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itneverendshere · 5 months ago

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ex!reader who loves the game and wants to support her team but hockey captain!rafe is on the ice. he thinks she’s there for him but when she comes in with a date? and when they get put on the kiss cam? rafe slams into the glass to scare them? hate sex????

someone who lets you break them twice - hockey!toxic!rafe x ex!reader (+18)

warnings: veryyy long and 99% smut🙂‍↕️ the things i do for you...

The cold air inside the rink always made your skin tingle. Your breath curled in front of you like smoke as you moved uncomfortably on the bleachers, pulling your jacket tighter around you. This is why you hated fall. It was too cold to be outside, too early to be winter. But tonight wasn’t about the weather—it was about hockey.

Hockey and, well, the fact that you hadn’t missed a game since… well, since Rafe and you broke up.

“Everything okay?” The voice beside you pulled you back to reality.

Elijah, the guy you’d been seeing for the past couple of weeks, smiled at you, oblivious to the bullshit taking over your mind, and you gave him your best smile back.

“Yeah, just cold,” you said, trying to focus. You weren’t here for Rafe, not anymore. You loved hockey. You loved watching the boys skate across the ice, their power and grace.

Or at least that was what you kept telling yourself.

Elijah wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and you leaned in, feeling his warmth. The game was just about to start, and the arena lights dimmed slightly, casting shadows over the rink. The roar of the crowd drowned your thoughts for a moment as the players took the ice.

And then, as if the universe was personally trying to screw with you, you saw him.

Rafe.

Of course, he looked good.

God, why did he always have to look so fucking good? His broad shoulders filling out his number 17 jersey, that stupid confident smirk as he skated out with the rest of the team. His dark blonde hair peeked out from under his helmet He was captain this year, and it made sense—he’d been working his ass off since…ever. You couldn’t think of anyone more deserving than him.

He always had to be in charge, on and off the ice.

He still had that same cocky swagger that made you wanna scream… for entirely different reasons now.

You knew better than to be here, yet somehow you ended up courtside anyway. Probably because you’d never let him run you out of your favorite game. Not even if he was captain now. This was your team, the one you’d been coming to see since before Rafe even knew what a slapshot was.

You sank further into Elijah’s side, forcing your eyes away from your ex. But it wasn’t until you caught the dark blue of the jersey you were wearing in the corner of your eye that you realized… You’d put on Rafe’s jersey.

His number. The one you’d always worn to support him when you were together. Out of all the team merch you owned, of course you had to wear his.

“You really like hockey a lot, huh?” Elijah asked, glancing down at your jersey.

“Yeah,” You mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’ve been following the team for a while.”

Lies. You loved hockey, sure. But you loved Rafe a little more. Or, you used to. Or, well, maybe that was still complicated.

The puck dropped, and the game started. For a while, you tried to focus on the action. Rafe was all over the ice, playing like the goddamn superstar he thought he was. You couldn’t help but notice how his gaze kept darting up toward the stands, like he knew you were there. And maybe he did

Halfway through the second period, he slammed into an opposing player, sending him crashing into the boards. The sound echoed through the arena, and the crowd went wild, but you could feel your stomach knotting up. That had always been Rafe—intense, aggressive, unable to hold back. On the ice or off.

You tried to focus on Elijah, laughing at something he was saying, but your heart wasn’t in it. And then, just when you thought you’d survived the worst of it, the kiss cam flashed up on the big screen. Your laughter died in your throat as you realized what was happening, your face heating up instantly. You weren’t exactly embarrassed, but this was... awkward.

“Aw, how cute,” He said, grinning as he pointed to the screen.

You followed his gaze, heart dropping. They were zooming in on the two of you. You could feel the crowd around you start to cheer and whistle as Elijah leaned in closer, clearly getting ready to kiss you.

You could see him coming toward you, could see his lips getting closer, but all you could think about was—

Bang!

In the span of a second, a body slammed into the boards right in front you, the sound so loud it made you jump. The entire section gasped, and you turned your head just in time to see Rafe standing there, glaring up at you from behind the glass. His eyes were locked on you, jaw clenched.

He looked like he was ready to tear Elijah apart, or you, or both of you. His chest was heaving, eyes blazing, standing mere inches away from where you sat. He had skated right into the glass.

Your heart was practically in your throat, and it wasn't from Elijah being close. The look on Rafe’s face as he stood on the other side of the glass?

That was what had your pulse racing. You could barely focus on Elijah anymore. The way he laughed, oblivious, made your stomach churn because Rafe—Rafe—was staring like he owned you. He always had this way of making you feel like no matter what, no matter who else was around, you were his.

And you hated that you still kind of liked it.

Then, still staring at you, he mouthed the words, "I dare you."

Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

Those stupid words. Silently mouthed, but somehow loud enough to hit you like a punch through the glass. I dare you. God, what was wrong with him? He knew exactly how to push your buttons. And of course, it was working. He wasn’t just playing hockey—he was playing with you.

You could feel Elijah shifting next to you, still oblivious to the whole freaking drama unfolding right in front of him.

He was so sweet, too sweet, and it was almost infuriating right now because Rafe was standing there, with his stupid intense eyes, all but daring you to move on. Why did he have to look at you like that—like he knew you were still his.

The breakup had been brutal, the kind of messy, loud explosion where neither of you were willing to be the first to walk away. You were both too stubborn, too prideful. And now here you were, months later, still dealing with the fallout.

Elijah finally leaned in, lips brushing yours, and you kissed him, but your heart wasn’t in it. All you could feel was Rafe’s stare burning into you. The kiss cam lingered for a few seconds, and the crowd cheered, but all you felt was... empty.

When the kiss ended, you forced a smile at Elijah, but your mind was a mess. Rafe’s eyes were still on you, and you could practically feel anger radiating off him, even through the thick glass.

You glanced down, avoiding his gaze, and tugged at the hem of his old jersey, suddenly feeling like you didn’t belong in it anymore. You leaned into Elijah, mostly out of spite at this point. You could practically hear Rafe’s teeth grinding from across the glass. Good. If he thought he could just walk around, acting like he owned the place—and you—then he deserved to stew in it a little.

But, of course, he wasn’t the kind of guy to just let something like that go. You watched as he skated back into play, but his eyes kept flicking up to where you sat, like he couldn’t stop checking to make sure you were still there. Still with Elijah. His shoulders were tense, movements a little too aggressive, like he was about to snap.

You tried to focus on the game again, but your mind kept drifting back to him. You hated this. You hated that he could still make you feel this way, even now, after everything.

After the fights, after the breakup, after swearing you were over him. Why was it so hard to let him go?

The third period started, and Rafe was everywhere, throwing his weight around like he had something to prove. And maybe he did. Every hit was harder, every pass sharper. It was like he was playing angry. And you couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied, knowing you’d gotten under his skin.

But then, with less than five minutes left in the game, things escalated. He slammed into one of the opposing players so hard that the guy went down, and the whistle blew immediately. The crowd was roaring, but Rafe didn’t back off. He stood over the guy, glaring down at him like he was ready to throw a punch.

"Jesus," Elijah muttered beside you. "What the hell’s his problem?"

You didn’t answer. You knew exactly what his problem was.

The ref skated over, shouting something at Rafe, but his eyes weren’t on the ref. They were still on you, even as the other guy on the ice slowly got back to his feet. The arena was buzzing, the crowd getting rowdy, and for a second, you thought Rafe was going to lose it right there. His fists clenched, jaw set—he looked like he was ready to drop gloves and start swinging.

And then he smirked.

It was that same cocky smirk you knew so well, the one he always flashed right before doing something reckless. The ref sent him to the penalty box, and he skated off, still with that fucking look plastered on his face. Your heart was racing, your body tense. Elijah had leaned back in his seat, totally unaware about everything.

“Man, that guy’s intense,” Elijah said, shaking his head, eyes still on the ice.

You didn’t answer. Intense didn’t even begin to cover it.

Rafe was sitting in the penalty box now, helmet off, running a hand through his hair like he didn’t just about murder a guy on the ice. You could feel his eyes on you, even from all the way across the rink. You hated it. You hated that he could still get to you like this.

The last few minutes of the game passed in an instant. You weren’t really paying attention anymore, not to the score, not to the plays. You were too busy trying not to think about Rafe, about the way he had looked at you. About the way it had made you feel.

When the final buzzer sounded, the crowd erupted in cheers. Elijah stood up, stretching, turning to you with a smile.

“Ready to head out?” he asked.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As you made your way toward the exit, weaving through the crowd, you could feel the tension building in your chest. It wasn’t over. It never really was with Rafe.

And you knew—somehow—you weren’t getting out of here without seeing him again.

You reached the bottom of the stands, where a crowd had gathered near the exit. Elijah was still chatting about the game, still clueless. But you were distracted, scanning the crowd without even realizing it.

And then you saw him. Of course, you did.

Rafe was leaning against the wall, still in his gear, helmet tucked under his arm. His eyes locked on yours the second you stepped into his line of sight. He didn’t even pretend to care about the people around him—his gaze was dark, intense, like a predator waiting for its moment.

You hated how your heart skipped.

Elijah noticed you freeze and followed your gaze, his smile faltering when he saw Rafe standing there.

"Isn’t that the captain guy?" he asked, glancing between you and Rafe, confused.

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet to keep moving. “Yeah. That’s him.”

As you passed by, Rafe pushed off the wall, stepping right into your path. Elijah, sweet, unsuspecting Elijah, paused beside you.

"Leaving already?" Rafe’s voice was low, casual, but his eyes were locked on yours, ignoring Elijah completely. "Didn’t even stick around to congratulate the team?"

You clenched your jaw, fighting to keep your cool. "It’s late, Rafe. We’re heading out."

But he wasn’t letting you off that easy. He took a step closer, his towering frame making Elijah shift uncomfortably. "You didn’t used to leave so soon," he said, voice dripping with that familiar cockiness. "Used to be the last one out."

Because you’d always let him fuck you in the locker room.

Elijah cleared his throat, trying to stand his ground. "Uh, yeah, we’ve got plans after this."

Rafe’s eyes flicked to him for the briefest second, before landing back on you.

"Plans, huh?"

Your pulse was hammering, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. Why did he always have to do this—why couldn’t he just let you go?

“Rafe, we’re done,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to hold on to the last shred of your composure. “You don’t get to pull this shit anymore.”

He glanced at Elijah briefly, his gaze cold and dismissive, then back at you. “You sure about that?” he asked, “Because it doesn’t look like it.”

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms as you tried to calm yourself. You didn’t need this right now. Not with Elijah here. Not after everything.

“Let’s go Elijah,” you said, tugging at Elijah’s arm, desperate to get out of there before things escalated. But Rafe wasn’t having it.

He stepped in front of you again, blocking your path like he had some kind of claim on you. And God, the worst part was—you weren’t sure he was wrong.

You glanced at Elijah, who was staring at the two of you like he had walked into the middle of a conversation he couldn’t quite follow. “Look, dude,” he started, awkwardly laughing, “I don’t know what this is, but—”

“It’s nothing,” you cut him off quickly, your voice tight. “Let’s just go.”

But Rafe wasn’t about to let it go.

“Yeah, Elijah,” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “It’s nothing.” His eyes flicked to you, dark and daring, and before you could stop yourself, you met his gaze with the same fire.

Elijah’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, frowning.

“Shit,” he muttered, distracted. “I’ve gotta take this call real quick. Give me a sec?” He stepped away, leaving you and Rafe standing there in the middle of the hallway, your body practically vibrating.

He was on you in an instant, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the locker room door.

“Rafe, what the fuck—” you hissed, but he wasn’t letting go.

You tried to resist, but something inside you broke down—the anger, the unresolved pull between you two. And maybe it was the way he still had that stupid hold on you, the way your body responded when you shouldn’t want it to.

Or maybe it was the fact that you’d never fully closed the door on Rafe.

He shoved the door open, pulling you inside the dimly lit hallway that led to the locker room. The second the door closed, you spun around, shoving him in the chest hard.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Rafe barely flinched, his gaze smoldering as he crowded you against the wall.

“Yeah? You didn’t seem to think so when you were wearing my jersey tonight.”

“That was an accident.”

“Bullshit,” he growled, leaning in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Bringing a date with you. Do you want me to kill someone?"

Your heart was pounding, and not just because Rafe had you pinned against the wall like he always fucking did— God, why did he have to be so damn close? The scent of his cologne mixed with the sweat from the game, sending your mind spiraling. He was overwhelming, and you hated it. You hated him for still making you feel like this.

“Get off me,” you snapped, but it came out weaker than you intended. The way his blue eyes were boring into yours, like he could see through all your bullshit, wasn’t helping.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it grew.

“C’mon, baby, don’t act like this wasn’t what you wanted. You show up, wearin’ my number, sitting there with some random guy like I don’t still own you.”

He stepped closer, caging you in completely. You pressed your hands against his chest, but it wasn’t like you were really pushing him away. And he knew it.

“You don’t own shit,” you spat, glaring up at him. But even as the words left your mouth, you knew you didn’t believe them. The truth was, part of you had always been his.

Rafe’s lips curved into a smug grin as if he could read every thought running through your head.

“Really? ’Cause from where I’m standin’, you’ve been thinkin’ about me all night.” His breath was hot on your skin, and you hated how much you wanted to close the distance between you.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to muster the strength to tell him to fuck off, to leave you alone, but he was right. As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, he was still in your head, under your skin. The way his body hovered over yours—it was like nothing had changed. Like you hadn’t spent the last few months trying to forget him.

His hand found your hip, fingers pressing into your skin through your jeans, and you felt your body betray you. You cursed yourself silently as heat pooled low in your stomach. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, didn’t want him to know how much power he still had. But damn it, he knew. He always fucking knew.

“I hate you,” you muttered. It was a weak defense, and you both knew it.

Rafe leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “Yeah?” His voice was a low rasp that made your knees weak. “Funny, you never sound like you hate me when you’re under me.”

Your breath hitched, and you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

“Don’t—”

But he was already kissing you, hard and rough like he owned you, like you were his and his alone.

And the worst part? You kissed him back. His hands were on you, grabbing at your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. You wanted to shove him away, to slap that stupid look off his face—but your body had other plans.

This was so wrong, on so many levels.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, but Rafe didn’t back off. He was staring down at you like you were his next meal, like he’d been starving without you.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you bit out, trying to cling to some sense of control.

Rafe’s grin widened, wicked and knowing. He leaned in again, lips ghosting over yours. “We both know that's a lie.”

You clenched your fists, frustrated beyond belief. Frustrated at him, at yourself, at how easy it was for him to pull you right back in.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, but the breathless tone in your voice told a different story.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly sexy way he always did.

“Oh, you will.”

And God help you—you knew he was right. That fucking arrogance. It crawled under your skin, set your blood on fire in ways it shouldn’t.

You wanted to punch him, shove him, do something to wipe that smug expression off his face. But instead, you grabbed his shirt, pulling him back toward you, kissing him with all the fury you felt.

His lips crushed against yours, and it wasn’t gentle—there was nothing soft or sweet about this. It was all heat and frustration, months of unresolved anger bursting out in one chaotic, messy kiss.

His tongue slipped past your lips, and you bit down, hard, just to remind him you weren’t going to make this easy. He groaned, low and rough, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark. "You always did like it rough."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you yanked him down, kissing him like you needed to get all of this out of your system. His hands roamed your body, possessive, rough, and you hated how much you craved him, like you were still his.

You weren’t his. You couldn’t be.

But every heated breath you took, every desperate movement your body made, was telling you otherwise.

When his lips moved down your neck, teeth grazing your skin, you gasped, tilting your head back as your resolve crumbled to pieces. He knew exactly what to do, how to make you fall apart, and it pissed you off that he still had that power.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with ease, pressing you harder against the wall. Your breath hitched, the cold tile behind you making you gasp. His mouth was on you, hot and demanding, and for a moment, it was like nothing else mattered.

Not Elijah, not the fact that this was so damn wrong, not the months of hurt and anger you’d been holding onto.

There was only Rafe. The way he touched you, the way he kissed you like he was trying to stake his claim all over again. Like you hadn’t been apart at all.

"Tell me you don’t want this," Rafe muttered against your lips.

You bit down on your lip, trying to stop the words from spilling out. You did want this. You hated that you did, but fuck, you couldn’t lie—not to him, not to yourself.

“I—” You choked on the words, eyes meeting his, and for a split second, you thought maybe you’d find some kind of resolve, some way to pull yourself back from him.

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his mouth capturing yours again in a kiss so raw, it was borderline filthy. And that was it. Your last piece of control vanished, and you were lost in him all over again.

“Fuck,” you gasped, head spinning as his hands explored your body like he had every right to. Like you hadn’t spent months trying to break free of him.

Rafe pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, breathless and flushed. “Yeah, baby. That's what I thought."

His hands gripped your ass hard enough to leave bruises, you let out a frustrated, muffled groan, your fingers still tangled in his hair. It was a lot longer than the last time you’d seen him.

You could feel every inch of his muscle through the thin fabric of your shirt. It was suffocating in the best way, and you hated yourself for how much you wanted it.

How much you wanted him.

“You’re such an ass,” you gasped between kisses, your breath hitching when his mouth moved down to your neck. You felt him grin against your skin, the bastard.

“You say that like it’s supposed to stop you.” His voice was rough, low in your ear, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “But I don’t think it is.”

You were about to fire back, but his hands slid under your shirt, fingers grazing your skin, and whatever you were going to say was swallowed by the heat rushing through you. You hated that he still knew exactly how to get to you—how to pull you apart and leave you helpless against him.

“Rafe, this—” Your words were cut off when he bit down gently on your collarbone, sending a shockwave through your body. You clutched at his shirt.

“This what?” he taunted, pulling back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes intense. “This a mistake? Because I don’t think that’s what your body’s saying.”

You just glared up at him, trying to catch your breath. You hated that he was right. Again.

Always.

“I told you,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky, “this doesn’t mean anything.”

Rafe’s grip on you tightened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Your heart was racing, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin. There was no denying it—you were here, and you weren’t leaving. Not yet.

Maybe not for a while.

And Rafe knew it.

His hands moved lower, fingers grazing the waistband of your jeans, and your breath hitched. This was dangerous territory. You knew that.

“Last chance,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. “You want me to stop?”

You should’ve said yes. You should’ve shoved him away and walked out of there with what little dignity you had left. But instead, you kissed him again—harder this time, angrier, like you needed to prove something to yourself. And maybe you did.

He yanked your shirt over your head in one rough motion, and you weren’t gentle either, tugging at his jersey until it was off and tossed aside. His hands were everywhere—on your back, in your hair, slipping under the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down with the same reckless urgency you’d been feeling since you laid eyes on him tonight.

“I hate you,” you whispered as your nails dragged down his chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

Rafe just laughed, “No, you don’t,” he growled, his hands grabbing your hips as he settled you onto one of the locker room benches. “But keep telling yourself that.”

Your jeans hit the floor, and he wasted no time, his hands gripping your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs, pressing you down on the bench, his body heavy against yours.

Everything was messy, and rushed, like neither of you could get enough. Like you were trying to erase the months of distance, of frustration, in the way you kissed him back, bit his lip, tugged at his hair.

You hated how much you needed this.

“Still think this doesn’t mean anything?” Rafe rasped, his voice hoarse as he pressed his forehead against yours, breathless and wild.

You could barely think, let alone speak, but somehow, you managed to gasp out, “Positive.”

Rafe’s mouth moved down your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks you knew would still be there tomorrow. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

It was wrong, it was toxic, but fuck—there was something about the way he touched you. And body, traitorous and weak, responded like it always had.

You were furious with yourself, with him, with everything, but the anger only made it all hotter, more intense.

His fingers brushed against the seam of your panties, teasing, barely touching you, but doing enough to have you drenched.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, almost amused, slipping one finger under the fabric to run along your folds, barely dipping inside before pulling back out, "Was this all for Elijah?"

Sonofabitch.

“Stop talking,” you spat, but your voice was shaky, showing him the way you were falling apart under his touch. Rafe chuckled low in his throat, his finger moving back, this time slipping inside you, deep and slow.

You gasped, your head falling back as he began moving his finger, curling it inside you in just the right way. Your body responded immediately, hips jerking against him, desperate for more, but he took his time. He added another finger, stretching you out as his thumb rubbed slow circles over your clit, making your legs tremble beneath him.

He sped up, his fingers thrusting deeper, faster, hitting that spot inside you that made your mind go blank. “You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you? All those nights pretending you don’t think about me, but look at you now.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, legs shaking as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, his fingers driving you closer and closer to the orgasm you so desperately needed.

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you. “Tell me how bad you need this.”

“Rafe—” you gasped, your hips bucking wildly against his hand. The tension inside you was coiled so tightly, so close to snapping. You hated him, hated yourself, but the words slipped out anyway. “I need it.”

He groaned, pleased, and that was all it took. He thrust his fingers harder, faster, until your body gave in completely. You hadn’t had a proper orgasm in months. Nothing could get you off properly. Your walls clenched around his fingers the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your nails leaving half-moon marks in his skin as you trembled beneath him, lost in the sensation.

But he didn’t stop. He slowed down just enough to draw out every last bit of pleasure, his fingers still moving inside you as you rode out the aftershocks. When you finally caught your breath, he pulled his fingers out, his hand moving to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

He shoved his pants down, not bothering to take them off completely, just enough to free himself. Your breath hitched when you felt him against you—hard, hot, and ready—and every rational thought you had left disappeared in that moment. He lined himself up, teasing you just enough to drive you crazy.

Before you could respond, he pushed into you in one hard, deliberate thrust. Your gasp turned into a low, breathless moan as your back arched, your hands gripping his shoulders for something to hold on to. The sensation of him stretching you, filling you, was overwhelming, almost too much, but exactly what you needed.

Rafe didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled back and slammed into you again, setting a punishing rhythm that left you breathless, gasping for air.

There was nothing gentle about it, nothing tender.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he fucked you like he was trying to remind you who you belonged to.

And you hated how good it felt.

“You’re mine,” Rafe growled, his voice rough as he thrust into you, each movement deep and brutal.“Doesn’t matter who you’re with, doesn’t matter how much you try to deny it—you’ll always come back to me.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, but your body was betraying you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about this every night since we ended.”

You couldn’t.

The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue, but instead, a moan escaped your lips as he hit that perfect spot inside you. Your body arched against his, and you cursed yourself for being so weak.

“Fuck,” you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure built, every nerve in your body on fire.

“That’s what I thought,” Rafe growled, his pace quickening, the force of his thrusts making the bench creak beneath you.

The sound of the bench, the way his body pressed into yours so perfectly, the heat of his breath against your neck—it all made it impossible to think straight. You should have been disgusted with yourself for letting it get this far, for letting him have this kind of control over you.

“I fucking hate you,” you managed to gasp out between breaths.

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah? Then why do you sound like that, huh?” His voice was taunting, filled with the arrogance you hated, “This pussy still mine, huh?”

You loved the way he grabbed you like you were his, even though you’d sworn, sworn, you were done with him.

You were still in love, weren’t you? Even after all the shit, all the screaming matches, the nights spent crying because of him. That was the part that pissed you off the most.

Before you knew, his hands were flipping you over so fast your knees hit the bench before you could react.

“Rafe—mmh,” you gasped, but your words died in your throat when he shoved you forward, pressing your chest flat against the cold wood of the bench. You barely had a second to brace yourself before his hands were gripping your ass, spreading you open for him.

He didn’t give you time to catch your breath. He was already dragging the head of his cock through your wetness, teasing, knowing how much you wanted it, even if you wouldn’t say it.

You squirmed, hating how desperate you felt, hating how your body responded to him like this. “Fuck, Rafe, stop teasing—”

“You want more?” he cut you off, voice dark and dripping with arrogance. He slapped your ass, just enough to sting, and you yelped, your back arching instinctively. “You’re gonna have to beg for it.”

"Like hell," you spat back.

He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth right by your ear.

“You can act tough all you want, but I know how much you want this,” he gritted out, his cock sliding against your folds again, torturously slow. “I know how much you need it.”

Before you could snap back, he thrust into you hard, filling you completely in one brutal stroke. You cried out, hands gripping the edges of the bench, and Rafe didn’t even give you a second to adjust. He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, faster this time, deeper.

The angle had you seeing stars. The bench was narrow, forcing your legs closer together, making everything tighter, more intense. You couldn’t stop the way your body responded to him, hips moving back to meet his thrusts even though your mind was screaming at you to get a grip.

His hands gripped the fat of your ass, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small room, mixing with your moans and his ragged breathing.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Rafe groaned, his voice low and rough as he thrust into you, each movement hitting that perfect spot inside you, making your legs tremble. “So fucking tight for me.”

He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that had you on the edge in seconds. You couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from your throat, your hips bucking wildly against him as the pleasure built, higher and higher until you felt like you might break apart.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He rasped, his voice thick with lust. “I can feel it. Fuck.”

You tried to hold on, tried to keep some control, but it was useless. He knew exactly how to break you.

“I’m gonna come,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whimper as you felt the pleasure rising fast, threatening to consume you.

“Do it,” Rafe growled, his fingers rubbing harder, faster. “Come for me, baby.”

And you did.

Your orgasm crashed over you so hard your vision blurred, your body shaking as the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your walls clenching around him, and Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he fucked you through it, relentless, brutal, until your entire body was trembling.

But he wasn’t done.

He pulled out suddenly, and before you could catch your breath, he yanked you up, turning you around. You barely had time to register what was happening before he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cold locker. His cock was back inside you in seconds, filling you again, and you moaned, the new angle sending jolts of pleasure through your already overstimulated pussy.

He pounded into you, his grip on your ass bruising, and you clung to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he fucked you against the lockers. The sound of metal creaking under the force of his thrusts only made it hotter, more desperate. You could feel another orgasm building, and you hated him for it—hated how easily he could pull them from you.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough as he buried his face in your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin. “You’ll always be mine.”

And you hated that some twisted part of you wanted it to be true.

Your legs tightened around him, pulling him impossibly closer, deeper, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

And God, you couldn’t.

His grip on your ass was rough, bruising, but it only made you moan louder. You were on the verge again—your body still tingling from the last orgasm, but the way he moved inside you, the way his teeth grazed your neck, it had you spiraling toward another one, faster than you thought possible.

“Look at you,” Rafe groaned, lifting his head just enough to lock eyes with you. His pupils were blown wide with lust, a wild look on his face that sent a thrill down your spine. “Fuck, you love this, don’t you?”

You did. Because no matter how much you hated him, how much you wanted to hate him—there was a part of you that still belonged to him. A part of you that couldn’t walk away.

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your collarbone, your jaw—and you couldn’t stop the sounds escaping your throat as he kept driving into you.

“Say it,” he growled, “Say you’re mine.”

You bit down on your lip, trying to hold it in, trying to fight back, but every nerve in your body was betraying you. The way his body fit against yours, the way he moved inside you, it was all too much. You were coming again, and you hated it.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and wild. “Say it.”

You wanted to spit in his face. But your body was telling a different story, hips bucking against him, legs tightening around his waist again.

“R-Rafe,” you whimpered, hating how weak you sounded, how desperate.

His smirk was infuriating, but fuck, it was hot.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his pace quickening, each thrust deeper than the last. “You’re mine. Always have been.”

And then he slammed into you one last time, hitting that perfect spot inside you, and the orgasm tore through you, leaving you gasping and trembling in his arms. You cried out, head thrown back against the lockers as your body shook with the force of it, your nails raking down his back.

Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he rode out your orgasm, his movements growing sloppier, more erratic. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, his hips jerking against yours as he finally let go, his release hitting hard. You felt the warmth of him spill inside you, as he held you against him, buried deep.

The second his breathing slowed and his grip on you loosened, reality came crashing back in.

What the fuck had you done?

You pushed at his chest, trying to put some space between you, but he wasn’t letting go that easily. His arms stayed wrapped around you, his body pressed against yours like he still had something to prove.

“Get off,” you muttered, your voice weak, but sharper than before.

He chuckled, that low, arrogant sound that drove you crazy. “That’s not what you were saying five minutes ago.”

You shot him a glare, shoving at his chest again, harder this time. “I’m serious, Rafe. Move.”

Reluctantly, he let go, stepping back just enough for you to slide off the locker and onto shaky legs. You stumbled a bit, and Rafe’s hand shot out to steady you, but you jerked away from him, pulling your jeans back up with shaky hands.

He leaned against the locker, smirking like he hadn’t just torn your world apart all over again. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You wanted to scream at him, to throw something at his face. But instead, you grabbed your shirt off the floor, yanking it over your head as you tried to steady your breath.

“Good luck finding your date.”

Elijah. You’d come to the game with Elijah.

You shook your head as you zipped up your jeans and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to look somewhat presentable. You avoided looking at him, knowing that if you did, you’d see the smug satisfaction on his face that would only make you feel worse.

He pushed himself off the locker and took a step closer to you. You flinched, stepping back instinctively. “This can’t happen again.”

His smirk slipped for a moment as he looked at you. H e closed the distance between you in two strides, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, pulling you toward him before you could react, “You’re choosing him?”

You yanked your wrist out of his grip, your heart racing as you forced yourself to take a step back, putting distance between the two of you, “You’re the one who chose yourself.”

His eyes darkened, searching your face, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. Maybe he thought he still had you wrapped around his finger.

“You’re the one who walked away,” you added, hating how your voice trembled, “So don’t act like I owe you anything.”

Rafe’s hand hovered like he was about to reach for you again, but he didn’t. “That’s not how I remember it.”

Your stomach twisted, “I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t—” You glanced at the door, feeling the weight of Elijah waiting for you. The one person who was good for you, who actually wanted to be with you.

But the worst part? You were still thinking about Rafe. Even after everything, you were still here, breathless, a mess because of him.

He took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours, and for a second, you thought he might apologize. Maybe say something real. But Rafe Cameron didn’t do apologies.

He raised an eyebrow, “Really?” His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face in a gesture that was far too intimate, given everything that had just happened. “Then why are you still standing here?”

You flinched, stepping back. Why were you still standing there? You had no good answer, at least not one you were ready to admit.

“Go back to your date,” Rafe continued, his voice mocking now, “Pretend like he’s enough for you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the tears at bay. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction, not again. “You’re wrong.”

Rafe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I don’t think I am.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, throat tight, trying to push back the tears. This was all wrong. It was always wrong with Rafe, “Stop.”

It sounded like a plea—a plea for him to stop talking, stop looking at you like that, stop making you feel so small and yet so overwhelmed all at once.

Rafe sighed, stepping back just a fraction, and for a second, his gaze lifted. But it wasn’t enough. It never was. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, his voice softer now, like that made a difference.

“You always do,” you shot back, finally meeting his eyes. The truth slipped out before you could stop it, and there it was.

His jaw clenched, "I don’t mean to," he muttered, his voice low. "You know that."

"Does it even matter?" You felt the bitterness rise in your throat, along with something else—something fragile and painful. "You still do it. Whether you mean to or not."

Rafe stayed quiet, and you hated that silence. He didn’t have an answer. He never did, not for this. Your fingers fumbled with the zipper of your jacket, something to keep your hands busy so you wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t say something you’d regret. But regret was already everywhere, suffocating you both.

“I thought we were past this,” you said finally, barely more than a whisper. “I thought I was past this.” But clearly, you weren’t. Clearly, some part of you was still here, with him, in the wreckage you’d both created.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, torn. “It’s not that simple.”

"It should be." Your voice cracked. You hated how much this hurt. How much he could still hurt you.

It wasn’t fair. You weren’t supposed to still care this much. You weren’t supposed to still feel this.

Rafe sighed, taking another step back, giving you space. But it wasn’t the kind of space you wanted. It wasn’t the kind that would make things easier. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he admitted quietly, his eyes searching yours for something he couldn’t find.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. "I don’t want anything from you."

That was the truth, or at least it was supposed to be. You didn’t want anything he had to offer, not anymore. Not when every time you reached for it, it slipped through your fingers like water, leaving you emptier than before.

But there was still that ache, that feeling between you two, the one that dragged you back here even when you knew better. You wished you could kill it, cut it out of you like some infected part, but it was tangled too deep. And maybe a small part of you didn’t want to.

“You keep saying that,” he murmured, his voice almost tender, like he was seeing right through you. “But you’re still here.”

“I don’t know why,” you whispered, blinking back tears. Fuck, you hated this. Hated how vulnerable you felt, how easily he could unravel you, even now. “I shouldn’t be.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, watching you, like he was waiting for you to make the next move. Like he wanted you to figure it out on your own.

But you didn’t know how. You never did when it came to him.

"I’m sorry," he said, and this time, it felt real. There was no arrogance. Just Rafe, standing there, as broken as you felt. "I don’t know how to fix this."

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “There’s nothing left to fix, Rafe. We’ve already destroyed it.”

His face twisted, like he didn’t want to believe it. Like he was still holding onto some small piece of hope. "We could—"

"No," you cut him off, shaking your head. "We can’t."

You couldn’t keep doing this. The push and pull, the endless cycle of hurt and apologies that never really fixed anything. You couldn’t keep pretending that something would change, that he would change.

Because you both knew he wouldn’t.

He took a breath, exhaling slowly, and you could see it—the realization sinking in.

He knew it too. "I never wanted to lose you," he admitted quietly.

You swallowed hard, your chest tight. "You already did."

1K notes · View notes

pucksandpower · 7 months ago

Text

Moments of Glory

Oscar Piastri x Brown!Reader

Summary: notoriously calm and collected Oscar meets his match in the outgoing and extroverted daughter of his boss

Note: this is not the maiden win any of us wanted for Oscar but that doesn’t make it any less deserved — McLaren’s ability to jumble strategy should not take away from his amazing drive

The McLaren Technology Centre hums with energy as Oscar steps through the sliding glass doors, his eyes wide with wonder. It’s his first visit since signing with the team, and the gravity of the moment isn’t lost on him. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

As he walks further into the lobby, a burst of laughter catches his attention. Oscar turns to see a group of people gathered near the reception desk, centered around a vivacious young woman with a contagious smile. Your presence seems to light up the entire room.

“And then I told him, ‘Dad, if you don’t make some cuter merch, I’m going to have to support a different team!’” You exclaim, causing another round of laughter from the group.

Oscar finds himself drawn towards the commotion, his feet moving of their own accord. As he approaches, you notice him and your eyes lock. For a moment, the world seems to stand still.

“Well, hello there, stranger!” You call out, breaking the spell. “You must be our new golden boy. I’m Y/N Brown, resident troublemaker and daughter of the big boss.”

Oscar feels his cheeks flush as he stammers, “H-Hi, I’m Oscar. Oscar Piastri.”

You grin, stepping closer. “I know who you are, silly. I’ve been watching your career for years. Welcome to the family!”

Before Oscar can respond, you’ve wrapped him in a warm hug. He stiffens for a moment, unused to such casual physical contact, but then relaxes into the embrace.

As you pull away, you wink at him. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

Oscar’s eyes widen, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “I, uh ... I don’t ...”

You laugh, patting his shoulder. “Relax, I’m just teasing. Come on, let me show you around. I bet I know this place better than any of the official tour guides.”

As you lead Oscar through the facility, he finds himself captivated by your energy and enthusiasm. You point out various areas of interest, peppering your tour with amusing anecdotes and insider information.

“And this,” you say, gesturing dramatically to a seemingly ordinary hallway, “is where Lando once tried to skateboard down the stairs. Spoiler alert: it didn’t end well.”

Oscar chuckles, finding himself more at ease. “I can’t imagine that went over well with management.”

You lean in conspiratorially. “Oh, Dad was furious. But between you and me, I think he was more upset that Lando didn’t invite him to join in.”

As you continue the tour, Oscar finds himself opening up more. “So, how long have you been involved with McLaren?” He asks.

You grin, twirling around to face him as you walk backward. “Oh, pretty much since Dad got hired to run it back in 2016. But I’ve been working here officially for about two years now, in PR and social media.”

Oscar nods, impressed. “That must be exciting, being so close to the action.”

“It has its moments,” you agree. “But enough about me. Tell me, Oscar Piastri, what makes you tick? What drives you to risk life and limb hurtling around tracks at breakneck speeds?”

Oscar pauses, considering his words carefully. “I guess ... it’s the thrill of pushing myself to the limit. The constant challenge of improving, of finding that extra tenth of a second. And the teamwork aspect, knowing that every person plays a crucial role in our success.”

You smile softly, a hint of admiration in your eyes. “That’s beautiful, Oscar. I can see why Dad was so keen on signing you.”

As you reach the simulator room, Oscar’s eyes light up with excitement. You can’t help but chuckle at his reaction.

“Want to give it a go?” You ask, gesturing towards the state-of-the-art equipment.

Oscar nods eagerly. “Can I? I mean, I don’t want to overstep ...”

You wave off his concerns. “Please, you’re part of the team now. Besides, I want to see what you can do.”

As Oscar settles into the simulator, you lean against the doorframe, watching him with interest. He takes a deep breath, centering himself before starting the virtual lap.

You observe silently, impressed by his focus and skill. As he completes the lap, you let out a low whistle. “Not bad, Piastri. Not bad at all.”

Oscar grins, a hint of pride in his expression. “Thanks. It feels good to get a feel for the car, even if it’s just a simulation.”

You step closer, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Want to make it interesting? I bet I can beat your time.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, a hint of competitiveness creeping into his voice. “Oh really? You’re on.”

For the next hour, you and Oscar take turns in the simulator, trading friendly jabs and encouragement. To Oscar’s surprise, you prove to be a formidable opponent, matching him lap for lap.

As you finish your final run, you jump up with a whoop of victory. “Ha! Beat you by two-tenths!”

Oscar shakes his head, laughing. “I can’t believe it. Where did you learn to drive like that?”

You shrug, a hint of vulnerability showing through your confident exterior. “Growing up around racing, I guess. But I never had the nerve to pursue it professionally. Too much pressure.”

Oscar nods understandingly. “I can’t blame you. It’s not an easy path.”

A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only by the hum of the equipment. Oscar finds himself studying your face, noticing the way your eyes crinkle when you smile and how animated you become when talking about something you love.

You catch him staring and smirk. “See something you like, Piastri?”

Oscar blushes furiously, stammering, “I, uh ... I was just ... you’re really ...”

You laugh, but there’s a softness to it. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

Oscar takes a deep breath, gathering his courage. “Listen, Y/N ... I know we just met, but I was wondering if maybe ... I mean, if you’re not busy ... would you like to ...”

Before he can finish, an alarm on your phone goes off. You check it and grimace. “Shoot, I’ve got a meeting in five minutes. Rain check on whatever you were about to say?”

Oscar nods, trying to hide his disappointment. “Yeah, of course. No problem.”

You start to leave but pause at the doorway. Turning back, you say, “Hey, Oscar? For what it’s worth, I hope you were about to ask me out. Because I’d say yes.”

With a wink and a wave, you’re gone, leaving Oscar standing in the simulator room, a mix of excitement and nerves swirling in his stomach. He takes a deep breath, a smile spreading across his face as he realizes that his journey with McLaren might be even more exciting than he initially thought.

***

The hot Qatar air shimmers around Oscar as he stands before the camera, sweat glistening on his brow. His race suit clings to his body, still damp from the grueling sprint race he’s just won. The interviewer leans in with her microphone.

“Oscar, what an incredible performance today! How does it feel to secure your first sprint victory in Formula 1?”

Oscar’s eyes shine with a mix of exhaustion and elation. “It’s ... it’s honestly surreal,” he says, his voice slightly breathless. “The team did an amazing job with the car, and everything just clicked out there. I can’t quite believe it yet.”

The interviewer nods encouragingly. “You showed remarkable pace throughout the race. Was there any point where you felt particularly challenged?”

Oscar opens his mouth to respond, but before he can say a word, a blur of motion catches his peripheral vision. Suddenly, you crash into him at full speed, nearly knocking both of you off balance.

“You did it! You actually did it!” You squeal, throwing your arms around Oscar’s neck and peppering his sweaty face with kisses.

Oscar’s eyes widen in shock, his cheeks flushing a deep red that has nothing to do with the desert heat. “Y/N! What are you-”

But you’re not listening. You’re too busy showering him with affection, right there in front of the rolling cameras and the stunned interviewer. “I’m so proud of you, you beautiful, talented man!” You exclaim between kisses.

The interviewer clears her throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “I ... um, it seems we have an unexpected guest. Miss, could you perhaps-”

You turn to face the camera, your arm still draped around Oscar’s shoulders. “Oh, don’t mind me! I’m just here to celebrate with the star of the show.” You plant another kiss on Oscar’s cheek for emphasis.

Oscar, for his part, looks like he’s torn between embarrassment and delight. He awkwardly pats your back, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism. “I’m sorry about this,” he says to the interviewer. “This is Y/N, she’s ... well, she’s ...”

“I’m his girlfriend,” you announce proudly, beaming at the camera. “And the daughter of the CEO, but that’s not important right now. What’s important is that this guy” — you ruffle Oscar’s hair — “just drove the race of his life!”

The interviewer, recovering from her initial shock, decides to roll with the unexpected turn of events. “Well, Y/N, since you’re here, what did you think of Oscar’s performance today?”

You launch into an enthusiastic analysis, gesticulating wildly. “It was absolutely brilliant! The way he managed those tires in the closing laps, fending off Verstappen ... I was on the edge of my seat the whole time!”

Oscar watches you with a mixture of amusement and affection. When you pause for breath, he gently interjects, “I think you might be a bit biased, love.”

You turn to him, eyes sparkling. “Biased? Me? Never! I’ll have you know I’m a highly objective observer of the sport.”

The interviewer, sensing an opportunity for a more personal angle, asks, “Oscar, how does it feel to have such passionate support from your girlfriend?”

Oscar’s expression softens as he looks at you. “It’s ... it’s incredible, honestly. Y/N’s been my biggest cheerleader since day one. Even on the tough days, she always believes in me.”

You lean your head on his shoulder, momentarily subdued by the sincerity in his voice. “That’s because I know how amazing you are, even when you don’t see it yourself.”

The interviewer smiles, clearly charmed by the display. “It’s wonderful to see such support. Y/N, did you have any doubts during the race?”

You straighten up, your energy returning full force. “Doubts? About Oscar? Never! Although,” you add with a mischievous grin, “I did consider commandeering a golf cart and driving onto the track myself when Verstappen started closing that gap in the final laps.”

Oscar chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m glad you restrained yourself. I don’t think that would’ve gone over well with the stewards.”

“Oh please,” you scoff playfully. “I would’ve told them I was delivering a vital message about tire strategy. They would’ve believed me.”

The interviewer laughs along with you. “I have to say, this is one of the most entertaining post-race interviews I’ve ever conducted. Oscar, how do you keep up with such a vibrant personality?”

Oscar grins, his earlier embarrassment fading. “Honestly, I’m still trying to figure that out. Y/N keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You beam at him, then stage-whisper to the interviewer, “He loves it, really. I add much-needed excitement to his life.”

“As if driving a Formula 1 car at over 300 kilometers per hour isn’t exciting enough,” Oscar retorts good-naturedly.

You wave a dismissive hand. “Details, details. Now, are we done here? Because I have plans for celebrating this victory, and they involve a lot less talking and a lot more-”

Oscar quickly cuts you off, his cheeks reddening again. “And on that note, I think we should wrap this up. Thank you for the interview,” he says to the journalist, who’s trying hard to stifle her laughter.

As Oscar begins to lead you away, the interviewer calls out one last question. “Oscar, any final words for your fans watching at home?”

Oscar pauses, considering for a moment. “Just ... thank you for all the support. It means the world to me. And to the team, of course. We couldn’t do this without you all.”

You can’t resist adding your own message. “And remember, kids: if you work hard and believe in yourself, one day you too could have an incredibly attractive partner tackling you with kisses on live television!”

With that, you pull Oscar away from the cameras, both of you laughing as you disappear into the paddock.

Once you’re out of sight of the media, Oscar turns to you, his expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. “I can’t believe you did that,” he says, shaking his head.

You grin unrepentantly. “Oh come on, it was fun! And admit it, you loved it.”

Oscar tries to maintain a stern face, but his lips twitch upwards. “It was certainly ... unexpected.”

“Unexpected is my middle name,” you declare proudly.

“I thought your middle name was Trouble,” Oscar quips.

You gasp in mock offense. “Oscar Piastri, are you sassing me? I’ll have you know that Trouble is my first name. Y/N is just a cover.”

Oscar laughs, pulling you close despite the sweat still clinging to his race suit. “Well, Trouble, what do you say we get out of here and start that celebration you were talking about?”

Your eyes light up. “Now you’re talking! But first ...” You lean in, your voice dropping to a whisper. “I believe I was interrupted earlier when I was showering the race winner with well-deserved affection.”

Oscar’s breath catches as you close the distance between you, your lips meeting in a kiss that’s far more heated than the ones shared on camera. When you finally pull apart, you’re both a little breathless.

“Wow,” Oscar murmurs. “If that’s how you react to a sprint win, I can’t wait to see what happens when I win a Grand Prix.”

You wink at him. “Keep driving like that, and you’ll find out soon enough. Now come on, hero. Let’s go find somewhere more private before my dad shows up and ruins all our fun.”

As if on cue, Zak’s voice echoes down the paddock. “Oscar! There you are! Hell of a drive out there, kid!”

You groan dramatically. “Speak of the devil. Quick, hide me in your helmet!”

Oscar chuckles, keeping an arm around your waist as Zak approaches. “I don’t think you’d fit, babe. Besides, I’m pretty sure he already knows you’re here. The whole world probably knows after that interview.”

You shrug, unabashed. “What can I say? When I’m proud of my man, I want everyone to know it.”

Zak reaches you, clapping Oscar on the shoulder. “That was some fantastic racing out there, Oscar. You should be proud.”

Oscar nods, a shy smile on his face. “Thank you. The car felt great, and the team’s strategy was spot on.”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Always so modest. Dad, tell him how amazing he was!”

Zak laughs. “I think you’ve done enough of that for all of us, sweetheart. I saw that interview, by the way. Quite a show you two put on.”

You bat your eyelashes innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was merely congratulating our star driver on his well-deserved victory.”

“Uh-huh,” Zak says, clearly not buying it. “Well, try to keep the congratulations a bit more PG in the future, alright? We do have sponsors to think about.”

Oscar looks mortified, but you just grin. “No promises. But I’ll try to restrain myself to just one tackle per race weekend.”

Zak shakes his head, a mixture of exasperation and fondness on his face. “What am I going to do with you two? Oscar, I hope you know what you’ve signed up for with this one.”

Oscar glances at you, his expression softening. “I think I have a pretty good idea. And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

You feel your heart swell at his words. “Aww, babe. That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said. Well, second sweetest. The sweetest was when you told me my driving in the simulator was ‘not bad.’”

Oscar groans. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Nope!” you say cheerfully. “I plan to remind you of it at least once a week for the rest of our lives.”

Zak watches your banter with amusement. “Alright, you two. Oscar, the team wants to debrief before you head out. Y/N, try not to cause any international incidents while I’m gone, okay?”

You salute dramatically. “Yes, sir, Team Principal, sir! I shall endeavor to be on my very best behavior.”

As Zak walks away, shaking his head and muttering something that sounds suspiciously like “God help us all,” you turn back to Oscar.

“So, hotshot,” you say, running a finger down his chest. “How long do you think this debrief will take? Because I have some very important plans that involve you, me, and a bottle of champagne I may or may not have ‘borrowed’ from the hospitality area.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. “Borrowed, huh? You know, as a representative of the team, I should probably discourage such behavior.”

You lean in close, your lips barely brushing his ear. “And as my boyfriend, what do you think?”

Oscar’s arms tighten around you. “I think,” he murmurs, “that I’m the luckiest guy in the world. And that I’ll try to make this the quickest debrief in F1 history.”

You pull back with a triumphant grin. “That’s what I like to hear. Now go, be brilliant, and hurry back to me. I’ll be waiting.”

As Oscar jogs off towards the team garage, you watch him go with a soft smile. Your eyes linger on the PIASTRI emblazoned across his back, and you feel a surge of pride and affection.

“That’s my guy,” you murmur to yourself. “My brilliant, amazing, race-winning guy.”

And as you head off to prepare for your celebration, you can’t help but think that while Oscar might have won the sprint race today, you’re the one who truly hit the jackpot.

***

The Hungaroring erupts in cheers as Oscar crosses the finish line, securing his maiden Grand Prix victory. The McLaren garage explodes with jubilation, team members hugging each other and pumping their fists in the air.

As Oscar completes his cool-down lap, his voice crackles over the team radio, breathless with excitement. “We did it! We actually did it! Thank you, thank you to everyone. I can’t believe it!”

His race engineer responds, emotion evident in his voice. “Fantastic job, Oscar. You drove brilliantly. Enjoy this moment, mate. You’ve earned it.”

Meanwhile, in the paddock, you’re practically vibrating with excitement. You’ve been pacing back and forth, unable to contain your energy as you watched the final laps unfold on the screens. As soon as Oscar crosses the line, you sprint towards parc fermé, determined to be there when he gets out of the car.

You weave through the crowd, your McLaren bomber jacket with Oscar’s number emblazoned across the back drawing curious glances. As you reach the barriers, you see Oscar’s car pull up, the Australian already unclipping his helmet.

“Oscar!” You shout, waving frantically. “Over here!”

Oscar’s eyes scan the crowd, lighting up when he spots you. He clambers out of the car, his legs a bit shaky from the adrenaline and physical exertion. As he makes his way towards you, his gaze locks onto the jacket you’re wearing, and his steps falter.

You notice his reaction and grin mischievously, doing a little twirl to show off the jacket. “Like what you see, champ?”

Oscar’s eyes are wide, his mouth slightly agape. “That’s ... wow. Is that my number?”

You nod, beaming. “Sure is. Thought I’d support my favorite driver in style. Although,” you add with a wink, “I have to say, it will look much better on the ground next to your bed.”

Oscar’s face flushes red, and he glances around nervously. “Y/N! We’re in public!”

You laugh, reaching out to ruffle his sweat-damp hair. “Oh, relax. Everyone’s too busy celebrating your win to pay attention to us. Speaking of which ...” You grab the front of his race suit and pull him close, planting a passionate kiss on his lips.

When you finally break apart, Oscar looks dazed but happy. “I could get used to that kind of celebration,” he murmurs.

“Well, keep winning races like that, and you’ll have plenty more where that came from,” you tease. “Now go, do your podium thing. I’ll be waiting to continue this ... discussion ... later.”

As Oscar heads off for the podium ceremony, you turn to make your way back to the paddock. That’s when you spot Lando chatting with some engineers. Your eyes narrow as you remember how a McLaren strategy mistake had allowed Lando to undercut Oscar, nearly costing him the win. Even though it wasn’t really Lando’s fault, you can’t help feeling annoyed at him.

You’re about to march over and give Lando a piece of your mind when you spot something that makes you pause — Fernando Alonso’s unattended scooter, parked just a few feet away. A mischievous grin spreads across your face as an idea forms.

Glancing around to make sure no one’s watching, you casually stroll over to the scooter and hop on. You rev the engine, drawing Lando’s attention.

“Hey, Y/N!” Lando calls out, waving. “Congrats on Oscar’s win! Some race, huh?”

You smile sweetly, maneuvering the scooter towards him. “Oh, it sure was, Lando. Especially that bit where you refused to give the lead back to Oscar until the last minute. That was ... interesting.”

Lando’s smile falters slightly. “Come on. You know it wasn’t my fault. The team made the strategy call.”

“Oh, I know,” you say, inching the scooter closer. “I just thought I’d give you a little reminder about team spirit and timeliness.”

Before Lando can react, you accelerate the scooter, aiming straight for his foot. There’s a yelp of pain as the wheel rolls over Lando’s toes, followed by a string of colorful expletives.

“Oops!” You exclaim with faux innocence. “So sorry, Lando. These things are just so hard to control, you know?”

Lando hops on one foot, glaring at you. “What the hell? That bloody hurt!”

You shrug, still perched on the scooter. “Funny, that’s probably how Oscar felt when you wouldn’t let him by. Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

As Lando opens his mouth to retort, a stern voice cuts through the air. “Y/N Brown! What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

You wince, recognizing your father’s voice. Zak strides towards you, his expression a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

“Hi, Dad,” you say sheepishly. “I was just ... congratulating Lando on his race?”

Zak pinches the bridge of his nose. “By running over his foot with Alonso’s scooter? Jesus, Y/N. I can’t take you anywhere, can I?”

You hop off the scooter, trying your best to look contrite. “In my defense, it was a very gentle running over. Barely a love tap, really.”

Lando snorts, still rubbing his foot. “Love tap my arse. I think you broke my toe!”

Zak sighs heavily. “Lando, go get that checked out by the medics. Y/N, you’re coming with me. We need to have a serious talk about appropriate behavior in the paddock.”

As your father leads you away, you can’t help but call back over your shoulder, “Hey Lando! Next time, maybe think about giving the position back sooner, yeah?”

Zak groans. “Y/N, please. You know Lando was put in a tough spot. You’re not helping your case here.”

You follow your father to a quiet corner of the McLaren garage, trying to suppress your grin. Despite the impending lecture, you can’t bring yourself to regret your actions. Nobody messes with your Oscar and gets away with it.

Zak turns to face you, his expression serious. “Y/N, I know you’re excited about Oscar’s win, and believe me, I am too. But you can’t go around assaulting our drivers, even if it’s just with a scooter.”

You nod, attempting to look suitably chastised. “I know. I got carried away. It won’t happen again.”

Zak raises an eyebrow. “Why do I have a hard time believing that?”

Before you can respond, there’s a commotion at the garage entrance. Oscar bursts in, his face flushed with excitement.

“Y/N!” He calls out, spotting you. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

You turn to him, your face lighting up. “Oscar! Congrats, babe! I know I already said it, but you were amazing out there!”

Oscar sweeps you up in a hug, spinning you around. As he sets you down, his eyes once again lock onto your jacket. “God, you look incredible in that,” he murmurs, his voice low.

You smirk, running a hand down his chest. “Oh yeah? Maybe I should wear it more often then.”

Zak clears his throat loudly, reminding you both of his presence. “While I’m thrilled about the win, could you two maybe tone down the PDA a notch? We are still in a professional environment.”

Oscar steps back, looking sheepish. “Sorry. I got a bit carried away.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Oh, come on, Dad. Let the man celebrate! It’s his first win, after all.”

Zak sighs, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “Fine, fine. But try to keep it family-friendly, alright? And Y/N, we’re not done talking about the scooter incident.”

Oscar looks between you and your father, confusion evident on his face. “Scooter incident?”

You wave a dismissive hand. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little misunderstanding with Lando. Nothing to worry about.”

Oscar’s brow furrows. “What kind of misunderstanding involves a scooter?”

Before you can answer, Lando limps into the garage, his foot wrapped in a bandage. “The kind where your girlfriend tries to maim me, apparently,” he grumbles.

Oscar’s eyes widen. “Y/N, you didn’t ...”

You shrug, trying to look innocent. “It was an accident! Besides, he had it coming after that stunt he pulled during the race.”

Oscar runs a hand through his hair, looking exasperated but also slightly amused. “Y/N, you can’t just go around running people over because you’re unhappy with their racing.”

“Watch me,” you mutter under your breath.

Zak throws his hands up in defeat. “I give up. Oscar, congratulations again on the win. Y/N, try not to cause any more chaos for at least the next hour, okay? I need to go do damage control with the press.”

As your father walks away, Oscar turns to you, his expression a mix of fondness and exasperation. “What am I going to do with you?”

You grin, stepping closer to him. “I have a few ideas. Most of them involve you, me, and licking champagne off each other’s skin.”

Oscar’s breath hitches, his eyes darkening. “Y/N,” he warns, but there’s no real heat in his voice.

You lean in, your lips brushing his ear. “What do you say we get out of here, champ? I think it’s time for your real celebration.”

Oscar doesn’t need to be told twice. He grabs your hand, leading you towards the exit. As you pass Lando, you call out, “No hard feelings, right, Lando? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before playing dirty on track.”

Lando rolls his eyes but can’t help cracking a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just keep her on a leash, will you, Oscar?”

Oscar chuckles. “I don’t think anyone could keep Y/N on a leash if they tried.”

As you leave the garage, the sounds of celebration still echoing through the paddock, you can’t help but feel on top of the world. Oscar’s first win, your successful (if slightly unorthodox) defense of his honor, and the promise of a private celebration to come — it’s been a perfect day.

You squeeze Oscar’s hand, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “So, hero, ready to show me just how much you like this jacket?”

Oscar grins, pulling you closer. “More than ready. But maybe we should wait until we’re somewhere more private. I don’t fancy giving the entire paddock a show.”

You laugh, the sound bright and carefree. “Spoilsport. But fine, I suppose I can be patient. For now.”

As you walk hand in hand towards the team motorhome, you can’t help but think that while Oscar may have won the race today, you’re both winners in the game of love. And that’s the best victory of all.

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chancloud8 · 26 days ago

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Positive Surprise

Pairing: lee felix x reader

Word count: 1,3k

Tags: fluff, pregnancy

Summary: you and felix tell the boys there's a baby on the way

can be read as a standalone, but there's a part one where you find out you're pregnant; here

A week after your first ultrasound you invite the boys over for dinner and because it wasn’t unusual for you to do so, as they came over regularly to enjoy your cooking, no one suspected that something was up.

When Chan and Jeongin are the first to arrive, the table is already set, soft music is playing in the background and the smell of lasagne baking in the oven fills the house.

‘Something smells delicious,’ Chan says as he kisses your cheek in greeting. ‘Do you need any help?’

You shake your head and smile at him. ‘Nope, got it all covered Channie, go and relax.’

‘Is he sleeping?’ you whisper to Jeongin when Chan is out of ear shot. ‘He looks like he’s about to collapse.’

Jeongin sighs and pulls you in for a short hug. ‘Who knows.’

The arrival of Jisung and Minho distract you from worrying and you go through the greetings, hugs and declining help once more, ushering them towards the living room. You’ve just finished slicing up the bread and are putting the finishing touches on the salad when the last three arrive.

Once they’re all in the living room with a soda, you and Felix quickly set up the surprise you have for them. You take away the plates you already put on the table and replace them with boxes, each with a handwritten name card. You got yourself and Felix a box as well so it wouldn’t give away that the gift comes from you. Inside each box you put a personalized romper, a mug, a package of baby wipes, a package of blue and pink candies and a baby t-shirt with the Stray Kids logo.

‘You ready?’ you ask Felix when everything is in place.

You know the boys are going to be overjoyed, but nervous butterflies still fill your stomach when he nods. You interlace your fingers with his and lean up for a kiss.

‘BOYS,’ you yell. ‘Come her for a second.’

It doesn’t take long before they fill up the kitchen one by one, all of them looking curious. No one has noticed the table yet, so you just smile and point towards it.

‘Presents!!’ Jisung cheers, running around the table to find the one with his name.

Hyunjin and Jeongin follow his example, but none of them open the box yet, even though you can basically see their fingers itching to rip off the tape and look inside.

‘What’s this? Did one of our sponsors send us gifts?’ Chan asks.

You shrug and find the box with your name. ‘It got delivered this afternoon, I thought you set it up because we’re all here tonight,’ you lie, only feeling slightly guilty when you see Chan’s confused face.

‘Can we open it?’ Felix grins, playing along perfectly.

Everyone looks at Chan, and Felix winks at you. You smile back at him and bring your hands up to gently rub your belly. You weren’t showing yet, but according to the app on your phone the baby was already the size of a strawberry.

‘Okay, sure,’ Chan nods and as one everyone reaches for their box.

‘Huh?’ a surprised sound leaves Changbin’s mouth as he’s the first to rip apart the top of the box. ‘Did we get new merch?’

‘Oh this is adorable,’ Jeongin coos and he holds up the tiny t-shirt with the Stray Kids logo for everyone to see.

Gasps sound from every direction as they all agree how cute the tiny shirt is and it takes everything in you not to burst out in nervous giggles.

‘Wait,’ Seungmin yells out then.

Everyone stops to look at him and this time you do let out a giggle. Seungmin is holding the romper you had made for everyone. His says ‘My uncle is Seungmin from Stray Kids’ and there’s a little picture of his skzoo puppy underneath, looking up at the text. Everyone has one with their own name and animal.

‘What is it?’ Minho asks, not being able to see what’s on the romper.

‘Look at yours,’ Seungmin answers and then he looks at you with questioning eyes.

You giggle again and nod, spurring him into action. He drops the romper and runs around the table to envelop you in a hug just as the room bursts into chaos. There’s screaming and yelling and suddenly you're hugged and touched from all sides while question after question gets thrown at your head.

All you can do is laugh.

You laugh and laugh until you’re crying, hugging every one of the members close to you as they congratulate you. The boys feel like family to you and having them know that you and Felix have a baby on the way makes it even more real. It feels complete somehow.

When you notice Chan is crying you pull him close and cup his wet cheeks. ‘Why are you crying Channie?’

‘I’m just so happy for you guys,’ Chan sniffs, smiling through his tears. ‘We’re going to have a ninth member or actually, a tenth member.’

‘I’m not having twins,’ you grin up at him, wiping away his tears.

‘He means that you’re out ninth, silly,’ Changbin speaks up from behind you.

‘Yeah you’ve been for a while now. You’re family Y/N,’ Jeongin agrees.

‘And so will baby Lee be,’ Hyunjin adds.

‘You said so on the rompers, we’ll be their uncle,’ Minho nods.

‘The mugs say so too,’ Jisung says, holding up his mug with ‘Promoted to Uncle’ printed on the side.

‘I think Chan’s should have said Grandpa instead of Uncle,’ Seungmin grins, shoving Chan’s shoulder.

Everyone laughs at that, but you can’t help but cry along with Chan again. The love you feel from these guys is something you’ve never experienced before meeting them. You truly feel a part of their family, their bond.

Felix gently pulls you into his arms and presses a kiss on top of your head.

‘I love you guys so much,’ you cry, reaching out for the others with one hand while the other grasps onto Felix his hoodie to keep him close.

‘We love you too, Y/N,’ Minho says, taking a hold of your fingers.

All the others grab onto your hand, wrist and arm as well and for a while you just stand there, surrounded by your boys. Your family.

‘This baby is going to be so loved,’ you whisper, leaning your head against Felix's chest.

‘They already are, Angel,’ Felix smiles, kissing your temple again.

The boys all nod and hum in agreement.

‘Can I touch your belly?’ Hyunjin asks then, his voice soft and unsure as if he’s not sure he’s allowed to ask such a thing.

You giggle. ‘I’m not showing yet, Jinnie, and the baby isn’t kicking yet either. It’s too early.’

‘Oh,’ Hyunjin looks down, clearly disappointed.

‘How about this,’ you say, immediately missing his smile. ‘You’ll be the first, after Lix obviously, to know when he or she does start kicking and then you can touch my belly all you want.’

Felix huffs behind you. ‘Not all he wants, only whenever you're comfortable.’

‘He knows that,’ you say, rolling your eyes. ‘Right, Jinjin?’

Hyunjin nods, the smile back on his face.

‘What about us?’ Chan pouts. ‘We want to feel the baby kick too.’

‘And you can,’ you laugh. ‘As long as all of you will get me whatever I’m craving during this pregnancy.’

Jisung drops down on one knee, his hand still holding onto your wrist. ‘At your service my lady.’

One by one they all follow his lead, even Felix and you know then, that whatever happens, you and your little bean will be okay and loved.

a/n: there was high demand for a part 2 where they told the boys hehe so I hope you enjoyed this <3

taglist: @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv @bookswillfindyouaway @queen-thiccness @notastraykid @ateez-atiny380 @estella-novella @furfoxsake22 @hyunjinhoexxx @insomnjen @girl-in-love-with-kpop @vivilovesuu @velvetmoonlght @skz8love @corgilover20 @littlelostdemonofthelight @stephanieeeyang @zulie-and-cats @chanshugsaretherapy @pizzalove5000 @dazzlingjade @milie-com @thequibbie @channiesrightasscheek @strawbrriz @delulustardust @velvetskize @channiefever @luvbangchan @aalexyuuuhm @katsukis1wife @herpoetryprincess

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #lee felix fluff #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #lee felix scenarios #chancloud8 writes

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 month ago

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maidenless board game club headcanons

Time to bully Azul and Idia :)) I often picture their club meetings being just them shit talking the other person and calling them rizzless…

Any and all mentions of the reader are meant to be gender neutral; gendered terms may still appear in these headcanons, but never in reference to the reader.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Azul likes to think he’s suave and could bag “anyone he set his mind to.” Eh, why hasn’t he tried to woo anyone then? For him, he states it’s a matter of pride!! He would never be emotionally vulnerable to just anyone, you know. A-And besides, he’s focusing on his business and personal growth right now, he doesn’t have the time to toy with hearts! (Or so Azul insists.)

The reality is, he has never kissed anyone outside of his family. Just soft pecks on the cheeks in greeting, mainly to his mother and grandma. Azul would never admit this out loud though, he thinks it detracts from his “cool” persona.

The thing about Azul is that he overthinks EVERYTHING. He’ll sit there and map out every possible thing that could happen on a date and how he will prepare to handle them. This includes what to say and when he should smile when speaking… He’s charming, yes, and starts off with a strong first impression—but he also tends to come off as too rehearsed or humble bragging about his accomplishments.

Azul’s desperate for a S/O not because he wants one per se, but because he wants validation that he is, in fact, attractive and desirable. After all, he made such an effort to change himself and to come off as confident, intelligent, and capable. He would like to bask in the reassurance that his efforts were worth it, because now he can “have” whoever he wants.

Aaand therein lies another problem. Azul is still stuck in the mindset that relationships are transactional. You do a favor for him? Well, he has to match it. He gives you a gift? Then he expects one back. Yet Azul keeps himself to an emotional distance, too afraid to be completely honest about his flaws.

Idia thinks the issue is Azul’s personality. When Azul demands to know what exactly his clubmate means by that. Idia just sneers and goes off on a tirade. According to him, Azul-shi may look like he’s got everything put together, but since he’s actually a greedy scumbag, no amount of expensive cologne or nice clothes can cover up a rotten core.

Sometimes he and Idia just head back to the Mostro Lounge and pour one out (non-alcoholic drinks like fruit juice) to drown their sorrows. Jade and Floyd show great interest in these sessions, but Azul is cautious about letting any truly embarrassing experiences slip out.

The twins will occasionally dare him to snag a date with whichever random person walks through the doors to the Mostro Lounge next. Azul initially took these as personal challenges and did his utmost to win these dares, but after a string of embarrassing flops he now knows better than to be baited.

Idia is scared of 3D people and prefers to stick to his anime waifus and aidorus. REAL people could never compare! They’re too flawed and unpredictable—and, worst of all, they don’t come with dialogue options and affection meters to help Idia gauge what to do/say and when the Love Flags will trigger! What’s an introverted otaku to do?

He’s the type to openly disparage happy couples and love while secretly craving the warm touch of a flesh and blood person in the depths of his soul. His ideal is a kawaii gamer who’s into all the same things he is! … Unfortunately, he’s way too shy and unconfident to ever take a stab at it!! This is his way of coping.

He goes into the chats of his favorite streamers and tosses tons of money to get his comment read and to be noticed. Idia is the type to get super parasocial with the objects of his affection (he owns all the merch, goes to the events (virtually), has had a membership since day 1, etc.), even if he scoffs at the idea when directly confronted about it.

Literally bro spends his free time moderating Discord servers and Subreddits to complain about dating. Oh, but then the INSTANT he learns a user is single he starts treating them completely differently, calling them cute and his kitten or whatever. It’s amazing how much boldness he gains from behind the safety and comfort of a screen.

He doesn’t realize the value Ortho has as a wingman. Some people are super into the idea of doting on a younger sibling or dating a guy that loves his family—but Idia never brings these up as aspects of himself. Idia often vents about dating to his little bro and then tells Ortho he’s so lucky he doesn’t have to put up with stupid complex human emotions like love. Ortho just stares at him and begs his big bro to not get catfished.

He unfortunately drives people off with his sometimes pompous attitude. He’ll challenge others’ knowledge about his favorite media and get into extended arguments with them about the subjects he’s passionate about. Only “true” fan are allowed here! If you don’t get it, Idia will mansplain to you for hours at a time over VC.

Idia’s frequently the first to instigate (verbal) fights with Azul over their appeal in the dating scene. Offended, Azul usually fires back with some remark about how Idia hasn’t even witnessed him making eye contact with a REAL living, breathing woman. “Fictional women and a ghost bride do NOT count!”

You're nice to Idia ONCE (like, you let him borrow a pencil because he forgot his for an exam) and BOOM instantly this guy is lurking in the corners, giggling creepily ("Hihihihihi...") and shyly watching you from a distance. He's way too anxious to actually try and shoot his shot, but now he's fully convinced you're into him. (Idia lives out his fantasies with you in life sim games to cope with not having you irl 💀)

#twisted wonderland #twst #Idia Shroud #Azul Ashengrotto #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst headcanons #curiouser and curiouser #twisted wonderland headcanons #Reader #self insert #Idia Shroud x Reader #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader

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areislol · 3 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsunday as your boyfriend

pairings. sunday x gn! reader

warnings. fluff

a/n. i love my little birdy chicken wing boy

wc. 3.3k

sunday as your boyfriend would be.. supportive and thoughtful.

— remembers the little things. sunday always notices small details about you: your favorite drink, the way you like your books arranged, or the specific way you fidget when stressed. he uses this knowledge to surprise you in subtle, meaningful ways.

— if you mention something offhand, like a snack you miss or a place you want to visit, he’ll remember and make it happen later when you least expect it.

— quiet reassurances. he’s not overly vocal, but his presence is grounding. during tough times, sunday doesn’t overwhelm you with words but instead offers steady eye contact and calm affirmations, letting you know he’s there for you.

— when you’re anxious or upset, he doesn’t push for explanations. instead, he’ll quietly stay by your side, creating a safe space for you to process your emotions.

— acts of service!!!! sunday’s thoughtfulness shines in how he anticipates your needs before you even voice them. whether it’s bringing you a blanket on a cold night or fixing something in your room, his actions speak volumes.

— he never makes a big deal out of it, either. he’ll just shrug and say, “it was no trouble.”

— he PRIORITIZES!!! your comfort!!! if you’re having a bad day, sunday ensures you’re as comfortable as possible, whether that’s adjusting his schedule to spend more time with you or simply making you your favorite meal. he’s the kind of person to silently swap seats with you in a crowded space if he senses you’re uncomfortable without making it obvious.

— the type to give you gentle encouragement. when you’re feeling unmotivated or down, sunday knows how to nudge you forward. his words are never pushy but always tailored to remind you of your strengths and capabilities.

— he respects your pace, understanding that sometimes, all you need is someone to believe in you until you’re ready to believe in yourself.

— he enjoys surprising you, but in ways that are never overwhelming. maybe it’s a handwritten note left on your desk or a playlist he made for you. these surprises always feel personal, as if they were crafted solely with you in mind.

— sunday is protective but subtle. he never smothers you or undermines your independence. instead, he ensures your safety and comfort in ways you might not even notice until later. for instance, he might quietly assess a situation to ensure it’s safe for you or offer to accompany you somewhere without making it seem like he’s worried.

— values your opinions and feelings. SO HEAVY ON THIS.

— sunday always makes sure you feel heard. he listens intently, never brushing aside your concerns, and often surprises you with how much he remembers from past conversations. even in disagreements, he approaches the situation calmly, prioritizing understanding over being right.

— he’s your calm in the storm, bringing stability to chaotic moments. his composed nature makes you feel like no challenge is insurmountable. sunday also respects your need for independence, stepping back when necessary but remaining a steady presence in the background.

— the small thoughtful gestures in your daily life :( if he notices you’re overworking, he’ll gently remind you to take a break or place a cup of tea by your side with a gentle kiss to your temple.

— he learns your routines and preferences, making adjustments to his own schedule to align with yours when possible.

— encourages your growth!!!!! sunday always supports your dreams and goals, often offering practical advice or quiet encouragement to help you achieve them. he never tries to overshadow or control your ambitions, instead acting as a partner who wants to see you flourish.

— QUITE LITERALLY YOUR NUMBER ONE SUPPORTER!!!! the type to hold up a huge sign that says "[NAME]'S NUMBER ONE FAN!!!!!" with headbangs, bracelets, necklaces, bags, keychains and merch of YOU plastered all over him and that darn sparkle in his eye.

— the king of respecting boundaries. he’s incredibly respectful of your personal space and emotions, never pushing you to share more than you’re ready to. sunday’s patience ensures that your relationship grows at a pace that feels comfortable for both of you.

—

you slumped into the couch, the weight of a long day pressing on your shoulders. before you could fully sink into your thoughts, Sunday appeared in the doorway, holding a tray with two steaming mugs of tea.

“chamomile, to help you relax,” he said, his voice soft as he placed the tray on the coffee table. his movements were graceful, deliberate, as if this small act of kindness carried the same weight as any major battle he faced.

you blinked up at him, surprised by the gesture. “how did you know i needed this?”

his lips quirked in a faint smile. “i pay attention.”

he settled beside you, handing you the mug. the warmth seeped into your hands, and a quiet sense of peace washed over you. sunday didn’t push you to talk or explain—he simply stayed there, his calm presence soothing you more than any words could.

sunday as your boyfriend would be subtle in his own little romantic ways.

— quiet love letters. QUIET LOVE LETTERS!!!!

— sunday isn’t one for grand declarations, but he writes letters that reveal the depth of his feelings. he leaves them in places you’ll find unexpectedly, like inside a book you’re reading or your bag before a big day. the words are poetic yet simple, and you adore them so much (which basically gives him the motivation to continue)

— enjoys giving personalized gifts. every gift he gives feels uniquely tailored to you. he remembers small details, like a song you said you liked months ago or a piece of jewelry that matches your favorite outfit, and surprises you with them.

— he once gave you a scarf he’d chosen because it reminded him of your favorite color or the warmth of your laugh.

— sunday loves to take you to quiet, beautiful places—a secluded garden, a scenic overlook, or a tranquil café. these moments aren’t extravagant but feel intimate, allowing you to share time together away from the world.

— he plans these outings based on your mood, sensing when you need to recharge or celebrate something special.

— definitely the type to make you playlists, he expresses himself through music, crafting playlists that reflect his feelings for you. each song holds a memory or emotion he associates with your time together.

— when you’re apart, he sends you these playlists, saying, “this reminded me of you.”

— forehead kisses!!!! one of his signature gestures. sunday believes there’s something deeply personal and tender about a forehead kiss. it’s his way of grounding you, showing his affection without words.

— he often does this absentmindedly while walking past you or as you’re falling asleep beside him.

— celebrating milestones subtly instead of grand parties, sunday marks milestones with quiet dinners, heartfelt toasts, and small tokens to commemorate the occasion. he focuses on the meaning behind the moment rather than the spectacle.

— sunday loves sharing his favorite books, songs, or stories with you, not because he wants you to love them too but because they’re part of who he is. he’ll read passages aloud to you, his voice calm and soothing, and ask, “what do you think?”

— silent but loving gestures. (OUUU he always has a smile on his face whenever staring at your cute face) he’ll fix your scarf when it’s slipping or pull you closer when the wind picks up, all without saying a word. these actions speak volumes about his care and attentiveness.

— if you’re working late, he’ll leave a cup of tea and a snack by your side before retreating to give you space.

— when you’re upset, he doesn’t try to fix everything. instead, he holds you, his arms steady and warm, whispering soft reassurances like, “it’s okay, i’m here.”

— he lets you cry or vent as much as you need, never rushing you or downplaying your feelings.

— (symbolic) tokens!! sunday has a habit of giving you small items that carry meaning—like a pressed flower he picked during one of your walks or a smooth stone from a beach you visited together.

— these items become cherished keepsakes, reminding you of the memories you’ve shared.

— sunday is very affectionate, only to you though. his hugs are firm and grounding, as if he’s shielding you from the world while sharing his quiet strength. also likes tracing circles on your hand when you’re holding his or brushing a stray hair behind your ear.

— i forgot to mention but you're the ONLY person he'll let touch his wings other than his sister, to him his wings are very much apart of him and they are sensitive, so him letting you touch them says so much. (he likes the way your fingers trace the soft curve of each figure so yes, please continue)

— trust me when i say this but he makes you feel SEEN. he’ll surprise you by recounting things you’ve said long ago, proving how closely he listens. if you doubt yourself, sunday reminds you of your strengths in his understated way: “you’ve done it before. you’ll do it again.”

—

the crowd was suffocating, bodies pressing together as the cold air bit at your cheeks. you shivered, trying to navigate the bustling space without losing your balance. it was one of those winter nights where even the stars seemed to hide, and the faint warmth of streetlights offered little comfort against the chill.

without a word, sunday’s hand found yours, his grip firm but gentle. before you could ask what he was doing, he pulled you closer—so close that your shoulder brushed his side. his long coat shielded you partially from the wind, but it was the solid warmth of him that truly made the cold feel less cruel.

“stay close,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, just for you to hear. his free hand rested lightly against your back, guiding you as the two of you weaved through the crowd.

it wasn’t just practical; it was protective, almost instinctive. sunday’s tall frame blocked the harsh gusts of wind and the jostling strangers. every now and then, his golden eyes darted to you, checking to see if you were okay.

when you shivered again, he tugged you even closer, his hip brushing against yours as he adjusted his coat to drape over your shoulders. the faintest smile played at his lips. “better?”

you nodded, your cheeks warming despite the freezing temperature. “much better.”

he said nothing more, but the way he stayed so close, the way his hand never left yours, spoke volumes. in the chaos of the cold, crowded world, sunday made you feel like you were the only one who mattered.

—

sunday as your boyfriend loves spending quality time with you.

— spending quality time with sunday feels like an oasis of calm in a chaotic world.

— he doesn’t need to fill the silence with words to make you feel cherished. whether it’s lying side by side on the couch reading, or watching the night sky, he’s content just being near you. his company is enough to make you feel like time slows down, as if the world outside doesn’t matter.

— he enjoys low-key activities that allow you to connect in a way that feels effortless. maybe it’s cooking together, where he takes the lead but is always careful to make sure you’re involved in the process, whether it's chopping vegetables or stirring a sauce.

— shared hobbies!!!!!!! sunday is someone who loves learning about your interests, even if they’re completely different from his own. he sits with you as you sketch or watch your favorite movies, asking thoughtful questions and genuinely wanting to know what excites you about it. his curiosity about you makes even the simplest activities feel special.

— great at supporting you silently (if.. that makes sense), sometimes, quality time doesn’t require a lot of talking. sunday’s presence alone provides comfort. whether you’re working on a project or simply relaxing, he’s content being near you, offering a soft, reassuring smile when you look up. he’s always the first to notice if you're stressed, offering a hand to hold or a shoulder to lean on without making a fuss about it.

— loves doing the little things together as he takes joy in the mundane. running errands becomes an adventure when he’s by your side. stopping by a local café becomes a mini date, and even grocery shopping feels more like an intimate exchange. there’s a quiet magic in the way he makes ordinary moments feel like a treasure.

— you could literally be sitting in silence, reading a book while zoning out with sunday beside you. sunday? oh, he's just watching you aimlessly, eyes locked onto you HARD. he doesn't mind being in silence with you, just as long as you're around he'll be better than ever.

— whether it’s through shared silence or quiet conversation, sunday makes sure that every minute together feels treasured. he cherishes time spent with you because, for him, those moments are what truly matter.

—

you were curled up on the couch, lost in a book. the soft rustling of pages filled the quiet room, the only sound between you and sunday, who sat beside you with an unread book in his hands. but his focus wasn’t on the pages in front of him. no, his gaze was fixed on you.

he admired the way the light from the window caught in your hair, making it shine with a soft glow. the way your fingers turned each page with such care, as though the book was something sacred. every now and then, you would bite your lip in concentration, or softly hum a tune you barely noticed, and sunday found himself completely enchanted by these small, quiet moments.

his golden eyes softened as he watched you, his heart swelling with an affection that took him by surprise. there was something about the way you immersed yourself in the world of the book that made him feel both in awe and utterly in love.

you glanced up, catching him staring at you. “something on my face?” you asked, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

sunday blinked, the spell momentarily broken. his cheeks flushed, but his smile remained gentle and warm. “nothing,” he said, his voice soft. “just thinking how… beautiful you look, lost in your world.”

you tilted your head, amused by the sudden honesty in his words. “you’re staring at me like you’re watching something magical.”

he chuckled quietly, his gaze returning to you with a tenderness that spoke more than words ever could. “you are,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

the moment passed, but you couldn’t help but notice the way his hand, so subtly, found yours. it was his quiet way of showing that even in these small, peaceful moments, he was entirely devoted to you.

and in that moment, you realized that the most magical thing wasn’t the book, or the quiet room—it was the way sunday looked at you, as though you were everything he ever needed.

—

sunday as your boyfriend absolutely loves recieving and giving affection.

— sunday and his subtle affection... sigh.

— sunday loves affection, though he expresses it in the quietest of ways. he isn’t one for grand gestures, but his affection is felt in the small, tender moments he shares with you. here's how sunday enjoys giving and receiving affection:

— since sunday isn't so big on pda, gentle touches is the way to go!!! sunday's affection is often shown through touch, though he never forces it. when you’re close, his fingers might brush against yours, or he’ll softly press his palm to your back when you’re walking together. it’s subtle, but the warmth he offers in those touches is undeniable.

— can we appreciate the art of quiet presence?? the way he often shows his love by simply being there, his presence a steady comfort. when you’re upset or stressed, he won’t rush to fix things but will instead sit beside you, his body leaning just a little closer, as though the closeness itself is enough to soothe you (which, it is).

— sunday’s affection is often expressed through the little things. maybe it’s making you tea because he knows you’re tired, or handing you a blanket when he notices you shivering, all without a word. it’s never about what he does, but the thoughtfulness behind it.

— the way he listens. everybody LISTEN UP!! when you talk, sunday listens—not just to your words, but to the way you say them. he remembers the smallest details, and when he surprises you by bringing up something you mentioned months ago, you feel the love in his attentive listening.

— expressing through his eyes. sometimes, he doesn’t need to speak to show his affection. his golden eyes do the talking, always softening when he looks at you, filled with warmth and adoration. he’s not the type to openly gush about his feelings, but when he catches your eye, you can feel his love in that look.

— sunday finds affection in quiet moments. when you’re reading together, or when you’re simply sitting beside him, not needing to say anything, his hand might rest against your leg or his arm will casually brush yours. these moments of silence are when he feels the closest to you, when affection doesn’t need to be vocalized but is felt through proximity.

— while sunday is reserved about his own needs, he does enjoy receiving affection in ways that aren’t over the top. a kiss on his cheek, a warm hug when he least expects it—these things make his heart flutter. he might not ask for it, but he welcomes your attention with a smile that says everything.

— THIS MAN LOVESSSS ACTS OF SERVICE!!! one of his main ways of showing love.

— when sunday wants to show you he cares, he’ll do something for you before you even ask. whether it’s fixing something around the house or making sure you’re comfortable, his actions speak louder than words.

— you don't even gotta tell him twice to grab a cup of water he's up and running. you need help with your paperwork? who knew you had a flash in your home? need your hair done and touched up? suddenly he's a hairdresser with a certificate in hairdressing/salon.

—

you sat at the table, focused on a small project, when you felt a subtle presence beside you. sunday had quietly moved closer, and now his hand brushed against yours. it was barely noticeable at first, just a light touch as if to say, i’m here.

without thinking, your fingers shifted just enough to intertwine with his, a simple gesture that made your heart flutter. he didn’t say anything, but his thumb lightly traced the back of your hand, a slow, deliberate motion that spoke volumes.

when you looked up, his golden eyes were fixed on you, soft and attentive. there was a quiet affection in the way he held your hand, his fingers never tightening or pulling away. he wasn’t in a hurry. he just wanted to be close.

“you’re quiet today,” you murmured, a gentle smile forming on your lips as you looked into his eyes.

“i gues so,” sunday said softly, his gaze never leaving yours. he squeezed your hand just a little, letting the warmth of the touch speak for him.

it had always been this way—gentle and subtle. he didn’t need to fill the space with words; the way his thumb moved over your skin, the way his fingers lingered with such care, was all the affection you needed.

note: if you would like to be added to the honkai star rail taglist pls just ask me!! dont be shy

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

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!

#sunday x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x yn #hsr x you #sunday x you #sunday x yn #honkai star rail x reader

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mikeystrawberry · 1 year ago

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Today is Dungeons & Daddies’s 5th Anniversary!

I haven’t been listening for nearly that long but the podcast and all its characters means a lot to me. Happy Anniversary!!!

Throwing the cropped sections under the cut because there’s a lot of stuff going on and I know Tumblr likes to throw half the pixel quality out the window. And also so I can ramble a bit about this piece!!!

This piece has been months in the making, possibly an entire year. And by that I mean I’ve had a sketch of the comp scribbled on my whiteboard for ages because I wanted to save this specifically for 5th anni art. Now onto design stuff!

(First off a random thought: I really love how the garlic knot came out, I kind of want it as an enamel pin.)

I knew I wanted to make this a stained glass piece since the beginning, but I was also going to add flowers at one point but quickly dropped the idea. It felt like too much and I also didn’t want to fuss over flower language assignments for everyone. I was also going to add Doodler tentacles, but also dropped that idea pretty early. Kind of on accident, right at the end, I figured out how to make it even more stained glass-like but taking a duplicated lineart underneath the regular layer and turning the brightness all the way down, then setting it to overlay and adding a guassian blur. It’s very subtle but it adds that tiny bit of depth that makes it look more real. As for shading on the lineart/gold, I tried adding more highlight on the characters who died but once I evened everything out it wasn’t as noticeable anymore so I’m throwing that thought here so the attempt at least known lol.

The order of characters only changed a little bit from my original comp, I flipped the Wilsons and the Oaks so the rainbow could work. As for the anchors, specifically in season 2, I lined them up to the teens since the season 1 anchors lined up with each dad:

Tony —> Scary: his death was the beginning of Scary’s betrayal arc and also Willy killed him.

Guitar Pick —> Taylor: it’s not really aligned with Taylor at all, but the anchor was with Glenn so I put it next to his blunt.

Scroll —> Normal: was only because it was the last left to give him, but there’s the whole scene of him and Hermie in the Green Room so it still works!

Garlic Knot —> Link: one of two that he broke, but the more significant of the two with him telling Grant he never wants to see him again.

Small notes on the season 1 anchors: I put the layer of mold in the overnight oats but you can’t really tell with the overlay. And to make the supper bowl more interesting I added the fantasy sodas mix they dumped into it. The lure of actually drawn before so I just traced my own art lol.

As for the other smaller triangles, it took me a bit to figure out what I wanted to put there. I didn’t even think of adding the vehicles until two days ago but I’m so glad I did. I don’t really have my own take on the mascot version of the Doodler (yet?) so I borrowed the design from one of the stickers in their merch shop. Teeny was terrifying as just a front facing head so I made him cute again.

In the outer circles, I put what I felt was the most significant quotes for each family. I really wanted to use “It’s okay to be angry, it’s not okay to be cruel” but it was just a little too long.

That’s all I can think of! If you read all the way through, thank you for indulging me in my excitement to gush over this piece.

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darqx · 6 months ago

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If you didnt come to party [get the hell out of this club]

In which there's some links to old art - I've been getting a number of asks that are already technically answered so that's just what I'm gonna be doing if i can even remember what RAD they originally came from lol.

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

UNFORGIVEN.

Yes he can speak at least two demon languages (commons and a more specialised one).

Not really cos the ichor will eventually disappear if it's not in contact with Rire for a while lol. You ever wonder how someone could mysteriously drown whilst not being around anything they could have drowned in? Yeah.

I have drawn several such instances a long time ago. But it's not really Rire flirting with Ren it's more him being like...subtly condescending to Ren since Ren's submissive level is not very interesting to him |D

I...think you may have possibly mistaken me saying Rire might cry if he was in severe pain to mean that's the only time he could cry XD; To answer your q, yes Rire can cry from emotions - the point is he would choose not to (esp in public) as that would be a weakness.

🤔 You could probably get away with the same dress design but in black, tbh (if it was Lady Rire). Since the outfit design is 1930s/1940s based Rire's equivalent would be like...a 3 piece suit with a long overcoat/trench coat.

Got you covered bro [from a suit meme I did before]

Rire has a very long life span, but he's not immortal XD;

Tbh I don't really have thoughts about any of other peoples headcanons. Like I'm generally quite neutral towards headcanons because I primarily deal with the canon; the extent of my thoughts would be like "hm i wonder how they came up with that" lol.

This is actually in my FAQ :d but good of you to check for permission! If it's your own artwork then yes it is ok to make fanmerch of Rire. Similarly Gato allows fanmerch of her BTD and TPOF characs as long as it's your own art you are selling (and not like, our art/someone else's fanart that they didn't give permission to turn into merch).

It would be in Cain's best interest not to.

Cain is literally saying Olé Olé because i happened to be listening to this song at the time.

I can barely keep up with my ask box as myself let alone do it while pretending to be a charac lol, so no 😅 You can find a bunch of the most common qs in the FAQ pages though.

No and not really - though he is a bit more sensitive to light compared to a human as he has much better night vision than a human. He may also be able to see more colours than humans 🤔

There is technically no "stereotypical" demon in my 'verse, there's a bunch of different species each with their own looks/powers, so if he was another species then he'd have their physical characteristics. Rire's species is considered "plain" because outwardly they can pass more easily as a human than say; Izm's species (who have a really noticeable Glasgow smile-esque mouth as one of their physical features).

Yes he was born a demon...to his demon parents...|D;

He's the king of his sector and his sector is pretty well-to-do, I think you can draw your own conclusions from that lol.

Maybe, depends on what the human in question does with that.

Your second q has two answers depending on what context I answer them in, so I'll reply in the BTD context keeping in mind a charac like EP's Cain :d Basically yes Rire would be able to sense them like he does other demons. It's not a specific sense of "THIS CHARAC IS AN ANGEL" but more like "this charac is not human" and depending on what else he gets from it a "in your best interests to not engage".

Something big with long black fur and yellow eyes, maybe like a Norwegian Forest Cat or a Maine Coon.

#boyfriend to death #answer dump #rire answer dump #art #doodle #long post

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luvingtsumu · 1 month ago

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𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐓 𖥔 ࣪˖ ( MIYA ATSUMU X FEM!READER )

noticing small changes is difficult at first, but when they start becoming so visible it’s hard to not overthink stuff, but miya atsumu definitely wasn’t in love with you, right? even when it was painfully obvious.

★ genre: fluff | content: friends to lovers, fluff, jealousy, actions speaking louder than words.

★ author’s note: now that i have a job i’ve been buying a lot of atsumu merch, i’m gonna end up broke.

O1 . BACKPACK

You and Atsumu always played rock, paper, scissors after school to decide who was carrying the backpacks, usually, you were the loser, and he always made sure to rub it in your face.

He was lazy, he never wanted to carry anyone’s backpacks, especially not yours; so this rock, paper, scissors game worked perfectly for him —since he already knew you always picked scissors first.

“I won again!” he said, sticking his tongue out at you.

“Not fair! Let’s play again.” you crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him.

“C’mon, we already played 3 times, yer a loser.” he said, throwing his backpack at you.

You catch it with both hands, groaning slightly as you glared at him.

“Oh, come on! My back hurts today.” you complained “I fell on my back today.”

“Ya fell?” he laughed.

“Fucking Kino threw the ball at me way too hard! That was a hate crime.” he laughed again so you hit him on the shoulder “Shut up!”

“Sorry, sorry.” he smiled “Does it hurt or what?”

“A little bit.”

“Are ya that weak? Geez, no wonder why yer always tired in p.e. class.” he snickered.

“You know I hate you?” you rolled your eyes, placing his backpack on your shoulder.

“I figured.” he stole his and your backpack from your hands, placing them over his shoulders.

You looked at him with a confused look before smirking, he scoffed and looked away.

“‘m only gonna take ‘em today, cause yer hurt, alright?”

That was the first time that Atsumu, on his own willing, carried your backpack for you.

Then there was a second time.

Then a third one.

And suddenly you realize that now you barely carried your backpack after school. At first you were happy about that, and teased him about being your servant, but then you started to feel a bit bad cause he was always carrying your stuff; and even when you insisted on helping, he would brush you off.

“Yer too week, I don’t want yer back to get hurt.”

“I already have it on me.”

“Don’t complain, ‘m helpin’ ya.”

You thought it was weird that he was acting so nice, but you figured maybe he changed his ways and wanted to be nicer, besides, it was great not having to carry your heavy backpack; so you finally let it happen with no complaints.

O2 . FOOD

Atsumu absolutely hated when people ate his food, he didn’t even let his own brother grab a cookie from his lunch.

Either way, you didn’t cared if he didn’t liked it, you always found a way to steal a bit of his food, and he was always loud when you did it, calling you names and pulling your arms so you wouldn’t get to steal another onigiri.

You were used to that, and still, you didn’t even noticed when that changed. It started small and it was easy to not notice a change, but soon enough his brother pointed out how Atsumu didn’t got mad at you anymore when you stole his food, he didn’t budged and just gave you a small glance before going back to eating.

You thought about it for a bit and decided to test it, grabbing some of his tuna when he was just about to eat it.

“Hm, this one doesn’t taste that good as the one you brought yesterday.” you said after swallowing the food.

He looked between you and the tuna, then he started eating without budging “Yeah, ‘samu did the one yesterday.”

“That explains it, you’re a terrible cook.” he glared at you, making you chuckle “Respectfully.”

You noticed him rolling his eyes, but you got nothing more than that after stealing his food; so you decided to ask him to see if his reaction would change.

“Can I have some of your chips, ‘tsumu?”

“Open ‘em.” he said, handing you the bag of chips “Just make sure no one else eats ‘em.” and with that, he continued eating.

You gave him a weird look, raising and eyebrow.

You were so used to him yelling at you that it felt strange that he wasn't doing it. For some reason, it made you feel guilty, again. It felt better to steal food from him and have him yelling at you, rather than him handing it to you.

“You know what? I’m not hungry.” you said, handing him the bag of chips “Thanks though.”

That was the last time you attempted to eat from his food, unless he vocally expressed he wanted to share his food from you.

He even looked bothered by the fact you weren’t stealing his food anymore, but your best friend loved his food, so you sure were imagining things.

O3 . TWINS

Even if Atsumu and Osamu fought all the time, they were still brothers, they were still twins. They still told everything to each other —even if they pretended to not listen—, and they still wanted to help each other.

So even if you tried to stop yourself from overthinking, it wasn’t an easy task. You felt like the twins knew something about you that not even you knew. It was weird, of course, but it felt like they were working against you or about you.

They would whisper at each other when you passed by them, and you always saw them sharing looks when you hung out with them. To be honest, you felt left out, it felt like you were missing something.

Normally, you would tell the twins about your current concern, but in this case, they were the current concern, so you decided to rely on Aran.

“Don’t mind them.” he waved his hand in the air “They’re always all weird, same thing happened to me and turns out they just admired me a lot.” he smirked.

You chuckled “I don’t think they admire me, Aran, it’s easier to think they despise me.”

“You’re their best friend, they don’t hate you.” he assured you “They’re better than that.”

Aran’s words were reassuring, and you decided to stop focusing on the topic and let the twins do their own stuff.

Even when Osamu asked you weird and too specific questions about your love life.

Or when he suddenly canceled on plans last minute, making you and Atsumu stay alone.

Or when he exchanged weird looks with Atsumu whenever you spoke about boys.

All just coincidence’s.

O4 . JEALOUSY

“Me ‘nd ‘samu we’re talkin’ the other day…” he took a bite of his burger “‘nd it would be pretty cool to go to the beach this weekend.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” you chuckled, before sighing “The beach?”

He swallowed his food as he nodded “Yeah! The weather has been nice this past days.”

“I can’t this weekend.” you took a sip of your drink, watching his expression grow confused.

“What? Why?”

“I have plans with Kino and Shinji. Although I don’t think Shinji is gonna make it, so just me and Kino.”

Atsumu’s eyebrows visibly raised as he listened to your words. You continued eating, unaware of the way Atsumu’s stomach did a flip.

“Why are ya goin’ with them anyway?” he mumbled as he took a very small bite of his almost finished burger.

You scoffed “What do you mean why? They’re my friends.” you smiled.

“I thought they were just dudes in yer classroom.”

“No.” you chuckled “I’m actually friends with them, even when they’re a pain in the ass. I’m actually closer to Kino.” you said, thinking out loud.

Atsumu’s jaw clenched as he wrapped up what was left of the burger and threw it in the trash can.

“Weekends are for me, tho…” he said without thinking, quickly changing his words “—‘nd for ‘samu too.”

“Oh, come on, for one weekend that I don’t spend time with you? You’ll survive.”

Atsumu grumbled “I guess.”

Atsumu zoned out for a few seconds, deep in thought until he finally turned to see you.

“Isn’t Kino the guy ya went to eat with the other day?”

“Yeah, you remember him?” you smiled.

“Yeah. I actually do.”

Of course he did, Osamu is friends with one of Kino’s close friends, and he told Osamu that Kino had a big, fat crush on you. Of course he did. But you were his girl, his! How dare this other man disterup his precious time with you.

“Enjoy yer time with him, or whatever.” he sighed, rubbing the side of his neck as he tried to ease the feeling inside of him.

“I will.” you chuckled “We can go to the beach other day.”

“Sure.”

He didn’t understand why he was feeling like this, so bitter about you having other friendships besides him, other guys that liked you like he did —or maybe not like he did, cause he definitely liked you more than any ordinary guy ever will.

O5 . TEXTS AND CALLS

Your phone vibrated with a notification, and you knew who it was even before you turned on your screen.

Atsumu, of course it was him.

Normally you couldn’t have a single conversation with him over text, since he was barely on his phone, always studying, training or playing some game with Osamu. He never checked his texts and it was a real challenge to try to get in contact with him during summer break cause he never answered.

You always told him it was like talking to a wall, truly, and he always scoffed and told you he was a busy man with a busy life.

But now all of that had changed, cause suddenly now he had so much time, apparently. Always texting you every time he wanted and could, spaming your phone. You two even did calls when he walked back home or when he went to the convenience store.

You didn’t knew when it changed, but you weren’t complaining. It was like having a puppy begging for attention 24/7. Kinda fun.

[ 9:20 p.m. ] i found a cat on the way back home and it fucking bit me

[ 9:20 p.m. ] i mean, the AUDACITY

[ 9:21 p.m. ] and also, i bought you some of those chips you wanted the other day, the disgusting ones 🥰

[ 9:21 p.m. ] yeah, i know, i’m the best. don’t thank me too much, it was all me

[ 9:21 p.m. ] also, APPARENTLY you don’t put spoons on the microwave, never knew that huh

[ 9:23 p.m. ] are you gonna answer or what

[ 9:23 p.m. ] HELLOOOO??????

[ 9:26 p.m. ] do you hate me or what

[ 9:30 p.m. ] YOU’RE LITERALLY ONLINE

[ 9:30 p.m. ] WHO ARE YOU ANSWERING TO 😐😐

[ 9:31 p.m. ] why won’t you answer meeeee

[ 9:40 p.m. ] what did i do? are you mad at me and that’s why you’re not answering?

[ 9:40 p.m. ] tell me and i’ll apologize

[ 9:40 p.m. ] i’ll get on my knees

[ 9:41 p.m. ] if i get a tattoo of your name on my whole chest will you forgive me and speak to me again?

[ 10:00 p.m. ] i was taking a bath. WHAT

[ 10:00 p.m. ] HEY OMG YOU DON’T HATE ME :3

[ 10:01 p.m ] cringe. and i do hate you

[ 10:01 p.m ] also, did your microwave exploded or what?

[ 10:02 p.m. ] i wasn’t aware of microwave instructions ok, leave me alone

[ 10:04 p.m ] you stupid

You chuckled to yourself as Atsumu started spamming even more texts. It was fun.

Soon enough you got a call, and you know you two were probably gonna fall asleep on the phone once again.

O6 . PHYSICAL TOUCH

Atsumu was a sucker for physical touch, you knew that since you became friends with him. He was always bothering everyone, grabbing their hands, ruffling their hair, hugging them, any way that provided him physical touch worked for him!

It was something you were used to but not something you were always expecting, and also you were sure he wasn’t expecting any from you. Or so you thought, cause lately he’s been kinda whiny about it.

“So, see you tomorrow.” you waved at him as you closed your door after he dropped you off.

You went calmly upstairs, dropping your things in bed and then going to open the curtains and— there he was. Standing in front of the door with his arms crossed.

You raised an eyebrow and opened the window, yelling at him “The hell you’re doing?”

He looked up at you, huffing and then looking down again.

You rolled your eyes and closed your window again before making your way downstairs to see what he needed.

“What, weirdo?” you opened the door, just to see him pouting.

“Ya forgot to hug me goodbye.” he spoke through his teeth.

“Hug you goodbye?” you said with amusement.

“Yeah.” he looked down at him “Ya hate me or somethin’? Ya always hug me before ya leave.”

“Oh, my bad, king.” you mocked, before opening your arms and pulling him for a hug.

He whined but soon enough his arms wrapped around your waist, head buried into your shoulder.

You chuckled as you rolled your eyes, hands rubbing his back, feeling every muscle. Atsumu’s thumbs rubbed circles in the exposed skin of your lower back, he sighed, breathing in your soft scent.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” you mumbled.

“Yeah.” he mumbled back “I’ll pick ya up.”

“Alright.”

But none of you let go of the other.

O7 . CRUSH?

As a way to celebrate the school days being finally over to go into summer break, you organized a sleepover, and now Atsumu, Osamu, Suna and Aran were there since the others couldn’t make it.

As you and the guys spoke about Osamu’s crush, you suddenly turned to Atsumu.

“And you? Any girl got your heart?” you smiled.

The room suddenly went silent, except for Suna’s low chuckle.

Atsumu was quiet too, he was thinking. Wasn’t he obvious enough? Didn’t he showed his feelings? His heart that beats to your name?

“No.” he looked down, cheeks getting red as he started fidgeting with the control he was holding.

You raised an eyebrow, looking at everyone else. It seemed like they all knew something you didn’t.

“Guys?” you mumbled, but everyone seemed to look away from you.

You looked back at Atsumu and saw his red cheeks, then you looked down, noticing your leg that was on top of his.

Suddenly something clicked in your head. And bells started ringing on your head.

Everything started making sense like a piece of a puzzle.

The girl he had a crush on, was you. Miya Atsumu had a deep crush on you and had been trying to show it to you the whole time.

And, oh god.

You were in love with him too.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu x you #atsumu fluff #haikyuu atsumu #hq atsumu #hq x you #hq #hq fluff #atsumu x y/n

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 5 months ago

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A little something of Simon Riley x Bookworm!Reader

A/n: Did you guys miss this format? So do I, hope you guys are doing well because I would not wish my suffering on my worst enemy, for the first time in a while, school makes me want to self exit. These days have been the busiest for me and I doubt that it will get better from here. I'm just exhausted from life but never from you guys <3

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @callsignsnowpunisher @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @duck-a-doodle @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

My CoD Masterlist <3

My Simon "Ghost" Riley Playlist <3

Simon Riley who absolutely adores your reactions when you read, a little bored on a lazy day in bed with him with your reading material in hand. The way you squeal and wiggle your feet made him want to peek onto what you were reading but he didn't need to, the moment you notice him curiously trail on you when you've finished a chapter or a moment you can't help but rant about.

Simon Riley who absolutely adores the way you get passionate about romantic stories, sometimes it motivates him to get a little creative with date ideas although you insist that simple dates are just fine.

Simon Riley who loves sneaking up behind you to peek at what you're reading, to see if you hide it while all flustered or if you bolt so he could playfully chase and pin you down.

Simon Riley who actually picks up an interest in reading because of you, he loved the idea that he's able to be more connected to you, having heated sessions of ranting together, dissing on annoying characters and such.

Simon Riley who was thankful you for introducing him to audiobooks, he was usually busy with some of the repairing and some maintenance of your shared home whenever he comes home after months. It gives him time to catch up while doing something productive so you can have your book review sessions.

Simon Riley who likes it when you look for him in the house after he went to do chores while you immerse yourself in another world. The sound of his name being called over and over by you is the best to him, sometimes waiting for you to say his name a little more before responding.

Simon Riley who builds you your very own bookshelf at your third anniversary, he went through the effort of finding a wood color that he knew you'd like and crafted the intricate bookshelf with a matching ladder that had wheels at the bottom so you could slide down like belle in that scene from beauty and the beast.

Simon Riley who gifts you reading material that you told him you were dying to read, your birthdays and other special occasions, even merch of hyper fixations you have, the same ones you use to decorate the bookshelf he made.

Simon Riley who likes to experiment in the bedroom based on what you've noted and annotated scenes on the spicy romance novels you've kept. He does it in his absolute spare time, sometimes when you aren't home, he likes to see what turns you on, so you'll come home to a surprise.

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aestherin · 6 months ago

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KEEP MY HEART

goal 36: can i call?

NOTE: classes start tomorrow 😔💔

Your eyes drifted away from the movie both of you were watching when you felt your boyfriend shift.

"Kuni?"

"Oh sorry." He looked back upon hearing your voice. You just noticed that he was about to get something from his black bag. "Did I bother you?"

You shook your head profusely. "No, not at all! I was just wondering what you were—" You focused your eyes on his hands that were hidden inside the bag. "— up to?"

Scaramouche did not spare a single moment. As he took something out, your ears were enveloped by the sound of plastic material ruffling against each other.

He handed you what seemed like a folded piece of dark blue clothing packed inside a plastic sleeve.

"Is this for me?"

"Idiot. Why else would I give it to you?"

"I just didn't want to assume, okay?!"

"Can I open it now?"

He gave a nod of approval.

More ruffling of plastic can be heard as you started to take the clothing out. It was dri-fit, made from microfiber polyester — the common material used to make jerseys for the athletes that you know. Even your brother has jerseys like these.

Wait, a jersey?

"Oh my god, Kuni!"

Satisfied with your reaction, Scaramouche smirked. "That's not just a merch, too. It's one of my own official jerseys."

"What the heck?!" You yelped. You held the jersey up and turned it around. It indeed displayed his surname and player number at the back. You gripped the clothing even more tightly. "Are you sure I can have this?"

"Of course. My mom said so too."

"Really?"

"Mhm, she really likes you."

"Woah."

"Not more than I like you, though," he grinned.

You coughed and smacked his arm lightly. "Shut up."

"Okay okay, calm down." He raised both his hands up. "Ah. Also, she gave me tickets for you."

Your brows furrowed. "Tickets?"

"The soccer finals for this season. We're against your school, remember?"

"Huh?! That's coming up so soon, what?! Hold on?!"

"Yeah, stupid." He flicked your forehead lightly before comfortably leaning against the backrest, both his arms supporting his head.

Not gonna lie, he looked so attractive sitting like that.

Wait, no.

The finals is that soon?

Oh, God.

You told your brother you'd introduce your boyfriend to him after the game!

How many weeks from now is that? Wait, is it even a week or just days —

"So..." Your boyfriend's voice pulled you out from your spacing out session. "Who are you cheering for?" He smirked.

"Uh... can't I do for both? Hehe."

Scaramouche quickly took a look at his lockscreen. The huge white text at the top currently displayed '21:54'. Your brother hasn't arrived home yet.

"Kuni, it's getting late. Aren't you going to head home?" You asked him as you busied yourself with playing with Vivi on the rug.

Yeah, it's getting late and your brother still isn't home. How is he supposed to leave when you're going to be left home alone?

"What time is your brother supposed to get home?" He asked you.

"Venti and Xiao are drinking out with my brother. And, given Venti's alcohol tolerance, they might end late," you chuckled.

He sighed in return.

You gasped.

"Hold on, are you still not heading home because you're worried about me?"

Your boyfriend huffed and looked away. "Who told you that?"

"My instincts," you smiled. "Don't worry, okay? I'll be fine. Both me and my brother are used to being alone all the time since we also sometimes sleep at our friends' houses."

"You should start heading home now while it's not that late yet. Your mother might also be worried now."

"Are you sure you'll be fine?"

"Yes, I promise."

"Okay. I'll text you when I get home."

KEEP MY HEART — scara x reader smau

previous . masterlist . next

TAGLIST I (closed)

@kararisa @krnzysh @syriiina @your-kuya-pogi @xiaosonlybeloved @xiaomainlmao @cindywasneverhere @coquettemaiden @sunsethw4 @lunavixia @calickoh @arealistonao3 @youthingazi @zyilas @mondaymelon @yukiipc @heartswonder @st0pthatsgay @ozzierenato @astreaa-express @shewolfmiko @lovelyycherries @myaaones @countessqin @aloveablechaos @letthewindlead @lunaavity @local-blueberry-boy @luminestars @layla240 @useless-potatho @atlaszi @alatusorrow @lahsram2201 @sakiimeo @user11918163805279 @vqazx @neigesprincess @kunicrush @yoursockstinks @hotgirlshit5 @mikctp @crucnhice @apotatouwu @yuaenri @sammybeefangirls @miko1ly @deffenferofjustice @etherisy @sagegreenthinks

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sunflowerhae · 7 months ago

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GG! (Good Game!) 👾🌀👾 (L.DH)

Summary: Famous YouTuber and Streamer y/n just moved in next door to scholastic loser haechan! No sweat for him! No big deal! Not like he has her picture above his computer! Not like he owns her merch that he stayed up all night to get! Not like he cried when she started playing his favorite video game! Not like he’s completely and utterly obsessed with her and all his friends know it!

Oh wait…Major deal.

Genre: SMAU (with occasional written parts) , loser college student!Haechan x streamer fem! Reader, somewhat strangers to ???, fluff, angst, mostly just haechan being obsessed with reader (you’re welcome delulu fans!)

Starring: All members of NCT DREAM, all members of AESPA, Jaehyun (NCT)

Warnings: profanity, sexual themes and language, mentions of obsessive behavior, y’all are NAWT going to like y/n sorry 😫☺️‼️

Playlist: punch, NCT 127 // about you, The 1975 // the adults are talking, The Strokes // disco, Surf Curse // from the ritz to the rubble, Arctic Monkeys // spy?, WHOKILLEDXIX // mass anasthesia, Mediavolo

Notice: all depictions of artists are fictional and no way represent who these artists are in real life. Any similarities are simply coincidence. All pictures are taken randomly from Pinterest. Anything you would like to see removed, please message me PRIVATELY and it will be discussed.

Notes: yay! I’m so excited for yall to read this UGH. I’ve been wanting to get back into the swing of writing recently, and I’ve been super obsessed with SMAU’s and thought I’d try it out. Lmk what u think! I love a boy obsessed w me so it felt only right to make this. Enjoy! 🌀👾💥

Status: Completed (01.29.25)

P R O F I L E S

The Flops™️ | extra |

Bad Girls Club | extra |

Intro

Ch. 1 - the worlds tiniest violin

Ch. 2 - that dog in u

Ch. 3 - MISANDRIST

Ch. 4 - I need a gun

Ch. 5 - manifesting 🫶

Ch. 6 - wattpad fanfiction (written)

Ch. 7 - Lala land

Ch. 8 - check engine light

Ch. 9 - chat is this real (Bonus)

Ch. 10 - The Friendzone™️

Ch. 11 - lil dude

Ch. 12 - #virgin

Ch. 13- Renselle 4 life

Ch. 14 - suicide not postponed!

Ch. 15 - don’t HMU ❌

Ch. 16 - u broke him 💀

Ch. 17 - FTCU by Nicki Minaj (written)

Ch. 18 - lover boy

Ch. 19 - 12 baddies 1 Porsche

Ch. 20 - idiot

Ch. 21 - FUCKING DEAN?

Ch. 22 - TINY LITTLE HICCUP

Ch. 23 - The Big One (written)

Ch. 24 - the twilight soundtrack

Ch. 25 - #thankyouy/n

Ch. 26 - ur girl is whack

Ch. 27 - Stockholm syndrome maybe?

Ch. 28 - ur grounded.

Ch. 29 - pause.

Ch. 30 - Restraining Order

Ch. 31 - I’m fine.

Ch. 32 - all hands on deck (written)

Ch. 33 - pooja, what’s this behavior?

Ch. 34 - marry me, haechan

Ch. 35 - after all, it is Christmas (written)

Ch. 36 - locked in

Epilogue

🤖 Plot questions 🤖

Y/n and Haechan’s ages

☆ Main Masterlist ☆

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jhyoos · 1 month ago

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Rebel Girl

rockstar!sevika x influencer!reader

Chapter 6: Ex’s and Ohs

summary : you get invited to a big party downtown Vegas by a well-known celebrity. you decide to bring along the others.

mentions: modern au, fame au, drama, swearing, protective sevika, ex finn, overall finn just being a weirdo

notes: surprise! extra chapter. ��

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six

The next morning, you woke up groggy but determined to stick to your usual routine—it was the only thing grounding you in the midst of all this chaos. You started with your hour-long shower, letting the water cascade over you as you tried to clear your head. Afterward, you brushed your teeth, meticulously went through your 30-minute skincare routine, and finished with a combination of lotion and baby oil that left your skin glowing. By the time you slipped into your classic baby tee and pajama pants combo, you felt like a semblance of yourself again.

Just as you were finishing up, a knock at the door interrupted your moment of peace. You padded over and opened it to find Vi and Jinx standing there, both with wide grins on their faces.

“Good morning,” you greeted them, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey,” Vi replied, her tone casual but warm. “We were wondering if you wanted to join us for breakfast in the lobby. Haven’t heard from you all night, so we missed you.”

Jinx nodded enthusiastically, her wild blue hair bouncing with the movement. “Yeah, it’s not the same without you. You’ve got the best ideas, and we could really use your input.”

You gave them a small smile, appreciating the effort. “Oh yeah, sure. Just let me grab my stuff.”

Turning back into the room, you grabbed your phone and the bag with your hotel key, then followed them downstairs.

The lobby was bustling with activity, the smell of coffee and freshly cooked food wafting through the air. You were immediately struck by how awkward it felt as you approached the table and realized you’d have to sit next to Sevika. The tension between the two of you was palpable, but you pushed through it, plastering a neutral expression on your face as you took your seat.

Jinx, thankfully, was a great buffer, sitting on your other side and diving straight into conversation. “So, I was thinking we could do a retro-style drop for the merch—like 90s grunge but with neon accents,” she said, sliding her sketchbook toward you.

You leaned over to take a look, nodding thoughtfully as you offered suggestions. “What if you use a distressed font for the band name? And maybe incorporate some holographic details for the logos?”

Jinx’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s genius!”

Meanwhile, Vi and Caitlyn sat across the table, deep in their own conversation but occasionally looping Sevika in. You could feel Sevika’s presence beside you, her warmth, her voice, the occasional brush of her arm against yours. It was distracting, and you hated how much you noticed it.

The awkwardness shattered when your phone buzzed on the table. You glanced down and gasped, immediately catching everyone’s attention.

“Who is it?” Vi asked, curious.

You didn’t answer, too busy staring at the name on your screen. It was a call from Jayce Talis, the wildly popular YouTuber you had collaborated with a few months back. He was connected to every celebrity, constantly attending the biggest parties, events, and concerts, and making millions while doing it.

“Hello?” you answered, hoping and praying it was actually him.

“Hey, there’s my favorite girl,” Jayce’s smooth voice came through the phone. “I heard you’re in Vegas. You wanna come by one of my parties tonight? I’ll send you the address.”

You bit your lip, your mind racing as you looked at the others seated around the table. “Is it okay if four other people come?” you asked, feeling a flicker of hope.

“Sure, the more the merrier. I’ll send the location now,” Jayce said, his tone easygoing.

“Thank you so much,” you replied, genuinely grateful.

“Of course, babygirl. I’ll see you later,” he said before hanging up.

You placed your phone on the table, noticing everyone staring at you expectantly.

“Who was that?” Caitlyn asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Jayce Talis,” you said with a grin. “We’re invited to one of his parties tonight.”

“Deadass?” Vi’s eyes widened as she leaned forward. “Oh, fuck yeah. I heard his parties are crazy. So crazy you don’t even remember the next morning… no diddy.”

The table broke into laughter, the tension momentarily forgotten as everyone began buzzing with excitement over the plans for the night.

That evening, the hotel suite was a whirlwind of chaos as everyone prepared for the party. Clothes were scattered across the beds, makeup spilled across the countertops, and the music blasted loud enough to vibrate through the walls.

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your outfit—a short, sleek black dress with a daring slit up the side, paired with strappy heels that gave you an air of elegance. Your makeup was bold, smoky eyes with a hint of glitter and a deep red lip that made you feel confident. You finished the look with silver jewelry, your hair styled in loose waves that framed your face perfectly.

Caitlyn, ever the meticulous one, walked over and handed you a glass of wine. “You look stunning. Jayce is going to regret not staying on that call longer,” she teased, giving you a playful nudge.

You laughed, taking a sip. “Thanks, Cait. But this isn’t about Jayce. It’s about having fun.”

She smirked. “Well, if Sevika sees you like this, she might eat her words about not being serious.”

Your stomach churned at the mention of Sevika, but you quickly pushed the thought aside. Tonight was supposed to be about letting loose, not dwelling on unrequited feelings.

Meanwhile, Vi and Jinx were already well into the pregame phase, laughing hysterically as they downed shots of tequila. Vi was in a leather jacket and ripped jeans, her go-to look, while Jinx had gone all out in a neon mini dress that screamed chaos. Sevika, on the other hand, had kept it simple yet devastatingly attractive—a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, paired with dark jeans and boots.

By the time you all arrived at the party, the energy was electric. Jayce’s mansion was everything you’d expected—luxurious, sprawling, and filled with people who looked like they belonged on magazine covers. The music thumped through the walls, a mix of EDM and Top 40 hits, as the group made their way inside.

The night quickly spiraled into drinking games, loud conversations, and dancing. Vi and Jinx had disappeared to the dance floor, while Caitlyn stayed by your side, sipping a cocktail and making small talk with other guests. You were about to join the others when you spotted Sevika across the room.

She was leaning against the bar, her posture relaxed, a drink in hand as she talked to two women who were clearly vying for her attention. One of them rested a hand on her arm, leaning in closer, and you felt your stomach twist.

Your heart sank as Sevika gave a low chuckle, her lips curling into that smirk you hated to love. She wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she was flirting.

Caitlyn noticed the shift in your expression and followed your gaze. “Oh no,” she muttered, quickly grabbing your arm. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

You tried to pull away. “I just need to—”

“No, you don’t,” Caitlyn interrupted firmly, steering you toward another part of the room. “Come on, let’s get another drink and find something else to focus on.”

Reluctantly, you let her guide you away, but the image of Sevika laughing with those women was burned into your mind. You hated the way it made you feel—jealous, insecure, and foolish. You took a deep breath, silently vowing not to let it ruin your night.

Caitlyn handed you a fresh cocktail and gave you a reassuring smile. “Remember, you’re here to have fun. Don’t let her get in your head.”

You nodded, forcing a smile as you raised your glass. “You’re right. Cheers to that.”

But even as you tried to lose yourself in the party, the nagging ache in your chest remained, a constant reminder that Sevika would never be yours in the way you wanted her to be.

The party was in full swing, and the energy was electric. You and Caitlyn had thrown caution to the wind, taking more shots than either of you probably should have. The alcohol coursed through your veins, making everything brighter, louder, and a little more carefree.

Caitlyn, who rarely let loose like this, was surprisingly keeping up with you. The two of you sang along to every song blasting through the speakers, laughing as you tried to out-dance one another. At one point, Caitlyn leaned in close, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

"I think... I think I'm gonna confess to Vi," she blurted out, a mixture of determination and nerves in her eyes.

You paused, blinking at her before breaking into a wide grin. “Do it! You absolutely should! She’d be crazy not to say yes.”

Caitlyn laughed, shaking her head. “This might just be the liquor talking, but I think tonight’s the night.”

You gave her an encouraging push toward where Vi was standing, chatting with some other guests. “Go get her, tiger!”

Caitlyn took a deep breath, muttered something under her breath, and walked off, leaving you alone in the middle of the dance floor. But you didn’t mind. The music was too good, the vibe too perfect.

You found yourself dancing with a group of girls who had gathered nearby, all hyping each other up. You laughed, twirling in your dress, feeling freer than you had in weeks. The bass of the music vibrated through your body, and for a moment, you forgot all about Sevika, Jayce, and everything else weighing on your mind.

Then a finger tapped your shoulder, breaking the spell.

You turned, expecting to see Caitlyn or maybe even one of the girls you'd been dancing with. Instead, your breath hitched as your eyes landed on a familiar face.

“Finn?” you said, your voice laced with disbelief.

He gave you that same charming smirk that had once made your heart flutter. “Hey, gorgeous. What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here in Vegas?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“I got invited,” he said casually, his voice smooth.

You knew why. Finn wasn’t just any guy; he was a famous actor. His rugged looks and effortless charisma made him a perfect fit for the action and sci-fi movies he starred in. He was always the center of attention, always in the spotlight.

And once, you had been right there with him.

The two of you had been a celebrity power couple. Fans adored how well you matched—your aesthetics, your energy. Everything about your relationship had seemed perfect. And for a while, it had been.

The sex, the lavish dates, the way he spoiled you… it was like living in a dream.

Until the dream turned into a nightmare.

Your chest tightened as the memories came flooding back. Coming to his house to pick up the dog you had adopted together, only to find him in bed with one of his co-stars. The shock, the betrayal, the fury that had led you to throw hands with both of them.

And then, the final blow—him kicking you out of his house in the middle of a storm, leaving you stranded in the pouring rain.

As if that wasn’t enough, you later learned she hadn’t been the only one. Finn had cheated on you with multiple women, and to top it off, he had even stolen money from you on more than one occasion.

Now, standing face to face with him again, you felt a rush of conflicting emotions—anger, hurt, and a flicker of something you didn’t want to admit might still be there.

“What do you want, Finn?” you asked, keeping your tone cold.

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Can’t I just say hi? It’s been a while.”

“Not long enough,” you muttered, turning away, but he caught your arm gently, pulling you back.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he said, his voice soft. “I’ve missed you.”

You stared at him, your jaw tightening. “Missed me? Is that what you told all the other girls too?”

Finn’s smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by something almost resembling regret. “Look, I know I messed up. But maybe we can talk? Somewhere private?”

Before you could respond, you felt a firm hand on your back. Turning, you saw Caitlyn, her expression a mix of concern and warning.

“Everything okay here?” she asked, her eyes narrowing at Finn.

You shook your head, stepping back from him. “Yeah, we’re done here.”

Finn raised his hands in mock surrender, giving Caitlyn a once-over before meeting your eyes again. “Alright, I’ll let you go. But think about it, okay?”

As he walked away, Caitlyn gave you a look. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, though your hands were trembling. “Yeah. Let’s just… get another drink.”

Caitlyn hesitated but eventually nodded, steering you toward the bar. You couldn’t shake the feeling of Finn’s gaze lingering on you, but you pushed it to the back of your mind.

Tonight was supposed to be about fun. You weren’t going to let him ruin that for you. Not again.

The chaotic haze of drinking and partying had left you feeling a little too hot under the collar—agitated, restless, and desperately in need of a moment to yourself. You stumbled your way through the crowd, searching for Jayce. The booming bass of the music thumped in your chest as you finally spotted him perched on top of an expensive-looking table, holding court with a group of people.

“Jayce!” you called, your voice cutting through the noise.

He turned at the sound of your voice, and his face broke into a wide grin. Without hesitation, he hopped down from the table, his movement surprisingly smooth for someone as drunk as he seemed.

“Jesus,” he said, running his eyes over you in a way that made you simultaneously flattered and exhausted. “You look even better than the last time I saw you.”

He pulled you into a warm hug, and you hugged him back, patting his shoulder lightly. Jayce had always been like this—overly confident and unfiltered—but you knew his heart was in the right place.

“Thanks, Jayce,” you said, stepping back. “But, um… where’s the bathroom?”

He waved a hand toward the far corner of the room. “Oh, don’t bother with the public one. Just use mine. It’s upstairs, connected to my suite. See the elevator over there? It’ll take you directly up. My guard will let you in.”

You nodded, grateful for the shortcut. “Thanks, Jayce.”

“No problem,” he said with a wink, before climbing back onto the table.

You made your way to the elevator, a burly security guard already waiting by the doors. Without a word, he pressed the button for you and gave you a curt nod as the doors slid shut.

The ride up was quick, and you were relieved to find Jayce’s suite quiet compared to the chaos downstairs. You stumbled into the bathroom, kicking off your heels as you rushed to relieve yourself. In your slightly drunk state, you didn’t even think to lock the door.

After finishing, you washed your hands, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your mascara was slightly smudged, and your hair was a little messier than you’d like, but otherwise, you looked… fine. Passable.

The sound of the door opening behind you made your stomach drop. You glanced up into the mirror, your heart sinking as you saw Finn standing there.

“Please, baby, let’s talk,” he said, his voice low and pleading.

You turned to face him, keeping your tone firm. “I’m good, Finn. There’s nothing to talk about.”

As you tried to brush past him, he grabbed you by the waist, his strength keeping you in place as he pressed you back against the wall.

“God, you look so sexy,” he murmured, his eyes dark and focused entirely on you. “Just let me get a kiss. I’ve missed your lips so much.”

Before you could protest, his hand was on your face, tilting it up toward him. You struggled against him, trying to push him away, but he was faster. His lips crashed onto yours, stealing the kiss before you could stop him.

Your mind raced, equal parts shock and anger bubbling to the surface as you fought against his grip. You planted your hands on his chest, shoving him back with as much strength as you could muster.

“Get off me!” you yelled, your voice sharp and trembling.

Finn stumbled back slightly, his expression flickering between surprise and frustration.

“Don’t act like you don’t still want me,” he said, his voice dropping into something darker.

“I don’t,” you spat, your chest heaving. “Stay the hell away from me, Finn. I mean it.”

Before he could say another word, you darted out of the bathroom, grabbing your heels as you made your way back to the elevator. Your hands shook as you pressed the button, praying the doors would close fast enough to keep Finn from following.

When you finally made it back to the party downstairs, your heart was still pounding. The noise of the crowd was both overwhelming and oddly comforting—it meant you weren’t alone. You immediately searched for Caitlyn or anyone you trusted, needing an anchor after what had just happened.

Finn’s presence had ruined the night for you. All you wanted now was to find a quiet corner, breathe, and maybe—just maybe—figure out how to piece yourself back together.

As you made your way back onto the party floor, the noise and flashing lights felt like a cruel reminder of your shaken state. Your heels clicked against the floor as your eyes scanned the crowd, desperately searching for a familiar face. You weren’t thinking much—just running on the hope that someone you trusted could pull you out of the spiral you were sinking into.

Your gaze finally landed on Sevika. She was leaning against the bar, her focus on a small group of girls, flashing them the kind of smirk that had once made your knees weak. Her hand brushed against one of their arms as she leaned in to say something that made them giggle.

For a moment, you hesitated. But then Sevika looked up, her sharp eyes locking onto yours. The instant she noticed the tears streaming down your face, her expression changed. The playful confidence melted away, replaced with concern and something else—something almost protective.

She straightened up immediately, excusing herself from the girls without another word. Her strides were long and purposeful as she closed the distance between you, her brows furrowed.

“Come on,” she said softly, slipping her hand onto your back to guide you. She led you out of the suffocating crowd and into the night air. The quiet of the outdoors was a stark contrast to the chaos inside, and you took in a shaky breath, grateful for the reprieve.

“Hey,” Sevika said, her voice low but insistent. She turned to face you, her hands gently gripping your shoulders. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I-I…” You tried to form the words, but they caught in your throat, choked by the sobs you couldn’t hold back.

Sevika crouched slightly, trying to meet your downcast gaze. “Take your time. Just tell me.”

You swallowed hard, finally managing to get the words out. “My ex… he…”

Her jaw clenched immediately. “What did he do? Did he hurt you? Did he touch you? Where did it happen?”

The barrage of questions came quickly, her tone growing harsher with every word. You squeezed your eyes shut, the memories flashing in your mind. “He kissed me,” you finally admitted, your voice trembling. “He made me kiss him.”

Her face darkened instantly, her entire demeanor shifting into something cold and deadly. “What does he look like? What’s his name?”

“Finn,” you said, your voice cracking. “He’s tall, has tattoos everywhere… He’s wearing bright yellow…”

You stopped yourself mid-ramble, suddenly realizing how Sevika’s fists had clenched at her sides, her whole body taut with anger. “Why?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m gonna kill him,” she muttered, her voice low and venomous. It wasn’t meant for you, but she said it loud enough for you to hear.

Her words sent a shiver down your spine. “Sevika, no,” you said, reaching out to grab her arm.

Her gaze snapped to yours, her eyes burning with a fury you’d never seen before. “He forced himself on you,” she said, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. “You think I’m just gonna let that slide?”

“You can’t,” you insisted, your voice rising. “It’s not worth it.”

“It’s worth it to me,” she shot back, her tone firm and unrelenting.

You shook your head, tears spilling again as you tried to pull her attention back to you. “Please, Sevika. Don’t do this. I just… I just need someone right now. Not revenge.”

Her shoulders dropped slightly, and for the first time, she seemed to really see you—the vulnerability, the pain. She let out a slow, shaky breath, her jaw still tight. “Okay,” she finally said, her voice softer now. “Okay. I won’t do anything. Not tonight.”

Relief flooded through you, and you took a small step closer, resting your head against her chest. She hesitated for a moment before wrapping her arms around you, holding you tightly.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice low. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You didn’t respond, just letting her presence ground you. For now, that was enough.

As Sevika comforted you, the quiet moment shattered when Finn stormed outside, his face twisted in anger. His voice slurred slightly, but his venom was crystal clear.

“You’re such a fucking whore, you know that?” he spat, his voice loud enough to draw attention.

Your head snapped toward him in shock, but before you could react, Sevika stepped in front of you. She squared her shoulders, shielding you entirely. Her voice was low and steady, but there was an edge to it that could cut steel.

“What did you just call her?” she asked, her mechanical arm twitching subtly as she balled her fists.

“A whore!” Finn shouted, stepping closer with an unhinged glare. “Up in the bathroom, playing hard to get, and now you’re cuddled up with some dyke?!”

“Chill,” Sevika warned, her voice dropping further, calm but laced with a deadly undertone.

“Chill?” Finn scoffed, his eyes wide with deranged fury. “Bitch, I’ll knock the teeth out of your mouth. I’ll make the rest of your life a living hell.” He took another step closer, now chest-to-chest with Sevika.

Sevika didn’t flinch. Instead, she tilted her head, giving him a slow once-over before smirking coldly. “Jesus… You dated this man? He’s pathetic.”

Before you could react to the insult, Finn’s fist flew. The sound of his knuckles connecting with Sevika’s cheek was loud enough to silence the faint chatter nearby. She stumbled back a step, more out of shock than pain, her face blank as she brought her hand to her cheek.

Then her expression changed. Fury washed over her features, her jaw tightening as she rolled her shoulders. Without another word, she swung her mechanical fist, and the sound of the impact echoed like a thunderclap. Finn crumpled instantly, hitting the ground like a sack of bricks.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. Your hand gripped the wall to steady yourself as you stared at the scene, trying to process if this was reality or some drunken fever dream.

Sevika turned to look at you, her breathing even but her eyes searching your face for any sign of distress. You couldn’t move, too stunned to even speak.

The muffled noise of the party behind you suddenly grew louder as someone yelled, “There’s a fight outside!” The doors burst open, and a flood of people poured out to see what had happened. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd as everyone’s eyes landed on Finn’s unconscious body sprawled at Sevika’s feet.

Jayce pushed his way through the crowd, his sunglasses perched on his nose but failing to hide his wide-eyed reaction. “Oh shit,” he muttered, looking down at Finn before glancing back at Sevika. “Is he dead? I can’t afford another death…”

Sevika didn’t answer, her gaze flicking to you briefly before focusing back on the crowd.

“He’s not dead,” you said, your voice shaky but loud enough to silence the murmurs. You stepped forward, your hand trembling as you gestured toward Finn. “But he forced himself on me in the bathroom you said was guarded, Jayce.”

Jayce’s head snapped toward you, his sunglasses lifting slightly as if he needed to see you more clearly. “For real?” he asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and concern. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I swear I’ll look deeper into this. I mean it. I’ll take your word for it—always. You’re my girl.”

He gestured toward his security team, who immediately moved to pick Finn up. “Get him out of here,” Jayce barked. “And make sure he doesn’t come back. Ever.”

As the guards dragged Finn’s limp body away, the crowd began to disperse, murmuring among themselves. Jayce gave you a small nod before heading back inside, leaving you alone with Sevika again.

She turned to you, her eyes softening ever so slightly. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice calm but tinged with something that sounded almost like regret.

You nodded, even though your legs felt weak beneath you. “I don’t know,” you admitted quietly.

Sevika stepped closer, her presence grounding you as she placed a hand gently on your arm. “You’re safe now,” she said, her tone firm. “No one’s going to hurt you while I’m here.”

For a moment, you just stood there, letting her words sink in. You didn’t know how to feel—grateful, overwhelmed, or still shaken—but you knew one thing for certain: you felt safer with Sevika than anywhere else in the world.

Caitlyn, Vi, and Jinx rushed through the lingering crowd, their worried faces evident as they reached you and Sevika. Caitlyn was the first to speak, her eyes darting between the two of you.

“You okay… both of you?” she asked, her tone a mix of concern and urgency.

Sevika crossed her arms, her usual stoic demeanor back in place. “Yes, I’m fine, Cait,” she replied simply.

You nodded, though your voice wavered slightly. “I am too. Just… a little shaken up.”

Jinx stepped forward, her usual chaotic energy muted but still present. “It’s time to go… yeah?” she said, her voice lighter as she hooked her arm with yours. Without waiting for an answer, she started leading you toward the exit, offering you the comfort of her presence.

Vi and Caitlyn flanked the two of you, and Sevika trailed slightly behind, her sharp gaze scanning the remaining partygoers as if daring anyone else to cross the line. The group moved quickly through the mansion, the buzz of the party now a distant hum as more people decided to leave after the commotion.

The cool night air hit you like a splash of water as you stepped outside. The streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement, and the city’s noise provided a welcome distraction from your pounding heart. Jinx kept her arm linked with yours, humming softly to a song still stuck in her head.

Caitlyn glanced back at Sevika, lowering her voice so only she could hear. “You did good back there. He had it coming.”

Sevika grunted in response, but there was a subtle nod of acknowledgment.

As the group exited the mansion and approached the gates, the blinding flashes of cameras caught you off guard. Paparazzi were already gathered outside, shouting questions and taking rapid-fire photos. The flashes lit up the night like fireworks, and their voices overlapped, each trying to out-yell the others.

“(Y/N)! What happened in there?”

“Who was the guy Sevika knocked out?”

“Sevika, are you protecting (Y/N)?”

“Are you two dating?”

“Finn said you were in a relationship—care to comment?”

You instinctively shrank back, overwhelmed by the chaos. Jinx tightened her grip on your arm, glaring at the reporters. “Seriously, don’t you guys have anything better to do?”

Caitlyn stepped forward, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the flashes as she tried to create a path. “No comments. Leave her alone.”

Vi moved beside her, her presence intimidating enough to make some of the paparazzi take a step back. “You heard her. Back off,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Sevika stayed close to you, her tall frame a protective barrier against the invasive crowd. Her sharp gaze flicked over the reporters, daring any of them to push further.

“Sevika, is it true you assaulted Finn?” one of them shouted.

“Shut it,” Sevika growled, her voice low and threatening. The reporter quickly lowered his camera, the air suddenly tense.

The group finally pushed through the throng of paparazzi, with Vi leading the way and Caitlyn acting as a buffer. You kept your head down, your heart pounding as the cameras continued to snap.

Once inside the car, the driver quickly locked the doors and sped off, leaving the chaos behind. You exhaled deeply, leaning back against the seat as you tried to calm your racing thoughts.

“God, they’re vultures,” Jinx muttered, shaking her head. “Do they ever give it a rest?”

“They’ll move on to something else by tomorrow,” Caitlyn said reassuringly, though her brows were furrowed with concern.

Sevika remained silent, her gaze fixed out the window. Her jaw was tight, and her hands were clenched into fists on her lap. She looked like she was replaying the night in her head, simmering with barely contained anger.

Vi broke the silence, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “You okay? That was a lot.”

You nodded slowly, though your voice was quiet. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

Jinx gave your arm a comforting squeeze. “Don’t worry, we’ll lock the doors, crank up the room service, and shut out the world for the rest of the night.”

You managed a faint smile, grateful for her attempts to lighten the mood. As the car sped through the neon-lit streets of Vegas, you couldn’t help but glance at Sevika. She was still staring out the window, her expression unreadable.

For now, you focused on the promise of quiet and comfort waiting back at the hotel, desperate to put the night’s events behind you.

Back at the hotel, the group gathered in Caitlyn and Vi’s room, the tension from earlier slowly melting away as the comforting smell of food filled the air. The table was covered with an assortment of takeout boxes—sushi rolls neatly arranged, crispy chicken wings glistening in sauce, golden fries piled high, and several tubs of ice cream waiting for dessert.

Jinx immediately dove for the fries, her mood lightening as she munched away. “This is exactly what we needed after all that drama.”

Caitlyn and Vi sat close together on the couch, their shoulders brushing as they shared a plate of wings. Caitlyn had a small, nervous smile on her face, stealing glances at Vi, who seemed completely at ease.

You took a seat on the floor, cross-legged with your sushi in front of you, watching the dynamic between Caitlyn and Vi unfold. Jinx noticed too, her eyes darting between them. “So… are you two gonna stop pretending or what?”

Vi choked on her drink, coughing as Caitlyn’s face turned beet red. “Pretending what?” Vi asked, wiping her mouth.

Jinx rolled her eyes dramatically. “That you’re not into each other. It’s so obvious.”

Caitlyn bit her lip, looking down at her hands. Vi glanced at her and then back at Jinx, sighing. “Fine. You caught us.”

Caitlyn’s eyes widened in surprise, but when Vi reached over and took her hand, her expression softened. “She was drunk, but I still accepted,” Vi said, her voice low but sincere.

Caitlyn smiled, squeezing her hand. “I asked Vi to be my girlfriend,” she admitted.

You clapped your hands together. “Finally! I’ve been rooting for you two since forever.”

Jinx leaned back, grinning smugly. “Told you so. Now kiss or something. Make it official.”

Vi rolled her eyes but leaned in to kiss Caitlyn, a soft, tender moment that made everyone cheer and clap beside Sevika but she was amused. Caitlyn laughed, hiding her face behind her hands as Vi pulled her close.

The rest of the night passed in a warm, comforting haze. Laughter echoed through the room, and everyone indulged in food and ice cream, the stress of the evening melting away.

When the night wound down, Sevika stood, stretching. “I’ll walk you back to your room,” she said, glancing at you.

You nodded, feeling a flutter of nerves. “Thanks.”

The two of you walked down the quiet hallway, the sounds of the city fading into the background. When you reached your door, you turned to her. “Thank you for tonight,” you said softly. “For protecting me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Sevika shrugged, but her expression softened. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

Trying to lighten the mood, you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “Well, I’m thanking you anyway.”

Sevika froze for a moment, her lips twitching into a faint smile as she nodded. “Goodnight.”

She turned and walked away, leaving you to enter your room. You closed the door, leaning against it for a moment as your heart raced. Shaking your head, you got into bed, pulling the covers up and letting the exhaustion of the night finally take over.

But just as you were about to drift off, a knock on the door startled you. You got up, wondering who it could be at this hour. When you opened it, Sevika stood there, her eyes intense and her expression unreadable.

“Sevika? Is something wrong?”

She hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer. “Fuck it… I have feelings for you too,” she said, her voice low and rough.

Before you could process her words, she leaned in and kissed you deeply, her hands gently cradling your face. The kiss was firm yet tender, filled with all the emotions she’d been holding back. You didn’t hesitate to kiss her back, your arms wrapping around her neck as your heart raced.

Sevika’s hands slid down to your waist, steadying you as she broke the kiss for just a moment, her forehead resting against yours. “Is this okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded eagerly, pulling her closer. “More than okay.”

She smiled before kissing you again, this time with more urgency. Her hands moved to the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head and tossing it to the floor. You felt a thrill run through you as you tugged her into the room, your lips never leaving hers.

Sevika kicked the door shut behind her, the soft click of the lock echoing in the room. The night stretched out before you, a mix of passion and emotions that neither of you wanted to end.

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