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shyxcherry · 3 days ago

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caught in the act | leehan

summary: when your crush leaves you all hot and bothered, you sneak off to get some relief. too bad that said crush hears you moaning out his name.

pairing: leehan x female!reader

warning: pure smut with a little fluff (fingering, oral (f), spanking, unprotected sex, leehan has a filthy mouth)

word count: 3.2k

notes: request! this was not supposed to be this long lol. i blame my period for this...

°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

you often regretted the day that your roommate introduced you to her friend group. they were all great, and you fit in perfectly. there was only one issue. you had the biggest crush on one of them- leehan.

it was all your fault really. you had no one to blame but yourself, but you couldn't help it. his soft eyes were so enchanting. you could stare into them for hours, and you have as you listened to him rant about a subject that you could honestly care less about. you also found yourself staring at his lips, watching the shapes he makes when he's not paying attention to you, wishing to know what they felt like against yours.

and god, his voice. you were pretty sure he could read you the encyclopedia, and you would be entertained. it was just so soothing, always calming you down. one time when you drank too much, you told him that. he didn't tease you for it which shocked you. instead, he told you to call him whenever you wanted to hear him, so now when you can't sleep, you call him. he'll talk to you about anything until he hears the soft breaths signaling that you fell asleep.

you knew you were down bad for him when he brought you with him to get another fish, and he told you which one would be perfect for you. so of course you got it, and now you have a fish named yin to match his new fish that he named yang. he helps you take care of it, often coming over to make sure you're following his directions.

your roommate teases you endlessly for you very obvious crush. she even brought leehan's friend, jaehyun into your teasing. they tried endlessly to get you to confess to him because you would be waiting forever for leehan to confess (jaehyun's words), but you always refused. you valued his friendship way too much to confess when you're not even sure he felt the same way. they were certain he did, but you still wouldn't do it.

lately, he's been leaving you hot and bothered. it didn't help that it's summer, so he's been walking around in tank tops and showing off his arms. today wasn't any different. all of you were at jaehyun's house playing a game, and the loser had to jump into the pool. leehan lost and didn't even take any of his clothes off before he cannonballed into the pool.

you felt nauseous as got out of the pool. his hair slicked back and showing off his forehead. his clothes were sticking to his body, and you swore you could see ab lines from where his shirt was clinging to his stomach. you felt like you couldn't take it anymore. so when he went upstairs to change, you told everyone you weren't feeling good before leaving. you played it off pretty good because none of them teased you like they normally did. your roommate even offered to go with you, but you refused.

that leaves you where you were now, softly moaning leehan's name as your vibrator ran across your clit. you imagined it was him laying on top of you, mouth running across your body while he held the vibrator to you, whispering everything he was going to do to you. your eyes shut in pleasure, back arching when you press the vibrator harder. right as you felt yourself getting close, you heard someone knock on your door, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

"yn." you heard your name being called from the other side of the door, and you nearly scream when you recognize the voice as leehan's. "are you in there?"

"just a sec!" you quickly shut off the vibrator before throwing it in your drawer. you fix your shorts before getting up. you run your hands down your shirt as you open the door. leehan was standing there with a concerned look on his face. you move back and let him in before shutting the door. "what are you doing here?"

"jaehyun said you weren't feeling good, so i wanted to come and check on you."

thankfully leehan wasn't looking at you, so he couldn't see your face. he did his usual, going to check on your fish before laying down across the end of your bed. you join him, leaning on the head rest as you cross your legs.

"you didn't have to do that. i think i just got overheated."

leehan looked over to you, slowly examining you to make sure you weren't lying. "so you're feeling better now?"

you wanted to say no. if he would've came five minutes later after you had gotten yourself off, you would've been fine. but now here you were, sexually frustrated with the one who is causing it laying right in front of you.

"yep. feeling much better." leehan hummed at your answer.

"then why did it take you so long to open the door?" you had to stop your eyes from widening at his question. you motioned to the bathroom that was connected to your room.

"i was in the bathroom."

"you didn't sound like you were in the bathroom."

you force out a laugh at him as you try not to freak out. "what are you? an interrogator?"

"no." he answered. "i just want to know why it took you so long to open the door."

"i just told you. i was in the bathroom."

"no you weren't." leehan argued with you. you shift under his gaze but was determined not to break like you normally did.

"is the heat getting to you too?" you ask. "because i'm pretty sure i was in the bathroom. i would know."

leehan clicked his tongue like he was scolding you. "you're lying to me."

"no i'm not."

"yes you are."

"what makes you think i'm lying to you?" you ask, getting fed up with him. he rolled over on his side, smirking at you and catching you off guard.

"i was standing at your door long before i decided to knock."

you felt your mouth dry up as you blink at him. he heard you. your friend heard you moaning his name while you pleasured yourself. you felt like you wanted to cry, especially since you couldn't tell how he was feeling. your mind told you he was teasing you due to the smirk on his face that still hasn't left.

you quickly untangle your legs before making a break for the bathroom. he tried to grab you, but you were too fast, closing and locking the door before he could get to you. you felt tears hit your cheeks as your back slides down the wall.

leehan knocked on the door. "yn, open the door."

"no." you willed your voice to come out strong, but it shook at the end. you knew leehan could tell you were crying be he cursed when he heard you.

"please open the door."

"please leave." you beg.

"i'm not leaving, yn." you heard leehan sigh. you could hear him shift like he was sitting down in front of the door. "i'm not leaving until we talk about this."

you kept quiet, not wanting to respond. you knew he wouldn't leave. he was too stubborn. once he said he was doing something, no one could stop him from it. "how long were you standing there?"

"long enough." he answered.

"can you just reject me and leave?"

"why would i reject you?" you scoff at his question.

"oh please. you were on the verge of laughing."

"i wasn't going to laugh." he replied softly. you shook your head, not believing him.

"then why were you smiling like that?"

"because i was thinking about how good you sounded while moaning my name." you nearly choke at his answer. "i had imaging how you sounded for months, and somehow you sounded so much better than anything i could've imagined. and its driving me crazy that you're locked behind this door, and i can't touch you."

you were stunned by his answer. you could hear the desperation in his voice towards the end. you quietly stood up before moving towards the door. "you- you like me back?"

you hear him shuffle as he quickly stood up once he heard how close you were to the door. "how could i not? you're like the most perfect person i've ever met."

you wipe your face, getting rid of the dried tears before you unlock the door. you didn't even get a chance to open it before leehan barged into your bathroom. you barely had a chance to look at him when his hands gripped your cheeks, pulling your lips to his. you gasped at the actions before kissing him back.

he kissed you deeply, hands roaming your body like he was trying to memorize everything about you. your back hit the counter when he backed you up. he easily lifted you up, sitting you on the counter as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring every inch of you.

you felt your head spin, and you tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let you. he chased after your lips, molding them to yours as he pulled you closer to him. his grip was tight on your legs, tight enough to leave bruises as he wrapped them around his waist. his erection was poking through his shorts, brushing against your heat and causing you to moan into his mouth at the friction.

"you drive me insane." his voice deep with lust. he moved his head, sucking and biting at every inch of your exposed neck, making you squirm in his hold. "it took everything in me not to barge in and fuck you when you said my name. you would've like that though, wouldn't you baby?" you nod desperately, too far gone to speak sentences. "is that what you want? for me to fill this pussy up the way she deserves?"

"leehan." you whimper, voice cracking with need as you cling to him. he bites your neck harder when his name leaves your lips. you hands grip the counter as you roll your hips against his, moaning again when his hips desperately bucked into yours.

his hands cup your ass, squeezing tightly as he pulls you flush against him before picking you up. "you're already a mess, and i've barely touched you. i can practically feel how soaked you are through your clothes, my desperate girl."

your back hit the soft mattress before leehan kneeled over you. his hands gripped your knees before prying your legs apart, exposing your core to him. one of his hands left your knee before his fingers ran over your shorts. you choke out a moan, lifting your hips at the contact. you hear him darkly chuckle at your desperation. "how bad do you want it, baby?"

"so bad- please." his hand leaves your core, running across your hip, leaving you whining at the loss of contact. his hand roughly kneed the smooth flesh of your thigh before slapping it, causing you to jump while desperately moaning his name again.

"i don't think you want it that bad. why would you run away if you wanted this?"

you shake your head at his words. "i want it- want you. i'm sorry for running. i didn't mean to. please, leehan."

leehan stops your pleas with his mouth, tongue coaxing yours, causing your hips to rut against his. he bites your lip at the action, holding your hips down before sliding his hand into the front of your shorts. you stutter against his lips as his fingers teasingly slide down your dripping cunt. "you're fucking dripping. all for me baby, right?" you nod your head, eyes rolling in the back of your head when his thumb finds your throbbing clit. "and to think you thought a vibrator would be better than me." you almost scream when his hand pinches your clit. "tell me. can your vibrator do this?"

you thrust into his hand, broken moans leaving your lips when he thrust two fingers into you. he doesn't give you any time to adjust, leaving you squeezing around his fingers as continued to shove his fingers deep inside of you. the wet sounds of your cunt along with your moans and whimpers brought a smile to leehan's face. "answer me, or i'm going to stop."

"p-please don't stop." you cry out. "it doesn't. n-nothing has felt even a fraction as good as you."

he rewards you, curling his fingers, hitting that spot that has you squeezing so tightly around him, he could barely move. tears prick your eyes, hips moving against his hand as he leans down. his lips brush yours, drowning your sounds with his lips. "why don't you be my good girl and take your shirt off, so i can see these pretty tits?"

his fingers don't stop moving at all, leaving you to try to sit up with shaky arms. your hands barely work which leaves leehan chuckling, before you pull the shirt over your head. you throw it before unhooking your bra, letting it slide down your arms before throwing it as well. leehan pushes you down, lips instantly finding your hardened nipple. your back arches into his mouth, whimpering when he bites the sensitive bud.

he marks every inch of your chest, leaving it glistening with his spit and bruises, making him groan against your lips at the sight of your trembling body. his name barely leaves your lips, legs tightening around his waist when your stomach clenches so hard it hurts.

"cum for me." he demands, hand finding your sore nipple before pinching it, causing you to cry out. "cum all over my fingers. make a mess."

you scream out his name as your orgasm ripped through your body. it left you shaking, clenching around his fingers that have yet to cease moving. he took his other hand, pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving him completely exposed to him. he stands by the edge of the bed, lustful eyes scanning over every inch of you. you tried to pull away from his hand that was still buried inside of you, causing him to slap your ass in warning.

"stop running from me." he growled, ripping his hand out of your cunt, leaving you moaning for more. he gripped your thighs, pulling you towards him. "roll over."

you did as he said, rolling over to your stomach and letting leehan position you the way he wanted you. your ass was in the air, leaving your face pressed into the mattress, back arched for him that nearly had him moaning your name. he rips off his shirt in one clean motion before kneeling down, lining his face up with your cunt. his hand held your folds open while he darted his tongue out, brushing over your puffy clit with a groan of how you sweet tasted.

he started out slow, tongue moving slowly as he circled your clit teasingly, smiling when he hears you moaning for more. "patience, baby. i'm just getting started." he presses a little harder, flicking his tongue over your clit before sucking the swollen bud, leaving you moaning his name clenching around nothing. "do you feel that? how much this pussy is begging for me? should i give her what she wants, baby?"

"yes. please, leehan." you voice full of need that leaves leehan straining in his pants. "i need you, so bad. please fuck me."

leehan groans at your words, shedding his shorts as he stands up. his dick hits your clit, making you moan at the feeling. you could feel him pulsing as he slowly ran his dick through your dripping folds, coating him in your slick. he soon got sick of the teasing, the two of you moaning out in unison as he slides into you in one slick thrust. he groans when he feels you clench around him at the stretch.

his warm breath was hot against your neck as he leaned over you, pressing his lips to your spine. "do you feel how well your pussy takes me? like you were fucking made for me?"

you can't do anything but moan at his words, lost as he completely fills you with his cock. he start out slow, tortuously slow, letting you feel every inch of him against your walls as he almost completely pulls back before thrusting back inside of you. his hands dig into your hips, nails leaving crescent shaped marks as he held you in place.

your eyes clench shut, tears pooling in the corners as he speeds up, slamming into you. your knuckles turn white from how hard your gripping the sheets. the only thing leaving your mouth was his name. "that's right, baby. let me hear you scream out my name. let every know who's fucking you stupid."

you cry out his name, eyes rolling back when his hands push on your stomach bulge. your back arches more with his touch, leaving your back the perfect canvas for leehan's lips. he leaves your entire back covered in bruises as he continues to slam into you, loving that you turned into a sobbing mess beneath him.

"my good girl." you cry when his hand threaded itself into your hair, yanking you up with a sharp tug, groaning when he feels you squeeze his dick. "you're just mine to ruin, aren't you?"

he could tell you were already there, tears running down your cheeks as you begged him. "leehan, please. i- i need you."

"you have me baby." he coos, tongue trailing along your cheek, catching the salty tears with a groan. "do you want more? are you going to let me fill this pussy, so she knows who she belongs to?"

"please."

he lets your hair go, your face pressing into the mattress as he picks up his speed. he groans when you squeeze around him, stomach coiling tightly, signaling your climax. his hand moved around you, mercilessly rubbing your clit. you see stars, clenching your eyes so tightly as you cum. leehan groans at the feeling of you, thrusting into you a few more times before he fills you with his release.

the two of you stay in that position as you come down from your highs. leehan leans over you, pressing sweet kisses to your spine which was a complete contrast to how he just was. his hands run soothing circles on your hips as he pulls out of you. you hiss at the loss of contact, letting leehan roll you over on your back before covering you with his body.

"you did so good, my sweet girl." you smile at the compliment, grabbing his face before kissing him which he responds to instantly. he runs his hands all over your body, massaging the tender areas, leaving you moaning into his mouth.

"we picked the worst time of the year to get together. we're all sweaty." you complain as you pull away. you were right- the both of you were covered in sweat. leehan's hair was damp and sticking to his forehead, and you could feel yours clinging to your neck.

leehan laughs against your lips before kissing you again. "it's not all bad."

"why's that?"

leehan wraps you around his body once again, making you gasp as he stands up. he laughs, kissing your cheek as he carries you back to where everything started.

"because now i get to clean you up before doing it all over again."

179 notes · View notes

vicolette · 22 hours ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 !

– Warnings : English isn’t my first language, uses of y/n & lovebirds, not proofread.

"Do you know where-"

Pau looked up from 'his' notes as he came face to face with you – his seating partner in class and the only girl that he actually trusted enough to fully on rant about anything and everything. It was silent for a moment, just you waiting for him to finish his sentence, when Pau gave you a big grin. "Here, your notes."

"Oh, thanks! I thought you lost them," You admitted while staring at the papers that you had prepared for yourself on a random study lesson in the public library, only for Pau to suddenly appear and tell you a story about how his teammates played a prank on him.

You remembered it vividly, only half-listening while he told you that Lamine acted as if his phone was playing music, and somehow had convinced everyone else to join into the prank and tell him that he should stop the music, as it was unprofessional to listen to it during training.

"What?" The very same person, who had once been too shy to even look at you in the eye, pouted at your odd accusation as he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms while trying to figure out why you would think of something as stupid as that. "Why? I would never."

"Remember when you lost the paper that Mrs-"

"Okay, okay! I get it." He refused to listen to your words as Pau looked away in pure embarrassment, not wanting to hear how he had once lost something important for school and then was lectured in front of the whole class.

Meanwhile, you just laughed at his ridiculous expression and shook your head, getting back to checking your notes out and try to remember what you had written in your tests, before you realized you weren’t the only one. "What do you have?"

At first, Pau seemed confused and wondered what you were talking about, watching as you reached for your bag and searched for something. Once you showed him your test results, holding multiple ones up, Pau stood frozen for a moment before he placed his own bag down.

When he had found his own exams and seen the grades on them, he beamed with excitement and proudly showed them off, earning a generous hum from you. "I'm just that smart, you know?"

"Oh, yeah, totally." You agreed, half-sarcastically at how proud he was, half-wholeheartedly at agreeing with how much he had learned. At the beginning of the school year, he had struggled with most of his lessons due to his job, yet you were there to save him.

You were there, when he needed advice on how to handle his messy schedule. You were there, when he needed study tips. You were there, when he wanted to learn vocabulary but struggled embarrassingly.

You were always there, whenever Pau needed you.

And now, as you looked at the minority of his mistakes – which were genuinely just random things that nobody would’ve known were wrong – a ground of students passed by and one of them bumped into you.

However, instead of apologizing, they turned around and looked at you dead in the eye, "Don’t stand in the middle of the hallway, lovebirds!"

"We weren’t standing in the middle of the-" Before Pau could even finish his sentence and properly let out his frustration at the situation, they turned to the corner and were long since gone, making him click his tongue. "Fucking as-"

"Yooo, we don’t curse!" You told him with a laughter following soon after, not even bothering to acknowledge the blush on your cheeks as you noticed how you were a bit too close to Pau. The said person just sighed in disbelief, rubbing his forehead before his gaze landed on your test papers.

Without thinking too much of it, he secretly took one of them and looked at your grade, his jaw dropping as a weird sound left from his mouth as he saw a big '1, amazing Y/n!' on the last paper. "Seriously? Oh my god, I could never."

"What?" You wiped some tears of joy away from your eyes while staring at him, seeing how Pau was surprised to see you have such an incredible exam. "Oh, that. Yeah, I'm just that good."

"Are you mocking me?"

"What, me? Copying you? Oh, please." You definitely were.

Nevertheless, as Pau checked each one of your exams out, his eyes only widened as his soul began to leave from his body, feeling like he had entered hell as he watched you proudly nod your head.

However, in the middle of hearing how you were flattered by his nonexistent compliments, Pau spaced out and stared right into your eyes, getting lost in them. You were everything that he wanted – smart and intelligent, beautiful and gorgeous, kind and loving.

The list could go on, yet as Pau realized that you had grown silent after a while, he snapped out of his daydreams and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You’re staring." That was your only response, moving your hair around with your hand as he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. No biggie."

"It is, though." You quickly remarked back, holding your chin with your hand as you slightly tilted your head, looking at him up and down, which made him just the slightest bit nervous. "You were staring at my lips."

Oh.

"What?" You nodded repeatedly, purposefully pointing at your lips, which had grown into a smirk as you winked at him. It was adorable to see Pau like this, barely able to look at you in the eye, as if he had returned to his old self.

"Uh, yeah, sorry." Your mere reply was to slightly furrow your eyebrows, immediately waving him off to interrupt him before he would go into a five minutes complication of apologies.

"I have you a service to learn from my notes, mind you." As if Pau himself didn’t know it, you made it clear to make it seem like he wasn’t grateful enough for it. "You should be thankful, but I also want something in return."

Pau could only feel his cheeks get warmer as you zoom your exams papers back, stuffing them inside your bag and closing it as you them looked back at him. He didn’t seem to have the time to even blink, making you chuckle before speaking up again.

"A kiss."

– A/N : guys training yesterday was deadass SO BAD OMG, also the prank happened to me yesterday.

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johnnypecanpie · 5 months ago

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we’re so damn patriotic we wrap the flag around our eyes as it fucks us over again and again and again

9/11 was a tragedy. Let’s start off with that. Nothing will make it alright, or justified. When we discuss the events of history, however, providing ample focus towards the various aspects of a topic is necessary in keeping the most unbiased lense. To put it lightly — the events of 9/11 paled in comparison to those that happened before and after during the Pan-American era. The Middle East’s history, especially with conflict, goes far back — and playing the blame game is always easy. How far back do you start? With the Ottomans? Crusades? Caliphates? Romans? It’s impossible.

Certain actions, however, were taken with no pre-qualification or previous event in mind. Western interference in the Middle East during the Colonial era follows the same. British and French influence in the region following the full acquisition of British India and the Scramble for Africa was increased to the point of near complete control — especially piqued by the interest in oil reserves discovered. This land, over the course of fifty years, was divided and extracted till both empires acknowledged they had grown too large to maintain and began to slowly break apart. The first problem arises here: the intentional division of regions through containing ethnicities and religions to create conflict. Secondly, the most valuable resources of the region had been extracted — and those that hadn’t had were trapped in contracts which would keep them feeding the same to companies like British Petroleum and Total.

This leads into the second acquisition: as the Cold War continued, the strategic importance of both the resources and locations of the nations there became incredibly important to both the USSR and NATO. After many internationally influenced wars in the region, the USSR directly invaded Afghanistan in 1979. This conflict worried the United States, which trained the Muhjadeen, a local militia, to fight against the invading forces — and incorporated the idea of Jihad. It wasn’t difficult for so called religious leaders to then enter the fray and seize power for themselves. Osama Bin Laden, an anti-American terrorist, formed the Al-Qaeda out of many of the same, using Saudi wealth — which, you guessed it, was supported by the United States against the Shah of Iran, which was supported by the USSR. On 9/11, they then attacked one of the wealthiest places in the world, the World Trade Center. How did the United States retaliate? A million killed in Iraq for “weapons of mass destruction” which didn’t exist. Upwards of two trillion dollars spent on the war in Afghanistan.

Maybe every year we should have a memorial on medical discrimination against people of color because that death toll is in the hundreds of thousands each year when it doesn’t have to be. Maybe every year we should have a memorial on the tens of millions of Native Americans that were killed through evidenced and recorded biological warfare. Because it feels every damn time, like one white life is worth a thousand coloured ones. But God bless America right? We’re so damn patriotic we wrap the flag around our eyes as it fucks us over again and again and again. We’ll continue to feed this behemoth till the day it takes us down with it, but history will see us as complicit to the crime.

#found this rant in my notes from a while back #thought it was relevant right now #“white” is a generic term - in this context it refers to “aryans”#yes there are other types of discrimination #this is what im highlighting #conservative #gop #republican #elon musk #donald trump #us politics #far right #naziism

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miyaz6ki · 8 months ago

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kiss him to shut him up ☆

summary. literally the title.

director's note. greetings disciples, i feel as though I have been FLOPPING!! so have something I'm frfr proud of, happy 1.5k disciples!

pairings. albedo, alhaitham, capitano, childe, wriothesley, neuvillette, dainsleif, diluc, xiao, kinich

warnings. kissing n all that sap (yuck), fluff/suggestive

albedo is busy talking to you about his latest experiments, wrapping his jacket around you to ensure you don't get cold while resting at his lab. maybe he didn't notice the sneaky glances you set from his ocean eyes to his lips.

"and so... it basically recreated a somewhat circle of-" peck! ... "huh?"

he doesn't which feeling is more dominant; flushed or confused. yet he won't complain too much, displaying a simple smile as he slowly blinks with confusion, lovingly at least.

alhaitham happened to be ranting about a drunkard he spotted at the bar he and his friends (cyno, tighnari, & kaveh) went to while playing TCG, cyno's treat.

but when it truly sinks in that you had just kissed him, he wished you had kept it for a little longer. honestly was very close to leaning back in and letting it lead to something else, but he wouldn't let his pride down. deciding on giving a smirk, and poking one of your cheeks.

"what was that for, hmm?"

capitano is secretly someone who talks a ton when you get to know him despite his cold exterior, he's very fond of getting to tell you about his day, not being able to necessarily tell anyone (other than pierro)

before you could pull away from the simple peck on his crusted lips- it's almost immediate that he pulls you back in, giving you barely any time to breathe. simply leaning in more to the kiss, a hand behind your head grasping your hair to prevent you from getting away. it's alright, he loves a chase.

"trying to tease me, my love?" a deep, dark chuckle emits from his raspy throat as he runs a hand down your spine, from your scalp to your back, his eyes pierced you with love.

childe is sooo obviously cheeky about this, his teasing is inevitable when you're the one initiating this. yet he finds himself so stunned from the whole thing, he could feel the blush creep up from his neck already.

he was busy telling you about his previous adventures, trying to impress you and show off his strength, yet the only thing he was able to see from how you looked at him, you were set on your lips on his.

"a- ahh... ahem. feeling uhh... bold i see."

wriothesley is in the category of chasing your lips, trying to immediately reel you back into the peck you caused. pulling you in by your waist so you can't escape his touch. he can't say he wasn't used to your teasing, but this time he wanted you to taste your own medicine.

holding you close, until the very line of saliva that connected both of your lips finally broke apart, it was your turn to be flushed with embarrassment.

"oh, look who's all blushy now."

neuvillette is the one who's stunned this time, yet his hands trail back to yours before you can step away a little too far, his eyes telling you everything that you need to know.

"don't run away now, c'mon..."

his smile was soft and genuine, he felt himself trying to lean in further into your touch, so he could stay asleep forever in your arms. he lands another kiss on your lips. he loves to express how much he loves you, yet he doesn't know how to apply and put it out there.

dainsleif found himself leaning back in almost immediately, he didn't wanna run away from you giving him affection out of everything. his cold fingertips trailing up your nape, a soft grasp on your hair (a bold move indeed!)

"...is that the berry flavored chapstick i bought you last week?"

he loves to notice the little things on you, he knows you appreciate it as well, a loving smile, his eyes equally just as loving, staring at you, and only you.

diluc won't admit the deep-seated embarrassment that envelops him. at first, the warm flush spread from his neck to his cheeks, yet he could notice the very same for you. trying to play it cool, his arm that encircles your waist, drawing you in with a tender grip.

"i suppose this isn’t how I imagined our evening would go,"

his voice was strained, maybe his paperwork could wait till later.

kinich is one of those who pulls you in by the waist, yet finds himself almost too flushed to go through with it. not that he doesn't want to, he's scared that you wouldn't want the same, yet he finds himself leaning in the same way you were, just to taste you again.

"leaving me so soon, you're mean."

ajaw calls you both corny as he comes back from a little walk (with certified dog walker mualani). you could hear a "human! take me back to where we whence came!" (the springs nearby) as you let out a chuckle. a sigh from kinich, he'll have to train him to be a little nicer.

xiao can barely comprehend what you just did. his cheeks flushed with teal. and to give context, it's canon that xiao's blood/insides are all teal- so when he blushes, it's teal, I did a bit of research on this :P but think of it how you will!

he argued that you shouldn't go out tonight, he can handle himself! yet... maybe your little kiss was a little.. maybe very convincing.

"y- you think this will change my mind about all of this, huh?"

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sevsgiirl · 24 days ago

Text

— i could see you being my addiction.

sevika week 2025: shimmer strap, day 3.

synopsis: giving up shimmer was a personal choice for sevika. she used it but she could very much live without it, which she had to - but using it one last time just for fun wouldn’t hurt.

word count: 2.7k

tags: top!sevika, bottom!reader, strap-ons referred to as cock, lotsss of degrading, overall this is just very filthy.

note: happy day 3 of sevikaaaa week!! the prompt I chose for today is shimmer strap so of course I had to make this as nasty as possible (as if yesterday wasn’t already enough) either way, I hope you guys like this!

withdrawals can be a bitch.

it’s been a while since sevika touched even a vial of shimmer. ever since silco died, she didn’t see a point in using it any longer. as she only fueled her prosthetic with it as a way to enhance her senses to gain leverage in fights - it was something silco suggested, and one she stuck to as a way to appease the older man.

it became a necessity to her at one point. but ever since the under city went in shambles due to silco’s passing and the chembarons took over his place, she realized if she was going to help the people of zaun overcome these tragedies, she needed to be different from the ones who made them suffer. who got them addicted to the drug in the first place.

but years have passed and she was now a councilor in piltover. she couldn’t even remember the last time she took a minuscule of the drug and the more she thought about it, it’s likely for the best. taking it had its advantages but the cons still outweighed the pros.

it wasn’t until late one afternoon during her day off that she got a letter addressed to her from ran - saying they cleared out the remaining supplies of shimmer in zaun.

“hey, what’s that?” she turned around to see you emerge from your shared bedroom while she stood by the entrance of your home.

you wore nothing but a pair of skimpy sleep shorts as well as a thin tank top that barely hid the way your nipples pebbled from beneath the fabric.

she bit the inside of her cheek at the sight before she refocused her attention on the letter, along with the package it came with.

“a letter. ran mailed it and apparently any supplies of shimmer left had finally been wiped out.” she informed as your eyes widened.

“that’s great,” you said as sevika lets out a chuckle “what?”

she shook her head “as long as singed is still alive and walking freely I doubt any remains of that shit had actually been wiped clean. it’ll just be harder to obtain it but trust me, there’s still some out there.”

you sighed “well, it’s better to have that than to have the lanes flooded with it.”

you gestured to the package by the front door “how about that?”

sevika shrugged, eyeing the package warily before she looked at the letter again and saw that ran scribbled something below.

“also, here’s a little something I found from smeech’s inventory that you might be interested in.” she read aloud as you raised an eyebrow.

sevika carefully peeled the tape off from the box and opened it, revealing a metal case inside as her eyebrows furrowed.

she took it out and undid the lock, weirdly nervous about what was inside until it dawned on her what it was…

it was shimmer.

which wouldn’t have been a big deal if it weren’t for the way the shimmer was contained.

“what the fuck is that?” you said in disbelief when your eyes adjusted to the sight of the harness and the long, glowing shaft that was attached to it “is that…” and when you stepped closer, your assumptions were proven correct.

because inside laid not just shimmer, but shimmer that was inside a fucking dildo.

“holy shit,” sevika muttered in awe as she eyed the toy “I didn’t think that rodent asshole would actually make it.”

“why would smeech-wait, hold on.” you paused in your ranting as you gaped at sevika “what do you mean?”

for a second, sevika felt embarrassed under your scrutinizing gaze as she rubbed the back of her neck “well, the thing is I may or may have not… asked smeech and his goons to make this for me. in the past.”

your jaw fell open “why would you ask him for something like that?”

“it was just out of curiosity, okay?” she said defensively “I didn’t think he’d listen and I thought that if he did, is that he would’ve sold it to some rich bastard here at topside for a higher price.”

you were at loss for words for a second before you waved her off dismissively.

“it doesn’t matter,” you said, exasperated “just throw it out. I don’t even know why ran sent it here in the first place.”

there was a brief pause as sevika stayed silent “sev?” you stared her down “you are throwing it out, right?“

she pursed her lips, still clutching the toy in her hand “okay listen-“

“nope. nuh uh.” you didn’t even let her finish before you started walking away.

“oh baby, come on.” she threw her hands up “I don’t like shimmer anymore just as much as you do, but remember when you said you wanted to experiment more-“

“yeah, but not with anything involving that,” you exclaimed “we promised neither one of us are touching even a drop of shimmer anymore, sev.”

“I know, but it’s just… look it’d be a waste to just throw it away. what if we just, I don’t know, have fun with it first before we say goodbye for good?” she suggested, the corners of her lips pulling into a smirk.

“you’re ridiculous,” you rolled your eyes at her as she only laughed.

she stood up and made her way to you, her strong arms wrapping around your waist as your back met her chest. her lips ghosting over the skin of your neck as she gave it a gentle kiss, making your spine tingle.

“it’ll be just for tonight,” she whispered, her voice low and enticing “the only reason I asked that asshole to make it for me was because of you, and let’s be honest with ourselves for a second…”

her hand suddenly cupped your jaw as she tilted it sideways so you’d look at her, and there was a glint of mischief in her steely grey eyes that meant one thing and one thing only.

“… since when have you ever turned down taking my cock, huh?” she mused.

you blushed furiously at her words, scoffing “you’re such an asshole, sev.”

she quirked a brow, challenging you “but am I wrong?”

there was a stretch of silence that hang over the room, and she knew she had already won you over.

“I thought so,” she grinned “come on, baby. I know deep down you’re curious too.”

you were about to protest, really you wanted to, but the more you pondered over the idea, the harder it was to fight against it.

and when you found yourself unable to argue, sevika knew she already won.

𐙚˙⋆.˚

you didn’t expect to spend your saturday night like this.

you’d like to think you put up a fight but by the way your knees were firmly planted on the carpeted floor of your bedroom as sevika stood in front of you, all tall and smug, you knew your efforts were futile.

“this is a crazy idea, you know.” you said, but judging by the way you were biting your lip while sevika fastened the strap-on around her hips while the silicone cock glowed bright and purple, she knew you didn’t actually mean it.

she smirked, hand gripping the base of the shaft as her fingers moved back and forth, causing the toy to buzz slightly as you gawked at it.

“whatever you say, sweetheart,” she smirked as she took the tip of her cock and tapped it lightly against your lower lip, making you gasp “but we both know you don’t mean it. now be a good little slut and strip.”

your cheeks grew hot and you wanted to talk back - to not go through with this just to get on her nerves, but if the dampness in your underwear was anything to go by, you knew you’d only frustrate yourself just as much.

so you reached behind you and unclasped the hook of your bra, letting it fall slowly down your shoulders as it hit the floor.

sevika took a deep breath, her eyes zeroed in on your tits “fuck, look at you.”

you rubbed your thighs together to soothe the throbbing in your cunt, which didn’t go unnoticed by sevika as she chuckled.

“press them together,”

your lips parted as you looked down at your breasts then up at her, almost as if asking for confirmation to which she only raised an eyebrow.

you gulped, cupping both of your tits in your hands as you pushed them up like an invitation, one that sevika was more than happy to take as she grabbed her cock and pushed them in between the tight valley of your tits and began thrusting.

it was downright filthy, especially with the way the littlest bit of shimmer started dripping down your tits, making sevika groan as she set a slow but steady pace.

“look at you. such perfect fucking tits,” she took her bottom lip between her teeth, throwing her head back as you let out a desperate whine.

“sevi…” you moaned when the gentle strokes of her cock became harsher, the back of the harness hitting her clit just right as she chased her own release meanwhile you remained in your position, letting her use you for her pleasure.

“fuckkk, that’s it,” she drawled out, watching the way the shimmer from the tip leaked out and dribbled slowly down to your heaving chest as you looked up at her with pleading eyes.

“sev, please.” you begged as she cooed at you.

“thought you said this wasn’t a good idea?”

you pouted, glaring up at her which she only found amusing “I swear, if you don’t-“

you couldn’t even finish your sentence before she abruptly pulled you by your elbow and forced you back up on your feet, pushing you down onto the bed as your legs dangled from the edge, hiking them up her shoulders as she took both sides of your underwear and started sliding them off.

she couldn’t help the way her cunt throbbed seeing how soaked you were “damn, this wet and we haven’t even started yet,” she said in a cocky tone as you scowled at her.

and she knew her words were getting to you, so before you could even spew out another snarky comment, her mouth was quick to wrap itself around your aching clit.

you cried out as your hands flew to grip her short hair, grinding against her face as sevika hummed while slurping every drop of your slick.

“fuck, you taste so good.” she panted, her cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide, staring up at you as your mouth fell open.

making eye contact while she ate your pussy out like a woman starved.

your thighs shook against each side of her head, using them to trap her in place and you could’ve suffocated her right here and there, but she didn’t care - too blissed out from the taste of you that she was only focused on pushing you to your awaited climax.

“I’m close, I’m so fucking close…” your back arched and it was almost like a dam broke out, your release coating her nose down to her chin as you came relentlessly.

all the while sevika lets out a hum as she kept licking up your fluttering folds.

“so good for me,” she grunted, getting up as she sat her knees on the edge of the bed and wrapped your shaking legs around her waist.

her mech arm gripping your hip tightly while the other parted one leg away so you were left bare open for her hungry eyes to devour.

she licked her lips as she guided the tip of her cock to your clenching hole “ready?”

you didn’t even get a word out before she plunged into you, punching a strangled whine past your lips.

she eased in and out of your needy cunt in a steady rhythm, her strong thighs clapping against the bottom of your ass as she watched in awe the way she drove the purple, glowing shaft into your tight hole.

“you take me so fucking well,” she grunted “creaming all over this cock and making a mess. you just like being a little slut don’t you?” you couldn’t stop the broken cries that left your lips upon hearing her filthy words.

she began picking up the pace - hitting that sweet spot that made your mind go blank as the bed creaked in a violent back and forth due to the way she was slamming into you.

without a shadow of a doubt you knew she loves you, but goddamn does she fuck you like she hates your guts.

the sensations were too intense and you felt another orgasm approaching, but before you even got there did she suddenly pull out of you. making your eyes go wide.

“w-what are you-“ you yelped when she abruptly drew closer so her knees were beside your head, taking the base of her cock as she harshly stroked it.

aligning it with your lips as dribbles of both your cum and shimmer fell from the tip.

“open wide,”

but you had no say in the matter when she wretched your mouth open for you, tasting the combination of your release and the tiniest drop of shimmer as it slid down your tongue and into your throat.

and it was as if your nerves were suddenly on fire.

sevika watched in those next few seconds the way your eyes glowed purple as the effects of the drug already begun working and in that moment, you looked almost animalistic.

she wasn’t even aware of what she had just done because one minute you were underneath her, then the next you flipped the two of you over at an inhumane speed so you were straddling her lap while her back laid flat against the bed.

she watched with a mixture of shock and awe as you sank down onto her cock, moaning like a pornstar as you began a frenzied pace and rode her like you were trying to win a fucking race.

“fuck!” she yelled as you aggressively bounced on her cock, taking both wrists of her flesh and mech hand as you pinned them down onto the bed - chasing your own release with no regards to her own while the headboard slammed in violent thuds against the wall. no doubt alerting your neighbors of what you were doing.

the back of the strap was hitting her clit just right as you set a punishing pace for both you and her as you let the shimmer consume all of your senses “cock so fucking good, sev. I love your cock so much, baby. fuck! fuck! fuck!” your eyes were squeezed shut and your tits bounced in her face as your hips maintained its desperate grinding and bouncing.

it was dirty, lewd and downright disgusting the way your slick poured down onto her thighs, your pace not once faltering that when the sounds of wood cracking filled the air and one foot of the bed suddenly crashed down, sevika wasn’t surprised.

and neither were you as you remained in your own little blissed out state.

riding her aggressively until you could almost taste your release at the tips of your tongue, and sevika wasn’t too far behind as she began panting heavily.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cu-“ and just like that, an ear piercing cry came out of you as you poured into her - hands on her broad shoulders as you held on for dear life. meanwhile sevika watched you fall apart, her eyes glazed over and filled with so much adoration as she came right after.

“holy shit…” you were breathing heavily as you came down from your high “what the fuck just happened?”

she took a while to answer, still gathering her bearings as she smiled lazily.

“the best sex of my life I think,” she said, her tone slurred “you sure you wanna throw the strap away?”

you shook your head, but based on the way your lips quirked up she could tell you were thinking the same thing “round two then?”

“fuck off,”

#sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #arcane #arcane fanfiction #arcane smut #wlw smut #lesbian #sapphic #sevika week 2025 #dividers by ithemes

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ggukivrse · 4 days ago

Text

THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM | JJK

summary. when you complain to jungkook about your lack of action in the past year, you're not really asking for a solution. but when he casually offers to help, you just can't seem to bring yourself to say no.

after all, what's the worst that could happen in hooking up just this once?

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

warnings: swearing, they actually talk about their feelings :0, explicit sexual content, kissing, making out, hickeys, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (be smarter than them pls), a bit of banter, petnames (baby), they're really fucking cute in the end it makes me sick, let me know if i missed anything!

notes: idk if this counts as my first completed series buttt... i'm gonna act like it does. thank you so so much to all the love and support you guys have given me for the past two parts, i'm genuinely so beyond grateful for it all :<< hopefully, you guys enjoy this part too!!

ps. READ PART ONE HERE & PART TWO HERE!!

⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ feedback

You open his chat window again like it’s muscle memory. Like your thumb don't know how to not betray you.

It’s not even about sending something. You’ve got no intention of doing that. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. But the screen is always open, staring back at you with that last unread message you sent almost a week ago — a throwaway meme you found on your lunch break. No reply. Not even a reaction.

And it hadn’t felt like a big deal in the moment. You sent it like always, light and dumb and nothing. But then the nothing kept going. No little gray typing bubble. No 'lol.' No double text. No late night 'you up?' Just this wall of silence.

You would’ve rather gotten a dry reply. Hell, even a thumbs up. Anything to prove that he saw you.

But now it’s been long enough that sending something new would feel desperate. Like you’re chasing him. Like you’re asking for something you’re not even supposed to want.

You lock your phone and throw it face down on your bed.

Then pick it back up five seconds later.

Then toss it again, harder, as if that’ll prove something.

You wish you were mad. You think you are mad — at least a little. But it’s a tangled kind of anger. One that knots itself up with embarrassment and sharp, bitter shame. You want to scream at him, yeah. But also at yourself.

Why did you let this happen?

Why did you let him blur the lines and kiss you like that and touch you like he meant it?

You were supposed to be smarter than this.

You lie back across your bed with one arm flung over your eyes. It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid. It was just sex. Just two nights. Two insanely good, dangerously close, way-too-connected nights. But still — technically just sex.

Except it wasn’t.

Not when he remembered your favourite sauce order without asking. Not when he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear while you ranted about work.

And especially not when he went cold the second things felt too good.

That’s what keeps twisting the knife. That shift in him. Like someone flipped a switch and rewrote the script. One minute, he was holding you like you mattered. The next, you were stepping out of his bathroom and into a stranger’s apartment.

You haven’t heard his voice since.

You bite the inside of your cheek and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push down that lump of feeling before it rises too high.

It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re overthinking it.

Maybe he’s just going through something. Maybe he didn’t mean to shut you out. Maybe he thought you didn’t want to hear from him. Or maybe he’s just a fucking coward who got scared when the stakes changed.

But then, why didn’t you reach out?

Why didn’t you ask if he was okay, or tell him he was being weird, or demand an explanation like you’re owed one?

Because you’re afraid.

Because you don’t want the truth if the truth is that he regrets all of it.

Because deep down, you know this isn’t just a friendship anymore, and pretending it is would break you worse than silence.

Your phone buzzes once on the comforter beside you.

You freeze. Then sit up fast, breath catching halfway in your throat.

Your eyes are already scanning the screen before your brain can fully catch up.

Kook 🍜: hi

One word. Just hi. Like the last seven days didn’t happen. Like your stomach hasn’t been in knots trying to make sense of his silence. Like he didn’t vanish without warning after folding you into his sheets and leaving you to figure out what the hell it meant.

Your breath leaves you in one uneven exhale.

You blink at the message, your body locked in this strange stillness. Your thumb hovers, frozen. Part of you is tempted to stare at it until it disappears. Ignore it. Let him feel what it’s like to be the one left hanging. But your hands betray you again — just like they always do with him.

You: Radio silence for a week and all I get is a fucking hi? Wtf Jungkook

It’s not even what you really want to say, but it’s the closest thing you can manage that doesn’t sound like I missed you so much it made me sick or please don’t do this again.

Three dots appear.

Your heart squeezes like it’s caught in someone’s fist. And then the dots vanish.

Then come back.

Then vanish again.

You mutter, “Fucking say something,” to no one. It comes out too small, too desperate. You shut your eyes tight for a second like you can wring the feeling out of yourself by force.

A minute or so passes before his reply finally sends.

Kook 🍜: sorry. can i talk to you today?

You reread it so many times the text starts to lose meaning. Can I talk to you today?

You feel sick.

There’s no way you don’t know what this is. The phrasing. The tone. He wants to talk? What the fuck else could that mean, if not that he’s about to cut things off? That he’s going to hand you some polite little speech about how you’re great, but this can’t happen again. That he wants to stay friends and he doesn’t want to confuse things any more than he already has.

Or worse — he thinks you guys are better off cutting contact all together.

You bite down hard on your thumb, suddenly on the verge of tears and furious at yourself for it. You should’ve never let it get here. You should’ve drawn the line before the second time. Before the car. Before the party.

You should’ve been more careful with your heart.

But you’re here now. So far past the line you can’t even see it anymore.

You open your keyboard, then close it again. You want to ask what he wants to talk about. You want to demand answers over text so you don’t have to see his face when he says the words. But you know you won’t get anything that way.

You: Where?

Kook 🍜: i can come to yours

You sit there for a second, just breathing. You feel like you’re bracing for a crash that’s already midair.

You: What time?

Kook 🍜: i can be there in an hour?

You don’t answer. Not right away. You’re too busy staring at your reflection in the dark screen, wondering why your face looks so calm when your body feels like it’s trying to collapse in on itself.

You: Okay

You put the phone down carefully, like it might go off again, or explode, and turn your gaze to the ceiling. Every minute after this is going to stretch like it’s mocking you.

You don’t know if you’re getting closure or clarity. You don’t even know which one would hurt more.

But you know you won't cancel.

Because if this is going to end — if he’s going to say it — it has to be to your face. You need to see it.

You need to know for sure.

Jungkook is fucked.

Like, actually, cosmically, irreversibly fucked.

He stares at the elevator doors like they’re the gates to hell, and his own reflection in the brushed metal does him no favours. He looks tense. Jaw tight, shoulders hunched up high like he’s trying to fold himself into a more manageable version. Someone chill. Someone who isn’t about to shit himself over the thought of seeing you.

He rolls his shoulders back, shakes out his hands. Useless. He’s already sweating through his hoodie.

Every nerve in his body feels like it’s tuned an octave too high. Like if someone so much as breathes in his direction right now, he’ll either snap or confess something humiliating.

He wipes his palms on his jeans again. That’s the fourth time since the lobby.

The worst part is, he knows how he got here. He knows exactly when it happened, too — the moment the line moved.

It was your laugh. The tired kind, all cracked at the edges after that hellish Friday you had. You were curled up in his passenger seat, half out of it, feet tucked under you, and you’d looked over at him with that soft, worn-down smile.

And it just… hit him.

The weight of it. Of you.

He wanted to reach over and touch your face. Not to tease. Not to start something. Just to feel your skin under his fingers like it was allowed now.

And the second that thought formed — clear and blinding and way too tender — it was over. Game fucking over.

Because it wasn’t supposed to feel like that.

You’re his best friend. Have been for years. He knows how you take your coffee, how you organise your playlists by mood, how you chew on the inside of your cheek when you're anxious. You’re not just some girl he hooked up with at a party. You’re you.

And now, he’s standing in an elevator on the way to your apartment, trying not to think about how badly he messed it all up.

He hadn’t meant to ghost you. Not really. It was just — after that night, after the way you looked at him, all warm and trusting — he panicked. Full-body, brain-scrambling, total system failure. He couldn’t even look at you without feeling like he was seconds from saying something stupid like "Don’t sleep with anyone else, please," or "I think I’m in love with you."

So instead, he shut down. Did the one thing he always swore he wouldn’t do with you — he pulled away. Got weird. Avoided it. Avoided you.

And now you’re pissed.

Rightfully so.

He deserved that text you sent. Probably worse. You could’ve ignored him completely and he wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t. You texted back and he’s clinging onto that like a lifeline. Because it means there’s still time. Still a chance to fix it — if he doesn’t blow it again.

He presses the heel of his hand to his chest like that might steady the erratic rhythm of his heart.

What the fuck is he even going to say?

Sorry for being an emotionally constipated idiot?

Sorry I ghosted you because I realised I’m in love with you and it short-circuited my whole fucking personality?

Sorry I thought I could fuck you and still keep pretending like you don’t mean more to me than anyone else?

The elevator dings.

Jungkook flinches like it slapped him, then scrubs a hand through his hair, lets out a tight breath, and steps through the doors before he can change his mind.

He’s here.

Fuck. He’s actually here.

Jungkook looks like he didn’t sleep last night. Hair messy, clothes a little wrinkled, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second before they dart away again. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jacket like he’s afraid of what they’ll do if left unsupervised.

You tell yourself not to feel relieved. Not to let it show. He didn’t cancel. He showed up. That shouldn’t mean as much as it does. It really, really shouldn’t.

But still — there’s something in your chest that unclenches when you see him standing there, real and present. Even if he does look like he’s about to apologise for burning down your house or something.

“Hey,” he says, voice quiet.

You step back from the door to let him in. Dry. Wordless. The move is automatic, but your body feels stiff with it, like your own muscles are annoyed on your behalf.

He hesitates before stepping inside, like he thinks the floor might swallow him up. You don't offer a smile. Don't even look at him once the door’s closed behind him.

You cross your arms and lean back against the edge of the kitchen counter, watching him with a blank expression that’s only half-real. The other half is tightly coiled under your skin — anger, sure, but under that, all the feelings you’ve been pretending not to have.

He does a slow, uncertain glance around your apartment like something might’ve changed since the last time he was here. But it hasn’t. It’s still your place. Same plants, same overhead light humming softly, same faint scent of laundry detergent that clings to the air.

He stands there awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It’s like he doesn’t know where to put his body.

You’ve never seen him like this before. Not around you. Jungkook’s always been comfortable here. The kind of comfortable that leaves shoes by the door without asking. The kind that opens your fridge like he owns a shelf. But right now, he looks like a stranger in someone else’s house.

You let the silence stretch out. You’re waiting for him to just speak, but he doesn’t

He doesn’t even try.

Eventually, your voice cuts through the air, a little too sharp. “Jungkook, you said you wanted to talk.”

His head snaps up like he forgot that was part of the deal. Like the fact that he came here at all already cost him everything he had in reserve.

“Yeah,” he says. His throat moves when he swallows. “I do.”

You raise your eyebrows, waiting.

He opens his mouth like he’s about to start, then closes it again. Shifts his stance. Rubs the back of his neck with one hand. You catch the way his eyes flick to the floor, then back to you, then away again.

You narrow your eyes. “Well?”

He breathes out a weak, almost bitter laugh and runs both hands down his thighs, like he’s physically trying to ground himself. “I don’t know how to do this,” he mutters.

You frown, arms still crossed tight across your chest. “What? Talk?”

You hate being like this towards him — you feel like a bitch. But it’s the only way that you can stop yourself from just spilling all of your thoughts and feelings to him.

“No, I—” He breaks off, jaw flexing. “No. I mean… say the right thing. Say any of it without sounding like an idiot.”

You blink, unimpressed. “So you came here without knowing what you were gonna say.”

He looks at you then. Fully. And for the first time since he walked in, you see the real wreckage behind his eyes. There’s nothing cool or casual about it. He’s unravelling in slow motion. Everything about him is quiet desperation wrapped in someone trying really hard not to fall apart.

“I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t know what I wanted,” he says finally. “And then I figured it out, and that somehow made it worse.”

You stay silent.

He shifts closer, not by much — just a few inches. “I fucked up,” he adds, voice barely above a whisper. “I know I did. I know I disappeared. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care. I was just—” he stops, jaw tightening again. “I got scared.”

You scoff under your breath and look away.

“I’m serious,” he says, softer now. “It freaked me out. How fast it happened. How much it changed.”

You look back at him, jaw set. “What changed?”

He swallows again. Stiff. His voice cracks a little when he speaks next.

“You,” he says again. “How I feel about you. That changed.”

Your chest tightens.

You don’t react, not visibly. You keep your face still, unreadable, even though your brain is suddenly scrambling. You’ve been yanked in too many directions this past week. You’re not going to lean into hope just because he finally decided to speak.

So you say nothing. You just hold his gaze and wait.

Jungkook takes a breath, his shoulders rising with it, then falling in a slow, deliberate exhale. The nervousness is still there — but it’s settled into something quieter now.

“I kept trying to tell myself it didn’t mean anything,” he says. “That it was just— whatever. Two friends, getting carried away. We were drunk the first time, right? It was easy to lie to myself about that. Easy to say it didn’t have to go anywhere.”

His voice is calm, but there's tension underneath it.

“But the second time?” He pauses, tongue running along the inside of his cheek, eyes still locked on yours. “That wasn’t drunk. That wasn’t casual. That was me driving us across town just to make you feel better, because I can’t stand it when you’re not okay.”

You flinch — barely — but he sees it. You know he does.

“And then it was me kissing you like I’d lose my mind if I didn’t. You think I didn’t notice how different that felt? I’ve never kissed you like that before. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air between you.

You’re still standing by the counter, arms crossed, but now your grip has loosened. You hate how much this is getting to you, how badly you want to give in, how your chest aches just hearing him say the things you’d only let yourself think when the lights were off and your phone screen was dark.

Jungkook takes another step toward you.

“When I brought you back to mine that night… when you came out of the shower, and I saw you just standing there in my space, looking at me like I was safe…” His voice catches, but not in a way that makes him crumble — just enough to show the truth of it. “I freaked the fuck out.”

You blink at him, finally speaking. “Yeah. I noticed.”

He huffs out a breath that's almost a laugh, but not quite. “I didn’t mean to shut down. I didn’t even know what I was doing in the moment. I just— everything in me wanted to pull you close, and that’s when I realised I couldn’t keep doing this the way we were doing it. Not without losing my shit every time you left.”

Your throat feels tight, but you still ask, “So you decided to ghost me instead?”

That lands. His jaw flexes, and he nods once. “Yeah. I did. I thought if I gave it space, I could go back to being normal. Go back to just being your friend. But I couldn’t. I can’t.

“I don’t want to be just your friend anymore. Not because of the sex, not because it was good— which it was, but that’s not the point. It’s you. It’s always been you. I didn’t realise how much until I almost lost it completely.”

You swallow hard. Your arms are uncrossed now. Not folded in, not defensive — just hanging at your sides like you’re too stunned to remember what to do with them.

Jungkook steps in closer. Not touching you yet. But near enough that you can smell him — faint cologne, his laundry detergent, the scent you associate with your car windows fogging up.

“I missed you,” he says, and his voice turns softer. “Every day. And it scared the shit out of me, how badly I wanted to talk to you. Touch you. Just be around you. I wasn’t ready to admit it last week, and I was a coward for that. But I’m not running anymore.”

Silence again.

Except it doesn’t feel like the ones you’ve been drowning in for a week.

“I don’t know what you’re feeling,” he says, lower now, like the words might break if he’s too loud. “And I’m not assuming anything. But if you still want me around— really want me— just say the word. I’ll figure out the rest.”

You inhale slowly, try to even out your breathing, but your chest still feels like it’s barely holding together. Your heart’s doing that thing where it thuds too hard without speeding up.

You hate that you believe him. That you always would’ve. That no matter how angry you were, no matter how cold you tried to be when he walked in — you still wanted him to explain, to prove it wasn’t what your worst thoughts told you it was.

And now he has.

He’s standing in front of you with open hands, with the words you oh so desperately wanted to hear. And for a moment, you’re not sure what to do with that.

“I hate you,” you say quietly.

It’s not true. Not even close. But it’s the first thing that leaves your mouth.

Jungkook huffs out a dry laugh, eyes dropping to the floor. “Yeah,” he murmurs, nodding. “I figured.”

You shake your head once. “No. I mean it. I fucking hate you for this. For—” You break off, because your voice is shaking now. “For making me feel like I was crazy. For not even saying goodnight after… after everything.”

His face tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“You could’ve just told me,” you go on. “You could’ve said it was too much. That it got weird. That you needed time. Anything. But you disappeared. And I had to sit here wondering if I made it all up."

You pause, pressing your lips together.

“And I— I missed you too, you know,” you add, quieter this time.

His mouth opens like he might speak, but no sound comes out at first. Instead, he closes the space between you by half, slow and steady, like he’s afraid of pushing too far.

“God, you’re such an asshole,” you whisper, but your tone isn't mean. Not even close.

He laughs, soft and low. “Yeah. I know.

“You promise me you’re sure? Cause Jungkook, I will fucking cut off your dick if you pull this shit again.”

He smiles but doesn’t hesitate. “I promise. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

You stare at him.

Long enough that the air between you stretches taut, thin as thread.

His hand twitches like he wants to reach for you but still doesn’t know if he’s allowed. His jaw flexes, his chest rising and falling in uneven swells. You can tell he’s waiting — for a sign, for a go-ahead, for you.

And even though part of you still wants to be mad, still wants to make him sweat just a little longer, the rest of you aches. For his mouth. For his hands. For the solid, grounding weight of him.

So you move.

You step into the last inch of space between you and grab the front of his hoodie. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a year, but you don’t give him a chance to say anything.

You kiss him.

Not out of impulse. Not for show. You kiss him because you need to. Because your chest feels like it’s going to split open if you don’t.

At first, it’s quiet. Just lips pressed to lips — careful, slow. There’s a pause between each pass of your mouth over his, like you’re both trying to remember how this started. How you even got here.

But then he sighs against you — not loud, not dramatic, just a sound full of relief — and it unravels something.

His hands lift, hesitating for only half a second before they settle on your waist, fingers curling tight. You press closer, and his lips part beneath yours. The angle shifts. Your nose bumps his cheek. It’s not perfect, but it’s real, and when your tongue brushes his, everything tilts.

The sweetness melts fast.

He makes a sound low in his throat and drags you in like the distance is unbearable. Your hands slide up into his hair, fingers threading through the strands at the base of his neck, and the way he reacts — the little shiver he tries to swallow — sends heat straight down your spine.

You kiss him harder.

His body crowds yours until your back meets the wall. Not rough, not rushed. Just firm. His chest presses to yours, and you can feel the way his heart races. How your own pulse kicks up to match it.

The kiss deepens, turns messy at the edges. His teeth catch your bottom lip and your breath stutters, but you don’t pull back. You tilt your chin, chasing more, and the next time he kisses you, it’s hungrier. One of his hands slips to the small of your back, palm dragging slow and warm beneath your shirt. The skin-to-skin contact makes your whole body twitch.

You gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound, his hands tightening. His other arm slips around your waist completely, pulling you flush against him, and suddenly you’re not thinking anymore. You’re just feeling.

The tension that’s been bottling up between you two — the silence, the week of wondering, the ache of missing him so much it hurt — it all floods to the surface.

You fist your hands in his hoodie, yanking him impossibly closer. Your hips shift forward, just enough to brush him, and the sound he makes is sharp and involuntary, caught between a breath and a groan.

“Fuck,” he mutters, barely pulling back. His forehead presses to yours, breath ragged. “You’re driving me insane.”

You huff, lips brushing his. “That’s fair.”

Then he kisses you again. Rougher this time. Desperate in a way that makes your knees go soft.

He doesn’t stay at your mouth for long. His lips trail down — your jaw, your cheek, the shell of your ear. His breath is hot and uneven, and when he finds your neck, your whole body reacts. Your hands clutch at him, your back arches off the wall, and the soft sound that escapes your throat isn’t one you mean to make.

He feels it. Hears it. Answers it with a low, reverent sound that seems to vibrate straight through you.

His tongue traces the spot beneath your ear, slow and deliberate, and your eyes flutter shut.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, your breath catching sharp in your throat. You pull back for a second before lowering your mouth to his neck, right where the collar of his hoodie dips. He lets out a small sound, hands flexing on your waist, when your lips press there.

You start slow. You can feel his pulse under your tongue, the way his chest rises against yours, unsteady and warm. Then you part your lips and suck gently at the spot just below his jaw. His whole body stutters, hips jerking against yours before he can stop it.

Your fingers trail down his chest, tugging his hoodie collar aside for better access. His head tips back, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted.

You do it again, this time with enough pressure to leave a mark, and the sound of your mouth working against his skin is lewd.

He groans. It’s low and rough and barely held back, and the sound shoots straight between your legs. You feel him hardening now, undeniable through the fabric where he’s pressed against you.

“All mine?” you whisper, your lips brushing over the new mark you’ve left.

He doesn’t even hesitate. “All yours.”

His voice is breathless. Wrecked. And so damn certain it knocks something loose in your chest.

You pull back just enough to look at him — really look. His pupils are blown, his lips swollen, a flush climbing high on his cheeks. He looks at you like he wants to devour you. Like he would if you let him.

“I missed that mouth,” he mutters, hands gliding under your shirt again, palms broad and warm. “Missed everything.”

You kiss his throat in reply and drag your teeth across it until he swears under his breath.

His hips grind against you again, harder this time. You both feel it — the friction, the heat building between your bodies.

His arms shift beneath you and he lifts you clean off the ground in one smooth motion, hands strong under your thighs. A startled sound escapes your throat as your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, gripping him tight.

“Fuck,” he mutters again, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “I want you so bad it’s actually stupid.”

You smile, drunk on the feel of him.

“Bedroom?” you murmur, tracing your lips over the new mark blooming against his skin.

He hums lowly, and shifts his grip on your thighs.

He carries you through the hallway and your lips never leave his skin for more than a second.

When he reaches your bedroom, he doesn’t hesitate. He steps inside and drops you onto the mattress in one fluid movement.

You barely get your bearings before he’s crawling over you, slotting his body between your legs, His mouth finds yours again, and you moan into it before you can stop yourself when his knee presses between your legs.

Your hips twitch, grinding down against the pressure, and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through your chest as his mouth moves with yours. His hand slips under your shirt again, this time bolder, fingers spanning across your ribs and inching higher until his knuckles brush the curve of your breast.

You gasp softly, and he pulls back just enough to murmur, “Off.”

You sit up just enough to grab the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head in one smooth pull, your hair mussed from the friction. He watches the fabric fall to the floor, then looks at you.

“You’re so fucking pretty," he breathes.

You roll your eyes automatically, even though your face is already burning. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” he says, and his voice drops low. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His lips part and he kisses along your sternum — slow, wet presses of his mouth that trail up and then out, over the swell of one breast, then the other.

You inhale sharply when his mouth grazes the sensitive skin beside your nipple, and his eyes flick up at the sound, pupils blown. He kisses lower, then higher again, murmuring against your skin, “Can’t believe I went a week without this.”

The vibration of his voice right against your skin makes you arch, and he meets you halfway, grinding down slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly what you’re chasing and wants to stretch it out just to watch you squirm.

Your hands curl into his shoulders, nails biting down just enough to make him grunt softly into your skin. He rolls his hips again, slow and heavy, and the pressure against your core has your breath catching in your throat.

“Koo,” you whine out.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, lips pink and wet, hair falling into his eyes. He grins, crooked and hot and deeply pleased with himself.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, and his voice is pure sin.

You glare, but your thighs shift open under him anyway.

“Please.”

He hums, satisfied, and starts working his way lower. Every kiss is wet and unhurried. Down your chest, across your stomach. His hands follow, smoothing over your ribs, down to your hips, dragging the waistband of your pants just slightly with them. His thumbs hook in the fabric, pausing right above your pelvis.

He looks up at you, smug and dark-eyed.

“Gonna let me take these off?”

He's so annoying you're gonna kill him. “Do I look like I’m stopping you?”

“No,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just below your navel, “but I like hearing you say it.”

You huff, fingers threading into his hair again. “Take them off, Kook.”

He eases them down slowly — too slowly — dragging the fabric down your legs while his mouth follows in a path of heat and pressure. He kisses your hipbone, your inner thigh, every patch of skin he uncovers like it’s something sacred. When your panties go next, he makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat — more reverent than smug this time.

You’re already wet, already aching, and from the way his eyes flicker as he takes you in, he fucking knows it.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re soaked. You missed me that much?”

You exhale hard, cheeks hot. “Shut up and do something about it.”

He grins again, slower this time. “Anything you want.”

His hands grip your thighs and spread them further apart, and before you can say another word, his mouth is on you.

The first swipe of his tongue is long, and delibirate. You jerk at the contact, a broken sound slipping from your lips, and he groans like he’s the one falling apart. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you in place, and does it again.

Every movement of his tongue is practiced and precise. He starts slow, almost gentle, licking through your folds with a kind of focus that makes your head spin. Your thighs threaten to close around his head, but he pushes them apart with ease, never breaking rhythm.

Your hands move to the back of his head, gripping tight. His tongue circles your clit once, then again, and the third time he sucks it between his lips. You try to stifle a moan, but it slips from your lips anyway.

He pulls back just enough to speak, breath hot on your skin.

“Keep making those sounds, baby,” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “Wanna hear every fucking thing I do to you.”

He movements turn faster, his mouth messy and hot and relentless. You’re already close, the build-up sharp and climbing, and he can feel it. One of his hands slips lower, spreading you open further with his thumb, and his tongue drags in tighter circles.

You’re writhing, panting, toes curling into the sheets. Your fingers tug at his hair, your spine arching off the bed.

“Fuck— Kook—” you gasp, head thrown back.

He groans again, the sound vibrating straight through your pussy. He doubles down, mouth moving faster, and when your hips start to stutter, erratic and desperate, he presses his hand over your stomach, grounding you.

“You’re gonna come for me?” he murmurs against you, mouth slick with you. “Gonna let me taste it?”

You nod frantically, unable to speak, your whole body wound tight and ready to snap.

He presses his mouth against you again, lips sucking against your clit, and the feeling has you squirming with pleasure.

“Kook—” your voice breaks open as you come hard against his mouth.

He moans, but his movements don't stop.

Your body arches helplessly, heels digging into the bed, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other still tangled in his hair as you ride out the wave. You’re gasping, blinking hard, your heart trying to punch through your ribs.

Only when your legs start to tremble uncontrollably does he finally pull back.

His lips are slick and swollen, jaw damp, hair messy from where you’ve been gripping it. And he looks wrecked — eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide, like just being between your thighs has undone something in him.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then drags his lips slowly up your inner thigh, leaving lazy kisses in his wake.

You’re still catching your breath, staring at the ceiling like your soul just left your body, when he plants a final kiss on the inside of your knee and murmurs, “Yeah. I’m never ghosting you again.”

You let out a breathless laugh, too blissed out to be mad. “You better not.”

“After that?” he says, crawling back up your body, slow and unhurried. “I’d be clinically insane.”

He settles over you again, pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach, then another between your breasts, then finally your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue, and when he groans against your lips, it sends a fresh jolt of heat straight through you.

His body is flush against yours, his clothed cock thick and heavy where it presses against your thigh. You let your hands trail down his chest slowly to tug at the denim loops of his jeans.

"Want these off," you mumble against his lips.

He smiles and presses one last kiss to your mouth before he leans back onto his knees. His hands go to his belt, and you watch the way his fingers fumble for just a second.

He gets the buckle undone, then the zipper, the sound louder than it should be in your quiet bedroom. You watch as he shucks them down, boxers and all, and your breath catches slightly at the sight of him — flushed and hard and achingly ready.

“Better?” he asks, voice low.

You nod, breath shallow, and he’s already crawling back over you. The heat of him sinks into your skin as his body settles between your thighs, bare now.

Your legs part without hesitation.

His weight, the press of his chest to yours, the familiar scent of him wrapped in something raw and new — it all hits at once, and your whole body shivers.

He’s warm everywhere. The kind of warmth that soaks into your bones and makes you ache for more.

His hands slide along your arms until they find yours where they’re resting above your head. He threads his fingers through yours and presses them gently into the pillow, pinning you there. His eyes search yours, and you feel the first brush of him between your legs, just the tip, teasing the edge of you.

He doesn’t move yet. Just rests there, eyes locked on yours.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice low and thick, like he’s hanging on by a thread.

You don’t answer — not with words. You just tilt your hips up, welcoming him in with nothing but a look.

He pushes in slow — painfully slow — each inch dragging fire across your nerves as your body stretches to take him. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, your fingers clenching around his. When he’s fully buried inside you, he stills completely.

“Fuck,” he breathes, forehead dropping to yours. “You feel… unreal.”

You can’t speak — your body’s too full, too wrecked already — so you kiss him instead. Slow and sweet and a little desperate. Your hips rock up, seeking more.

He groans into your mouth, finally starting to move, and every thrust is so fucking deep. It’s not rushed or frantic. It’s him savouring you, like he wants to remember how this feels with every part of himself.

His hands stay tight around yours, anchoring you both to the bed, to each other.

The rhythm builds, a slow burn that spreads everywhere, and between kisses you catch the way he looks at you — like he’s seeing something he’s afraid to lose. Like there’s something he wants to say but can’t yet.

“You were supposed to beg,” you manage to murmur against his mouth, breathless. “Grovel a little.”

That crooked smile curls against your lips. “My bad, baby,” he murmurs. “You can make me beg next time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re gonna regret that.”

He shifts his hips, thrusting deeper, and your breath leaves you in a ragged gasp.

“You promise?”

The challenge in his voice is smug, but his eyes are dark and glassy, his control hanging by a thread. You whimper in response, thighs tightening around his waist, and he dips his head to your throat, dragging his lips along your pulse like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

He starts to move with more purpose now, making you feel every second of it. His cock grinds into that spot that makes your vision blur, and your whole body tenses, fingers squeezing his like a lifeline.

The moan you let out is shameless, high and wrecked, when he tilts his hips just right — again and again, like he’s carving his name into your body from the inside.

“Right there?” he murmurs, already knowing. His hand slips between your bodies, thumb finding your clit with the kind of confidence that only comes from knowing you — every reaction, every sound. “God, you’re so fucking wet. You always get like this for me?”

“Koo—” His name slips out broken, a warning and a plea wrapped in one.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, voice ragged, forehead pressed to yours. His thrusts get rougher now, faster, the rhythm losing polish but gaining intensity. ��Let me have you, baby. Come again for me.”

The words send a bolt of heat straight to your core, your whole body winding tight. His mouth crashes against yours before you can respond, tongue tangling with yours, greedy and open and honest in all the ways his words still aren’t.

When he pulls back, he’s panting, “You feel like heaven, fuck.”

You can’t even process it — not now, not when his rhythm stutters and his hips slam harder, each thrust jolting a cry from your throat. Your legs are trembling, your grip bruising where it clings to him, and you can feel the knot in your stomach tighening.

“That’s it,” he groans, watching your face like it’s the only thing that matters. “Let go for me. Let me feel you.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, teeth catching on his skin as your orgasm crashes over you. Your body locks up, thighs clenching, and you cry out his name. His hand squeezes yours back, holding you through it.

Your walls grip him tight, and he groans loud against your skin, hips faltering. “Fuck— shit—”

He thrusts once more before spilling into you with a broken sound, voice rasping your name like a prayer.

His whole body shudders as he comes, arms locked tight around you like he needs you to stay exactly where you are — here, under him, around him, real. His forehead drops to your shoulder, damp curls brushing your skin as he exhales, long and shaky.

Neither of you move right away. The air between you is thick with heat and breath and a comforting silence.

Eventually though, he shifts just enough to press a kiss to your collarbone. Then another, softer.

His hand slides along your waist, fingertips brushing lazy patterns into your skin. You hum under your breath — not a word, just a sound — and he responds by kissing your shoulder again.

Your legs are still tangled together. His body still half-draped over yours. There’s a mess between your thighs and sweat clinging to your skin, and you should probably say something, anything — but there’s something sweet about the silence now. It’s soft. Unspoken. Peaceful, in a weirdly intimate way.

He shifts again, easing out of you with a quiet groan, and you wince a little at the loss.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, running a hand gently over your thigh like an apology.

“It’s fine,” you breathe, eyes closed, chest still rising and falling too fast.

He doesn’t go far. Just rolls to the side, still close enough that his leg stays pressed against yours, and reaches for the blanket to pull it up over you both. He tugs you into his chest like second nature, burying his nose in your hair, his hand stroking absently up and down your arm.

“You good?” he asks softly, lips brushing your temple.

“Yeah,” you say, quieter now. “You?”

He pauses. Then he nods against your skin. “Yeah. More than.”

You lay there like that for a while, heartbeats evening out. He’s still drawing shapes on your skin — fingertips slow, mindless — and you smile to yourself, warmth blooming low in your stomach.

“So,” you murmur eventually, voice still hoarse. “What now? We high-five and call it a night?”

He huffs a laugh into your hair. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a high-five.”

You laugh, nudging him with your shoulder. “Cocky.”

“Confident,” he corrects, grinning. “But really—” He shifts a little so he can see your face, one hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “If we’re doing this, I wanna do it right.”

You blink, caught off-guard by the sudden sincerity in his voice. “Do what right?”

He raises an eyebrow, like it should be obvious. “Us.”

There’s a pause. You look at him, and he looks at you, and it’s terrifying and sweet all at once.

“I really like you,” he says, quieter this time. “And I’m not just saying that because I just got laid.” He cracks a small smile. “Though, to be fair, that was mind-blowing.”

You snort. “So humble.”

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your nose with his. “I’ll take you out. I’ll plan dumb dates. I’ll be obnoxiously charming and show up with flowers. I’ll be— like— a gentleman, or whatever.”

You give him a look. “You should’ve done all that before you fucked me.”

His grin spreads. “Yeah, well. Guess I got the order wrong. You gonna hold that against me?”

“Maybe,” you say, lips twitching.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, fingers brushing your cheek. “You’ll see. I’ll be so romantic it’ll make you want to punch me.”

“I already want to punch you.”

“And yet,” he says smugly, pulling you closer, “you’re still in my bed.”

“This is my bed, dumbass.”

He pauses. “Okay, fair. But I am naked in it. With you.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face won’t go away. His arm tightens around your waist, and you let yourself relax into it — into him. For once, it doesn’t feel like something to second-guess.

He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

You tuck your face into his neck and sigh. “You better bring the good flowers. Like the ones that don’t die in two days.”

“Oh, so now you’re picky?”

“You said dates and flowers. I’m holding you to it.”

“Noted,” he says, fingers threading into your hair. “I’m gonna be so disgustingly good to you.”

You laugh softly into his skin.

And he just holds you tighter.

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dollishmehrayan · 4 months ago

Text

# “SUDDENLY I SEE, THIS IS WHAT I WANNA BE” ── .✦ ( batboys w a zoologist/someone who’s very passionate about animals!reader ⋆౨ৎ )

dollish note ⋆౨ৎ: okay so this was a request by anon (here) and alsoo I’ve been like kinda gone as like much as I said I’d be back in march I thought that my days like have this gap in them where I can write for you guys so I thought why not entertain + carry my life yk? Anywayss enjoy ! <3 tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The Supportive Golden Retriever Boyfriend™

Dick absolutely adores how passionate you are about animals. He finds it so endearing that you can go on a 20-minute tangent about why capybaras are the ultimate chill kings of the animal world literally (we love a supportive king 💪)

He’ll sit there, chin propped in his hand, watching you with literal heart eyes as you explain fun animal facts. "Did you know that sea otters hold hands while they sleep so they don’t drift apart??”, he just responds with: "Babe, that’s literally us."

When you take him to the zoo, he’s your number-one cheerleader. He’s the guy hyping you up when you go full National Geographic mode. "Damn, look at my girl go! Bet the zookeepers are taking notes."

But also… chaos. You tell him about a random animal, and the next day, you get a text:

Dick: Babe, can we get a capybara?

You: No???

Dick: I already named him Carl. (Bad at name giving)

100% buys you animal plushies. You say you love red pandas? Boom. He’s bringing you a giant red panda plush the size of a toddler.

If he catches you watching animal documentaries at 2 AM, he will absolutely join in. You both end up getting emotionally attached to some random meerkat family.

JASON TODD ── .✦

The “Pretends Not To Care But Absolutely Does” Boyfriend

At first, he acts like it’s no big deal. You start talking about octopus intelligence, and he’s like, “Yeah, cool.” But then he’s actually listening.

You’ll randomly hear him drop animal facts he learned from you in casual conversation. "Did you know crows can recognize human faces?" And then he just walks away like he didn’t just absorb your entire personality.

You try to take him to the zoo. He acts reluctant. "Babe, I’m too old for this." But the second he sees the wolves? Yeah, he’s standing there for 20 minutes, fully invested.

Secretly loves big cats. If a tiger so much as looks at him, he’s like, “Yeah, that’s my guy, he fw me.”

Jason will 100% fake annoyance when you go on animal rants, but he’d never actually tell you to stop. He’ll just shake his head, smirking. "Babe, you’re literally an unpaid Discovery Channel host."

But if anyone ELSE tries to make fun of your animal obsession? Oh, he’s fighting them. "What, you don’t think learning about the mating habits of penguins isn’t interesting? You go right out the door before I drag you to it.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The “Actually, This Is Fascinating” Nerd Boyfriend

Tim is so invested in your knowledge. He treats every animal fact you tell him like it’s groundbreaking news.

"Wait, wait, explain how ants communicate again?" You blink. "Tim, I’ve told you this three times." "Yeah, but I need to visualize it properly."

Will absolutely go down research rabbit holes just so he can talk to you about animals on your level. You wake up to a text at 3 AM:

Tim: So technically, a shrimp can punch as fast as a bullet?

You think he’s tired when you take him to the zoo? Nope. He’s taking notes. He will challenge the tour guide with additional facts.

If you’re working on any zoology projects, he’s your biggest supporter. Need funding for animal conservation? He’s pulling Wayne Enterprises money and some drake money too.

One time, you found him watching bird videos for fun. When you called him out, he just said, "They're cool, okay?"

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

The “Of Course, My Beloved” Boyfriend

Listen. This is his dream relationship. Animals? Passion for them? You’re his soulmate LOCKEDDD INNNNN.

Will literally test you. "What do you know about Tibetan mastiffs?" If you pass? Immediate respect. If you don’t? "Tt. I will educate you."

You and him are unstoppable in animal debates. No one dares question your combined knowledge. Someone tries to say "cats don’t have feelings"? You and Damian tag-team destroy them.

You 100% have “who loves animals more” competitions. "I saved a hawk yesterday." "Tt. I rehabilitated a stray cat." "I named a baby goat after you." "...Beloved."

Dates? Animal sanctuaries. Zoos. Wildlife reserves. This man is taking you on the most eco-friendly, animal-filled dates ever.

One time, you found him talking to a cow. You swear it understood him. (Batcow ofc 🙂‍↕️)

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Very thoughtful husband

Secretly impressed by your knowledge. You caught him actually listening when you explained how dolphins have names for each other.

Would 100% fund a wildlife conservation project just because you’re passionate about it.

(Fuck this man fr I don’t have ideas for him🥲)

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prythiansprincess · 7 months ago

Note

i fear we need more like.. manipulation best friend enzo. maybe this time it’s his best friends sister? like theo’s twin sister who’s a gryffindor. 🙏🏻

— honey, are you coming?

NAVIGATION // inbox. tags. writing. library.

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

song inspiration: honey (are you coming?) by maneskin.

author’s note: ask and you shall receive. you guys know I can't say no to manipulative best friend! enzo. even better if he's being a sneaky little shit to get with his mate’s sister behind his back 🤭

forbidden.

that's what you were. as theo's twin sister, enzo was perfectly aware that you were off-limits, but no amount of threats from his best mate could ever keep him away from you. the temptation was too strong and enzo simply couldn't resist.

enzo always got what he wanted.

and what he wanted was you.

so he bided his time. enzo knew that theo would never let him near his precious baby sister unless he played the part. the protective best friend: a confidante, a companion, and a constant shadow that threatened bodily harm to any prat stupid enough to even breathe the same air as you.

this little act of his worked like a charm. over time, theo wrote enzo off as harmless. your older brother let his guard down enough for him to find an opening. soon, the two of you became inseperable. you confided in him. you told him your thoughts, your fears, your insecurities. enzo knew anything and everything about you.

you trusted him.

theo trusted him.

everything was going according to plan.

"my brother has officially lost it! I mean, the audacity of him to ban me from dating when he has a new girl in his bed every other night is beyond me." you ranted, pacing back and forth in enzo's dorm. "he's such a fucking hypocrite."

"you know he means well," enzo consoled, his brows furrowing in concern. "theo may not show it in the best way, but he's just trying to be a good brother."

you rolled your eyes. "you always take his side."

"that's not true and you know it. i'm always on your side, honey," enzo drawled, reaching out to rub your hands between his. "in this case, though, I can hardly blame theo. I mean, what the hell was mclaggen thinking when he asked you out? he's not good enough for you."

"you say that about every guy that asks me out, enz."

enzo looked up, his warm brown eyes meeting yours. "because it's true," he declared. "no one will ever be good enough for you."

you sighed. "this is exactly why i'm convinced that i'm going to die alone."

"you won't be alone," enzo said cheerfully. "you'll have me."

you rolled your eyes fondly, but softened as enzo tugged you between his legs. "now come over here, pretty girl. I think you just need a good cuddle to help you get sorted."

enzo watched as you climbed in beside him. his quidditch jersey that you had claimed long ago barely reached the top of your thighs and as the fabric skimmed your soft skin, he couldn't help but feel ridiculously jealous of the article of clothing for having the privilege of touching you.

but he'd soon rectify that.

you squealed as enzo pulled you closer, pressing your back into his solid chest. behind you, enzo hummed in satisfaction as you cuddled closer. his large hands gripped your hips while he positioned you right where he wanted you. with your arse pressed against his front, enzo released a throaty groan that made you shiver.

"are you cold, honey?" enzo whispered, his voice a dark and seductive caress.

you barely managed a nod before enzo's large hands traveled underneath the hem of your shirt, his warm touch making contact with your soft and supple skin. the callouses on his hands felt rough in contrast, but you found that you really didn't mind. you just wanted him to touch you more.

"you're freezing, sweetheart," enzo drawled. "do you want me to warm you up?"

"y—yes please."

enzo caressed your thighs, kneading and massaging your legs as you melted into his touch. you sighed in satisfaction as he shifted, dragging his hands higher and tracing circles on your hips. the skin to skin contact felt so good, but you wanted more. you needed more.

as if reading your mind, enzo flattened his palm against your stomach, burying his nose in your neck as you hummed in approval. the two of you had always been touchy and affectionate, but he was well aware that he was currently walking a very fine line. your reaction encouraged him to push a little further as he brushed his knuckles against your ribs and teased right below your bra.

enzo toyed with the hook of your bra. "do you want me to take this off?" he asked innocently. "I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable, honey."

you blinked, face heating as his words settled in. "o —okay, enz."

the swiftness in which enzo unhooked your bra had you reeling. you only realized it was off when he carelessly tossed it behind his shoulder. squirming in anticipation, you felt a familiar ache building within you as enzo continued stroking your back. his knuckles traced a line down your spine, your frustrations mounting as he touched you everywhere except right where you wanted him.

you whined as enzo kissed your shoulder. “enz…”

“yes, honey?”

“I — I want…”

“what is it, pretty girl? use your words. you know i’ll do anything you ask.”

you barely had time to think before the words slipped out. “touch me, please.”

the neediness dripping from your lips made enzo smirk. this was exactly what he planned. “where do you want me to touch you, sweetheart?”

enzo moved his hand higher and cupped your tit. “here?”

you groaned as he slid his hand down to your arse before squeezing gently. “or maybe here?”

your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head when he slipped his hand down your panties, palming your warmth as he trailed kisses down your neck. “right here?”

enzo circled your clit, eliciting a shameless moan from your lips. “I think I found the spot.”

as he rubbed the sensitive bundle of nerves, you arched into his palm, eager for friction. “spread your legs, sweetheart,” he whispered before gently nibbling on your ear lobe.

you teetered somewhere between pleasure and logic. the voice in the back of your mind expressed its concern despite your desire to ignore it and give in. “enz — I don’t think — we shouldn’t do this.”

“why not?”

you turned to find enzo looking at you, his warm honey eyes now sharp with lust. “because we’re friends,” you reasoned. “best friends.”

“so? who better to get you off than me? I know you like the back of my hand and I’d like to make you see heaven with my fingers.” enzo paused, scanning your face. “unless you don’t want that.”

“I — I do. but what if my brother finds out? he’d kill you.”

“don’t worry, pretty girl. theo will never find out. i’ll take good care of you.” enzo teased your slit and licked a stripe along your neck. “now spread those fucking legs for me, honey.”

you obliged, spreading your legs wide as enzo filled you with his fingers. your pussy squelched as you sucked him right in, covering him in your juices as he fingered you relentlessly. as warmth spread in your core, you chased after the feeling and rode his hand.

“that’s it, sweetheart. ride my fingers just like that. use me to get yourself off. that’s what friends are for, right?”

“best friends,” you responded cheekily.

“best friends,” enzo repeated before making you cum all over his fingers.

you hadn’t even recovered from the first orgasm before he brought you to the edge again, soaking his hand with your juices as you gripped his bicep and left nail marks in your wake.

enzo grabbed your chin and gave you a dirty, filthy kiss as he tugged your soaked panties off. as he pulled his boxers down, you gasped at the hardness pressed against your arse. you wanted him so bad you felt fucking dizzy with the force of it, but the worries couldn’t help but linger.

“wait, enz — what if this ruins our friendship? what if things are never the same again?”

enzo pulled back and stroked your cheek. “i’d never let that happen, honey. don’t you trust me? I always take care of you, don’t I?”

“of course I trust you.”

“do you want me as bad as I want you?”

“fuck yes. obviously. I just —“

“you just need to stop overthinking things,” enzo countered. “if it makes you feel better, I’ll only put the tip in. nothing less, nothing more. I promise, sweetheart.”

you bit your lip as he teased his tip between your folds. “okay. just the tip, right?”

“mhm,” enzo said as he pushed past your folds. “just the tip, honey.”

even with his slow and shallow thrusts, you could feel your pussy stretching to take more. enzo cursed as your warmth hugged around him, warm and welcoming, beckoning him further in.

“fuck, you feel so good. been dreaming about this for so long, y/n.”

the way he slid the tip of his cock in and out of you was torturous. you clawed at his arms, gasping and moaning as your pussy clenched. now that you knew what enzo felt like, you wanted more. you wanted all of him.

“enz, oh gods. I need more. please.”

enzo smirked. “yeah? you want your best friend to stuff you full? gonna beg for my cock, sweetheart?”

“yes, yes, please. I need you to fill me up. wanna feel all of you, baby.”

without a word, enzo flipped you over and positioned you in his lap. he laid back on his pillow and watched with lust blown eyes as you lowered yourself on his cock. every delicious inch filled you to the hilt, stuffing you full in the best way possible.

biting your lip, you began to rock your hips to a steady rhythm. you gasped as enzo tugged you down to him, his lips crashing against yours in desperation. his moans were shameless as you bounced on him. enzo squeezed your arse as you picked up the pace, riding him hard and fast.

“take it, honey. it’s yours.”

“oh god, enzo i’m gonna cum —“

enzo held your hips in place and thrust up, fucking into you as his thumb circled your clit. “come on, pretty girl. give it to me. cum all over my cock.”

his filthy words broke you, sending a wave of pleasure that nearly knocked you off kilter. enzo fucked you through the orgasm, his warm honey eyes sticky and golden as he drank in the sight of you losing control. he didn’t stop even when you creamed him from base to tip.

instead, enzo flipped you on your back and continued pumping in and out of you. “don’t wanna stop, honey. you feel too fucking good. I could do this forever. tell me I can, baby. tell me I can fuck you any time I want.”

“oh fuck,” you moaned. “yes, yes, gods. you can fuck me whenever and wherever, enzo.”

“that’s right, honey. I don’t give a fuck what your brother says. he’ll never find out anyways. this’ll be our little secret, right?”

dazed, you licked your lips and nodded as enzo hiked your leg over his shoulder and thrusted deeper. “our little secret.”

#I want enzo to gaslight and manipulate me #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire smut #enzo berkshire smut #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire x reader #── .✦ best friend! enzo. ‧ ₊˚ ⋅

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plaguewormart · 2 months ago

Text

Once again thinking about Vincent as pope…

Vincent hating the attention he’s given for doing simple things such as carrying his own bags, knowing the Swiss guards names, hugging children when they run up to him. Vincent despising how every human thing he does immediately becomes a headline: “Pope listening to music!” (He was wearing headphones and listening to some old favorites while hanging out with the turtles) “Innocent XIV goes shopping!” (He forgot to bring a book to the airport and just wanted to buy something to read on the plane) “The pope wears converse!” (He’d owned the same pair of shoes for three years, and he’d stitched them up himself after the fabric tore)

Vincent feeling more isolated than ever. Despite never being alone, there is not a single person who treats him as a person. He’s constantly watched, yet never invited into casual conversations, no one asks him to join them for coffee, no one rants about their boring work or tells him about their favorite books or talks about the weather.

Vincent waking up in a cold sweat most nights. Dreams of war haunting his sleep, the faces of the dead burned into his mind. He wakes up gasping for air, or screaming, or running to the bathroom to throw up.

Vincent sleeping on the floor more often than the bed. Vincent flinching at loud noises and always scanning the room for threats and ways to escape.

Vincent having flashbacks and panic attacks on the floor of his bathroom, not being able to call anyone for help because he’s the pope, he’s not allowed to fall apart or ask for help or take a break.

Vincent who cannot handle being snuck up on from behind, who can’t have meat that isn’t well done, Vincent who hides his shaking hands behind his back as he speaks about the saints who were stoned to death, because he knows what that looks like.

Vincent who once gets so startled by the bang of a bible being dropped onto the floor of St Peter’s cathedral while he’s holding mass that he instinctively ducks behind the altar, covering his head, sure that he’s back in the war. Vincent who has to continue his sermon with shaking hands and voice, with his normally so present and kind eyes suddenly showing a far-away look. And Vincent who has to read the headlines afterwards, despite Aldo doing his best to shield him.

I also think about Thomas.

Thomas who tries to joke with Vincent about how the masses have never seen a pope young enough to have the strength to carry his own bags, Thomas who reminds him that even though he is the pope, he’s still human.

Thomas who, despite this, is unable to call him Vincent. Thomas who has always seen the papacy as closest to the God he has such a hard time reaching, and Thomas who no longer sees Vincent when he looks at the pope.

Thomas who tries to comfort Vincent, but keeps calling him Your Holiness, and watching as Vincent pulls away more and more.

Thomas who once entered Vincent’s room at night to leave him an urgent document, and found the pope curled up on the floor.

Thomas who always sees when Vincent’s hands start to shake, who can sense Vincent’s breathing quicken and his eyes start searching for escape routes. Thomas who can’t do anything to help, because the pope cannot be seen having to be escorted away because of anxiety.

Thomas who tries to learn what triggers Vincent, Thomas who takes notes on what makes the pope flinch or shake or hide away. Thomas who discreetly informs the rest of the staff closest to Vincent about how important it is to never sneak up on him from behind, or serve him anything resembling torn off flesh.

Thomas who finally sees how Vincent is actually doing once the incident at mass happens. Thomas who argues with everyone to try to allow Vincent to end mass early, but failing. Thomas who sends the altar boys and deacons away from the sacristy once mass is over and finally greets the pope by his original name.

Thomas who opens his arms and his heart as he sees the shaking man in front of him. “Oh my dear Vincent” he says, and his heart breaks as Vincent falls into his arms and sobs.

Thomas who holds him tightly, whispering apologies for letting this continue, who promises to be better. Thomas who helps Vincent change out of his sweat soaked vestments, and who lets Vincent explain the horrors he’s seen.

I also think about Aldo

Aldo who’s in the background of it all. Who sees how the new pope seems to be getting even thinner than he was. Aldo who tries his best to minimize Vincent’s amount of paperwork on the days where the pope arrives to breakfast at 5 am with bloodshot eyes and holding his mug of tea with trembling hands.

Aldo who more than once has held up Vincent’s hair as he throws up after stressful meetings with world leaders who are decimating entire populations. Aldo who sometimes pretends not to see invites from some of the dictators he knows Vincent hates the most.

Aldo who tries his best to keep the news away from Vincent whenever he’s in the headlines. Aldo who brings Vincent hot chocolate whenever he knows an article will have upset him.

Aldo who always remembers to make his steps louder or clear his throat if he’s walking up to the pope from behind. Who will always make sure there is a vegetarian option that won’t remind the pope of wounded and dead bodies.

Aldo who every so often sees the pope’s eyes flicker to the side, and knows it means Vincent is quietly suppressing the most horrible flashbacks, even with a smile on his face. And Aldo who always makes sure he has an excuse ready to get Vincent out of situations when it happens.

Aldo who tries his very very best to make Thomas realise that Vincent needs him.

Aldo who feels a weight leave his heart once he sees Thomas leading a shaking Vincent through the halls of the Santa Martha, and who smiles when they both enter the Homy Father’s room.

#conclave #conclave 2024 #cardinal benitez #vincent benitez #thomas lawrence #conclave fanfic #lawrence x benitez #aldo bellini #lawrence x bellini #benitez x bellini #lawrence x bellini x benitez #angst #Vincent has ptsd

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jellykyunnie · 10 months ago

Text

˗ˏˋ Jinwoo x Fem! Reader: Soulmate! Au ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 043 ✦ ┆・

╰┈➤ ❝ [ I'm willing to bind myself to you] ¡! ❞

Jinwoo had always been curious about the little red string attached to his finger. He had this way before his regression. His mother always told him that he is lucky that he can see his red string, it meant that he would find his lover faster than anybody else would.

Does he, a man who really could care less about fantasy romance— Find this whole thing cheesy? Definitely.

While others would certainly start flipping rocks just to find their 'one true love'; Jinwoo did none of that.

He had priorities to deal with.

Such as suddenly becoming the patriarch of the family due to his father going missing, trying to provide care to his mother who has come down into a coma, and taking care of his dear baby sister on top of that.

Jinwoo probably got into debt in the process of trying to shoulder all the financial problems.

Would you really think he had some time for romantic relationships and much less go hunting for a needle in a haystack?

However... He did have some small chemistry with Hae-in, though, it felt more shallow than anything. After all, they only met a few times and decided to roll with it just because.

It felt... Empty so to speak.

They say that romance feels like a tidal wave, once it comes— It overwhelms you with such force you'd have nothing more choice than to kneel before it and surrender yourself to it's mercy.

But Jinwoo couldn't feel any of that with Hae-in.

Don't get him wrong, she is a wonderful person. Kind, pretty, all that and whatnot.

But what can he do if a heart does not want what it wants?

His red string wouldn't be reacting neither. Not a glow, not a tug, no nothing.

Jinwoo would eventually find himself just ignoring the little red string until the time he regresses.

Heck, he even forgot about it even if it's literally tied to his very own finger.

And as he traversed the long hallways of his school, hands shoved in his pockets while listening to his friends banter around him— He felt a soft tug on his finger.

"H-hey! Knock it off, I wanna pull for Aventurine myself!" A voice would erupt his bewilderment as a sharp tug at his finger pulls again. "Iseol!"

He looks back to see your figure running after your friend who had taken your phone.

"Huh..." Jinwoo hums, shaking his head and turning away.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo felt entirely restless after that little meeting. It's not like he caught a proper glimpse at you, your back was turned the entire time.

And yet he finds himself completely fidgety. His sister even rants that he had been pacing for hours if she wouldn't snap him out of his little trance.

Has he lost his mind over a girl he hasn't properly seen? Definitely.

Is it the effects of the red string? Not impossible.

"Goddamnit!" Jinwoo sighs, ruffling his head and flopping onto the bed.

"My liege..." Beru's small voice calls out. "My lord, you are... Anxious."

"Tell me about it" Jinwoo scoffs, groaning through his pillow.

"...My liege, I have her scent, do you wish to track he—"

"You do?!" Jinwoo perks up, staring intensely at his soldier before mentally slapping himself. "Ack... No, don't make me a creep"

He felt frustrated, why would he do that? Why should he? He might as well spend his time in jail for even trying to entertain the idea of stalking you.

Jinwoo's gaze would then absentmindedly drift towards the red string on his ring fingerz nothing how much vibrant it's color is now compared to before.

Was it your doing? Maybe.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

He told himself not to be a creep and yet found himself somewhat lingering around you. All the little things about you, he started taking note of.

From memorizing the frequent pastries you buy from the cafeteria, to the drinks you often buy from the vending machine, and even trying to overhear the games you play on your phone.

It was really just curiousity.

After all, he can't help but find it cute on the way your eyes would perk up as you ramble on to your friends about some lore or complaining about some game mechanics because of how hard it was.

Jinwoo was just about to leave you to your own devices until your voice ripped through the air—

"AVENTURINE!!!!" You cheer, standing up immediately and pacing back and forth. "HE'S HOME, AFTER SACRIFICING 30 DOLLARS FOR THIS DAMN BASTARD HE'S HOM—!!!!"

Your heart dropped immediately as your shoe got caught over on a crack— And for sure you were going to land but instead a hand would reach out to hold your shoulder and keep you steady.

"Easy there," Jinwoo says, helping you stand straight.

"!!!!" You panic, pulling away with your face entirely flushed. "I-I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean to!..."

"Wait, calm down—...." Jinwoo wasn't even given a second any longer to speak as you dashed away in a frenzy.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Your heart is beating out of your chest, your lungs are barely catching any breath as you coughed, the noises you made akin to whistles while trying to gasp out for air.

It's tight.

Painful.

Your hands are sweating, trembling as if it's suffering from frostbite.

Is it fear?

No.

It's just how you react after being way too dangerously close to the person you adored so much.

His eyes.

God those grey eyes.

Long lashes, a high nose bridge, thin peach lips, and that agonizingly relaxing scent on him— Gods.

Not to mention his height, he was like a tower. And those broad shoulders underneath his baggy clothing that hid the muscular form underneath—

Sung JInwoo will be the death of you.

You had been avoiding him ever since coming here.

How long has it been?... Ah... It's been 3 years since you arrived in this world.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

It was supposed to be your doctor's appointment. Since you have arrived an hour earlier from your check-up, you decided to stroll around the mall first.

Okay, you weren't really taking a stroll.

Your strides are purposeful and hurried, the goal is clear:

Get to the bookstore.

As you recalled, it should be at the other end of the mall.

It didn't matter how long you're going to walk, you needed to see if it's there. Nothing is more important than that.

Taking the elevator down and nearly having a heart attack from the sound of it creaking as it took you to the lower level; you stepped out and dashed immediately to the entrance.

Glancing around like a madman, you scoured the large and intimidating place before deciding to enter completely and attempt to look for the section you needed to be in.

Passing by interesting books wasn't the goal, and after almost 3 minutes of going in circles you finally saw the section you needed to be in.

As soon as your eyes landed on the cover of the book you have been searching for— You had to swallow your squeals.

Your hands however? They were shaking so bad.

You paced back and forth for a bit before finally deciding to reach out on the book and take it out of it's shelf cautiously.

Taking a deep breath, you gently pry open the thing and feel your heart flutter.

"Jinwoo-ah...." You mumble, giggling quietly as your eyes dilate into heart shapes at the sight of the precious man you cannot stop obsessing over.

Carding your digits carefully on the fine paper, your stroke Jinwoo's face on the page delicately like you were handling the most fragile little thing ever.

You can't help but admire him all the more as you silently freak out like a madman in the aisle.

He was so handsome.

And now that you can physically run your fingers across the pages while crushing on him felt a whole lot different.

You had about a decent amount of money on you, it should be fine. As you reach for your little bag, you hear some crackling above your head.

The next thing you knew? You were suddenly shrouded in darkness.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

You assume you must have died that day while shopping for your first ever solo leveling purchase. After all, you suddenly woke up in an unfamiliar apartment.

It tooka while to get used to it, but apparently you're in seoul living alone in a decent apartment with a black card containing a lot of money.

Complaints? Nowhere.

— Except that Solo Leveling doesn't exist in this world.

Did you have a literal mental breakdown over it? He yeah.

Big tears, pathetic sniffles and nasty snot. All that.

You cried like a toddler just because you cant do your monthly ritual of rereading solo leveling and admiration of Jinwoo anymore.

So with salty tears you grab a pencil and paper to start sketching him down. If you can't read, mind as well draw the image of him when it's still fresh.

It took 3 weeks to recover, and in youur room, your desk is full of Jinwoo's sketches. It isn't the same as the manhwa but it's the best you could do.

It took another 2 to finally come to terms with your new reality.

You're rich, mind as well live life, right?

You even enrolled to a highschool. After all, k-dramas are always centered around that part of life. Why not experience it yourself?

After successfully buying all of your school materials, you glance down at your ring finger and notice a delicately tied red string.

Huh...

That wasn't there yesterday.

Picking at it and attempting to take it off didn't work. So after an hour of struggling, you gave in and let it be.

Maybe the string was proof that you had died.

And maybe it was a sign that this is your purgatory. Or not, everything is way too normal except for no Jinwoo.

So heh....

But ah, it wasn't part of your plans to see a figure... Way too familiar.

Tall, dark, and handsome.

Three words and you associate it with only one person.

Amidst the crowd of students lined up on the grounds your eyes zeroed in instantly on a single boy who stood out amongst everyone.

No way... Right?

That piercing gaze, the fluffy hoodie, and a glove on his left hand.

That was Jinwoo's appearance when he regressed in time and went into highschool.

Shit.

Isn't your uniform similar to Jinah's?

You should've realized in the first place.

Wait no, you're not really mad it's just!... Jinwoo... Seeing him on the crowd, the probability of meeting him in the hallways isn't zero.

How are you going to survive? Is this why there isn't solo leveling in this world?

Because this world is where the protagonist lives?

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

And that is the story of how you arrived here in this world. During the 2 months of being in school, you occasionally passed by Jinwoo, and in each fleeting moment you had to hide in the washroom to try and calm yourself from your panic. Your heart would beat as if it's going to explode, your breathing would be erratic each time that you cant really take a breath.

You always knew that meeting him will quite take a toll on you because you loved him so much, but you didn't think it would be this bad that you look like you're having a panic attack.

Stay Calm.

You need to stay calm. If you pass out from fangirling over your precious idol it'll be embarassing as hell.

Calm down.

You need to calm down.

It's not like he actually saw you, it'll be fine.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

No, it wasn't fine.

Somehow, crossing paths with Jinwoo became more uncharacteristically frequent. It's to the point that you needed to actively avoid his usual walking routes.

Is it stupid to hide from someone who has the ability to locate anyone at any given moment? Yes.

Will you still keep doing it? Yes.

You don't hate Jinwoo, you just cant handle being around him knowing how much adoration you hold inside your heart and knowing that he will never be yours.

It should be around this season when Jinwoo asks Chae Hae-in out and kisses her under the falling snow.

It isn't december 24th yet but... Does it matter?

She's so lucky, having someone like him to admire her.

The only thing you have with you is a lonely life with money.

As well as this stupid red string wrapped around your finger.

What is it meant to represent anyway? A lover?

Surely not.

Who would love you?

The sad, pathetic, lonely, and broken you who doesn't belong in this world.

Just like your previous life and this one, you feel an awful sense of alienation that is unpleasant. The kind of loneliness that eats at your heart every single day.

"Ah, you're here?" A voice from behind you makes you jump and instantly whip your head around.

"A-ah..." You panic, recognizing the familiar grey eyes.

"Now, don't even run away." Jinwoo simply says, smiling.

It made you gulp honestly, something about that grin made you feel like he's willing to pull you into the land of eternal rest if you do.

"U-uhm..." You sputter, fidgeting.

"Not even wearing gloves in this weather?" He inquires, pulling the gloves off of his hands and gently taking yours.

"..."

The red string on your finger tingled, glowing softly as the broken ends binded itself to the strings on Jinwoo's finger.

"How cute" Jinwoo interrupts the silence. "Even if you run away now, these strings will keep us binded."

"W-wait!" You panic, utterly confused as you look up at him.

"I won't force myself on you," He says, his gaze moving from the strings to your eyes. "But I do want to court you properly,... If you'll let me."

"....."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

"That's the story of how me and your daddy got together," You hum softly, caressing your fingers softly against your stomach that is now holding a four month old growing baby.

"What a cute bedtime story," Jinwoo chuckles, approaching from the door and pecking your forehead. "Now, shouldn't you be asleep, hm? My pretty wife needs a lot of rest since you're carrying our little ball of sunshine"

"I just couldn't help it..." You pout at him, and he only pinches your cheek before leaning down to kiss your stomach.

"Mhm, I can tell" He shakes his head while gently pulling the blanket over you. "Go to sleep, jagiya. I still need to shower after a long day at the office"

"Please hurry..." You ask softly, tugging at his sleeve.

"I will" Jinwoo promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead again. "So go to sleep."

꒰ 🪼 A/N: Sorry for the inactiveness ahhh... I'm quite burnt out as of late and I've been doing some commissions as well as running errands www. I'll postpone the cai requests for a bit longer ahhh... I have to make assassin au too ejshrgshs. Oh well, here's to praying I figure out wth I want to do with assassin au ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ — All stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

#sung jinwoo #solo leveling #sung jin woo #only i level up #solo leveling headcanons #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader fics #solo leveling fics #solo leveling x reader fics #ore dake level up na ken #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo headcanoncs #sung jinwoo fics #‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆— kyunnie's writings

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merlinmylove · 4 months ago

Text

How Sir Leon and Merlin became friends

It’s back in season 1-2 and Sir Leon is on patrol with the Prince and the other knights.

He hears and sees Merlin talk rudely and loudly to his highness, breaking all sorts of decorum, flirting with another knight, (surprisingly Sir Kay doesn’t seem to mind) and spending most of his time feeding the horses treats instead of attending to his duties.

(“There you are horsies, some nice crisp apples for you — I know I know, it’s awfully rude of Arthur to drag you out here in the cold, I hate him too”)

Once they return back to the castle he writes his usual report on the events; cataloging how many bandits they fought, how many lives or equipment lost, who got injured and who took charge. The usual.

He included a simple note on Merlin’s behaviour, and hoped it would be subtle enough that the Prince would take matters into his own hand, and make Merlin stop embarrassing himself and the Prince in the future.

He hands the report over for Arthur to proof read before officially filing it with the other reports. Sir Leon had, perhaps foolishly, thought the prince would appreciate his notice of Merlin’s behaviour but instead Arthur tears the report in half and orders him to:

“Write it again and dont mention Merlin. If you have a problem with him, you come to me. Any slight on his character is a slight to mine, do you understand? He has my absolute trust”

Sir Leon doesn’t understand, not yet anyways.

But nevertheless, he writes a near similar report, no mention of any servants this time around, and His Highness accepts it and files it with the rest.

Over the next few months he tires to observe Merlin and his behaviour around the prince. Just as a precaution! After all, the safety and wellbeing of the Heir to the throne lies with him as knight commander and closest friend.

He notices that Merlin is always the last one to go the bed and the first one up. He singlehanded does all the chores Arthur sets him, even the ones that are beneath him in station, and really is just an embarrassing punishment set by Arthur.

For the godssake they have multiple stable hands and errand boys, Merlin should not be mucking out the horses and running around the castle fetching Arthur’s things.

He seems to sneak out at night to walk an hour to the lake and chat to a woman who lives in it. Leon hides in the bushes as he watch Merlin rant about Arthur’s smelly socks to an apparent goddess.

Merlin is everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Helping Gaius and the citizens of the lower town, teaching the young stable boys how to count and write, mending Arthur’s torn clothes, brewing his tea and cooking his food, carrying buckets of water all by himself up ten flights of stairs, changing his bedsheets and polishing his armour.

Leon found himself wondering how the young boy stay so cheerful and kind whilst being so overworked? Does he ever have time to eat or sleep?

But then one night while on guard, Sir Leon would come to truly understanding Merlin. He hears hushed and harsh whisperings around the corner to the royal hall, so he draws his sword and peers around to listen.

It seem Merlin has cornered Lady Celia, and is blocking her path to the Princes chambers.

“Just give the flask to me, and I will tell no one” He demands in a tone of voice Leon had never heard from him before.

“I don’t answer to you, servant! Let me pass, or I shall scream. Then you will see what happens when you try to stop me” Leon didn’t need to see her face to know that she was smirking at him.

“Scream all you want, I don’t care. Arthur will belive me, and I doubt the King will be happy to hear how you tried to poison his son”

“It’s not poison! It’s simply —“

“A lust draft, yes I know. I recognise the colour and fragrance. You bought it three days ago from the traveling merchants. I saw you”

“Oh I see…the little servant fancies himself a spymaster. Stay out of this, or I will make your life a living hell” She sounded entirely too confident and it was starting to grate on Sir Leon’s nerves.

“Doubt you can make it any worse than what Arthur already does” Merlin mumbled, mostly to himself before continuing in a cold levelheaded voice;

“Your plan of seducing the prince and forcing him to marry you out of honour and obligation is disgraceful. I know you’re upset he didn’t dance with you at the winter feast last year — yes I noticed that too! But this is not the way to go about romance. A lust potion will be easily discovered by Gaius and your neck will be on the line. Hand it to me, and I will make sure this never happened”

Leon tightened his grip on his sword as he heard Merlin’s words. To think that someone had planned to accost His Highness tonight and Leon had no idea! He felt shame build up inside him. Lady Cecil’s voice drew him back into focus.

“Oh shut up little cretin! You’re nothing but a lowly servant, who in their right mind would believe your words over that of a Duchess? Your words mean nothing” She sneered.

Sir Leon had heard enough and decided to make his presence known. As he turned around the corner he held his sword drawn.

“But mine does. The King and Prince will belive me when I tell them what happened here tonight.”

Lady Celia drops the flask and it shatters upon impact. A strong aroma of roses and marsipan fills the corridor. She looks ashen and starts shaking.

Merlin on the other hand looks pleasantly surprised at his entrance. His body completely relaxed where he’s stood guarding Arthur’s door. Where the hell are the guards?! Did she get them too, Leon wondered for a second, but he had more pressing concerns at the moment.

“Besides, Merlin is not just a servant, he is the personal servant of the Crown Prince. Furthermore he is well trusted by all the knights and staff. And if you wish to go by social standing and birth…my word as Earl of Blackhall, and Knight Commander of Camelots army trumps yours.”

Merlin allowed a little smile at that.

“Now, if you will follow me my lady, I shall ensure this ends better than it would’ve had you tried to entrap the prince tonight.” It was an order and she knew it.

Lady Celia hmpft and walked ladylike over to him, carefully stepping over the broken glass, and potion soaking the stone floor.

He took her arm, and held it tight. Leon tried to conceal any further disgust with her as he turned to Merlin and asked him to gather as much of the potion as he could. “It will be needed as evidence. And please clean of up afterwards — I’d rather no one else falls under any enchantment”

“Yes, Sir Leon” Merlin said faintly, nodding his head at the older knight.

“And you’d better wake His Highess and alert him” At this simple request Merlin groaned and dropped any sense of dignity and respect.

Kicking his feet in a childlike manner he moaned “Ugh, why can’t you do that? He hates being woken up, and I would know because I wake him up every morning. He’s such an ass when he’s sleepy!”

Sir Leon grimaced as he was all too familiar with Arthur’s morning grumpiness. There’s a reason he always asked someone else to do it. Still, he had to feign some level of decorum.

“Merlin! That is an order. Fetch His Highness and tell him what you discovered. I shall bring Lady Celia to the council chambers and alert the King”

“Alright alright” Merlin huffed and hung his head. “But if he throws something me again, I will say I told you so!”

From this day on, Leon never once doubted Merlin’s character or loyalty towards his prince. He knew that he had finally found a man whom he could trust completely around Arthur…even if he was always late with breakfast.

#bbc merlin #merlin #sir leon #merleon friendship #merlinmylove #arthur pendragon #once and future idiots #they are eternal besties fight me #sir leon seeing young merlin being a badass; he’s my favourite

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mrsfancyferrari · 7 months ago

Text

Mistletoe Magic

Summary: OP81 + “What are you doing with that mistletoe– oh.”

Song: All I Want for Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 8.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

You’ve liked Oscar for a while now—longer than you probably want to admit. Maybe it started as a silly crush, like the kind you read about in romance novels where the protagonist can’t help but blush at the mere sight of her crush. But this was different.

Oscar wasn’t just a flicker of attraction; he was a spark that ignited every time he entered the room.

Everyone around you seemed to sense it, from your friends to his teammates. You’ve witnessed plenty of sideways glances over the months, most of them playful nudges and knowing whispers, but they fell on deaf ears.

The one person who mattered—the one you were enamored with—had no clue.

With a frustrated sigh, you called Lando one evening. Your heart raced as you paced your apartment, the soft hum of your phone ringing soothingly in your ear.

“Lando, I can’t take it anymore,” you ranted as soon as he picked up.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he replied, a hint of laughter in his voice, probably because he could already sense your exasperation.

“It’s Oscar! I don’t know if he hates me or something!”

“Hate is a strong word,” he laughed, and you could practically hear the smirk on his face.

“It sure feels like it. He can’t even look at me, let alone speak to me! Every time I try to approach him, he finds some excuse to leave!”

Lando kept his tone light. “Okay, give me the details. You’re saying the guy is terrified of you?”

“It’s not funny!” You found yourself arguing, but even you had to stifle a chuckle. Lando was right; it just sounded ridiculous. “He’s not scared. He’s just… I don’t know, awkward. And the way he follows me on social media—not that I mind, but…”

“But? You’d rather he didn’t like your posts? Is that how you feel? Because I think he’s into you.”

“But he never talks to me! He just flicks and swipes through my photos like a ghost!” You dropped to the couch, running a hand through your hair. “What does it mean?”

Lando paused for a moment. “Maybe he’s just shy? You’re not exactly a wallflower, you know. You’re dazzling. He might feel intimidated.”

“Intimidated? By me?” You leaned back, disbelief etched across your face, but Lando’s sincerity hung in the air, urging you to consider it.

“I mean it,” Lando insisted. “Just imagine yourself in his shoes, surrounded by all his friends. He probably thinks you’re out of his league, and his social media habits? Maybe he’s trying to muster up the courage to say something. When was the last time you actually had a conversation?”

You furrowed your brow, the memories coming back like scenes from a vague film. “I think the last time we really talked was at that charity event a couple of months ago. We barely spoke for five minutes, and then he vanished.”

“Then you need a plan. A real plan. You can’t let him sweep away like that.” Lando’s voice dripped with assurance, as if he believed everything you felt was not only valid but fixable.

“What do you suggest? Should I just somehow trap him in a corner of a party?”

“Not exactly how I’d phrase it, but yeah, kinda,” Lando chuckled. “You’ve got to make your move, even if that means grabbing him right after practice or before the next race.”

The idea spiraled through your mind, one that filled you with both hope and anxiety. The next race was only a few days away. You had to do something.

The streets of Baku were alive with energy, an intoxicating mix of adrenaline and excitement that filled the air as the Grand Prix weekend unfolded.

You stood just outside the McLaren garage, your heart racing not from the prospect of the upcoming F1 race, but from being in the same space as the drivers you idolized—especially the charming Oscar Piastri.

“Hey, are you sure you’re ready for this?” Lola smirked, her eyes sparkling with teasing mischief. “I mean, with the way you look at Oscar, we might need to tie you down.”

“Shut up!” you laughed, swatting her arm, but inside, you felt a flutter of nerves. How could you even think about talking to him when your heart did backflips every time you laid eyes on his curly hair and boyish grin? “He doesn’t even know I exist.”

Aaliyah chimed in, her voice playful yet conspiratorial, “Or maybe he’s just shy! Guys act like that when they like someone, you know?”

“Please, you’re giving me false hope,” you sighed dramatically, shaking your head. “That’s the last thing I need today with the race and everything else going on.”

The paddock was bustling with activity. Mechanics darted between cars, engineers discussed strategies, and the sound of laughter mixed with the roar of engines.

“Let’s go inside,” Lola urged, pushing you toward the McLaren garage.

As you walked in, the familiar vibrant colors of the McLaren team enveloped you. There, surrounded by the scent of burnt rubber and the hum of teamwork, stood Oscar, deeply engaged in a conversation with the engineers, his focus absolute.

You mustered every ounce of courage, but just as you stepped closer, your gaze accidentally caught his. Time seemed to freeze.

For seven whole seconds, you locked eyes, and there was an undeniable spark, or perhaps you were imagining it, because just as quickly, he turned his head away, his cheeks crimson.

“See? What did I tell you?” you whispered to your friends, who were equally giddy with excitement.

“He totally likes you!” Lola teased, grinning from ear to ear while giving you a playful elbow to the ribs.

“Guys, he doesn’t want to talk to me. Trust me,” you replied, trying to sound unfazed, but it was difficult given the flutter in your chest.

“Did you see that? He totally likes you!” Lola declared with a gleeful bounce. “He looked at you like you were the only person in the room!”

“It’s not what you think,” you replied, trying to sound unfazed, but your heart was pounding in your chest. “He probably just didn’t expect me to be here.”

“Stop!” Lola said, feigning outrage. “You can’t keep denying this. You’ve been crushing on him for what, a year? Just go over there and talk to him!”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but the knot in your stomach tightened. “It’s not that easy! He’s way out of my league.”

“Pfft. As if!” Lola tossed her hair dramatically. “You are amazing! If he can’t see that, then he’s the one missing out.”

Before you could muster another protest, the tide of the crowd shifted, and Lando walked over. “Hey Y/N,” he said, breaking into a warm smile. “Can I borrow you for a second?”

“Uh, sure…” you stammered, glancing back at Lola and Aayila, who were both wiggling their eyebrows in a way that was both comical and slightly alarming.

“Okay, just stay around here and do not go over to him,” you warned your friends and with a playful roll of your eyes, you followed him through the throng of people.

As you walked away, you didn’t see how Oscar’s gaze remained fixed on you, a flicker of curiosity dancing in his deep brown eyes.

Lando led you to a quieter corner of the venue, away from the pulsing crowd. “I just wanted to make sure you’re having a good time,” he said, leaning against the wall casually. “I know these events can be overwhelming.”

“Yeah, I’m good, just a bit… you know,” you mumbled, trying to shake off the embarrassment of being away from your friends. You took a deep breath, gesturing broadly with your hands.

“The music is great, and the atmosphere is amazing. I just—” you hesitated. “I don’t know, I guess I’m just nervous about being around all these people? You know it's a completely different atmosphere.”

Lando nodded knowingly. “I get that. If it helps, I’m here if you need a distraction from all the noise.”

Just as he said that, Lola's voice cut through the chatter like a knife.

“Y/N! Come back!” She was waving frantically, her other arm pointing toward Oscar, who was now staring directly at you.

Your stomach dropped. Lando caught your eye, his expression shifting from concern to amusement. “Looks like you have an admirer,” he said, nudging you playfully.

“Don’t even! He’s probably curious about why I’m speaking to you,” you quickly denied, cheeks flushing.

“Are you sure? Because it looks like he wants to speak to you instead of me,” Lando teased, his grin widening.

You rolled your eyes, but the heat on your cheeks didn’t fade. “Stop it. Oscar’s just being polite.”

“Polite? Y/N, that look he’s giving you is way more than polite,” he chuckled.

Despite yourself, you risked another glance at Oscar. He was still looking in your direction, a small smile creeping across his lips.

What was even more annoying was how attractive he looked in that moment, leaning against the wall, confidently engaging with a couple of people.

“Okay, maybe he isn’t just being polite,” you conceded, trying to feign indifference.

Lando leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What’s the deal with you two, anyway? I thought he 'hated' you.”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone casual. “He does hate me maybe just not today.” But even as you said it, the truth felt slanted. There was something more that bubbled underneath the surface, something you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge.

“Right,” Lando said, raising an eyebrow. “All I see are two people who clearly have some unresolved tension,” he smirked, clearly enjoying the fact that he could tease you.

Before you could reply, there was an announcement over the loudspeakers instructing all drivers to head to their garages and prepare for the race.

“See you later?” Lando asked, giving you a easy smile.

“Of course! Good luck, Lando,” you said, genuinely wishing him well. You knew how hard he trained and how much this race meant to him.

As he walked away, your attention shifted to Oscar, who was a few spaces down, adjusting his helmet strap. When he caught your eye, he hesitated for a moment, those familiar warm brown eyes locking onto yours.

He looked almost bashful as he realized you were watching him. “Good luck, Oscar!” you called out, trying to sound casual, though your heart raced.

His face broke into a magnificent grin, cheeks reddening slightly. “Thanks, Y/N!” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of excitement and appreciation.

He glanced down, fiddling with his gear as he turned to head into the garage.

You watched him disappear behind the metal doors, an inexplicable thrill coursing through you.

It was silly, was it not? Your hope had doubled just from this interaction but you knew it meant nothing in Oscar's eyes. . .

The adrenaline still buzzed in the air as the final laps of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix raced through everyone’s minds. The street circuit glimmered under the twilight sun as Oscar Piastri, the newly crowned champion of the day, burst from his car, his helmet clutched under his arm.

The roar of the crowd echoed off the old buildings surrounding the circuit, celebrating the victory that had become so hard-earned.

You had watched the entire race with bated breath, your heart pounding with each corner he navigated, each overtake he executed. You couldn’t believe it—Oscar had done it.

The memory of his previous win played faintly in your mind, but it didn't compare to this moment. This was the race where it felt like he had truly battled every inch of the track and his competitors for the victory.

“Are you guys going to come?” you asked, as you stood up, barely able to contain your excitement. Your fingertips tingled with anticipation.

“Nah, we’ll watch the celebrations from here. Go congratulate your boyfriend,” Aaliyah teased, her eyes sparkling as she nudged you playfully.

You felt a rush of warmth spread across your cheeks at the mention of the word “boyfriend.”

“We’re not dating, Aaliyah! It’s… it’s complicated!” you stammered, your excitement mingling with nerves.

“Complicated, huh?” she continued, her smirk undeniable. “You should probably clear that up once you get down there.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. It was more complicated than Aaliyah could imagine.

Today, watching him work so incredibly hard and finally claim that victory felt like a turning point that ignited a fire in you.

“Right,” you said, gathering courage and taking a deep breath. “I’ll be right back!”

With that, you made your way to the pit lane where his team was erupting in cheers, everyone surrounding Oscar as they hoisted him high above their heads.

The sight made your heart swell—he was a champion, and he was thriving.

When you reached the edge of the celebration, you watched him for a moment, his laughter ringing out bright and infectious. He had that light in his eyes, a rare spark that shone brightly after the stress of the race.

You hesitated, unsure if you wanted to interrupt the joyful chaos surrounding him.

Your moment of hesitation was abruptly interrupted when you felt a gentle tap on your arm. Turning, you found Tom, Oscar's race engineer, standing there with a warm, inviting smile.

"Y/N, should I bring you closer to Oscar?" he asked politely, as though he could sense your internal struggle.

You weren't quite sure how he even knew your name. You'd never formally introduced yourself, nor had you visited the paddock often enough for recognition. But amidst the whirlwind of happiness, you pushed your curiosity aside.

"Yes, please," you responded, the anticipation racing through you. Your heart pounded at the thought of actually getting to congratulate Oscar in person.

Tom nodded, leading you through the throngs of people, laughter, and cheerful chaos. The closer you got, the more your nerves fluttered. What would you say?

“Congratulations” felt too simple for what you wanted to express—too small for the monumental achievement he had just secured.

As you stepped closer, you could see Oscar surrounded by a group of teammates and a few friends.

“Oscar!” Tom called, breaking into the cheers. Oscar turned, and his face lit up even more when he spotted you.

“Y/N!” Oscar exclaimed, a hint of surprise in his voice. The way he said your name, like it was a sweet melody, made your heart skip.

You took a step closer, fueled by an impulse you weren’t sure would be welcomed.

“Congratulations, Oscar!” you said, and in an uncharacteristic burst of spontaneity, you pulled him into a hug. The warmth of his body enveloped you, and for a moment, the world around you faded.

It was weird to hug him—Oscar was not the type of person who hugged a lot. He was usually the stoic, strong type, but today was different.

You felt his arms wrap tentatively around you, and you almost pulled away out of embarrassment, but the thrill of the moment kept you there.

“Wow, I didn’t expect a hug,” he chuckled, his breath warm against your hair. “I mean, thank you! It means a lot coming from you.”

You released him slowly, feeling your cheeks heat up. "You were amazing out there. I could hardly believe it when you scored that final goal! The crowd went wild!"

His eyes sparkled with genuine happiness. “It was a team effort, honestly. But…” he paused, looking into your eyes, “I’m glad you were here to see it.”

In that moment, the world around you faded, the roaring crowd and chaotic celebrations dulled to a soft echo as his words hung suspended between you.

The emotions in his voice and eyes overflowed, washing over you like a wave, and it affected you more than you wanted to admit. You could feel the heat radiating from your cheeks; it felt like a stage light had been trained on you alone.

“I…,” you began, swallowing hard. “I need some air.”

The last thing you wanted was to break down under the weight of your feelings in front of everyone.

You patted his chest gently, though your touch lingered, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. “Go celebrate with the team; you deserve it. I’ll be around later,” you managed to say, your voice a mix of encouragement and self-preservation.

Letting go of him felt like releasing a balloon into the sky, and as you stepped back, you couldn’t shake the weight of what had just transpired.

He hesitated, searching your face for something—reassurance, clarity, whatever it was, he didn’t find it. But he nodded, albeit reluctantly, and turned to join his teammates.

You watched as he melded back into the celebration, his laughter ringing out above the rest.

The moment he turned away, you felt an overwhelming storm of emotions.

You had never had someone like Oscar reciprocate your feelings, and that scared you. The crush you had nurtured for so long was starting to sprout, but the uncertainty about what that might mean felt suffocating.

You wandered toward a quieter corner of the stadium, trying to catch your breath. Leaning against a cool metal railing, you watched the team celebrate, the glint of victory sparkling in their eyes.

Everyone was so happy, so carefree. You could hear Oscar’s laughter clearly, a sound that made your chest constrict with a mixture of joy and fear.

Why was this so complicated?

The bustling atmosphere around the racetrack was electric, but finding McLaren's hospitality room amidst the chaos of the after-race frenzy proved to be a little more challenging than expected.

A couple of minutes passed as you navigated through the throngs of jubilant fans and team members, your pulse quickening with each wave of color and sound, when you felt a gentle touch on your shoulder.

You turned sharply to see Lola, her blonde curls bouncing with enthusiasm, eyes bright with excitement.

“Hey! We’re going to the club to celebrate Oscar’s win later. You coming?” she asked, her voice almost melodic over the murmur of the crowd.

You hesitated, wringing your hands nervously as a wave of uncertainty washed over you. “Um, I’m not sure…” You couldn’t shake the thought of retreating to your safe, quiet apartment instead.

“Oh, come on! It won’t be the same without you,” Lola urged, her eyes wide with sincerity. “Oscar was asking where you went. He really wants you there!”

There it was again—the familiar tightness in your chest that accompanied thoughts of Oscar. The way he had smiled when he had crossed the finish line, the joy that radiated from him like an aura. “Really? He said that?”

“Of course!” Lola replied, rolling her eyes playfully. “You’re his lucky charm. He’ll be bummed if you miss out.”

You bit your lip, weighing your options. It would be so easy to slip away, return to that quiet corner of your life where things felt safe and uncomplicated. But was that truly what you wanted?

The thought of Oscar’s disappointment tugged at your heart, igniting a flicker of bravery deep within.

“All right, I’ll go,” you finally said, your voice steadier than you felt.

Lola beamed at you, the corners of her mouth curving with delight as she spun around. “Yay! I’ll meet you in a bit then! You have to look fabulous, so hurry!”

With that, she bounced off into the crowd, leaving you standing there, a rush of excitement and anxiety swirling within you. You had just enough time to get to your apartment, so you hurriedly made your way back to your place, thoughts racing.

The moment you stepped inside, you knew you had to pick the perfect outfit.

The air in the apartment felt charged with anticipation as you rummaged through your closet, trying to piece together the perfect outfit.

After a long week filled with monotony, tonight was a chance to step out of your comfort zone. You settled on a sleek black club dress, the kind that hugged your figure in all the right places. The fabric shimmered subtly under the light, giving you an air of elegance while the plunging neckline added just a hint of daring.

You paired it with your favorite strappy heels that always made you feel like you were walking on clouds.

With a final glance in the mirror, you felt the tiniest bit of confidence swell within you. Maybe, just maybe, tonight would be different. You pushed a few errant strands of hair behind your ear, took a deep breath, and stepped out the door.

As you made your way through the bustling city streets, the energy around you buzzed with life, the neon lights of the club flickering in the distance.

When you finally arrived, you could feel the beat of the bass thumping in your chest. The air was thick with excitement, laughter mingling with the rhythmic pulse of the music.

You spotted Lola right away. She was a whirlwind of energy, chatting animatedly with a few friends, her laughter cutting through the noise like a beacon. You pushed through the crowd, your heart racing not just from the music but the thought of seeing Oscar.

As soon as Lola saw you, her eyes lit up like a thousand fireworks, and she waved her arms as if she were a traffic conductor guiding you through the chaos.

“There she is!” she exclaimed, her voice bubbling over with excitement.

“Lola! You look amazing!” you replied, enveloping her in a hug.

“Thanks! But look at you in that dress! Wow! You’re going to turn some heads tonight.” She stepped back, her eyes sweeping over your outfit with awe. “Are you ready for a night of fun?”

“Let’s hope so! Just promise to help me if I start to fade into the background,” you laughed nervously.

Loka grinned. “You will not fade. Just follow my lead!”

You two made your way deeper into the club, where the lights spun like stars and bodies moved in a kaleidoscope of color.

The pulsating bass of the club thrummed through your chest as you and Lola maneuvered deeper into the throng of bodies. Lights twinkled overhead, cutting through the smoky air like stars scattered across a midnight sky, and everywhere you looked, people danced with abandon, swaying to the rhythm of the music.

You felt the energy of the crowd washing over you, but in the back of your mind, you couldn't shake off the nervousness that settled there.

“Apparently Oscar’s coming later,” Lola said, her voice a melody lifted above the noise as she twirled, her skirt flaring out around her.

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name, though thinking of him made your stomach churn; the last time you saw him, your feelings had bubbled over in an awkward, embarrassing moment.

You’d pushed him away, confused and overwhelmed, leaving him staring after you with a look you couldn’t decipher—a blend of disappointment and surprise.

“I can’t wait to see him! I just… I should probably apologize today,” you replied, trying to sound lighthearted, but your voice betrayed the nerves knotting tight in your belly.

Lola chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just don’t trip over your words. That would be classic you!”

You shot her a playful glare. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

A few minutes later, the music faded slightly as the DJ called for attention. “Ladies and gentlemen!” he boomed through the speakers, “We have a special guest in the house tonight—the winner of the race! Give it up for Oscar Piastri!”

The club erupted into cheers, and your heart raced as you turned to face the entrance. The door swung open, revealing Oscar, flanked by Lando and Max, both radiant with victory and excitement. The crowd surged toward them, voices rising in a joyous cacophony.

“There he is!” Lola shouted over the music, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of the moment. “Go on! Go say hi!”

But as you tried to get closer, a wall of fans obscured the pathway, blocking you from reaching him. You clenched your fists in frustration.

Why was fate working against you?

“Let’s just wait by the bar,” you suggested, resigned. “I’ll wait until the fans clear out, and then I can talk to him.”

“Suit yourself, but I’m going to the dance floor!” Lola laughed, waving as she disappeared into the mass of moving bodies.

You downed a drink, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of hope and despair. Time passed, and you remained at the bar, only to see the fans crowding around Oscar, capturing selfies and shouting his name.

He seemed gracious yet slightly overwhelmed, laughter spilling from him as he interacted with the crowd.

As the minutes dragged on and your drink count steadily rose, you felt your heart sink lower. It was hard to swallow as more people pressed in, and when you finally dared to look back, your heart lurched painfully.

There, in the midst of the frenetic energy of the club, stood Oscar with a beautiful girl, their lips brushing together in an unexpected kiss.

Your breath caught in your throat, and a rush of tears threatened to spill over.

You turned away, biting down on your lip. “What am I even doing here?” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head as if that could shake off the image before it lodged itself into your mind like a stubborn burr.

It was absurd, really. You hadn’t even realized you had that much feelings for him until this very moment, and now, every insecurity you possessed rose up like a tide.

The club seemed to swell and pulse around you, but its vibrant atmosphere faded into silence.

The laughter turned into whispers, and you could almost hear your own thoughts screaming: He’s out of your league. She’s everything you’re not.

Suddenly, you felt claustrophobic, trapped in a cycle of unwanted feelings and doubt.

As if on autopilot, you threaded your way through the crowd, pushing past gyrating bodies, dodging the strobe lights that seemed to explode in front of your eyes. You reached the exit and stepped outside.

The fresh air hit your face like a splash of water, shockingly crisp against the sticky humidity of the club. You leaned against the cool brick wall of the alley beside the entrance and breathed deeply, trying to get your bearings.

“What did I expect?” you whispered to the empty night. “Of course he’d choose someone like her.”

Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You fished it out, and a message popped up. It was from Lola.

“Where did you go? I thought you were in there! I found a booth by the bar! Get back in! :)”

You almost typed back, “I’ll stay out here forever,” but instead, you just hit the home button and sighed. The night was still young. Maybe there was more to this evening than you could see.

You took a moment, your mind racing. The truth was, you liked Oscar. Like, really liked him.

You had hoped that tonight might be the night you could tell him, but that seemed impossible now. . . .

You sit on your bed, the soft quilt embraced by the evening light filtering through your curtains. The room feels heavy, shadows gather, and silence reigns from the world outside.

You set your phone down, and the earlier events flood back.

The memory of that night at the club is vivid. The pulsating beat of the music had echoed through your heart, but all that vibrancy shattered like glass when you spotted them.

Oscar—your Oscar—leaning in, kissing someone else. You had felt the blood drain from your face, the weight of a thousand crushed dreams falling on your shoulders.

“Why did I come here?” you whisper, even though your bedroom feels like a cocoon, wrapped away from the world outside.

In a moment of impulsivity, you had blocked Oscar on every social media platform you could think of. His posts would only serve as daggers, and you wouldn’t let him hurt you like that.

You wonder if he even noticed. Lando, his best friend and a thousand times more perceptive, had already begun to question you.

Just moments before, your phone buzzed with a text. It was Lando, naturally, with his usual bluntness: “Hey, why did you leave the club yesterday??? Did you get sick or something?”

The truth clawed at you, but you didn’t owe them any explanation. So, you replied with a simple lie.

“Just felt tired. I’ve been working too much lately.”

You knew he wouldn’t buy it, but you hoped to evade the topic long enough for things to quiet down.

Turning your phone face down, you sigh and lean back against your pillows. The weight of the night settles over you—anger, sadness, longing—and then your phone buzzes again.

“Hey, you okay?” Lando’s message flashes across the screen.

Your heart races. “Yeah, just tired,” you type, heart pounding, expecting his response any moment.

“You don’t sound like it,” Lando replies, and you can almost picture him furrowing his brow, a concerned expression tightening his features. The thought stings, a remembrance of all the times he has been there for you, holding space in his easily approachable way.

“Seriously, Lando, I’m fine. Just needed some air,” you type back, each word more strained than the last.

He replies quickly. “You want me to come over? We can have a movie night or something.”

As tempting as it sounds, the idea both comforts and terrifies you. You know Lando well enough to recognize that he’d dig deeper into your feelings, convinced something is wrong.

Still, there's a part of you that craves that familiarity, the bond you share.

“No, it’s all good. Just need some time alone,” you respond, unsure of your own feelings.

“That’s not really your style, though. You’re always inviting me over. What’s up?” Lando pushes back gently, a sense of worry lacing through his words.

You can’t hide from the truth forever, but admitting your feelings about Oscar feels too raw, too exposed. Lando’s your friend, but he’s also Oscar’s best friend; anything you say could wind up back to him, and you’re not ready for that.

“I just saw something—something I didn’t want to see at the club,” you finally muster, the honesty spilling from your fingertips despite your reservations.

There’s a pause—a beat of silence—and for a moment, you wonder if he’s already piecing it together.

“You mean Oscar?” Lando asks, his tone softer but still probing. “What about him?”

“Nothing.” The word feels hollow, the truth clawing at your throat. “I just... I just need some space, alright?”

“Are you sure that’s it?” Lando persists. “You and Oscar were pretty tight when he won until…”

You cut him off. “Until he kissed a girl right in front of me?” The anger again simmers to the surface. “I think I have a right to be upset.”

Another pause from Lando, and you can sense the concern shift in his tone. “Do you want to talk about it? Because I’m here, you know. You can tell me.”

The dam inside you threatens to break. The memories of your laughter, the fun late-night conversations, the promises whispered amongst friends; they flood your mind like a tidal wave, overwhelming you.

“What am I supposed to say, Lando? That I got my heart broken? That I liked him more than a friend and now he’s off with some random girl?”

A soft sigh echoes from his end. “That’s... tough, I get it. But you know Oscar, he—”

“Knows how to play with everyone’s feelings, apparently.” Your voice sharpens, the words tasting bitter. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” Lando insists, and there’s a quiet strength in his tone that covers you like a reassuring blanket.

“I...” The protest slips from your lips, but you can’t help yourself. It comes rushing out. “I’ve liked Oscar for so long, Lando! And to see him throw it all away with someone else was just... it was like the ground fell from beneath me. I don’t want to feel like this. It hurts.”

Lando falls silent on the other end, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve crossed a line, if you’ve shared too much.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he finally asks, his voice gently probing. “I would have kept my mouth shut about it—”

“I didn’t want to ruin what we had,” you admit, the weight behind your voice strong now. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“All friendships can survive that.” His tone softens. “And honestly, it’s okay to feel hurt. It’s more than okay; it’s natural.”

Suddenly overwhelmed, tears brim at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “I just wanted to be happy, Lando. And now, I don’t know... I feel lost.”

“Hey, listen to me.” Lando’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts. “You are so much more than how Oscar makes you feel. It’s his loss if he can’t see you for the incredible person you are.”

The resolve in his words wraps around you like a lifeline. A small warmth unfurls in your chest, a flicker of hope that perhaps you can heal from this hurt, that you can find a way to be more than just a side character in someone else's story.

“Thanks, Lando,” you say softly, the sincerity warming your heart.

“Anytime.” He pauses for a moment and then adds, “But I'm coming over tomorrow for that movie night; we’re going to drown ourselves in popcorn and bad romantic comedies until you feel better.”

You smile, though it’s still fragile. “Okay, deal.”

As you hang up, the shadows in your room seem less daunting, the weight a little lighter. Just maybe, you think as you finally allow your eyelids to flutter closed, the dawn will bring a new perspective.

And perhaps, amongst friendship and healing, you’ll find your way back to yourself.

The next day, Lando sat across from you on your well-worn couch, a colorful array of snacks spread between you. The smell of popcorn and sweets filled the air, a comforting distraction.

You had planned this night as a refuge from your thoughts, to sink into the warmth of a rom-com and ignore the knot tightening your stomach at the memories of Oscar.

As the movie played—a predictable plot about two people destined to be together—you tried to focus, but the image of Oscar’s lips brushing against that girl’s haunted you.

Halfway through the film, Lando suddenly turned toward you, his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you mad at him?”

“What?” You blinked, stunned by the abruptness of the question.

“Are you mad at Oscar?” he pressed, his eyes unyielding.

“Lando, we agreed on watching a movie today, not discussing this,” you warned, shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth, hoping to drown your emotions under buttery goodness.

“I know! But I spoke to Oscar—”

You cut him off, “No, I don’t want to hear it! I’ll probably just get more upset, and I really don’t want that right now.”

Lando raised his hands in surrender, looking both apologetic and mildly amused. “Okay, okay. No talking about Oscar.”

“Thank you,” you replied, the tension easing a bit. You leaned back, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile. “But since you made me mad, you know what the punishment is.”

Lando’s eyes widened in horror. “No! Not the ‘punishment’!”

You grinned despite yourself, reveling in the playful banter. “Yes! You brought it upon yourself. I hope you brought your dance shoes."

“I did not!” he exclaimed, his face buried in his hands. “Please, anything but that!”

You chuckled. “What’s the matter, Lando? You afraid of a little dancing?”

His gaze peeked through his fingers. “You know I can’t dance! I’ll embarrass myself!”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, leaning closer, the earlier sadness momentarily forgotten. “It’ll be fun!”

“Fine! But I swear if I break a leg...”

“Which you won’t!” You laughed, getting up and putting on an upbeat song.

You opened your arms theatrically, ready to embrace the moment. “Come on! Show me your best moves!”

With a reluctant sigh, Lando stood up, giving you a resigned grin. “Okay, but just to prove to you how awful I am. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

As the music thumped through the apartment, Lando executed the most exaggerated dance moves imaginable—one hand in the air, feet sliding across the wooden floor. You couldn’t help but laugh uncontrollably.

“Is this your best?” you challenged, twirling into your own clumsy routine.

“Okay, okay! Here goes nothing!” He leaped into an interpretive dance that was equal parts flailing and sheer comedy, and you collapsed back onto the couch in a fit of giggles.

“Lando, you’re a legend,” you wheezed between breaths.

He finally stopped dancing, slightly out of breath and grinning. “I think I’ll stick to racing, thanks. But, how about you?”

You paused for a moment, your laughter fading. “Honestly? I just don't get why he’d kiss someone else. I thought...”

“Thought what?” Lando pressed gently, his tone shifting to a more serious note.

“I thought he liked me,” you admitted quietly. “I thought maybe there was something between us. But seeing him with someone else, it just hurts. I guess I feel foolish.”

“Hey.” Lando took a step closer and sat beside you. “You’re not foolish. Oscar’s the one who’s a bit of a jerk for messing things up. He should know how amazing you are. You deserve someone who doesn’t make you question their intentions.”

You looked at him, and while his words comforted you, they also tore at a different part of your heart. “You really think so?”

“I know so.” Lando smiled softly at you. “And you’ve got all the time in the world to find the right person. Just don’t let Oscar’s choices define how you see yourself, okay?”

You nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’m just... trying to sort it all out.”

“Well, until you do, I'm here. Movie marathons, dance-offs, and endless supplies of snacks included,” he declared, gesturing to the spread between you as if it were an unbreakable vow.

“Thanks, Lando,” you said, appreciating his unwavering support. “Really.”

As you settled back together to resume the movie, the weight of the world felt just a little lighter. Sure, thoughts of Oscar still lingered, but Lando’s friendship reminded you that you weren’t alone in this.

You had someone who not only understood but also cared enough to make you laugh through the pain.

And for that, you were grateful. . . .

You decided to skip the next races.

"I need to clear my head," you thought, convincing yourself that the distance would help you forget the feelings you harbored for the Australian driver.

Instead, you found yourself engrossed in your studies on campus. Why watch the races on TV when you could be in the paddock?

But here you were, torn between wanting to support your team and an overwhelming need to shield your heart from Oscar.

When Lando skillfully maneuvered his way through the track, you stifled your cheers in classrooms, mouth clamping shut when he crossed the finish line.

"Focus on your studies," you’d remind yourself, but the pride bubbling within you was impossible to contain.

For every overtaking move Oscar pulled off that sparked a rush inside you, you felt the weight of your heart, one that couldn’t help but cheer for a man who had stolen your thoughts.

Before you knew it, the championship was upon you, and McLaren had claimed victory.

In a moment of exhilaration, you snapped a picture of yourself in McLaren merchandise, a radiant smile gracing your face. You shared it on social media with the caption, “I’ll always bleed McLaren orange! #TeamMcLaren."

Within moments, notifications flooded your screen: Lando’s account liked your post and the McLaren admin account liking with a comment that read, “We miss seeing you in the paddock 🧡!”

It was bittersweet, a confirmation that you still held a place with the team—but it brought memories of the paddock flooding back, along with reminders of Oscar.

When the invitation to the team’s Christmas party arrived, it triggered a mix of excitement and dread. Should you go and face him? You hesitated, the idea dawning over you like a storm cloud.

“Just come, please!” Lando’s persistent voice broke through your musings. “You’ll regret it if you don’t. It’s going to be fun, and besides, I’ll be there. You know it won’t be the same without you.”

“Lando,” you pleaded, biting your lip, the thought of Oscar’s lingering gaze causing a swell of anxiety. “What if I see him? I’m not ready.”

“Then be ready! Just wear something orange and channel your inner Papaya spirit. I’ll look out for you,” Lando grinned, his enthusiasm infectious. You finally relented. “Okay! One night—just one!”

On the night of the party, you chose a shimmering orange dress that hugged your figure, giving off a radiant glow that felt gratifying and powerful.

Grabbing your jacket, you inhaled deeply before stepping into the vibrant atmosphere of the venue, where laughter exploded and voices danced around you.

The place was bustling with McLaren energy—feasting, drinks flowing, and music swelling. It felt like a family reunion, everyone cherishing the victory together.

The festive spirit washed over you, and for a moment, you forgot about Oscar.

“Y/N! You actually came!” Lando’s voice cut through the crowd, and you turned to see him beaming at you, his dark hair glistening under the lights.

“Yeah, I had no choice. You would have dragged me out of my house otherwise,” you shot back playfully, matching his grin.

“You know me so well!” Lando laughed, pulling you into a hug.

He stayed by your side for a while, joking and chatting about the race, but eventually excused himself to the bathroom. “Just stay here! I’ll find you!” he called over his shoulder as he weaved through the throngs of partygoers.

Left with the vibrant atmosphere and pulsating music, you pulled out your phone to scroll aimlessly through social media. But time crept on, and you found yourself growing bored, the joyful sounds around you meshing into one indistinguishable noise.

Suddenly, a voice pulled you from your thoughts. “Y/N.”

You looked up, dread pooling in your stomach as you met Oscar’s gaze. He stood a few feet away, an uneasy smile stretching across his face. “Hey.”

“No, no, no,” your mind raced. Not now. You almost turned to flee, but his hand caught your wrist with a gentle grip, stopping you mid-stride.

“Y/N, please.”

His eyes held a mix of sincerity and something else—maybe regret? Despite your instincts screaming at you to pull away, you found yourself halting, torn between running and wanting to melt into the warmth of his presence.

“Can we talk?” he continued, his voice softer now, nearly lost in the clamor of the room.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m happy for you and your girlfriend,” you retorted, trying to maintain the wall you’d built around your heart.

You expected him to let go of your wrist, to back off and accept your words as the final note in this dissonant symphony. Instead, his grip tightened, marshalling a mix of surprise and frustration.

He guided you through the thrumming crowd, out of the main hall and into a smaller, dimly lit room. The sudden calm clashed violently with the noise outside.

Once you were inside, he released your wrist but blocked the door, leaning against it with an expression that was both earnest and somewhat frustrated.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, crossing your arms defensively.

“I want to explain myself to you, but since you’re so stubborn, I have to lock you in a room for you to listen to me.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “There’s no need to explain. I already know—”

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’ve got the wrong idea,” he interrupted, urgency threading his tone.

“Try me,” you challenged, stepping closer. You hated how close he was, how safe, how intoxicating.

“I’m sure you’re thinking about the club,” he rushed, his eyes searching yours. “That girl, whoever she is, came over and just kissed me because I looked like her boyfriend. She apologized and walked off. That’s all that happened. You can ask Lando or the others."

Your heart rate quickened as you took another step closer. “Why are you even telling me? I had nothing to do with it,” you pressed, your voice a mixture of challenge and curiosity.

He swallowed hard, visibly nervous. “Because it matters. You matter. You have to understand that I didn’t want it, that I wasn’t interested.”

You took a breath, the weight of the moment heavy against your chest. “So, if you weren’t interested, then what do you want?

You tilted your head slightly, trying to read the emotions flickering across his face like shadows in the dark. His jaw worked, as though he was searching for the right words.

“I want you to know…” he started but faltered, glancing away for a split second, as if the courage to continue was caught in his throat.

When he looked back, you noticed a flicker of determination igniting in his gaze. “You know I’ve liked you for a while now, right?”

The admission hung in the air, visceral and raw. Your pulse quickened, the world around you fading into a blur.

“Liked me? As in… more than friends?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding earnestly. “I didn’t know how to say it, and then… and then that happened.” He gestured vaguely towards the club, frustration lacing his words.

“I was so caught off guard, and all I could think about was how I didn’t want you to think something was going on—because nothing is. It was just... a mistake.”

A thousand butterflies erupted in your stomach, and the challenge melting from your voice was replaced by something softer, deeper. “It’s hard for me to believe that when you just let it happen. Didn’t you want to push her away? Didn’t you think about me at all?”

He took a step forward, his expression earnest and intense. “Of course, I thought about you! That's exactly why I’m here, explaining all this to you. I thought maybe you’d get the wrong idea, and I didn’t want that. The last thing I want is for you to feel hurt because of something that wasn’t even my fault,”

You could feel the electricity between you, the shared vulnerability tugging at the edges of your heart. “So, what now? Do we just pretend like tonight didn’t happen?”

“No,” Oscar’s voice was clear and firm, cutting through the tension like a knife. “I don’t want to ignore this. I want to figure out what we are… or what we could be.”

He paused, searching your face for reassurance, hope mingling with uncertainty. “Can we…”

“What if I just got jealous?” you interrupted, tilting your head while letting your walls slowly drop. “What if I’m just overreacting because the thought of you with someone else drives me insane?”

His lips curled upwards, a tentative smile forming as the weight of the moment shifted. “Then that’s good, right? It means you care.”

“I do care,” you confessed, the admission flowing out of you like a soft sigh. “I care more than I should. You’ve been… well, hard to read. But I like you, too, Oscar. I have for a while. I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

His relief was palpable, and he stepped a fraction closer, closing the gap between you. “So, what do you say we start fresh? Just you and me. No more mixed signals, no more misunderstandings.”

You held his gaze, the corners of your mouth lifting in a soft smile. “I’d like that. I really would.”

Oscar took a deep breath, as if steadying himself for what came next. “Come here,” you said, raising your arms for a hug. Without hesitation, he stepped into your embrace, his warmth seeping into you like the first rays of sun after a long winter.

He melted into you, resting his chin gently atop your head, and you felt a flutter in your chest, a feeling that said everything would be alright.

After what felt like an eternity, you pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. You placed a kiss on his cheek, wishing it to be understood as a promise, a seal to this new beginning.

“You missed,” he joked playfully, breaking the tension and causing both of you to smile.

“Did I?” you teased back, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “I think my aim was just fine.”

Oscar shook his head, laughter escaping his lips. “You must have missed the target completely,” he replied, grinning, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You both stood there, a moment of levity hanging beautifully between you, until Oscar looked up suddenly, as if struck by a realization.

“Hey, it seems like fate gave you another chance,” he said, his voice laced with excitement.

Your brow furrowed in confusion, and you followed his gaze upward. A sprig of mistletoe hung above you, the innocent plant a stark reminder of holiday traditions and the spark of romance it promised. Your heart raced.

“Guess you’re a lucky man, Piastri,” you said, a teasing tone lacing your words. Your cheeks flushed as you glanced at him, a playful challenge in your eyes.

He stepped back, his grin widening as he looked at you. “Lucky? How so?”

“Well,” you began, your heart pounding in your chest, “I mean, just look at the circumstances. Here we are, two people who have been dancing around each other forever, and we’re under a mistletoe. You know what that means…”

“What does it mean?” he asked, leaning in, curiosity painting his features as he watched you.

Shifting your gaze back to the mistletoe, you felt bold. “It means we should kiss,” you stated matter-of-factly, suppressing a giggle at how ridiculous the notion felt in the best possible way.

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, stepping closer once more, his sincerity igniting a rush of exhilaration within you.

As he leaned in, your heart raced faster, a million thoughts spinning in your head. Would it be awkward? Would he pull back last minute?

But then his hand found the back of your neck, and it felt like the world around you faded away. Time slowed as his lips finally met yours, tentative at first, then growing fervent, a collision of emotions.

You held onto him tightly, drowning in the moment, feeling everything you've kept bottled up finally surge forth—a mixture of relief, tenderness, and the thrill of shared possibility.

You could taste the sweetness of victory in the kiss, savoring the promise of what was to come.

As you shared a tender kiss, the door creaked open just enough for Lando's head to peek in. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he caught sight of the two of you lost in the moment, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before him.

Oscar gave a silent thumbs back to Lando, his eyes still closed, fully aware of the carefully orchestrated plan.

This was all part of the scheme they had devised, aptly named "Operation Mistletoe Magic,". . . .

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