smile, you leaned in to fulfill her unspoken request, eager to make things right between you.

you kissed her again, harder this time, your tongue slipping between her folds, tasting her sweetness as she moaned softly in response. you kept going, your tongue circling her clit slowly, teasingly. you couldn't help yourself, not when she was this wet and not when you owed it to her.

her grip tightened on your hair, and you moaned against her, sending a shockwave through her body. you looked up at her once more, taking in the sight of her, the way her lips parted slightly, the way her chest rose and fell with every breath she took.

"more," she whispered, her hips rocking forward, covering your chin with her slick wetness. you obliged, increasing the pressure and speed of your movements, your hands digging in the back of her thighs, trying to pull her even closer to you.

you continued like this, listening to her soft moans and pleas until she was close. she tugged on your hair, trying to pull you away.

"wait," she gasped, "not yet."

you pulled back, wiping your chin with the back of your hand. "did i do something wrong?" you asked, suddenly worried.

"no," she breathed, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours, her hands still tangled in your hair. "it's just been a while, and i want your fingers." you smiled like an idiot, rising off your knees to kiss her for the first time that night.

her lips were soft, pliant, and you savored the taste of her on your tongue. "fuck, i missed you," you mumbled, her lips parting to let out a soft chuckle, falling against the bed with you in a tangle of limbs.

"me too, baby. now be good and finish what you started." you nodded eagerly, sliding a hand up under her shirt, your fingers grazing her skin until you reached her chest, cupping her breast in your hand, feeling her heartbeat quicken beneath your touch.

"i'll make you feel so good," you whispered, leaning in to kiss her neck as she arched into your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. "hurry," she urged, her voice breathless.

you slid your hand back down her body, tracing the outline of her curves before finally reaching your destination, sliding your middle finger into her pussy and feeling her wetness enveloping you. she gasped at the sensation, her hips instinctively moving against your hand as she whispered, "don't stop."

her head fell back, her fingers gripping the sheets when you added another finger, increasing the pressure and speed of your movements, your eyes locked on her flushed face, the way her eyes closed and her mouth fell open as she let out a moan, her back arching against the mattress.

you continued like this for a few minutes, watching her writhe underneath you, her hips rolling against your fingers. her moans were music to your ears, and the sight of her like this was enough to make you let out a low growl of satisfaction.

her breathing was labored, her hips bucking wildly, and you knew she was close. extremely close. her body tensed, her hands gripping the sheets so tightly that they were shaking, and her moans became louder and more desperate. you kept going, not letting up, ignoring the ache in your own hand.

"come for me, ani," you said softly, curling your fingers inside her, hitting that spot that drove her crazy. her moans grew louder, and her body stiffened, and then she finally reached her peak, letting out a loud cry of pleasure. "yes, fuck!"

you felt her walls clench around your fingers, pulsing with the force of her release. her head fell back against the pillow, and her body went limp, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.

you watched her, mesmerized, not wanting to take your eyes off her for even a second.

you finally pulled out your fingers, bringing them to your mouth and sucking on them, tasting her sweet juices. her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at you, her expression softening.

"what candy did you buy?"

[kazumikissu]

CRYBABY !

tutor!scaramouche x fem!reader

✧ — making you cry is part of the learning process!

— nsfw, university au, scaramouche has dacryphilia, spanking, sex with an object, humiliation, reader is the stereotypical sorority girl for the plot, not beta read | 1,378 words

no amount of pleading from different subject professors could ever get scaramouche to tutor. with pay or not, the last thing he wanted to eat on his place was a stupid student who can't fend for themselves in a field where mental strength and intellect mattered over beauty and fashion. he cared little to how you even passed the opening exams and got accepted into a high-demanding university like this, the exact same one scaramouche attends, unfortunate for his luck.

if that wasn't enough, you took the same program as scaramouche did, leading you to share a few too many classes together—too much for what he would consider his liking. you're no more than brain-dead during lecrure hours, having evaded from conversing with you one-too-many times. a no-good partygoer in his eyes, with a face caked with layers of make-up and an IQ as little as your personality.

if he could, scaramouche would've gladly ignored your existence for the rest of his years and acted like you never existed first thing. yet he could only bet on his luck for the nth time he's turned down his professor's request in tutoring you. when his phone rung to his mother's number, no longer pleading, but demanding scaramouche just for the extra points he'll get after a hell of a session with you—or at least that's what he'd like to imagine being with you for a few many hours.

after a cacophony of cursing over the line, he ends up in front of your doorstep, fingers ticking by his side as he finds himself to be less and less interested in entertaining your stupidity, all by the passing minute.

yet scaramouche couldn't find too many complaints now that this session brought you draped over his lap, teary eyed and snot down your nostrils. "how many times are you going to get this question wrong, stupid bitch?" a tone as sharp as the slap he drives against the plush of your ass, stinging your reddening flesh a prominent red. a shade addictive, the darker it gets, the better he saw it.

"s…scara, m'sorry!" drool dripped down the corner of your lips as sniffles left your lungs, the tips of your fingers quivering with an electricity that goes through your veins, buzzing with every harsh smack from scaramouche. "I don't know what… what the question means…"

words fumble out your lips as slippery as a rock in a river, tongue smooth on the roof of your mouth as you took in a heavy gulp. there was little to no mercy in scaramouche's piercing gaze, however, yet he was heavily entertained with the stupid little delight he had draped over his lap. "oh, but wouldn't this be the sixth time i'd have to explain it to you? are you that much of an imbecile?" another slap bounced against the walls of your room, cries coming louder than words with the parting of your lips.

"the only thing you're good at is opening your legs. the professor might as well make you the class whore, if he wants you to be so useful. i don't see anything that can nurture you in the brain if not between your legs," scaramouche has mocked you more times you've spoken a coherent sentence over the time he's been with you. but, unfortunately, pain came little from all your crying. rather, a show of pleasure, as it seemed your lower legs were weeping wetter than your eyes were spilling out tears.

scaramouche has never seen anything more pathetic. well, maybe his mother trying to reconcile with him after years off adding pressure to heavy his plate, but this was another category. you were another category, and one he surprisingly enjoys. "stop squirming, shitface," he hissed, brows knitted as one hand held you down, the other finally straying away from your ass, reaching for something.

a something that had your eyes widen looking back, twirling a pencil enticingly between his fingers. "what, cat got your tongue again, dumbo bitch?" that bite never left his tone as scaramouche brought his hand back, now right between your legs as you're left restrained in horror. "move and I'll drive the tip of this until the lead is flush against your thigh bone, okay? i'll make my own hole to fuck with if you don't stop pissing me off."

that threat had you frozen immediately, the air in your lungs thinning within seconds of anticipation. your heartbeat was assaulting your eardrums with every little breath you started to heave, a shudder breaking through as you felt the eraser side of the pencil trace the outer of your labia with deliberance. slowly, mockingly, as if scaramouche is taunting you—and he is.

the blunt surface pressed against the pearl that peeked between your slit, making you suck in a breath before scaramouche does it again, squishing your clit with every toe you curl from the sensation. your back arched an angle you didn't know you could curve at, the moment he pushed the slender wood into you, with the intent to seek out that spot that made your vision start to blur at the edges. well, if they weren't already.

with how turned on you got by a spanking, cloud 9 was closer to your reach with how loose your mind has gotten. and throughout, scaramouche found a sick sense simmer inside his stomach. perhaps, a sense of satisfaction… or a something that wells his ego at the sight of you so stupid. perfectly fucked-out type of stupid, and he's yet to start! "you're getting off to this? fucking disgusting." he swirled the pencil inside of you, purposely rubbing every wall and nudging at every crevice. "had the professor's known you'd be so whorish, you're better off being a prostitute than live out a life where you start business and make money.

"because, unfortunately for you, the main foundation of a company should be the founder's brains. but you? you're only a waste of meat," scaramouche's tone lowers in volume, a taunt underlying each hurtful words, meant to make you sniffle louder than the last time. make you cry more vibrantly, where your voice is bouncing off the walls, moans and cries with the sound of your pussy slick as the cherry on top. "then again, you're not so bad. you're a waste, but certainly a… pleasant looking one."

the backhanded compliment made the lower of your stomach hot, accompanied with the persistent push of the pencil's blunt tip inside you, aiming at your g-stop with impeccable precision. you always loved to flaunt your looks, anyway, what could a superflouos of talent stand for if there's already a pretty face catching everyone's attention?

"scaramouche," his name bubbles at the surface of your tongue, forming words become a much more even difficult feat—had it been earlier when he punished you by spanking and making you read, you would've failed by a landslide. scaramouche's name was the only coherent thing you could manage out your drooling lips, and even then, it was still muffled by the sound of sex in the air. "i'm gonna… scara, 'm gonna cum," the words squeezed out your lungs the same time as your pussy clenched around the intruding object, velvet walls contracting like it's seeking for more. and more did scaramouche give, drilling the pencil fully into you after a click of his tongue.

only then did you finally feel the object kiss your cervix, causing you to immediately sieze across his lap. finger clenched inwards, burning onto the palm of your hand to the point your knuckles go white. back arching further up that scaramouche's internally impressed you haven't broken the curve of your spine yet, and the tense curls of your toes with your knees throwing at the air in pleasure. "holy shit," scaramouche grunts, pausing the movements of his wrist, fingers slipping as they kept their hold on the pencil sheathed fully in you. his whole arm was soaked beyond his bewilderment, but that quickly shifted into something else.

manifesting a smirk on the corner of his lip, scaramouche hummed. "you're really a dirty fucking bitch. but that's only good for me, yeah? let's see how much more times i can make you fucking squirt." certainly more times that you can get a good grade for your subjects on your own—or lack of thereof—but only the loud stretch of the evening will tell.

a/n; um... don't do this at home unless your pencil is clean, i guess? keep your kitty infection-free ❤️😝 i'm not actually sure if i wrote this properly so uh boombayah!!!

[sseulforgii]

stay a little longer

Kim Minjeong x Reader

a/n: I just have Rosé’s album on repeat and I can’t get this out of my head. I'm sorry, I know it's Christmas 😭

thank you @rd0265667 and @seullovesme for going over this first. mwa!

Minjeong woke up from a fitful sleep. It's been days since she's been like this, a heavy pit in her stomach whenever she wakes up. She looks over to where you are sleeping turned away from her. You were in the same bed and yet you seem so far away from each other. With a heavy sigh she got out of bed and started to get ready for the day.

Unbeknownst to Minjeong, you have been awake too. In fact, you haven't slept for days since you felt something shift in your relationship but you kept it all to yourself. You found yourself just watching her sleep sometimes seeing how peaceful she is and you wish nothing more for her to always have that kind of peace even as you swallow a lump forming in your throat and tears forming in your eyes. You made yourself smaller on your side of the bed when you felt her move and pretended to sleep. It was easier that way. You didn't wanna see her pretend to be okay this early in the morning, as much as you can, you'd give her space.

When Minjeong was dressed and ready to go, she stood by the door of your bedroom looking at you curled up on the bed. She doesn't know how to feel or what to do so she just looked at you for a little while more before eventually deciding to go near you.

You heard her footsteps coming and you were surprised but tried to breathe evenly. You didn't want to move 'cause you didn't wanna startle her and lose a brief moment you might share.

Minjeong crouched down in front of you and traced your cheek with her finger. She smiled a little, your cheeks were still her favorite to pinch and poke after all. She contemplated on kissing your forehead but decided against it in case you suddenly wake up. She was in no state to see your sleepy brown eyes staring back at her. So she got up and looked at you one last time before leaving.

You were holding your breathe the whole time as well as the tears that's starting to form in your eyes. You wished so bad that she would either stop or just kiss you and shower you with affection. But you felt her move and heard her receding footsteps. When the door finally closed, you felt your tears flowing. You were catching your breath by the time you realized you were crying and you didn't know how to stop.

Minjeong was trying her best to act normal around you. She really wanted this to work out, but somewhere down the road she fell out of love. She feels so guilty about it and she tries her hardest to keep you happy and not let you know anything's wrong. She's thinking she'll be able to keep it up long enough for her to go back to how she feels for you. After all, she was the one who wanted you first so why does it feel like this now for her? And she can tell that you love her still with every smile and every affection thrown at her, and yet she feels like you're holding yourself back at times. It makes her wonder if you can feel it too - that subtle shift somewhere.

You and Minjeong weren't always like this. You're such a goofy pair - a perfect match as your friends say. You were both so smart and share almost the same likes. You always loved how witty and creative Minjeong is. Minjeong adores how sweet and kind you are. While Minjeong is quiet at times, you are bustling with energy and talks a lot and she listens to you with so much adoration in her eyes that you tend to shy away at times or get conscious about it. But she always assures you that she loves it. Both of you balance each other out that way.

Recently, you often get conscious about talking too much when you spend time with her, that you tend shy away and just sit quietly at dinner or when watching a movie with her. Only this time, there's only guilt in Minjeong's eyes that she's trying so hard to hide from you. Now you're both walking on a tightrope trying your hardest not to let each other fall off.

You were both trying. Minjeong, so clueless of what you are feeling, thinks she can still salvage what's left of your relationship. You, on the other hand, are just barely keeping it together although you know it's probably time to let her go.

So you made up your mind. You planned a perfect weekend together, which surprised Minjeong but she went along with it thinking maybe this is a good thing for the both of you. While in your mind, you're already pleading that this will make her stay with you longer, even though you know it is a battle you already lost.

You cooked all her favorite food, watched her favorite movie, talked about her work, and played lots of games. It was fun for the both of you. You were both genuinely smiling and laughing, but you can see the sadness behind it. You can sense how bittersweet the day was as it came to an end.

You smiled at Minjeong and took her hand as you guided her outside the balcony to look at the night sky. She was looking at you, you can feel it. You sighed and looked at her as you hold back tears. "Thank you for such a wonderful day, Minjeong." You say as you rub circles on the back of her hand. A nervous habit you sort of picked up when you're trying to soothe both her and yourself. She smiles at you, "of course. I had fun today."

You take a shaky breath and look out the horizon. "Minjeong, can I ask you something?" Her brows furrowed as she squeezed your hand. "Of course, baby. What is it?" She asks, and you almost melt as your tears start to well up when you heard her call you baby. You stumble over your words, trying to form a coherent thought. Minjeong looks over at you worriedly and squeezes your hand once more.

“I don’t know how to form it into words,” you confess. Minjeong tries her best to soothe you, “it’s okay, baby. Just try and I’ll understand.” You look at her and you see worry and guilt swimming in her eyes. It was all the push that you needed to finally let her go.

“Minjeongie, are you…” you choked back a sob and looked elsewhere before continuing. “Are you happy?” It was followed by complete and utter silence. You were scared to look over at her and so you continue after taking a huge breath. “Do you still want this? Us? Because honestly, Minjeong, you can tell me if this is no longer what you want. I’d rather lose you than see you so unhappy.”

You closed your eyes for a bit and steadied your breathing before risking a peak at the girl beside you. She was looking ahead with such somber eyes that it broke your heart further and cemented the thought that this was the right thing to do. “Have you been feeling that way for a long time now?” She softly asked. You owed her the truth no matter how much you wanna sugar coat everything. “Yeah, for a while now,” you replied just as quietly - afraid that if you say it louder it will become more true.

“I’m sorry,” she starts. You shake your head smiling at her although you’re in the brink of breaking down. “It’s nothing to be sorry about. If anything, I’m sorry. I knew for a while now and I still held on. I wanted you to stay a little longer, but each passing day I feel I’m being more of a burden than a rest for you and I don’t want that.” Minjeong held on to you tighter, trying to convey her feelings as she knows she won’t be able to put it into words.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again and you close your eyes as you feel her pull you in for a hug. You savor the moment, for you know this is all you have left. So with the last bit of your strength, you enveloped her tighter and you stayed this way for a little bit longer before you catch your breath and let her go.

[mischiefinbloom]

୧ ‧₊˚ caramel mornings

₊⊹ summary:  james potter, a barista in a quiet café, is used to the routine of early mornings and regulars. that is, until you start coming in every day. as he perfects your caramel latte, the connection between you both deepens—slowly, sweetly, and with a few unspoken thoughts lingering between the conversations. in the simplicity of coffee and shared moments, james begins to realize that what started as a casual encounter might turn into something much more.

₊⊹ pairing: james potter x reader (no use of y/n)

₊⊹ warnings: coffee shop au, nothing just pure fluff! that's my first fic ever, let me know what you think!

james potter hadn’t expected to spend this chapter of his life as a barista. it was supposed to be a temporary gig, something to keep him busy while he figured out his next steps. but after a while, the warm smell of coffee beans and the familiar hum of the shop became a strange kind of comfort, anchoring him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed.

there was a rhythm to the job: the hiss of the espresso machine, the soft murmur of costumers chatting over their drinks, and the occasional chaos of a long line of orders that kept him on his toes. james liked it more than he thought he would, though he’d never admit it to his friends.

and then you walked in, shattering the monotony of his carefully structured days.

the first time he saw you, it was raining. not the light, misty kind of rain that made everything look cinematic, but the kind that came down in sheets, soaking anyone unfortunate enough to be caught outside. you stumbled into the shop, water dripping from your coat and hair, and james’s first thought was that you looked completely out of place in the best possible way.

“hi,” you said, breathless and a little flustered, “can I—uh—just get a coffee, please? whatever you recommend.”

james had blinked at you, his usual confidence momentarily short-circuited. “sure,” he managed, fumbling for a cup. “you trust me with that decision?”

your smile was soft, almost teasing. “why wouldn't I? you look like you know your coffee.”

james grinned despite himself, and as he made your drink—something sweet, with just enough espresso to cut through the rain-induced gloom—he felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the steam rising from the cup.

when he handed it to you, your fingers brushed his for a brief moment. “thanks,” you said, meeting his ocean-colored eyes.

james wanted to say something clever, something to keep you at the counter a little longer, but you’d already turned away, heading for a corner table by the window.

it was only after you left, your empty cup abandoned on the table, that james realized he’d forgotten to ask for your name.

you became a regular after that.

every morning, without fail, you came in at the same time, your arrival as reliable as the sun breaking through the clouds. it didn’t take long for james to memorize your order—a caramel latte, extra foam, with the occasional cinnamon scone if you were feeling indulgent.

at first, you’d linger just long enough to grab your drink before disappearing into the bustle of the day. but over time, you started staying longer, settling into the corner seat that had quickly become your own. you brought books, a notebook, sometimes even a laptop, and james couldn’t help but wonder what you were working on so intently.

“still caramel today?” james asked one morning, flashing you his signature grin.

you glanced up from the menu you were pretending to read, the corners of your mouth quirking upward. “what can I say? I’m a creature of habit.”

james chuckled as he turned to make your drink, his movements fluid and practiced. “I’ll have to come up with something new to tempt you. change things up a bit.”

“oh?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “think you can outdo my usual?”

james slid the cup across the counter with a flourish, a foam heart swirling in the center. “try me.”

you laughed softly, your eyes crinkling at the edges as you took a sip. “hmm. not bad. I might have to start trusting you more.”

james felt a surge of pride, even as he tried to play it cool. “high praise. I’ll take it.”

the days blurred into weeks, and before james knew it, you were as much a part of the shop as the mismatched chairs and the ever-changing chalkboard menu.

he looked forward to seeing you, even on the busiest mornings when the line stretched out the door. he found himself saving the best pastries for you, making sure your latte was always just right, even if it meant starting over three times.

but for every moment of warmth, there was an undercurrent of doubt.

james didn’t know much about you, beyond the small snippets of conversation you shared. he didn’t know what brought you to the shop every day or why your smile sometimes seemed a little forced, like you were carrying more than you let on.

one day, he worked up the nerve to ask.

“rough day?” he asked softly as he handed you your drink.

you hesitated, your fingers tightening around the cup. “something like that...”

james wanted to press, to ask what was bothering you, but he didn’t. instead, he watched as you retreated to your corner table, your shoulders hunched slightly as you opened a book.

he hated seeing you like that, and the helplessness gnawed at him for the rest of the day.

james’ friends loved to tease him about you.

"she’s got you wrapped around her finger, mate,” one of them, sirius black, more specifically, said one evening as they closed up the shop.

james rolled his eyes, but his flushed cheeks gave him away. “it’s not like that.”

“right,” sirius drawled, smirking. “that’s why you’ve been drawing hearts in her lattes.”

james groaned, burying his face in his hands. “shut it, t’s not a big deal."

but it was.

he’d never felt like this before—this nervous, this unsure of himself. he wanted to get to know you, to make you laugh, to be the reason your eyes lit up when you walked through the door.

but what if he wasn’t enough?

the rain was relentless that evening, pounding against the windows in a steady rhythm. the shop was quiet, most of the usual crowd having opted to stay home.

you were the only customer left, your book open on the table as you sipped your latte. james had been stealing glances at you all day, his chest tightening with every passing minute. finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

he grabbed a fresh cup and started on another latte, pouring the foam with extra care. when it was done, he hesitated for a moment before carrying it over to your table.

“for you,” he said, setting it down gently.

you looked up, startled. “what’s this?”

“call it a… thank you,” james said, scratching the back of his neck. “for being the best part of my mornings.”

your eyes widened slightly, and james felt his pulse quicken. for a moment, neither of you said anything, the sound of rain filling the silence.

“james,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he braced himself, his stomach twisting with nerves.

“would you like to sit?” you asked, gesturing to the empty seat across from you.

james blinked, caught off guard. “yeah. yeah, sure, I’d like that.”

he slid into the seat, his heart pounding as he met your gaze. and for the first time, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t imagining things.

james sat across from you, fidgeting slightly, uncharacteristically nervous. the rain outside drummed against the windows, a comforting backdrop to the tension building between you.

“thanks... for the coffee,” you said, breaking the silence. you traced a finger along the edge of the cup, your expression thoughtful. “you didn’t have to do that.”

james smiled, a little lopsided, and shrugged. “I wanted to. you’ve been keeping this place interesting.”

you raised an eyebrow. “interesting? is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“good,” james said quickly, then laughed at himself. “definitely good. I just mean… it’s nice, seeing you here every day. feels like I’ve got something to look forward to.”

your cheeks flushed, and james couldn’t help but notice the way you looked away, shyly smiling. it was a vulnerability he hadn’t seen from you before, and it made his chest ache in a way he didn’t quite understand.

“I could say the same thing,” you admitted softly, your voice almost drowned out by the rain.

james blinked, his heart stuttering. “yeah?”

“yeah,” you said, meeting his eyes. “you’ve made my mornings a little brighter, James.”

he grinned, the boyish charm that always seemed so effortless now lighting up his face. “well, now I feel like I’ve got to up my game. can’t have you thinking I’m getting complacent.”

you laughed, the sound warm and genuine, and james realized he could get used to this—the easy rhythm of being around you, the way you seemed to make the world feel a little less heavy.

the shop closed earlier than usual that night, the storm outside growing too fierce to keep customers lingering. james finished wiping down the counters while you gathered your things, your umbrella still dripping onto the floor.

“let me walk you out,” he said, grabbing his coat.

you hesitated, looking out at the downpour. “you don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” james said, holding the door open for you. “but I’d like to.”

you smiled, and james thought he’d do just about anything to see that look on your face again.

the two of you stepped into the rain, your umbrella doing little to shield you from the relentless drops. james stayed close, his shoulder brushing yours as you walked.

“thank you, james...” you said after a while, your voice quiet.

“for what?”

“for caring,” you said simply.

james stopped walking, turning to look at you. “of course I care,” he said, his voice softer now. “I—”

he paused, the words catching in his throat. he wanted to tell you everything—that you were the best part of his day, that he thought about you more than he should, that he’d been falling for you since the moment you walked into his shop. but he didn’t know how to say any of it.

instead, he reached out, his hand brushing yours. “I’m glad you came in that day,” he said finally.

you smiled, your fingers curling around his. “yeah... me too.”

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 17

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16

A/N: oh boy.....

“Baby, can I ask you something?”

Isla tears her gaze away from the window as she watches the town go by, turning to face her mom in the driver’s seat. “What’s up?” she asks, fixing the skirt of her summer dress.

Anne blows out a breath, left elbow resting on the sill of the car door. “I know this relationship of yours with Rafe, you’re keeping it a secret from your sister and friends.” Isla bites the inside of her cheek, already feeling the anxiety brew in the pit of her stomach over the subject of this conversation. “How much longer do you think you can keep this up?”

Isla sighs, head falling back against the seat in defeat. “Mom—”

“I don’t mind keeping it quiet from your sister,” Anne cuts in with a hint of a smile, glancing at Isla briefly before her gaze returns out onto the road. “But seriously, honey—”

“I’m waiting for the right moment,” Isla says, lips twisting to the side as she looks down at her dress. Spaghetti straps with a flowing skirt that stops a few inches above her knees, a pretty yellow color with tiny white daisies patterned all over it. “But I know no matter when or how I tell them, they’re not gonna be happy. They’ll for sure think I’m insane or something.”

She sees her mom’s eyebrows furrow, forehead crease. “It can’t be that bad. They’re your friends, your sister. Give them a little more credit.”

Isla scoffs, her smile sardonic as her eyebrows raise. “Are you kidding me? Do you know how many fights the guys have gotten into with Rafe and his friends? There’s a lot of history between them all, and none of it is good. So I just—I don’t know how I’m supposed to look them all in the eye and tell them I’m dating Rafe. The only person who wouldn’t be totally pissed is Sarah. But the others? Especially Kie and JJ? They’ll think I’ve, like, betrayed them,” she mumbles, gaze dropping to watch herself anxiously play with one of the rings she wears.

It’ll hurt, when they find out. It will hurt them and it will hurt Isla, and her anxiety is preventing her from seeing the slight possibility that the reaction won’t be as big as she’s fearing, or that they might get over it quickly. It all just seems too explosive to go in any other way than badly.

“They love you,” Anna says firmly. “So they’ll get over it. It might take them some time to accept your relationship, but I know they will. Especially when they see that you’re happy with Rafe.” The idea of it makes Isla smile slightly, though she doesn’t let that seed of hope in. But Anna sits confidently next to her, which is a little reassuring for Isla, even if her stomach is still in knots. “And when your relationship isn’t a secret anymore, I’d love for Rafe to come over for dinner.”

That makes Isla’s smile widen slightly, shy yet excited at the notion as she nods, her earrings tinkling as she does. “Yeah, me too.” Then she scoffs, adding, “Just make sure Kie doesn’t poison his food.”

Anna lets out a laugh at that, shaking her head in amusement. As the car rolls to a stop at a red light, she turns to meet Isla’s gaze, her eyes soft and warm. “Look, I know you want to make sure the time is right to tell them, but don’t wait too long that you end up psyching yourself out of it, okay? It’d be better for them to hear it from you than somehow finding out some other way.”

Isla nods, chewing on the inside of her cheek, because her mom hasn’t said anything Isla doesn’t already know. Telling her friends herself is exactly what Isla wants. She knows the longer she waits, the more opportunity she is giving for the universe to play a card against her and have her friends find out about her and Rafe through another way. It would make the situation even worse if they didn’t hear it from her, even if the idea of telling them still makes her beyond anxious. She loves her friends so much. She can’t imagine her life without them.

Even so, their reactions aren’t something Isla is looking forward to. Avoiding the problem, for now, just seems easier.

Isla is still thinking about it after her mom drops her off at the dock, her mind still running on the ferry over to the mainland where she’s meeting Rafe. He already had to be at Chapel Hill for work on behalf of his dad, so he and Isla had made a plan to meet at Sutton’s for their date. Kie was working at the restaurant today, her friends occupied with something or another, so it was the perfect time for Isla to meet up with Rafe.

If anyone asked, she was meeting up with some friends she had made when she toured the university’s campus a few months ago, so no one would be the wiser.

When Isla turns the corner to get to Sutton’s, she smiles when, in the distance, she easily spots Rafe standing outside. His back is to her, but she recognizes him easily, her smile widening as she approaches him, artfully dodging any other pedestrian in the way. Rafe, though, stands in the shade of the mid-size tree along the sidewalk, seemingly busy on his phone, until Isla skips the last few steps until she’s sliding up right next to him, left arm winding around his waist.

“Excuse me, but could you by chance be waiting for someone?” she grins, giggling when he tenses up the second her arm is around him, but relaxing a split second later when he looks down at her grinning face.

Rafe’s own smile lights up his face, dancing in those blue eyes as he settles his arm around her shoulders. “Sure am,” he says, fingers brushing up and down the bare skin of her arm. It’s the middle of summer, and he’s going to make goosebumps break across her skin as his eyes drink in every inch of her. From the yellow dress against her brown skin to her wavy hair falling down her back to the gold of her jewelry; from her necklaces and rings to nose ring and several earrings. “Waiting for the prettiest girl around,” he finishes, dipping his head to press a sweet kiss to her lips.

Isla smiles, kissing him back and welcoming the fluttering in her chest. “Such a charmer,” she teases as they pull back, her right hand on his chest. “But it’s time for you to feed me.”

That pulls a laugh out of him, and Isla can never get tired of the sound. So light, making a hint of crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes, showing off perfect white teeth and a smile that could heal anyone’s heart. No wonder he takes care of a lot of Ward’s business when it comes to face-to-face time with clients; Rafe is undeniably charming, his smile disarming and effortlessly making a person forget about anything else. Isla doesn’t mind it one bit.

“Yes, ma’am. Let’s go,” he says, walking them to the front doors of Sutton’s, opening one of the doors and gently nudging her forward to walk in first, following close behind her as they enter.

Isla smiles when she’s instantly hit with the scent of burgers being cooked and the salty tinge of French fries. There’s an Icee machine towards the back on the left, and while there are tables to sit at the front, towards the back are aisles and fridges loaded with snacks and drinks. The walls are white and red tiled, a menu board along the wall behind the ordering counter, right above the window looking into the kitchen where Isla sees people bustling around. 

Rafe had said this place wasn’t extraordinary, just a burger joint mixed with a store, but it’s the food that makes this place popular. It already smells amazing as they step up to the counter to order.

The man standing on the other side, an older guy with graying hair and a goatee, instantly grins when they step up. “Rafe Cameron, my man,” the man laughs, hand reaching over and Isla smiles as Rafe’s hand clasps his. “Haven’t seen you in a minute.” His gaze shifts over to Isla, his smile widening. “And who’s this lovely lady you’ve got with you?”

Isla sees Rafe grin as his arm rests on her shoulders again. “This is my girl, Isla.” Her heart skips happily at his words as he says to her, “This is Morgan. The genius behind the food you’re gonna eat today.”

Isla laughs. “I can’t wait.”

“Music to my ears,” Morgan says, waving his fingers in a come on motion. “What’ll you have?”

While Isla gets a cheeseburger deluxe, Rafe gets a steak burger, fries for both, and once he pays for their food and drinks, they claim a small round table against the wall while their food is being made. “Oh, hey,” Rafe says, shifting forward in his chair as he reaches into the back pocket of his pants. “Wheezie asked me to give this to you.”

He holds out a tiny brown cloth bag and recognition lights up Isla’s face as she reaches for it. “What is it?” Rafe asks with a chuckle, watching curiously. 

Isla grins as she undoes the strings that shut the bag. “You didn’t open it and look?” she asks teasingly.

Rafe settles back in his chair. “Wouldn’t invade your privacy if it was something you wanted to keep to yourself or something.”

Her smile softens as she reaches into the bag. “You’re adorable,” she says with a gentle laugh, pulling out the beaded bracelet Wheezie made. “See?” Isla shows him, holding the bracelet up.

A smile touches Rafe’s lips, his fingers twisting his own bracelet once. “You asked her to make you one?” When she nods with a hum, he looks at the bracelet again and says, “That’s a pretty blue.”

Isla observes the bracelet, the sky blue beads Wheezie had used and white heart beads in between, the blue color absolutely perfect. Isla bites her bottom lip, hesitating for a moment, a bit shy before confessing, “Matches your eyes.”

She sees Rafe’s smile falter a bit at the revelation, surprised, but his smile returns quickly, those blue eyes lighting up while Isla’s cheeks heat. Letting herself be vulnerable with him, emotionally, is something that has become easier—though it doesn’t stop her from blushing anyway. But Rafe always seems to welcome her shyness, her vulnerability, and hasn’t made her regret being open with him.

And it feels good—to let someone in, in a way that she hasn’t in a while. Rafe is sweet to her, soft, and she finds herself falling for him more and more. Despite the secrets, despite the complications that would come from telling her friends, her feelings for Rafe aren’t something she can ignore—she doesn’t want to.

“You’re a romantic too, huh?” he muses, his smile gentle but Isla sees the sheer happiness in his gaze that makes her pulse quicken.

“Of course,” Isla grins, putting on the bracelet to join the one she already wears on her wrist, the matching thread bracelet she has with her sister, Sarah, and Cleo. Her throat works as she fiddles with the yellow bracelet, sitting nicely next to the blue beaded one, and Isla exhales slowly through her nose. “I was thinking. . .”

“Uh-oh,” Rafe smiles, chuckling when she shoots him a feigned glare. “What about?”

Isla twists her lips to the side, right leg crossing over her left knee and adjusting the skirt of her dress. Sutton’s isn’t too busy, but there’s a subtle bustle of the cooks in the kitchen and other customers scattered around at tables. Letting out a breath, she admits, “I think I’m gonna tell the others about us.”

She watches as Rafe’s expression shifts, surprise washing over his face because no doubt she took him off guard. Truthfully, they don’t have conversations, at length, about Isla telling her friends about their relationship. Rafe has given her full reign on how to go about that because, the fact of the matter is, Rafe doesn’t give much of a damn of people’s opinions on him, even his friends’. If anything, Isla knows Rafe’s friends would give him shit for dating a Pogue, even if a lot of them still see Isla, Kie, and Sarah as Kooks, but they’ll be quick to get over it.

But Isla’s friends, on the other hand, are a different story, more volatile. Anxiety has made her keep this a secret, but she and Rafe have been dating for nearly two months now, and things between them keep getting better and better. She wants to share that happiness, doesn’t want to hide it like some dirty little secret. Plus, Isla is tired of sneaking around; it started off fun, and it still has some of its thrill, but being with him publicly, without worrying about getting caught, is also something she wants.

“Are you—you’re sure?” Rafe asks, sitting up as his gaze intently searches hers. “Because I don’t want you to take that step if you’re not ready—”

“I’m sure,” Isla tells him with a nod, the corner of her mouth quirking up in a slight smile. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready. You know them. They’re stubborn. I think holding it off for too long might be worse because they’ll think of how long I’ve been keeping this from them, you know?” Her eyes meet Rafe’s. “I think you and I are in a good place, right? This works between us, it feels good.” Her cheeks heat up with her smile as Rafe grins a little too. “So, yeah. I’m gonna tell them, and hope for the best,” she adds with a chuckle.

Rafe nods, taking this in while his smile remains. “You know I got your back, yeah?” With a tilt of his head, he hesitates for a moment before asking, “Do you want me to be there when you tell them?”

A gentle laugh escapes her, eyebrows rising. “I think it might be better if it was just me.” The mere sight of Rafe would be enough to raise their hackles before Isla would be able to get a word out. “Maybe I should get them drunk first.”

Rafe snorts out a laugh, just as his name is called from the counter. “I’ll follow your lead, sweetheart,” he says, pushing himself up from the chair and heading to get their food.

Isla watches him, biting the inside of her cheek and absently admiring the firm shape of his ass in those pants while also picturing the scene in her head of when she drops this bombshell on her friends. There will probably be yelling, looks of betrayal and possibly disgust—Isla just needs to mentally prepare herself for all of them. And, honestly, she’s been doing that since the minute she and Rafe decided to pursue a relationship—hell, since their first date—but no matter how much she tries to prepare herself, Isla doesn’t think she’ll be ready.

It’ll be fine. Hopefully.

“Here we fucking go,” Rafe says when he returns, placing the tray in front of them and picking up one of the styrofoam boxes labeled cheeseburger deluxe and handing it to her. “This is yours. Dig in.”

Isla places a paper napkin on her lap before opening the box excitedly, feeling Rafe’s gaze on her as she admires the picture perfect burger and a good portion of French fries. It smells delicious as she picks it up, perfectly hot in her hands, and when she lifts it to her mouth, her gaze flickers up and catches Rafe’s.

“Are you gonna watch me eat?” she asks with an amused laugh.

He matches her smile. “Just the first bite. Wanna get your honest reaction.”

Isla shakes her head, smiling at his interest and curiosity as Isla finally takes a bite of the burger. Flavor explodes on her tongue and Isla’s shoulders drop as she chews, eyes widening at Rafe, who is smiling in satisfaction. “Oh, my God,” she mumbles after swallowing, reaching for a napkin to pat at her lips. “This is amazing.”

Honestly, it’s probably better than any gourmet burger she’s had. And Isla hates to admit it, but it’s even a little better than the cheeseburger they make at The Wreck—though, she’d never tell her parents that.

“I told you,” Rafe answers smugly, reaching for his own burger. But before he takes a bite, he asks, “You wanna try mine?”

Isla smiles as he holds the burger out, putting her own down and reaching for his. She takes a bite, the steak burger colored with different sauces and spices, but delicious all the same. She tastes the familiar tang of a pickle as she chews, nodding in approval as she hands it back to Rafe. “Delicious. I ate a pickle, sorry,” she apologizes with a grin.

Rafe chuckles and takes the top of the bun off, picking up the second slice of pickle and putting it in her container. “I don’t like pickles.”

Isla blinks. “Why didn’t you ask them to keep them off?”

He shrugs. “You like pickles,” he answers simply before taking a bite, leaving Isla smiling fondly at the boy before her.

“You’re so cute,” she grins, nudging his foot with hers under the table as she picks up the pickle and tosses it in her mouth.

“Cute, whipped,” Rafe hums with a roll of his eyes, waving around a fry. “Either one works.” He flashes a smirk.

Isla wiggles her eyebrows playfully. “Regrets?”

He smiles, but his gaze is serious. “Absolutely not.”

*****

Isla’s fingers brush along the spines of the rows of books, unable to help herself any time she’s in a bookstore. After lunch at Sutton’s, which had been delicious, they began walking down the sidewalk until they came across a bookstore and, like a magnet, Isla was drawn inside. Rafe had no arguments, following her in with a smile, but about ten minutes later, he stepped outside for a work call.

Isla already has three books in her arms since he left the store, which she knows will amuse him. It’s not her fault she can’t leave a bookstore without buying something. It’s a compulsion at this point.

By the time Isla’s ready to check out, she frowns at the front windows of the store, wondering where Rafe is. That’s a long phone call.

Once she pays and is happily dangling the strap of the paper bag from her fingers, Isla exits the store, ready to pull her phone out to text Rafe—only to spot him easily out on the sidewalk. Instantly, her confusion falters and a smile spreads on Isla’s parted lips, her heart picking up its pace when she sees the small bouquet of sunflowers he’s holding.

He’s already grinning, like he’s expecting her, and a breathless laugh escapes Isla, her cheeks flushing with warmth as she walks over and he holds the flowers out. Her sandals tap against the pavement as she approaches Rafe, stopping in front of him and reaching for the bouquet—except he clicks his tongue and pulls them out of her reach.

“Ah-ah,” Rafe grins with a lift of his chin, blue eyes dancing with mirth as Isla’s eyebrows raise. “Not for free.”

She’s quick to know what he means, her smile widening as she steps closer until there’s barely any space between them on the semi-busy sidewalk. Isla is wrapped in the familiar, comforting scent of his cologne, woodsy with a delicious undertone of spices, and with a hand on his chest, she rises on her toes with an upward tilt of her chin, and Rafe’s grin widens as he meets her halfway because he’s too tall for his own good, lips pressing to hers.

Isla sucks on his bottom lip and his answering groan is enough to send desire coursing through her, desperate need for Rafe making her head spin as his tongue swipes against hers. She knows they’re in public, but can’t bring herself to care as she feels his free hand pressing to the small of her back, his touch warm even through the thin material of her dress. 

Her head spins with his kisses, and she groans quietly before mumbling, “Wish we were home right now.”

“Yeah?” Rafe murmurs as Isla’s eyes flutter open, watching him look down at her with hooded eyes. His gaze flickers around them, then, before he smiles. The mischievous glint in his eyes has Isla raising her eyebrows before he says, “I’ve got an idea.”

Fifteen minutes later, her free hand clasped in Rafe’s, Isla is stifling a laugh as they walk down the carpeted hallway of an upscale hotel. “You’re insane,” she giggles as Rafe takes the keycard and taps it against the security lock of the hotel room Rafe booked for them just for the afternoon.

He holds the door open for her, using his grip on her hand to usher her into the room. The curtains are parted to let the afternoon sun brighten the room, the king sized bed practically calling their name as Isla sets the flowers, purse, and bag of books on the nearby table. It’s a simple, spacious room with a king sized bed with a bed frame against the wall, cushioned in the middle with a wooden frame. A TV opposite of the bed, a mini fridge with a glass door showing off the drinks and treats inside—though, all she and Rafe really care about is the bed, of course.

She feels Rafe come up behind her, his fingers brushing along her neck as he moves her dark hair over one shoulder, Isla’s breath catching when his lips ghost along her neck. “It’s not home—” Neither hers nor his. “But it’s the second best thing.”

“Mhm,” Isla hums as his hand snakes across her stomach, pressing her closer into him as she leans her head back against his shoulder. “You’ll hear no complaints from me,” she says, tilting her head enough to press her lips to his, grinning when he instantly returns the kiss.

Isla turns in his arms, her own wrapping around his neck and pushing herself into him, heat pooling between her legs when his hands slide down her sides before they cup her ass through the material of her dress, applying pressure to pull her closer. Isla moans and her fingers run through his hair as he moves them, no doubt moving them towards the bed.

Her skin is on fire, craving his touch, and she drops her hands to undo his belt. As his tongue teases hers, deepening the kiss, the back of Isla’s legs touch the bed. She has five seconds to toe off her sandals—thank God they don’t have clasps—and suddenly she’s being pushed down, a gasp of a laugh escaping her during the moment their kiss breaks as Rafe’s lean body climbs over hers, kissing her once again as she practically sinks into the soft mattress.

“This fucking dress,” Rafe mumbles into the kiss, Isla’s heart pounding as she feels his finger hook under one of the spaghetti straps. “Bet you wore it just to drive me crazy,” he rasps, pulling one of the straps down her shoulder.

Isla’s lips curl up because he’s totally not wrong. It’s one of her favorite dresses, for sure, but Isla had put it on with the simple thought of Rafe’s reaction to her wearing it. “Is it working?” she asks, pulling out his belt and tossing it to the side. It clatters somewhere on the floor.

Rafe growls quietly and Isla gasps into his mouth when he takes one of her hands and brings it to cup his cock over the material of his pants. He’s big and hard and Isla’s body practically sings with the desire of having him inside of her again. “What do you think?” he asks, nipping at her bottom lip and tugging at it sharply. She swears she feels the pull in her pussy.

“Gonna do something about it?” she asks breathlessly between kisses, her leg hooking around his hip to bring him closer, heart pounding as they breathe in each other’s air. 

She arches slightly when she feels his hand cup her breast through her dress, the bodice fitting nicely enough that she didn’t need to wear a bra with it. “Yeah,” he grunts, the air hitching in Isla’s throat when his fingers curl under the neckline of her dress. “Gonna taste every inch of you.”

Cool air of the room hits her in the next second when Rafe tugs the front of her dress down, the material soft and stretchy enough for him to do so easily. Rafe pulls back and Isla already misses the taste of his lips, but she catches the way his gaze darkens at the sight of her exposed breasts, hunger flashing across his face before he leans down and closes his lips around her nipple.

Isla cries out at the wicked touch, hand finding the back of Rafe’s head, fingers threading through his hair as he sucks at her nipple, tongue flicking and each teasing movement has Isla’s head tilting back, lips parting and eyes fluttering at the electricity that buzzes through her veins. When his teeth graze along her nipple, Isla gasps, fingers tightening in his hair as her back arches, pushing her breast further into the warmth of Rafe’s mouth as his hand cups her other breast, fingers tweaking and playing with her nipple.

“So fucking pretty,” Rafe mumbles, switching over to the other breast, and Isla lifts her head enough to watch him suck, his lust filled blue eyes locking on her dazed green, her heart pounding when she feels his tongue flick her nipple again. 

“Rafe, Rafe.” His name is all Isla can utter, lost in the head spinning ecstasy she feels from his mouth alone. “Please—”

She’s not sure what she’s begging for at this point, but he lifts off her chest and kisses her, swallowing her moans and licking into her mouth. His tongue plunders and ravages and takes, and Isla happily lets him as her fingers blindly find the hem of his shirt, giving it an upwards tug. The kiss breaks long enough for Rafe to pull the shirt off the rest of the way, Isla’s fingers admiring the hard muscles of his abdomen and feeling them flex under her touch.

“Can you do something for me, baby?” he murmurs against her lips. Isla hums in response, fairly certain she’d do anything he’d ask. Rafe kisses the corner of her mouth, brushes his lips against hers, and asks, “Sit on my face? Please?”

Oh, fuck yes.

She looks up at him, panting, admiring the lust in his eyes and pink swollen lips. She doesn’t miss the way her breasts glisten with Rafe’s saliva as she nods dazedly, and Rafe smirks at her instant agreement, moving to turn them so he’s laying down and she moves to straddle him, taking off her underwear and tossing it to the side. When her hand moves to undo the zipper on the side, Rafe’s hand gently grips her wrist.

“No.” Isla’s gaze flies to his, admiring his kiss swollen lips and the hunger in his eyes. “Keep it on,” he says, voice hoarse with need that Isla feels in her belly and between her legs.

Isla’s skin flushes, heart pounding and breath shallowing as she glances down at herself. The skirt of her dress is bunched up while the bodice has been tugged low enough to expose her breasts, nipples taut and perked not just because of the coolness of the room, but Rafe’s earlier ministrations. 

His hands brush up and down her outer thighs, a ghost of a smirk curving his mouth. “Come on, baby.”

It’s all the encouragement Isla needs, desire thrumming her veins as she shifts up his body until she’s hovering right above his face. She tries to keep the skirt bunched to her waist, but the second Rafe’s hands sneak up to her hips under her clothes and he pulls her down and a gasp rips through Isla the second his mouth comes into contact with her. With his grip on her, he makes her sit on his face and Isla has to grip the top of the wooden frame of the bed, head bowing as she feels Rafe lick into her eagerly.

She remembers that day on his kitchen counter, but here, Isla doesn’t hold back the moans that escape her as Rafe’s tongue pushes through her lips, licking into her opening as already making Isla’s head spin. Her knees rest on either side of his head, but she still feels herself tremble when Rafe’s tongue flicks against her clit and Isla throws her head back.

“Oh, God, Rafe,” she gasps, hips moving against him as her grip tightens on the frame. Even if she looks down at Rafe, she can only just get a glimpse of him from beneath the skirt of her dress. The sensation of his mouth working on her sends electricity zipping through her body, his fingers digging into her hips and helping her move as whimpers escape her.

“Could stay here all fucking day, y’know,” Rafe mumbles, his words accompanied by the crude sounds of him licking and sucking. “Favorite fucking thing. Heaven.”

The last word is groaned out as he sucks her clit into his mouth and a sharp cry escapes Isla because in the next moment, she’s falling apart above him with her heart threatening to pound out of her chest and liquid fire flooding her veins. Isla chants his name, over and over, until she’s shaking on top of him and body threatening to go limp.

But then Rafe moves them swiftly. With his hands on her hips, he pushes Isla backwards and shifts himself until she’s on her back and he’s moving on top of her, her head now by the foot of the bed. Isla giggles breathlessly at the sudden movement, stomach flipping excitedly at the way Rafe moves her around so easily. He grins down at her, messed up hair and swollen lips and flushed cheeks.

When he comes back over her, capturing her lips in a slow, dizzying kiss, he asks, “You want me?”

Her hands are in his hair, tongue in his mouth. God. “Yes.”

One of Rafe’s hands finds hers, linking their fingers together next to her head as he kisses her deeply. “You have me.”

*****

“Sarah will understand, right?”

A light scoff sounds from Rafe. “We’re sitting in a bathtub, and you wanna talk about my sister?” he asks, teasingly nipping at her neck.

Isla laughs gently, her back pressed to his chest. The warm water is brilliant for her muscles, which definitely got worked out after her and Rafe were done. Since Rafe had booked the hotel room for a few hours, they still had some time to kill, and Rafe took it upon himself to fill up the tub and because this is one of those fancy hotels, there was even a small bottle of bubble bath that he practically emptied in the tub.

“I’m just thinking,” she says, sitting between his legs with her head resting back against his shoulder. One of his hands links with her, resting on the lip of the tub, while his other hand brushes his fingers across her stomach under the water, so light yet enough to tug at her center. “I’m not looking forward to their reactions but I’m hoping, you know, that at least we’ll have Sarah on our side? Maybe?”

Rafe is silent for a couple of seconds as Isla watches his fingers play with hers, chewing on her bottom lip as she waits for him to say something. “You want me to be honest?” he asks quietly, making her heart thump.

“Yes.”

“I’d say it’s fifty-fifty,” he answers and Isla’s heart drops upon hearing that. And maybe he feels her tense against him because his arm snakes around her waist, holding her close. “I have a feeling my sister’s more loyal to your friends than she is to me.”

A lump forms in Isla’s throat when she hears the hint of dismay in Rafe’s voice. She knows Rafe and Sarah’s relationship isn’t perfect; they’ve had their issues, especially when Rafe and his friends got into it with Isla’s friends. Things can get tense between them, but Sarah hasn’t had any complaints against Rafe over the last couple of months—mostly because Rafe hasn’t been getting into fights with the guys. If anything, he pulled Topper back that night at the Boneyard, and Isla recalls Sarah commenting that she was pleasantly surprised at Rafe stepping in like that.

But to know Sarah may also be upset with Isla and Rafe’s relationship makes Isla’s stomach twist in knots. She was hoping that Sarah would be their safe bet because, as much as Isla loves her own sister, she doesn’t think Kie will be too receptive to this relationship. Maybe, over time, her friends will adjust and accept, but Isla is dreading that initial reaction upon them learning the truth. It makes her stomach feel hollow with nothing in it but dread, anxiety ruling over.

“I’m sorry,” Isla whispers, eyebrows furrowing together as she squeezes Rafe’s fingers.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about,” Rafe instantly says. “My and Sarah’s relationship is slowly getting better, which is why I think it could go either way. If this had been months ago, she would’ve totally been against us,” he adds with a gentle laugh. “But maybe she’ll be quicker to come around. Honestly, baby—” He brushes his lips across her cheekbone. “There’s no telling how any of them are gonna react, right? I don’t think you should stress yourself out by running every possible scenario, you know? They’re gonna react how they’re gonna react. It’s out of any of our control.”

Isla sighs, pouting. “That’s not as comforting as you think,” she mutters with a short chuckle.

His grip tightens and Isla feels his head drop until his lips press to her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, sounding truly regretful, which only tugs at her heartstrings. “I’ve got you though, okay? No matter what happens or what they say, you have me.”

Now those words have Isla melting, relaxing in his embrace as her lips curl up into a gentle smile. “Nice save,” she says playfully before turning her head enough to press her lips to his cheek. “But you’re right. No point in psyching myself out.”

It’s easier said than done, of course, but it’s all the more reason why Isla needs to tell her friends sooner rather than later. Like, tomorrow, maybe. The idea makes her heart thud unsurprisingly, but it’s a feeling she has come to be familiar with—though, one she can’t wait to get rid of.

She sighs then and says, “We should probably get out before we get all pruney.”

Rafe hums against her neck. “Sounds sexy,” he quips, making her laugh as he lets out a dramatic sigh. “Alright, if we have to.”

They make quick work of drying off and getting dressed again. Fortunately, Isla’s makeup isn’t too messed up, just cleaning off some mascara residue from under her eyes and reapplying her lip oil. She pulls her hair out of the bun it had been in for the bath, combing her fingers through the wavy strands so they fall nicely around her shoulders.

He gently taps her ass when they exit the elevator once the doors open up to the lobby, and while Rafe goes to check them out, Isla sits down on one of the couches, placing the flowers next to her as she checks her phone in case her sister or friends texted her. She only has notifications from their Snapchat group chat; Kie sending a video of her making a sandwich at work, JJ sending a picture of his bike that he’s working on, and Cleo sending a picture of Pope sitting at his desk while she seems to be laying in his bed.

Isla doesn’t send a picture or video in return, not wanting her friends to see where she is. But being occupied by her phone doesn’t last too long because a few seconds later, she hears an annoyingly familiar voice ask, “What are you doing here?”

Isla freezes, her heart pounding as she very quickly realizes that this can very quickly blow up in her face. With her grip on her phone tightening, Isla slowly raises her head until her eyes find Topper standing before her. He’s standing before her in a suit and tie get up, eyebrow raised at her as he waits for an answer that Isla doesn’t want to give, and definitely doesn’t owe him.

Panic blooms in her chest, but Isla shoves it down as she puts on a mask of indifference, tilting her head at Topper. He definitely doesn’t look happy to see her, his jaw tense and eyes hard, but that’s not what Isla focuses on. She’s more worried about talking her way out of this before he sees Rafe and somehow puts two and two together.

“Visiting a friend from out of town. She’s staying here,” Isla lies smoothly, gesturing to the lobby. Her gaze flickers past him, towards a sign on an easel in front of one of the ballroom doors. It reads Thornton Conway Archer, which is the name of the law firm Topper’s mom is a name partner of. Great. How the hell did she and Rafe miss that on their way in? Isla shoots Topper a tight smile. “Nice monkey suit. If you’ll excuse me,” she says, grabbing her bags and flowers and getting up from the couch, skin heating with anxiety of needing to get away.

“A friend from out of town, huh?” he repeats, unconvinced, as he steps in Isla’s way, making her stop short. She masks her panic with a glare. “Didn’t wanna show them the glories of The Cut, huh?” he says condescendingly, making Isla feel the urge to punch him in the face. Her friends have really rubbed off on her over the years.

Isla blinks at him. “Is there a reason we’re having a conversation right now?” she asks blankly even if her nerves are skittering, needing escape. Except Topper’s gaze has already flickered over Isla’s shoulder and dread pools in her stomach when she sees realization dawn on his face.

“Rafe?” he asks and Isla’s teeth press together. Maybe she can play it off smoothly that she had no idea Rafe was here; maybe their cover isn’t totally blown yet. Topper doesn’t look too thrilled to see Rafe and Isla knows it’s because of their confrontation outside of the country club. “What are you doing here?”

Isla raises her eyebrows, hoping to give off an expression of surprise as she looks over her shoulder to see Rafe slowly approaching them. Their gazes meet, and she can easily see the annoyance—and concern—swimming in his blue eyes as he makes his way over, pocketing his wallet. His tongue presses to the inside of his cheek before his gaze slides back to Topper, eyes hardening.

“Business meeting,” he answers simply. He glanced between her and Topper and casually asked, “Everything okay here?”

Topper scoffed, one side of his mouth quirking up into a smirk. “Why? Wanna come to her rescue again? You know—” He narrows his eyes, arms crossing over his chest. “It’s pretty convenient that you two are both here.” Looking at Rafe, he asks, “Do you have a new hobby of coming to the Pogues’ rescue nowadays?”

“What can I say? Right place, right time,” Rafe lazily drawls and Isla admires his ability to appear unbothered. But there’s slight tension bracketing his mouth, so subtle yet Isla notices it because she knows him, and she knows that he’s a bit thrown off, too, to run into Topper here. Then Rafe’s glaze flicks to her meaningfully and Isla hears him loud and clear.

Isla inhales sharply, offering them a tight, close mouthed smile. “Alright, well, I’m gonna be anywhere but here,” she says with an upward flick of her eyebrows. Before Topper can stop her, she moves around them and tries not to appear that she’s fleeing—even if she is.

She’s about to head to the doors to exit, but recalls that she told Topper the so-called friend she’s visiting is staying here. “Shit,” she mutters under her breath before making a B-line towards the hall where the elevators are located.

Fortunately, she disappeared from the view of the lobby as she approached the wall at the end of the hall. Isla leans back against it, resting the bag of books by her feet as she tilts her head back and lets out a breath, eyes shutting. Goddamn—Topper has the annoying habit of popping up at the most inconvenient times. Not that his presence is ever welcomed, but lately it’s been on a whole other level.

She’s alone for maybe a couple of minutes when she hears footsteps, and by the time she opens her eyes, Rafe is approaching her. “Hey,” he says worriedly, glancing over his shoulder while making his way over. “You good?” he asks once he’s stopped in front of her, effectively obscuring her view of the hallway behind him.

Isla huffs out a breath, shooting Rafe an incredulous look. “Why is he always everywhere?” she asks in exasperation, letting out a breathless laugh that’s only slightly tinged with alarm. “Do you think he, like, suspects anything?”

Rafe rolls his eyes, shaking his head reassuringly. “He’s an idiot. He doesn’t know shit,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Let’s hope that’s true,” Isla huffs, running her fingers through her hair as she hopes to sway away the nerves that had risen.

“Hey,” Rafe says gently as he places his hands on the sides of her neck, his thumbs brushing along the underside of her jaw. “Let’s not let him ruin our day, yeah?”

Isla smiles slightly, dipping her chin in a nod before Rafe tilts her head up by placing some pressure where his thumbs are, ducking his own head to kiss her gently. Her eyes flutter shut and she sighs into the sweet kiss, lightly gripping the front of his shirt as she parts her lips to allow his tongue to slip in. God, yes. With just one touch, one kiss, Rafe manages to make everything else disappear, and it is so easy to get lost in him.

“Alright. Time to go,” he sighs, bumping his nose against hers before pulling back and smiling down at her. 

They’re able to make it out of the hotel without another run-in with Topper, though just to be safe, they head out separately before meeting up a block down from the hotel. It had been a perfect, wonderful day as she and Rafe take the ferry back to the OBX, their fingers interlaced as they sat in the last row below deck, away from anyone around.

As she watches the water glitter, her phone buzzes, and she pulls it out to see Kie had messaged in the groupchat.

From: Kie🐬

can u come to jb’s, isla?

Isla arches an eyebrow, but messages back.

From: Isla

yeah, i can be there in 25

It’s not long until they get to the dock back in town, which means she and Rafe have to part ways and she has to go see her friends. Rafe offers to drop her, but she insists on taking an Uber, kissing him goodbye and heading over to John B’s, texting in the chat to let them know she’s on her way. She puts the small bouquet of flowers in the paperbag of books, the bag dangling from her fingertips as she got out of the car and thanked the Uber driver before shutting the door.

Her lips still tingled with Rafe’s kisses as she walked across the patch of grass towards the Chateau’s porch, noticing the others’ cars and bike already parked. Isla’s not sure why Kie asked her to come over, though it’s not unusual for them all to meet up here, of course.

She spots them sitting scattered around the screened in porch, the murmur of conversation dying as soon as she opens the door and walks in. “Hey,” she greets, albeit a little slowly as all gazes turn to her. For some reason, she feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

They all look at her, stone faced and hard eyed, and Isla blinks as she remains rooted on the spot, her gaze flickering to every face. Sarah won’t meet her gaze, instead looking down at her lap or at John B, who sits with pursed lips. When Isla looks to Kie, her sister stands by the wall, arms crossed and a furrow between her brows that creases her forehead. On the recliner, Pope sits forward with his elbows resting on his knees, chin resting atop interlaced fingers, and Cleo is fiddling with her switchblade as she sits on the arm of the chair. JJ isn’t facing her, instead looking out onto the Routledges’ land with arms crossed and every muscle of his body seemingly tense.

Isla’s throat tightens. Something is so very wrong.

In fact, Isla can feel the tension in the room, suffocating. Her pulse kicks up a few notches, the uncertainty of what she walked into filling her with unease.

“Um,” Isla starts, shattering the silence. Something tightens in her stomach, something foreign and indecipherable, as she lets out a short chuckle and tensely jokes, “Who died?”

It’s Kie who responds, a kind of hardness in her eyes that has never been directed towards Isla. “When were you gonna tell us that you’ve been hooking up with Rafe?”

[fisshbones]

Gifts that Obey Me! Characters would get you!

Warnings: not proofread, fluff, lingerie mentioned in Asmo’s (but nothing sexual happens.) Some may be longer than others. Pairings: Mammon, Asmodeus, Belphegor, Thirteen (romantic.) Luke (platonic.) This is written with christmas in mind but no holidays specified.

Note: Does Thirteen not have any Christmas cards??? I couldn’t find any 😔 2nd Note: I plan on doing the rest of the characters but they may come out after after Christmas/end of Yule. I’ll try to release them sooner though!

Mammon:

First and foremost, this man goes all out on gifts for any and every holiday for you. Anything that reminds him of you, things he knows you collect, random obscure artifacts that was probably supposed to be in a museum. Ya’ know just the basics! If there’s one thing I can guarantee that you won’t get for the holidays is a decent wrap job. This man cannot wrap for shit, truth be told it looks like a 5 year old did it… But it’s the thought that counts!

Asmodeus:

Mostly fashion and skincare/beauty. Asmo has your hair and skin type memorized. All the issues you may have beauty/health wise, including allergies. He takes this all into account when deciding what to get you! He compares ingredients, reviews, etc. Asmodeus only wants the best for your health. Also only buys from the most trusted brands. Another thing he likes to buy you is clothes, especially lingerie. If he can’t find clothes that fit your style, size, are favorite fabrics; he’ll just make you a couple of pieces. One of a kind. ♡ Unlike some of his brothers his wrapping skills are on point. He even ties bows on every present, they’re all picture worthy.

Belphegor:

I’m not gonna lie he was definitely too lazy to wrap your gift. So either he just hands it straight to you or had one of his brothers pick up a gift bag for the gift. Belphegor is likely to give you something soft. Sometimes that means blankets, comfy clothes, or a plushie that he definitely didn’t tease you for. This man knows what a soft fabric is too. Whatever he gifts you is gonna be soft as heck or as fluffy as a cloud. Every single thing he buys you is probably gonna be used when you guys cuddle so might as well make it comfortable for him too.

Luke:

Baked goods is his go to. We all know Luke (probably) makes delicious baked goods. He has not so sneakily written down some notes on what your favorite flavour is. Totally had Simeon and/or the other angels help with making the perfect treat for you. You can tell every dessert is hand made with love. (i could go for some chocolate rn.) All of the treats are in cute little boxes or baskets. There’s sometimes also a little card that he made himself saying happy holidays on it. Once he sent a picture with him and Simeon in it.

Thirteen:

Poor Thirteen, busy as ever. Holidays tend to be very busy days for reapers, as many tend to get hurt while celebrating. So she tries to make at least a couple of hours of space for you two to celebrate. If Thirteen is unable to free her schedule completely she’ll gift you a big box of chocolates the day of. (She also definitely steals a lot of your caramel chocolates.) Then on one of the following days she’ll make up her lack of time on a cute little date night between you guys. I can see her taking y’all to an arcade for the date, only to get super competitive when playing against you.

If you enjoyed please like, reblog, and/or reply!

fisshbones©2024 do not repost or translate.

[luvleyshif4]

LOST IN TRANSLATION

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: it’s hard to talk to someone American when you don’t know English….so what happens when you meet an American boy who doesn’t know your language either…now you’re stuck with An unexpected meeting, unspoken words, and a connection that lingers…

Warnings: language barriers, reader is Italian, reader doesn’t know English, reader is a barista, tiny bit of awkwardness, based in Florence, possibly mispronunciation of the Italian language, a bit of anxiety (doesn’t have a lot of serious warnings)

Word count: 1.04k words

Authors note: hey guys!! just so you know, I don’t speak Italian at all so there is a possibility that I might have mispronounced the Italian I used in the story, but I really liked writing this one. I was watching a movie the other day and I kind of got the idea from that. hope y’all like it!!! (I want this to happen to me..)

The café in the middle of Florence was quieter than usual today, and the stillness only made the air feel heavier. You shifted behind the counter, the familiar hum of the coffee machine and the soft clink of cups the only sound filling the space. There was a certain unease growing in the pit of your stomach as you worked.

Today, you were alone, with your friend not coming in for their shift. It wasn’t the first time, but it always made you nervous. You were still new at this job, still figuring out the flow, and not being able to rely on someone else was making it a bit harder than usual.

You sighed quietly, trying to shake off the anxiety. It wasn’t like anyone was going to walk in and make things worse, right?

Then, the bell above the door jingled, and your eyes lifted instinctively.

A man walked in. His presence was undeniable—a tall, buzzed-haired figure with striking blue eyes that seemed to hold a spark of something you couldn’t place. He moved with confidence, his gaze sweeping the room, and when it landed on you, it felt like everything else in the café faded into the background. You weren’t sure why, but something about him made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t felt that way before, and it was a bit unsettling. Still, you tried not to let it show as you greeted him.

“Ciao, benvenuto! Cosa posso offrirti oggi?”(Hello, welcome! What can I offer you today?)

He didn’t immediately respond, and after a brief pause, you noticed the slight furrow of his brow. He was looking at you, but you could see the confusion in his eyes. Slowly, he opened his mouth, and his voice was thick with an accent, “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian…. Do you speak English?”

Your stomach tightened. Of course, you had already guessed he didn’t speak Italian, but hearing it out loud only made the weight of your nerves feel heavier. You quickly nodded, offering a small smile. “Un po’ di inglese,”( a little English,) you said, your voice shaking just a little. “Not much…”

He looked at you for a moment longer, as though deciding whether to press on. Then, he smiled softly. “No problem,” he said in English, though it was clear that even his words came with some difficulty. “Uhhh… Uno cappuccino?”

You nodded quickly, feeling a small sense of relief that the order was something familiar. “Cappuccino,” you said, trying to keep things simple. The rest was up to you, though. You could make the coffee, but the conversation would be a bit more challenging.

As you began preparing the cappuccino, you could feel his gaze on you. It was like a weight on your skin, but not an uncomfortable one. It was as if he was taking in every small movement you made, and your cheeks flushed under the intensity of it. You tried to focus on the task at hand, but the way he looked at you made it hard to concentrate.

When you hold the cappuccino in front of him, your fingers brushed against his as he took it from your hand, you quickly pulled your hand away, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. He seemed to notice and offered you a gentle shy smile.

You glanced up at him, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest. He looked down at the drink, then back at you. “I—uh, I don’t speak Italian very well,” he said again, breaking the silence, “but You….you’re really beautiful…..” he said, his English slow and deliberate, the words lingering in the air.

You blinked, unsure of what he meant.

you didn’t fully understand his words so You tilted your head, unsure how to respond, your nerves coming back tenfold.

He noticed your confusion and chuckled lightly. There was a certain warmth to it, though. He pointed at the small flowerpot sitting on the counter beside you, then back at you, his gaze lingering on your face. “You,” he said, “like this. Beautiful.”

You followed his finger and then looked back at him, finally understanding what he meant. He had compared you to the bright, delicate flowers in the pot, and for some reason, that comparison made your heart race even more. You weren’t sure how to react, but a small shy smile tugged at your lips, and your face flushed redder than before.

“Grazie…”(thank you…) you said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. The simple word felt like the only thing you could say in that moment.

He smiled, his expression softening, and there was something in his eyes and the way he too had a rosy tint to his cheeks that made your heart flutter all over again.

The moment stretched for a beat, before he cleared his throat and reached into his pocket. He handed you the money for the cappuccino, and you quickly took it, your fingers brushing his once more. He took a step back and nodded.

“I should go,” he said, though there was a hesitation in his voice. “Maybe… I’ll see you again….”

You nodded, a quiet smile still lingering on your lips. “Ciao,” you said softly.

“Ciao…” he says as he gave you one last smile, a lingering glance before turning and heading toward the door. The bell above the door jingled again as he stepped out, and you stood there for a moment, heart still racing.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, still trying to make sense of the brief but undeniably impactful interaction. There was something about him, something you couldn’t put into words, that made your day feel like it had changed in an instant.

You glanced at the cappuccino machine for a moment, lost in thought, before you shook yourself out of it. Stop thinking, you told yourself. You’d barely spoken more than a few sentences to him.

But maybe, just maybe, you’d see him again…

Authors note: this is honestly so cute that I feel like writing another part to it, but let me know If yall like it and if I should write another part!!!

[storiesfromafan]

Heart Felt Gifts - Benny x Reader

A/N: so its Christmas Eve for me right now. I have gifts to wrap but I've chosen to write instead 😅

I thought a cute Christmas fic was in order. And in true fashion, this little idea came to me while in the shower lol.

Now I have to wrap presents, before finishing my Mattheo Christmas fic haha.

Warning: fluff, cute nonsense 😅

Words: 1428

You weren’t one for being woken up, but having a strong set of arms wrapping around you, and being pulled against a firm body. Your back to their chest, and you knew exactly who the body was; Benny Cross. The most delicious mix of a moan and a groan came from Benny as he buried his face against the back of your neck. Seems he had just woken up too.

You stretched lightly, placing a hand over one of his arms that held you securely. You might not like being woken up but every time Benny stays over, and wakes up to hold you close, you could definitely wake up like this without an issue. Benny squeezed you once more loosening his hold on you, as he moved his face back.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart" his morning voice pleasantly greeted your ears.

You smiled, turning in his arms so you could face the gorgeous Vandal. “Merry Christmas”. And you pecked his full lips.

Of course Benny moved in, chasing your lips for another kiss – a longer kiss. You playfully fled his advances with a giggle, but eventually gave into him. Tender and lazily Benny kissed your lips, the both of you enjoying this sweet moment. You both laid there, wrapped around the other for some time. Just talking, sharing stories and laughing.

Finally you did get up, putting on your robe and slippers, you told Benny you’d put some coffee on. He made a noise of acknowledgement, and you then slipped out from the room. Reaching the kitchen you moved around getting the coffee brewing, and putting the pot under the machine. When it was ready it began to drip into the pot. You took that time to get two coffee cups, along with milk and sugar.

Benny entered the kitchen just as you’d finished make your cups up. He kissed your cheek before taking the offered cup. You took a cautious sip, savouring the liquid and hoping it would help get you through the day. Benny was doing the same. You then took a hold of his hand, leading him back into the lounge room. Sitting on the couch together, you put down your coffee and sat back, getting comfy up against Benny’s side as he put an arm around you.

You put on the TV, finding something Christmassy to watch, though it was more background noise. As Benny seemed to just enjoy having you close. His hand would graze up and down your arm, the pads of his fingers lightly brushing against your skin. He’d kiss your cheek or neck, just for the fun of it. Another perfect moment.

“This is the perfect morning" you sighed, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I got ya a little something".

With that you slipped out of Benny's strong arms and moved to your small tree nearby. Picking up a small red box with green tartan ribbon. Joining Benny back on the couch, you sat with your legs under you and offered him the gift. Looking at the gift, to you and then back to the box, he was speechless. You moved the box a little closer to him, saying it’s his.

Cautiously Benny took the offered gift in his hand. He felt the weight and it wasn’t that heavy. Bringing it to his lap, Benny continued to look at your gift. All the while you watched him. And after a few minutes you began to think a gift wasn’t a good idea, as he didn’t seem excited about it.

“I-it’s alright if ya don’t want to open it now, maybe later" you stated moving your legs out from under you and taking a sip of your cooling coffee.

Benny looked to you, hearing how your voice had changed. As well as seeing how deflated you were. Sitting up quickly, he grasped your gift in both hands. “I’m gonna open it now, baby”.

He pulled one of the ends of the bow, it came undone without a fuss. Removing the ribbon and lid, Benny was greeted to white tissue paper. Moving it out of the way what greeted him surprised Benny. There in the delicate white paper was a new pair of leather riding gloves. Reaching out, Benny ran his finger tips over the cool material. A small smile working its way onto his face. A thoughtful gift, from his thought girl.

You watched with baited breath when he had said he would open it. You were nervous, not knowing if he would like the gloves. As you’d seen his well-worn ones every time you rode with him, and thought it might be time for a new pair. You released the breath you’d been holding when you saw that smile on his face.

He likes it, thank God!

Turning to you, Benny leant in for a big kiss. “Thanks sweetheart. I love ‘em".

You giggled and smiled, heart light and absolutely over the moon. “I am so glad! I was nervous you wouldn’t like them...”

Pulling you in for a hug and another kiss. Benny whispered how much he loved them. And how sweet, caring and thoughtful you were. I don’t know how I ended up with you he had commented, just adding to your joy. Glad to hear him being so vocal. But then, while tucked in his arms, Benny seemed to freeze. Like he was suddenly unsure about something. Then it hit you, maybe Benny hadn’t gotten you anything. And that was fine, you didn’t expect a gift after a month of being together. When it came to your gift, it was just a spur of the moment thing when you saw them.

“It’s alright if you didn’t get me anything” you said suddenly. “I didn’t expect anything, really. Just happy to be with ya right now". And you gave him a big, bright smile to show him you weren’t upset.

Benny shook his head. “Nuh...I got ya somethin’...”

He then put the box down on the floor and headed over to his jacket, which was hanging by the door. From his pocket Benny seemed to retrieve something. You noted it couldn’t have been a big gift, not that you were expecting a large gift. Whatever he gives you, you would appreciate it. As it was from him. That he had thought of you when he picked it out.

Falling back down next to you, Benny hesitated before holding out a tiny box. It was green and had no bow, which meant he hadn’t shopped anywhere fancy. Taking the tiny box in your hand, you looked to Benny once more, who seemed to be shy and embarrassed. But why? What was in this box that had him acting like this. Surely it couldn’t be a curtain kind of ring, right?

With that thought in mind, nervously you opened the box with a shaky hand. Upon seeing the contents you sighed, relieved to not see an engagement ring. But what lay in there confused you. Between your finger and thumb, you picked up the contents and held it up while looking to Benny. He had gifted you a men’s ring, like one of the ones he wore.

“Ah, I know it’s the thought that counts...but” – you tried it on your pointer finger, which was your thicker finger, and it was still too big – “this ring is too big, and is a man’s ring...”

Benny chuckled. “I know, baby" he removed the ring from your finger. “It’s mine". He flashed the finger it had previously sat on.

Now you were even more confused. But then Benny moved his hand to the box you still held, pulling out a silver chain that you hadn’t seen. He then proceeded to undo the clasp, slipping the ring on the chain and then leant around you to clasp it behind your neck. It fell down under your collar bone, resting there like it had always been there.

“I’d gotten the chain so ya could wear my ring around your neck" he stated, looking at the ring before back to your eyes. “My girl should have somethin' of mine to wear, right?”

When Benny’s words washed over you, your brain registering what he’d said, the brightest smile crossed your face. Eyes lighting up with joy. You launched yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck while you crawled into his lap. You showered him with kisses, making Benny laugh. Being – officially – Benny’s girl was the best Christmas present you could get. And you had his ring to prove it to anyone who wouldn't believe you.

[cailinsblog]

A Christmas to Remember | lando norris

Lando Norris x reader

Guyssss it’s almost Christmas

The cold winter air bit at Lando Norris’s face as he stood outside his apartment, looking out over the twinkling lights of the city. It was Christmas Eve, and the usual hustle and bustle of Formula 1 had quieted down for the season. For the first time in what felt like forever, Lando had time to truly relax, and he was about to spend it with the one person who always made him feel at home — his girlfriend, Y/N.

Lando had been counting down the days, excited not only for the Christmas festivities but also for the surprise he had planned for her. After months of searching for the perfect gift, he had finally found something that he knew would make her heart melt — a puppy. But this wasn’t just any puppy; it was a fluffy, playful Golden Retriever, with soft fur and eyes full of curiosity. Lando could already imagine the look of joy on Y/N’s face when she saw it, and that was all the motivation he needed.

As he unlocked the door to his apartment, he stepped inside, where he was greeted by the warm glow of Christmas decorations. The room was filled with the sweet smell of cinnamon and pine from the candles he had lit, and there was a large, beautifully decorated tree in the corner. Underneath it, a pile of carefully wrapped presents sat, some of which Lando had already picked out for Y/N. But there was one more — the one he was most excited about — sitting on the table, waiting for the perfect moment.

Y/N was in the kitchen, humming as she prepared their dinner. She looked up when she heard the door open, a smile spreading across her face as she caught sight of Lando.

“There you are!” she said, wiping her hands on a towel and walking toward him. “I was starting to think you’d be late for our Christmas dinner.”

Lando chuckled, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, love. You’ve got everything set up so beautifully.”

Y/N blushed slightly, her eyes lighting up with happiness. “Well, you know, I wanted to make it extra special for us. It’s our first Christmas together.”

Lando’s heart swelled at her words. He’d spent so much of his life on the road, traveling from race to race, that he often forgot the simple joys of life. But with Y/N by his side, he was reminded every day of how much he had to be grateful for.

They sat down for dinner, chatting about everything and nothing as they shared their favorite holiday foods. The sound of Christmas music played softly in the background, and for a while, it felt like time had slowed down, just for them.

After dinner, Lando couldn’t contain his excitement any longer. “I’ve got something for you,” he said, standing up and walking toward the table where the puppy’s gift was hidden.

Y/N tilted her head, intrigued. “What is it?”

Lando pulled out a small, plush puppy and handed it to her. “I know it’s not much, but I thought you might like it.”

Y/N looked at the little stuffed animal, a soft smile crossing her face. “Oh, Lando, it’s so cute! Thank you!”

But before she could say anything else, Lando went to the door and opened it slightly, peeking inside. “Actually, that’s not the only surprise I have for you.”

A moment later, the real surprise entered the room: a playful, golden retriever puppy, bounding through the door with its tail wagging and ears perked up.

Y/N gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in shock. “Lando… is this…?”

“It’s ours,” Lando said, his voice full of excitement. “I thought it was time for us to have a little bundle of joy. What do you think?”

Tears sprang to Y/N’s eyes as she bent down to scoop the puppy into her arms. The little dog licked her face, its tail wagging furiously as Y/N giggled with pure joy. “Oh my God, Lando, you are the sweetest person in the world,” she whispered, cradling the puppy close.

“I’m glad you like him,” Lando said, his heart bursting with happiness. “What should we name him?”

Y/N looked down at the puppy, her mind racing with ideas. “I think… we should name him ‘Charlie,’” she said, her eyes lighting up. “It feels right.”

Lando nodded. “Charlie it is. Welcome to the family, little guy.” He leaned down to give Y/N and the puppy a kiss on the cheek, feeling like the luckiest man alive.

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter and love, the couple spending time with their new furry friend as they exchanged stories, gifts, and holiday wishes. As the clock struck midnight, signaling the arrival of Christmas Day, Y/N stood up and handed Lando a carefully wrapped box.

“Your turn,” she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Lando smiled as he took the box from her, carefully unwrapping it to reveal a custom helmet. It was a work of art — a helmet painted with intricate details, featuring his McLaren team colors, and the faces of his closest friends and family, including Y/N and himself. On one side of the helmet, there was a small but detailed image of the two of them together, holding hands, with the puppy sitting beside them.

Lando was speechless, staring at the helmet in awe. “Y/N… this is amazing. How did you—?”

“I had it commissioned,” she said, her smile widening. “I wanted you to have something that would remind you of home every time you get in the car. And no matter how far you go, you’ll always have us with you.”

Lando’s eyes softened as he gently placed the helmet on the table. “I… I don’t know what to say. This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

Y/N blushed, a shy smile curling on her lips. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” he said, pulling her close. “You’ve made this Christmas unforgettable.”

With Charlie nestled between them, Lando and Y/N spent the rest of the night by the fire, exchanging stories and dreams for the future. They had both given each other the perfect gifts — one that symbolized the promise of a new beginning, and the other that was a reminder of the love and family they had already built.

As the fire crackled and the lights on the tree twinkled softly in the background, Lando couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of peace. Christmas was no longer about the races, the fame, or the fast cars. It was about moments like this — quiet, intimate, full of love.

And in that moment, Lando knew that no matter where the road took him, he would always have Y/N and Charlie by his side. Christmas had never felt more complete.

[morningsharksworld]

sorry if this is too freaky!! feel free to delete 🫶

your hazard stuff is keeping me well FED 🙏 any thoughts on him with someone who has a very high sex drive? could he keep up? 👀 or is he tapping out early?

absolutely looove ur stuff n need to know if you’d ever write for my handsome man doomfist

A/N: I wrote this at like 2am so i heavily apologize if I sound a lil crazy at the end but I’m making hazard a switch any chance I get, I HOPE YOU ENJOY (also I have 2 fics planned for doomfist SO DONT YOU WORRY)

Hazard strikes me as someone who would have a lot of initial bravado and confidence, making it seem like he could handle anything thrown at him. He’d probably match the energy for a while, fueled by his charm and natural boldness, he would mostly last 2-3 rounds. However, if the pace is relentless, I could see him eventually reaching his limit—not that he'd ever admit it outright.

Instead, he might try to pace things out or shift the dynamic with humor or teasing to keep things interesting without burning out. He’s resourceful, after all, and likely wouldn't mind finding creative ways to satisfy his partner while sneaking in some recovery time.

If Hazard bottoms out early, it could be a bit of fun. Picture him swaggering in with all the confidence in the world, only to realize halfway through that he's way out of his league. His bravado crumbles hilariously as he taps out.

He’d probably own his limits in his own cheeky way—playfully blaming you for being “too much” or dramatically flopping back as if utterly vanquished, muttering something like, “Guess ye’ve got me beat, aye?” It’s a clever attempt to shift the attention, but you know better. His cocky smirk and little quips are all part of his charm, but leaving Hazard untouched after tapping out? Oh, not a chance.

Of course, Hazard can’t keep his mouth shut, even when he’s down for the count. He throws out a few bratty remarks, trying to needle you just enough to get a reaction. Maybe something like, “Is that it, then? I thought ye had more fight in ye, Love!” A bold move for someone who’s already teetering on the edge, and it’s clear he has no idea what he’s just unleashed.

The moment you decide to teach him a lesson, his fate is sealed. You push him past his limits, overstimulating him until every smart-ass comment has dissolved into desperate pleas. He’s squirming, whining, his earlier confidence shattered as he begs for mercy. “Ah, nae more, please! I cannae—” But you don’t let up, determined to show him exactly what happens when he tries to play coy with you.

Before he knows it, he’s trembling beneath you, flushed and wrecked, until, with no warning, he utterly falls apart—making a mess of himself in the process. His breath comes in sharp gasps as he lays there, dazed and overwhelmed, the realization hitting him that he’s in way over his head.

Maybe, just maybe, this will teach him a thing or two about lasting longer. But then again, this is Hazard we’re talking about—he’s bound to try his luck again, especially if he knows it gets this kind of reaction out of you. :]