#the moon the ocean and everything in between | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

frost-queen · 1 year ago

Text

My mortal flaw (Reader x Zuko)

Requested by: Anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @iixchloee, @cherrysxuya

Summary: Reader is a watertribe princess, intended to marry Prince Zuko as an offering of peace between the nations. Zuko never wanted you as his wife and finds you a weakness. A weakness he never saw coming. Upon the discovery of the Avatar, you try to sneak away, only to be discovered by Zuko leading to an arguement. At Kyoshi island you find an escape with Sokka and Katara which makes Zuko derranged and furious. Doing anything in his power to get you back. Finally realizing he might love you. [series]

There were loud knocks on the door to your cabin. It made you lift your head up. You didn’t respond immediate as the next following knocks turned into banging. – “Gentle, gentle.” – you heard a muffled voice speak from the other side. There was a deep sigh, followed by a gentle knock. Almost too gentle. – “Yes.” – you responded having kind of clue of who was at the other side.

“Are you done staying inside?” – It was Prince Zuko speaking at the other end. – “No.” – you responded hearing Zuko barely loose his temper on the other end. – “Calm, calm now nephew.” – you recognized it was Iroh’s voice, soothing the prince’s temper.

You heard some movements till Zuko’s temper took over. – “Then perish inside!” – he yelled at the door as you saw the light of flames through the cracks. Jumping up you went up to the door. – “I will!” – you shouted back in frustration. There was a loud groan with a hard stomp against your door. Startling you away from the door.

Footsteps died out It made you near the door again, holding your ear against it. Once the storm had passed, you exhaled deep. You knew you couldn’t stay in your cabin. It wasn’t deliberately, but you sometimes wanted to avoid Zuko.

Almost at every occasion were you forced together in close proximity. The waterbending princess promised to him. A peace treaty between nations. Honestly you didn’t know what possessed Fire lord Ozai to accept your father’s proposition of simply handing you over on a silver platter to his son.

Being on Zuko’s ship for almost four years now, you had a bit of a clue. Perhaps the fire lord accepted it, to taunt Zuko more. A way of shaming him further against his nation. Water and fire weren’t meant to be together. It was an extra nudge to keep Zuko out of the fire nation. If he wasn’t so bad tempered you might feel sympathy for him.

Opening the door, you decided to head out. Probably the first in days. You missed the ocean breeze, the salty water, the cold, the moon. You missed everything that felt close to you. Looking cautiously around for Zuko, you snuck your way up to the deck. Feeling the breeze on your skin, you inhaled deep. Composed you went to the railing, holding tight to it. Feeling the rocking of the ship on the water, you leaned back to take it in.

With a satisfying breath, you looked up to the moon. The deck was mostly empty. Most soldiers below deck. Playing some cards or drinking. It was a bit too quiet as you missed the buzzing life of your village. Leaning with your chin on your arms by the railing, you stared into the water. Wondering how your tribe was doing without your presence.

“What are you doing here?” – A loud voice raged. You jumped up, startled to bone. Turning your posture a bit, you saw Zuko braising as he came your way. You rolled your eyes at him. – “Make up your mind where you want me.” – you replied raising your voice a bit as well. Zuko puffed up his chest with anger, standing face to face with you. His hands radiating heat. His gaze scanning yours. He hated how vulnerable your gaze was. Soft and mesmerizing as the moon.

A wind picked up from the east as it made you shiver. Zuko noticed it, observing you. – “Fetch the princess a blanket!” – he yelled without a glance away from you. From behind Zuko at the other side, you saw a soldier rush to get you a blanket. You tilted your head a bit. – “Your uncle isn’t looking.” – you told him.

Knowing he only showed kindness when his uncle forced him to be civil. – “I know.” – Zuko responded with a soft glare. The soldier returned with a blanket as Zuko snatched it from his hands. He rose his hands, intending to place the blanket over your shoulders as he stopped himself. He caught himself being nice. Showing a weakness, he couldn’t afford.

He brought his hands back to his chest, throwing the blanket at you. You caught it when it hit your chest. – “How gentle of you.” – you said sarcastic, putting the blanket over your shoulders. Zuko huffed loud as he staid in your presence. Close as it made you uncertain at this point. What was he still doing around you? He never staid this long around you. Not if it wasn’t forced on him.

There was a rumble in the sky followed by a strong gush of air. It knocked you right against Zuko’s chest. His hand subtle on your back as the wind kept blazing through. Zuko’s eyes lit up, lowering his hand on you. From the corner of your eye, you saw a bright blue light.

Making you turn around to bestow upon the beam of light in the sky. – “What is that?” – you asked a bit nervous and frightened. Unconsciously you leaned back, coming in touch with Zuko’s chest. Zuko stepped back as you felt the loss of touch. He started ordering commands to his crew to set coarse to the beam of light. It might be a clue for his search for the Avatar.

The ship neared the village of the southern water tribe. It cracked the ice open when it steered frontal through it. The village nearing. Zuko stood on deck. Uncle Iroh a step behind him to the side. You stood beside Zuko, your fiancé. With worry, you looked up to him. – “Stay on the ship.” – he said firm, keeping his hands behind his back. – “but…” – you started. – “Stay here!” – Zuko yelled at you, making you gulp nervously. – “Zuko!” – Iroh called out.

“Show the princess some kindness.” – he told him with a soft glare. Zuko breathed with a scoff. He lowered himself a bit to speak to you like a he would do to a little child. – “That’s an order from your prince.” – he made clear. Something you caught in his eyes, made you see a smidge of desperation in him. Did he perhaps think you’d stay here with the people of your own kind?

That once you left the ship, they’d see you as a prisoner and claim you as theirs? Before you could think of it more, had Zuko turned away. Zuko accepted his helmet from one of his men, following them. Iroh came joining your side as you watched Zuko and his men descend onto the ice. – “Best to stay out of a fight, princess.” – he said to you.

Being on the ship was boring. You hardly had any sight of what was happening down at the village. You saw flashes of fire as you hoped Zuko wouldn’t burn down the village. It was small. Smaller than any village you had known. You had lost sight of Iroh. He was probably up on the high deck to overlook the happening. A gush of wind made you bring your hands up to protect your face. – “An airbender?” – you questioned.

Hadn’t they gone instinct? For over a hundred years there haven’t been an airbender. – “The Avatar!” – you heard the soldiers shout in unison. – “The Avatar.” – you gasped in shock. Looking up, you knew Iroh’s eye was on Zuko. As it always was. You duck down, rushing to the railing. Below the ice had cracked where the ship had broken through.

Grabbing the railing, you jumped over it, swaying your hand up. A trail of water spiralled up, flowing around you as it slowed your descend. Your feet hit the ice as the water splashed on the ice. Ignoring Zuko’s order, you needed to see it for yourself. Keeping yourself low to avoid Iroh spotting you, you snuck up in haste to the village.

You neared the entrance of the village, eyes wide with shock of what you saw. People running around. The soldiers causing fires to scare them into handing over the Avatar. You snuck into the village trying to look for the Avatar. A deranged fire blast went your way as it hit an igloo near you. The impact made you duck down, receiving some exploded ice on your back.

“It isn’t save here!” – A boy called out, taking your hand as he pulled you away from the burning igloo. He came to a stop, taking a moment to fully look at you. – “Who are you?” – he asked, still holding your hand. You panicked pulling your hand out of his and taking a run for it. – “Hey!” – the boy called out coming after you.

He knew everyone from his village, yet you were unfamiliar. He got stopped in his tracks by fire. Looking over his shoulder, he saw his sister. – “Katara hide!” – he shouted with a wave of his arm. You came to a stop seeing the Avatar in the air. Never did you think you’d see the Avatar.

Your gaze got pulled away by a hard pull on your wrist. Forcing you to look another way. Zuko’s way. – “You ignored my order!” – Zuko shouted at you, tugging hard on your wrist. You tried pulling your wrist out of his grip as he held it tight. – “I’m not your soldier!” – you yelled back at him. Zuko glared at you. – “Get back to the ship!” – he ordered with anger. – “I will stay!” – you stood your ground, not wanting to leave. – “Y/n! Get. To. The. Ship.” – he repeated trying to compose himself.

Feeling himself boil with anger over you. Angry that you deliberately ignored his order. You pulled your wrist out of his grip with force. – “I didn’t sign up for this!” – you replied with fury. – “For what?” – Zuko fired back. – “These are my people Zuko!” – you told him. – “I just want the Avatar!” – he responded. In the corner of his eye, he saw a spear heading your way. Zuko tensed his jaw, grabbing you as he tackled you to the ground. Rolling over in the snow as the spear flew over your heads.

You laid in the snow, feeling Zuko half on top of you. His hand protective on your head. He pulled you up as he created fire, bending it towards the tribe member who threw the spear at you. – “Zuko!” – you called out, pushing his arm down. – “The ship now!” – Zuko yelled with a rage unlike you had ever seen. Before you knew it, grabbed two of his men you by the arms. Dragging you out of the village back to the ship.

“Stay with the princess!” – Zuko ordered one of his men. They bowed as a response. – “Don’t let her out of your sight.” – he added tracking up the hill. Iroh right behind him. You followed in line as Zuko lead the expedition to capture the Avatar. Having been spotted on Kyoshi island. – “The Avatar is mine.” – Zuko said out loud.

Up on the hill was a bright blue light shining. Hinting the Avatar was up there. Up ahead you saw a water tribe girl take a stand as defence. She let her arms sway, letting a whip of water splash at Zuko’s feet. Zuko stopped, pulling his foot up to see the wetness on his shoes. – “Pathetic.” – he called out.

The girl furrowed her brows at the sight of you. – “Stand aside girl.” – Zuko ordered. The girl moved her hands up. – “You’ll have to go through me.” – she replied. Zuko laughed. – “That won’t be a problem.” – he answered preparing himself. He fired at her as she fell backwards onto the grass. A sudden gush of wind made you all look away. Zuko’s eyes widened when Avatar Kyoshi landed in front of them. With one wave of her fan, were you all pushed back by air. Falling back.

“Protect the princess!” – Zuko shouted as he tried to get back up. The soldier enlisted to keep you save, pulled you up by your arm. Dragging you away from the others. He led you down the hill through the woods. You had little time to stand still and think about what was happening. Soon you neared the town as the soldier kept a grip on you, looking constantly over his shoulder. You froze when a fan flashed at him, hitting him in the head. It knocked him down.

Your gaze met up with a young girl looking a lot like Avatar Kyoshi with her make-up. The same boy from the water tribe at her side. – “Hey I know you!” – he said with a confused point at you. – “You were at my tribe too.” – he stated with furrowed brows. You turned around taking a run for it. – “Hey wait!” – Sokka called out, coming after you with Suki. You stopped, brought your hands up your face, then you pushed them forwards. The crackling of ice sounding. Sokka and Suki looked down, their feet slippery on ice.

“She can bend.” – Suki told Sokka out of breath. Suki grabbed Sokka by his shirt, pulling him off the ice. They went back in pursuit. In the woods, you couldn’t tell the direction apart. Not knowing where it might lead you. – “Hey wait!” – Sokka shouted to get your attention. Panting you tried to stay ahead of them. You screamed when you nearly bumped into the girl that came out of nowhere. You fell back, caught off guard. – “Katara get her.” – Sokka called out, out of breath.

Katara took a stand, ready to whip you with water if you dared to move. – “Why are you with the fire nation?” – she asked rudely. Suki extended her hand to you as you accepted it, letting her help you up. – “Are you their prisoner?” – Sokka questioned as you remained silent. – “There’s no need to be scared.” – Suki spoke rubbing her hand on your back, soothingly. – “We’ll save you.” – Sokka responded proudly. Before you knew it, were you dragged along with them.

Zuko was panting, taking a look around. – “Where is the princess?” – he asked loud. All his men looked at each other uncertain. Zuko felt himself grow angrier. – “Where is Y/n!” – he shouted unleashing fire from his fists. – “Don’t worry Zuko, we’ll find her.” – Iroh said to sooth him. – “Find her!” – Zuko ordered to his men. – “Burn this entire island down if you must to find her!” – he moved his fist forward, a blast of fire hitting a tree as it set it on fire. His men scattered away in search of you. – “We’ll find her Zuko…” – Iroh spoke placing a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko brushed his hand harshly off. He was panting. Braising with anger that he had lost sight of you.

If this would’ve happened years ago, he would just leave, being glad to be rid of you. Now, he felt like he couldn’t. You weren’t around him for a few moments and he already missed the argues with you. He missed your presence, more than he would ever admit. It wasn’t easy being forced on this mission with someone you were signed up to marry. Yet you were there. Day in and out. You were there at every step of the way. The water tribe princess he learned to admire… in secret.

Admitting it to himself that he actually… cared was scary. You were a weakness. You still are a weakness to him. One he didn’t intended on. Zuko called it out, burning the trees nearby. A tree’s trunk cracked. The top bush falling to the side. Zuko narrowed his eyes when he saw something familiar blue trotting up the hill. Instead of one, he recognized three. Taking in deep breaths, he bald his hands into fists.

He called it out as the fire coming out of him startled Iroh. It was blazing hot. Iroh saw it now as well, swallowing nervously. – “Zuko…” – he started moving his hand forwards. Before he could reach Zuko, had Zuko ran off. Huffing and puffing with anger to get you back. The grass catching fire from where he passed. His wrath waiting to be unleashed.

“So why were you with the fire nation?” – Katara asked as she pushed you up the hill. – “It’s complicated.” – you answered. – “How is it complicated?” – Sokka asked scratching the back of his head. – “It’s…” – you started cut off by loud shouting. You leaped aside when a fire blast went your way. Looking back at the trail, you saw Zuko panting with anger. His fist out where the fire blast had come from.

“He’s back!” – Sokka called out, helping his sister back up. Sokka then rushed over to you, helping you up. – “We have to go.” – he told you. Zuko fired once more, preventing them from going further up the hill. – “You are not going anywhere with her!” – he made clear. Sokka pulled you behind him. – “She’s not your prisoner!” – Sokka shouted at Zuko.

“No.” – Zuko replied composing himself a bit. – “She’s my intended.” – he said out loud making Sokka’s jaw drop, gawking at Zuko. – “Now hands off before I burn you!” – Zuko threatened. Sokka immediately pulled his hands off you, having no intention to die. Zuko’s gaze met up with yours, softening as he extending his hand to you. – “Please…” – he asked.

The sincereness from him made you realize he’d truly cared for you. For long you didn’t think it was possible. But here he was burning bridges to get to you. You took a deep breath, making the intention to reach your hand out to him when a gush of wind knocked him back. The Avatar landed soundless between Zuko and you. – “Leave my friends alone!” – Aang called out.

Zuko pressed his fist into the ground, groaning in anger. He got up firing at Aang. Aang deflected his fire with a defence of his own. Aang swayed his stick, knocking Zuko further back down the hill. Zuko got back up, going with all his might against Aang. Using all his power against the Avatar in order to get you back. – “Wait!” – you called out loud. Aang and Zuko stopped.

Aang looking confused at you. – “Don’t hurt him.” – you told Aang. Aang stared dumbfound at you. Zuko slowly got up as you ran up to him. Slamming yourself against his chest when he had gotten up. Your arms around him. Zuko moved his arms around you as well, lowering his head on your shoulder to feel your embrace deeper.

“I need you Y/n.” – Zuko whispered to you. You hugged him tighter as a response. – “Can someone explain to me what is happening?” – Aang said out loud, looking back at his friends. Sokka and Katara could only stare in shock at the two of you. – “They’re intended.” – Sokka said finding it hard to believe and finding it odd that he was saying it out loud. – “Huh?” – Aang responded.

“We should probably leave.” – Katara whispered to her brother. – “Good idea.” – he whispered back, slowly backing away. The three of them ran off. Zuko and you stopped embracing. He smiled at you, touching your cheek. You brought his hand down, keeping it in yours. Holding hands, you went back down the hill with Zuko.

-------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

3K notes · View notes

monzamash · 2 months ago

Text

lando norris x you rating — 18+ (sex, coarse language) —requested by anon for monzamusings✨

“You smell sooo good, Lan.”

“Have you lost your mind? I just got back from a run,” He laughed, fending off your grabby hands as he tried to grab a cold water from the fridge.

Maybe you needed one too, he thought.

“Maybe I have lost my mind," you tutted and snatched the water from his grasp, gently placing it on the counter, “But I need you.”

It really should've been embarrassing being that desperate, in hindsight it probably was, but you knew your boyfriend – you knew how much he loved to be needed. And by the way those ocean eyes you'd fallen in love with many moons ago widened and that smirk tickled his perfectly shaped lips, he knew what you were hinting.

“It's that time of the month again!?” It always came around too quickly for his liking, and yours.

“It’s so baaaad,” you whined and dramatically threw your head back, gripping tightly onto the loose work-out top hanging from his shoulders. God, he looked delicious in that top.

Lando rested his hands on your waist with a sweet smile, thumbs gently rubbing your hips, “What do you need, baby? Because I'm not offering sex and getting rejected again – my ego can’t take it.”

You scoffed, “That was last night and you know what I’m like – sometimes I don’t know what I want but right now I need you to just... I dunno, touch me I guess,” your voice was low and meek compared to your usual tone.

But Lando understood. “What hurts?” he asked gently, pressing soft kisses to your flushed cheeks.

“Everything,” you sighed, melting into his touch.

“Here?” he asked tentatively as his hands slipped under the sheer shirt you’d thrown on, slowly travelling up to your bare chest.

You nodded, pliantly arching into his warm palms, “No bra? Hurts too much, huh?” he whispered, fingertips smoothing over your sensitive swells. Every movement laced in pleasure and pain.

“Be gentle,” you moaned back, eyes closed as his lips nipped at your neck.

“When am I not?” he asked cheekily, you could hear it in his voice.

“I can think of a few times… Jesus, that feels incredible.”

“My name is Lando,” he quipped back before giving you a toe-curling kiss, groaning when your fingers slipped into his tangled curls.

“Shut up,” you murmured against his lips as his fingertips gently brushed across your swollen nubs, earning him a deep moan and a sigh of relief.

His hands were warm and soft but calloused in all the right places. And he knew you like the back of them; like a maestro performing the sweetest of symphonies. He knew what you liked, how much pressure you needed to really feel it – he knew when to slide up your shirt and give you extra attention with his perfect mouth. The small whimpers from above encouraged him, the little whines every time he lapped with the wet tip of his tongue and he knew when you needed more.

Lando knew how far to push when you were like this – sore, swollen and achey. He couldn’t stop staring at them at dinner last night, or this morning when he woke up to you sprawled out in bed, uninhibited by a bra. And fuck did it turn him on, imagining what they may look like if someday, he was lucky enough to put a baby in you.

“Lan, your mouth feels so good,” you whimpered, barely making a sound.

“Think you can come just from this?” he asked, eyes coming up and boring into yours as his slick thumbs worked you over, pace quickening.

“I think– yeah.. shit – I’m gonna come…”

“I’ve got you,” Lando’s voice was gravelled as he alternated between each nipple with a pop, tongue flickering against the sensitive nubs while he steadied you against the kitchen island, knees trembling.

“Fuuu–ck,” you sighed, fingers still deeply entrenched in his messy curls as your body shook. The high built and washed over you slowly, like a soft crescendo – moan after moan slipping from your bitten lips, teetering over the edge.

Lando’s hands came up to cradle your chest while you came down from the clouds, pressing soft kisses to the swells of your breasts and trailing up to your neck, “How do you feel now?”

“Relaaaaxed,” you sighed, grasping his blushing cheeks in your shaky palms and giving him a sweet kiss.

“Good.” he nodded with a proud smile before giving you a gentle smack on the backside, “Now come and have a shower with me because I'm fucking stinky.”

“And hard…” You teased with a playful smile and a glance towards the mouth-watering outline in his stupidly tight cotton gym shorts.

Lando hummed and lovingly pushed you towards the bathroom, “And whose fault is that, huh?”

“I wouldn’t have a clue.”

inbox open for suggestions

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #monzamashmasterlist

773 notes · View notes

acosmicbee · 3 months ago

Text

Forgotten Royal

Platonic Yandere King x GN Teen Reader

You stood inside a hidden servant's passage, watching as the royal ball took place. Out there, sitting proudly on their thrones, was the royal family. Well, most of them anyway, but you didn't technically count. You had been the result of an affair between the king and a maid and your birth had caused an uproar in the palace.

The queen had done everything to get rid of the person causing her so much embarrassment by accusing your mother of everything she could. Adultery, thievery, witchcraft. She was barely a day postpartum when she'd been burned at the stake in front of the palace. The maids, however, had saved you with the king's permission. That was the only thing he'd ever done for you.

The head maid raised you, teaching you to stay out of sight and out of mind. She had some level of pity and care for you, but not enough to make you feel welcomed here. Now you were about to turn 14, the age when you would've made your debut and joined noble society. The day when you would've been announced as one of the heirs in line for the throne.

Instead you were hidden away, the secret bastard child of King Peter. You pretended to be unbothered, smiling away the hurt and anger you felt as you did your daily chores. Overtime. you had grown tired of always watching from within the walls and tonight it finally caught up with you.

You turned, dashing through the corridors as you made your way towards the kitchen. The head maid spared you a single pitied glance before returning to her work as you dashed out the door into the garden.

You ignored the rare plants and magnificent decor, a mission in mind. You headed straight towards the outer wall and climbed up to the top, using the gaps in the stone as foot and handholds. From up here you could watch the ocean and beach below the cliffs the castle stood on.

It was a cloudy night and you strained to see whatever you could when the moon was briefly free of the cloud cover. A few seconds of moonlight illuminated a speck on the water below. The next time the clouds shrank away from the moon they were closer. You realized it must be a boat, probably a merchant ship heading south to the next kingdom over.

You sat there, watching in glimpses as the ship sailed around the island, out of your sight. Maybe they were heading for the port. Maybe they were heading for the next kingdom. You honestly didn't care too much other than wishing you had the freedom to sail wherever you wanted.

Although, thinking about boats reminded you of a really cool shell you'd found down at the beach last time you snuck down there. It had been a while since you'd gone, maybe you'd ditch your chores tomorrow to go see it.

Eventually, you climbed down the wall and headed back inside the palace to go to bed. You fell asleep quickly, exhausted from the emotional toll of the day and all the chores you'd done. You were long asleep when the head maid peeked into your room. After assessing you were safe and sound she walked off to continue with her work, making a mental note for the next time the king asked about you.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

The ocean was cool and felt like bliss on your legs as you scanned the beach. You'd snuck away from the head maid, taking the long route to get here. While you did have to go all the way around to the beach by the main port before you could climb the rocky outcrops to reach the north beach, it was worth it.

You'd already found some perfect scallop shells and an iridescent muscle shell. You wandered the shoreline, constantly checking the sand for anything that caught your eye. It was when you reached down to pick up a sand dollar did you feel a strong arm grab you by the waist and hoist you up.

"Well, well, well. What kind of treasure do we have here?" A deep voice asked. You struggled as hard as you could, dropping your shells in the process.

"Let me go!" You demanded, but your struggles were useless against a man way stronger than you were. He easily contained you until you'd tired yourself out. It was then he'd turned you around in his arms, holding you bridal style.

The man wore a crown, similar to King Peter's. He was probably a neighboring king, here as an invited guest to the ball last night. Your eyes locked with his brown ones. You both stared at each other before he smirked down at you.

"What is a maid's child doing all the way out here?" He asked, guessing your profession by the dull and worn out clothing you wore. You glared at him in annoyance.

"I'm collecting shells. Put me down." You demanded again. You were getting angry now, starting to squirm again.

"Where are your parents, child? You're a long way from the castle." The man asked. He finally put you down after an exceptionally harsh glare from you. You dusted off your clothes before picking up the shells you'd dropped before.

"I don't have parents." You answered, inspecting a razor clam shell. You decided against adding it to your growing collection and headed further down the beach. The man followed after you.

"You're too young to be out here alone. Did you scale the rocks to get here?" The man asked. You nodded, picking up a small spiral shaped shell and adding it to your pile. "That was very dangerous. If you slipped you would've fallen into the ocean. Do you even know how to swim?"

"I don't slip, I know how not to." You answered simply. The man hummed for a moment before his eyes lit up, not that you could see with your back turned.

"I know exactly what you need." He said, striding over and picking you up again. This time you held onto your shells as he started carrying you down the beach.

"Hey! I'm not a kid! You can't just pick me up whenever!" You snapped, giving him a dirty look. He just smiled.

"I think, as your new father, I can do anything I want."

"N- new what?!" You shrieked, trying to squirm and roll your way out of his arms.

"You see, I was planning to come here to send your little king a message. My empire could really use some of the resources but King Peter refuses to trade with us over some past issues. But now," the man grinned down at you. "Now not only do I have an heir, but I will also have the resources I need as soon as King Peter realizes his choices are to trade with me or watch his kingdom burn. He will surrender and I will have everything I need."

Your mouth was open in horror. This wasn't a guest, but a blatant enemy. Then again... what had King Peter ever done for you? Why did you feel any obligation to stop this? But at the same time, what about the servants who had raised you? What about the head maid who was your sole mother figure.

All you could do was desperately struggle as he carried you down the beach.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

"You asked for me, my king?" The head maid said, bowing as she entered his study. Peter just sighed, waving her closer.

"Stop it with the formalities. You know why I called you here and you know what I want." He said, his voice commanding. The head maid just nodded.

"Y/N has been a little down lately. I think it's partially jealousy over their place compared to your other children. They snuck out to the garden last night during the ball, but were in bed and asleep when I checked on them." She reported.

"Jealous hmm..." Peter hummed, a storm of emotions flickering through his eyes. "And where are they right now?"

"Probably down at the beach, my king. They skipped out on their chores today."

"When they return, send them to me. I think it's finally time we had a little chat." He said, dismissing her.

"Yes, my king."

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Your 'new father' gripped your wrists to keep you from hitting as he carried you aboard the ship. You didn't care about the spectacle you were making as you tried your hardest to fight back with just your legs. Clearly you were drawing some attention when a man limped up to your captor with an annoyed glare.

"Lucas! You can't just suddenly wander off like that! You know fully well that your men don't listen to me!" The man seethed. He looked similar to your 'father', or Lucas as you now knew. They had the same green eyes and plethora of freckles, but Lucas had fiery red hair while the second man had dark brown. The second man supported himself on an ornate cane as he stood in front of Lucas.

"Darling, meet my little brother, Pierre." Your 'father' introduced, finally setting you down but not releasing your wrists. You froze as Pierre's mouth dropped open in shock. He glanced back and forth between you and Lucas for a while before he let out a long suffering sigh.

"Did you kidnap a child, Lucas? Really?!" Pierre asked. He limped closer to you, using his sleeve to wipe some stray sand off of your face.

"You always make everything sound so bad, Pierre. They said they had no parents so theres no one to kidnap them from. It's an adoption." Lucas insisted. Pierre rolled his eyes, carefully looking you over.

"You poor thing. Look at these dreadful rags..." Pierre frowned at your clothing and Lucas nodded.

"Indeed. Can you schedule a fitting for them once we return? Both for a new wardrobe and a crown. Until then though, I should be able to scrounge up something a little better." Lucas said. Pierre nodded before gesturing over to a knight who was waiting patiently.

"Go talk to your men, brother. I'll run them a bath while you're busy. I'll also get them some clothes, you wouldn't know proper fashion if it was standing right in front of you." Pierre chastised. He gently led you away from Lucas and towards a private cabin.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

You felt cleaner than you had in ages. Not only were you allowed to use hot water, and the most expensive hair products and soaps, but Pierre had spent a while just brushing your hair for you. He was, in your opinion, the only upside to the spontaneous kidnapping. You'd never had someone take care of you like this before.

Pierre had dressed you in one of Lucas' shirts, and some deer hide trousers. The trousers were likely borrowed from some junior knight because they were only a little loose. The shirt, on the other hand, swamped you and Pierre had to cuff the sleeves for it to fit properly.

At some point, the adrenaline had worn off, leaving you sleepy, but irritable. You were actually enjoying having your hair brushed, Pierre's hands gentle and caring, when the cabin door had flung open with Lucas standing in the doorway.

"Thank you, Pierre. How about you go tend to your leg, hm?" Pierre huffed, looking annoyed and uncertain, but eventually did what Lucas asked.

Upon being alone, he grabbed you again which caused you to glare at him again. He carried you over to the small desk in the cabin, placing you on his lap as he inspected something. It horrified you to realize it was a map of the castle.

He held you closer when you tried to squirm away. His grip tightened to near painful, only relenting when you finally stopped resisting. He just chuckled, placing a kiss on the top of your damp hair as he took notes on the side of the map.

It took a long time for the exhaustion you'd felt earlier to come back to haunt you. When it did you resisted as long as you could before your body involuntarily relaxed into his. He placed down his pen when that happened, a dark look in his eyes as his interest shifted from the map to you.

"Don't worry darling, we'll be able to head home soon. I promise you my empire is way more impressive than this. The castle has a private beach attached where you can go scavenge for shells every day if you wish." Lucas promised you, ruffling your hair as you drifted off.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Pierre was the one who took care of you that night. He fed you dinner and tucked you into bed. Lucas had already left with his knights to storm the castle, minus a couple who were guarding your door. You'd never been tucked into bed before, and the weight of quality blankets mixed with a full stomach made your eyes go half lidded.

You were a goner before Pierre started reading to you from a book he'd pulled from one of Lucas' shelves. In an instant you had fallen asleep, Pierres soothing voice carrying your mind to the realm of dreams.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

"I'm surprised you didn't try and run with them." Pierre didn't turn to look at Lucas. Even from where he sat at your bedside he could smell the metallic scent of blood. His brother always got more trigger happy after a kill.

"And run where?" He asked, closing the book and laying it in his lap. He still refused to look at Lucas, keeping his eyes trained on your sleeping figure.

"Smart boy. You've learned since last time." There was a rustle from behind him and a few minutes later Lucas stepped into his view. He was just wearing his pants and boots, shirt, cape and armor abandoned. "How's your leg brother?"

Pierre growled, anger growing. "You would know, wouldn't you? Seeing as you're the one who broke it." Not only had Lucas broken it, he'd also made sure it never healed correctly, leading to the limp.

"Today must be a bad day then. Seeing as you're so grouchy and you were actually using the cane I got you."

"You know just as well as I do that you're going to hurt them. At some point they'll do something, just like I did, and you'll snap at them too." Pierre said, standing from the chair and finally meeting his eyes. Lucas only smirked, an evil look on his face.

"Family is very important to me. They'll learn that just as you have, brother. Now be a dear and go get some sleep, hm? You've had enough time with them today."

Pierre left the cabin with a sick feeling in his stomach. One of the knights standing guard immediately started to escort him to his own cabin. As he looked up at the stars, past the smoke rising from the now burning castle and ignoring the screaming of the people of this kingdom, he hoped you would escape and lead a happier, and freer, life then he had ever been able to.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Peter clenched his fists as he watched his castle burn. His eldest son was commanding the guards to douse the fire and find the queen. His other children were crying, his youngest daughter clinging to his pants. He knew they wouldn't find her alive, he'd already taken care of her before the fire had broken out.

He was about to take over from his son, to redirect the guards to helping civilians, when the head maid came running over, her face streaked with ash. Her eyes looked panicked as she approached him.

"My king, Y/N is missing." With those words the anger burning inside him was stoked into a raging inferno. "One of the guards said they saw a ship flying the flag of the Ashefall Kingdom docked down at North Beach!"

His mind raced as he realized what that meant. You'd gone to the beach today. You had been down by the ship. Had they captured you? Were you being tortured? Had that savage monster killed you? He growled, realizing if he'd been able to get rid of his wife sooner, this never would have happened.

You'd have been raised alongside your siblings as a royal. You would've been escorted by guards wherever you went. No one could have ever laid a finger on you. He growled as he stormed past the burning palace, easily scaling the garden wall. He watched as a tiny ship cruised past the shore, even from up there he could see the maroon flags blowing in the wind.

"Mark my words. I will get my vengeance, for my kingdom and for Y/N." He promised, glaring down at the boat as it sailed away.

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere ocs #yandere x reader #platonic #parental yandere #teen reader #gender neutral y/n

1K notes · View notes

moonreader1010 · 11 months ago

Text

Pac- how you'll meet your future spouse and some details about them.

Note- minors dni as this reading is very suggestive.

(the pictures used do not belong to me. All rights go to the original owner.)

Pile 1. Pile 2.

Pile 3^

Pile 1: "I'm thinking 'bout you (Ooh no, no, no)

I've been thinking 'bout you (You know, know, know)

I've been thinking 'bout you

Do you think about me still? Do ya, do ya?"

So much water and earth energy omg. You might meet your future spouse in the months of November, July or February. Okay so You might meet your future spouse in a setting that combines both professional and personal growth. Like it will be a setting that combines these two worlds. Office party or something yk. Also I'm really getting that your future spouse will be someone who is really emotionally intuitive and sensitive, could be younger or just youthful in spirit. Despite this young energy they will be very confident, authoritative, and passionate. So yeah you fs might catwalk into your life through a work or financial environment. I also feel that there will be prominent themes of diligence and effort when you meet them. And omggggg your family is gonna LOVE your future spouse. Lol. Your relationship with your future spouse will be very joyful and yk they will feel so fulfilled when they get into a relationship with you. They'll definitely care for you. Very very caring. Alsoooooo this relationship will definitely DEFINITELY align with your ideals and your standards. However, past heartaches or challenges may need to be addressed. Don't let them come between your relationship with your future spouse and listen listennnn it's essential to take time for rest and introspection to heal and prepare for this significant connection because it will be soooooo amazing for you.

Additionally you may encounter this person during a period of personal growth and self-improvement, possibly when you are focused on building your career or finances(get that money bby). They will also be someone who balances practicality with a deep emotional connection. You get me? Like they might seem like someone who is solely focused on practical things but boom suddenly they will surprise you with their emotional maturity. And girllllllll that person is gonna support your aspirations!!!!!!!! Also, they will definitely share your visions. You two will have very similar goals.

Additional- late night drives, play fight, water bodies

Song for you- thinkin about you by Frank Ocean

Pile 2: "They say I'm too young to love you

They say I'm too dumb to see

They judge me like a picture book

By the colors, like they forgot to read

I think we're like fire and water

I think we're like the wind and sea

You're burnin' up, I'm coolin' down

You're up, I'm down"

Okay so the cards kept going EVERYWHERE! Anyway, Meeting your future spouse could be a chaotic journey. It will require you to be courageous and putting on the big boy/girl pants. Your connection is so soooo intense and to understand it you'll require great emotional depth. Andddddddd your fs is soooo Charming? Like for what? Lol. Very charming. Very romantic and dudeeeeee the passion in your relationship will be just chef's kiss. Mwah fr. And passionate in many ways(👀 if you know what I mean). Literally everything your spouse does reflects soooo sooooo much passion. They could very much be physically strong yk. Great physical strength for sure. and wow such a dynamic presence. They could be a water sign or have their moon in 8th house. They will definitely have a really strong sense of intuition so yeah nobody can deceive them. Your future spouse is a legit human lie director. Haha. And your future spouse has this aura around them. Like this air of mystery and they will be so wise!!!!. Andddddddd Your relationship will be marked by a balance of power and mutual respect. Your future spouse will respect you so muchhhh. Such a gentleman. I'm sooooo sure that BOTH of you possess high charismatic energy. Awwwwww. Your connection will be so nurturing, abundant, and full of hope and inspiration. You'll be their muse 😤

Omg girl? you may encounter your future spouse during a time of inner reflection(start journaling bby) or when faced with a difficult decision.and your future spouse will be the one that'll help you find some clarity about that situation. They'll complete you. awwwwww. A very spiritual connection. Heavy themes of inspiration. You two will inspire eachother so much.

Additional- art, Greek, body paint, suits

Song for you - Brooklyn baby by Lana del rey

Pile 3:"Cross my heart, hope to die

To my lover, I'd never lie

He said, "Be true", I swear I'll try

In the end, it's him and I

He's out his head, I'm out my mind

We got that love, the crazy kind

I am his, and he is mine

In the end, it's him and I, him and I"

Very veryyyy clear and straightforward energy. Some of you might meet your future spouse soon or have already met them (👀). And you guys will be sooo quick to know that they are the one. Some of you will get married quickly too. You guys will be so eager to go on your honeymoon lol. Like chill guys. Won't be able to keep your hands off each other. Meeting your future spouse will be an exciting and stimulating (what could that mean👀)experience. And girl your person will be sharp-witted. Like they will have a comeback for EVERYTHING. So sassy omg. But they will also be curious. Like they would be continuously learning something new and will be soooo soooo ready to know everything about you. Obsessed with you. You guys will try a lot of things together (👀). you guys will celebrate a lottttt. Idk why but so sooo many celebrations are there in your relationship. One of you will have an amazing social life. Bby, you may meet your future spouse through social gatherings or community events(interesting). They will be soooooo smart and intellectual. You will LOVE having a conversation with them. Not at all boring. They will make your life more ..... adventurous. One of you(i think you) worries sooooo much and worries all. The. Time. And this other person in the relationship (i think your spouse) will help you deal with it and overcome it.

Additional- bodyguard au, cupcakes, books, anxiety.

Song for you - him&i by halsey and G-Easy

#tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #tarotblr #pick a pile #pick a card #free readings #tarotcommunity #intuitive readings #future spouse #fs tarot #future spouse tarot #18+ tarot #18+ readings

2K notes · View notes

mayanneaa · 4 months ago

Text

nights like this - ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ.

PAIRING : rafe cameron x kook!reader

SUMMARY : everything between you and rafe changes after one stupid birthday party.

WARNING(S) : drinking, smoking, swearing, kinda allusions to drunk driving please do NOT DO THAT EVER, not proofread

A/N : woahh rafe angst coming from me??? also ignore the shitty message thing I'm doing this on my laptop lmaoo (divider by @roseraris)

WC : 2.4k

part 2, “sparkling” out now! find it here

masterlist.

"Babe, c'mon!"

Sarah's practically jumping with excitement as she's leading you to the front door of Tanney Hill. People are spilling out of the house, most already holding a drink or two.

You hear them congratulating you as you pass by, sending them smiles from eye to eye.

Sarah insisted that you should have a big party for this year's birthday. And, be honest, how could you resist?

You two enter the house and crash into Kelce and Rafe almost immediately.

"Well, the birthday girl is here!" Kelce's first to hug you, and you giggle over his shoulder.

When you look up, your eyes rest on Rafe. He looks as good as always— this time, a grin plastered to his lips as he glances at you.

Kelce pulls away, and it's Rafe's turn. He wraps his arms around your waist, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder, and the strong smell of sandalwood surrounds your face.

"You look beautiful," he whispers in a low, raspy voice beside your ear.

You’re almost sure he saw the glimpse of your cheeks reddening. And tonight, you don’t even care. It was your night. No stupid feelings can ruin it. Or, at least that’s what you thought.

It’s been like this forever— you’ve known Rafe since you were little, and he’s always been charming.

At first, it was simple things, just like kids would do.

He was letting you hang around, even though you were a bit younger than him. He’d always hold your hand while you were getting on the boat. After some years, you didn’t need any help, but these little moments were yours to keep.

You didn’t notice the moment Rafe started to get more handsome in your eyes, more like… boyfriend material.

It just happened. And after some time, you couldn’t deny it. Something was pulling you to Rafe Cameron.

“Well, see you around, ‘kay? Happy birthday.” Rafe speaks again, and you step back. His touch lingers on your hips before he nods to his sister and follows Kelce to a different part of the house.

You turn around to Sarah, only to see a suggestive look on her face. Her brows are raised, and she's biting her lower lip, trying not to laugh at you.

"Save it," You roll your eyes as you pull her with you to the drinks. "Tonight, I'm not worrying about any stupid guys!"

Your friend answers you with a chant, jumping around and almost spilling her first drink of the night. Someone's already making their way to wish you a happy birthday, and the speakers play one of your favorite songs.

It's going to be good.

After the third cup of Sarah's famous mix, you decide to take a breather. As you walk around Tanney Hill, your vision can't help but spin with each step. The upstairs is much quieter, and the loud thumps of music are not sending your head into space anymore. You don't really look where you're going, so when your feet lead you to the roof, you can't help but let a soft smile on your lips.

It's been your getaway place since ninth grade. Every time something bad happened, and your eyes were filled with tears not meant for the others to see, you climbed out the balcony, fresh air accompanying you.

You settle on the cold, hard tiles, making sure your dress doesn’t get too dirty. You can see everything from up here. The moon’s reflection on the ocean is blurred at the edges, moving with the waves.

You close your eyes, focusing on breathing in the salty air.

“Look who’s there.” The voice suddenly breaking through the silence makes you jump.

Rafe’s face appears, his sharp features bathing in the light from the room below. He smiles as he climbs up, taking the spot next to you.

“Hi.” You try your best for your voice not to sound weird.

He shuffles in his place, his arm absentmindedly brushing yours.

"So, got overwhelmed?" Rafe starts. You nod in response, letting out a sigh.

"You know me so well, huh?"

He rests on his elbows, and he has a proud look on his face when he looks at you. "Duhh. I might know you better than Sarah."

You snort. Maybe he's right. But there are little things only you know.

For example, the way your heart races at the moment. If you sat two inches closer, he’d surely hear every single beat.

The two of you sat like this, in the soothing silence. Only the whistles of wind and crashing waves below interrupted it.

"It's so nice..." You finally speak up, tilting your head.

"Mhm." Rafe mumbles, a cigarette between his lips. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his black pants, looking for a lighter. When he pulls it out, he raises his eyebrows at you. "Want one?"

You glance at him for a little. It's your birthday, after all. You nod, and Rafe lights up the cig. He takes a blow first, then passes it to you.

You inhale the smoke, a small cough escaping your lips.

"What do you wish for?" He says with a smirk. You give him a quick look and feel your cheeks warm up.

Fuck.

"I don't know..."

"Oh, you do know."

You roll your eyes. "And since when are you so curious about things like this?"

"Darling, when wasn't I curious about you?"

Rafe's got a point. He forced you into a corner, and there's no room for a slick escape.

"Alright," you start, looking at the dark horizon. "I'd like to kiss someone on a night like this."

He raises his eyebrow, moving his body closer to yours. "Are you kidding?"

"What? No!"

What were you supposed to do, tell him the truth? Say, 'Yeah, I wish you'd notice I've been head over heels for you since, like, forever?' No. You had to make something up.

Fortunately for you, it wasn't a total lie. You've always adored this time of the day— soft, quiet nights. The sky filled with stars, the breeze flowing around you.

"Seriously! It's... romantic."

"Oh, yeah?"

He’s leaning in, and when your eyes dart down, his fingers trace the back of your hand.

Before you can do anything, Rafe presses his lips to yours, the taste of vodka lingering in between.

It's soft, almost as if Rafe's unsure. Nothing like the kisses you've been imagining before falling asleep. Those were burning, filled with passion, and you'd usually already be soaked by the rain.

You put your hand on his chest, a move laced with uncertainty, and finally deepen the kiss. Under your fingertips, you can feel each beat of his heart. It's as intense as the thumps of music below your body. This feels so... unreal.

His hands make their way to your neck, holding it from behind and pulling you even closer.

You sober up in seconds. You part from him, your breath coming out heavy.

His lips are red, a shade slowly matching his cheeks.

“Enjoy your wish,” Rafe whispers beside your lips, and you feel your heart fall.

What did it mean to him? You've known him forever, and you've seen how he used to act with girls— making out with them the whole night, not even bothering to text them back after the party's over. He's so nonchalant and so smug that you start having second thoughts.

“Rafe. I swear, if you’re trying to mess with me—”

“Hey,” he grabs your hand and puts it on his chest, near the heart. Now, his heart rate is even stronger than the music thumps. “Do you really think I’m joking?”

You open your mouth, ready to answer when you hear someone calling you. Your eyes widen as you glance over at Rafe again. The smirk on his face seems to be stuck there.

“I- I have to go,” you mumble, trying to get down without giving him a chance to notice how shaky your legs are. And your hands. Actually, how shaky you are in overall.

“I’ll drive you home later. Okay, baby?”

If you were alone, the whole Outer Banks would hear the scream that’s begging to get out of your throat.

“Didn’t you drink?” You try to sound as casual as you can, but the corners of your mouth manage to rise.

He shakes his head, “Not much. You better go down there. They’re waiting for the birthday girl.”

You look at him for the last time before disappearing into the house, cheeks warmer than ever in your life.

Hours later, the crowd in the house starts to thin. You didn't really drink much after coming back— the kiss was intoxicating enough.

Sarah walks around, throwing all the empty cups she'd found in the trash bag.

"Sarah, you don't have to do it now!" You whine, leaning on the couch. "I'll come back in the morning and help you, promise."

She shakes her head, "It's nothing. I'm honestly surprised it's not that much of a mess. You should go and find Rafe, he'll drive you home."

As she mentions her brother, she wiggles her brows with a playful smirk, making you groan. "Shut up! I shouldn't have told you about that after you drank those weird mixes—"

She giggles, picking up the bottles laying next to the table.

You roll your eyes and leave the room, looking around for the well-known face. He's nowhere to be seen here, so you climb up the stairs, moving around the very few people left, sending them soft and quick smiles as you pass them.

"Rafe?" You call out through the empty halls, heading to his room. You wouldn't be shocked if he just went to his room, away from all the people.

His door is left slightly open. You frown as you lean in, peeking through the thin gap. Even though it's not really polite.

A second later you wish you'd never gone there. Of course, Rafe's inside. But not alone.

In fact, there's some touron girl all over him. Her arms are around his neck, and you are almost sure they're shoving their tongues down each other's throats. You don't see much in the dim, warm light, but what you've already seen is enough.

You stand there for a split second, holding your breath, before you turn around on your heels and sprint down, as quietly as you can.

There's a bitter feeling in your throat, the way it tightens. You try to breathe, the air coming out in heavy, shaky parts.

You should've known this. It was obvious from the beginning— how could Rafe, someone who's been around since you were a little kid, see you as something more? As a girl he could be with?

Maybe he did find you attractive, but nothing more. You were just one of many girls.

"Woah!"

You crash with someone, almost falling, but you somehow keep your balance. Topper's standing in front of you, startled. There's a glimpse of worry in his eyes, the brows beneath them pulled together.

"Topper!" you breathe out, "Can you drive me home? Pretty please."

"Uhm, I mean, sure. But wasn't Rafe supposed to drop you off? I've heard him saying--"

You swallow hard. "He's busy."

"Oh, alright. Go to my car, I'll grab my keys and be there in a second, okay?"

"Mhm." You nod and look around to find Sarah asleep on one of the couches. A giggle slips from your lips, a reaction that makes you raise your brows.

Guess you'll have to tell her everything tomorrow.

You head out of the house, cold, breezy air hitting you in the face. Topper's car is already waiting for you on the driveway. You quickly take the passenger seat.

While waiting for the boy, you have to blink away the tears. You feel so... stupid.

Topper comes a few minutes after you. You can feel his stare as you two make your way to your house, but he doesn't say a thing until you are in front of your place.

"Will you be okay?" he asks. You jump on the hard ground and turn around to him, tilting your head.

"Yeah. Thanks," you say softly with a smile. "I'll be fine."

You don't waste a second— right after he drives off you go to your house, trying not to wake anyone up.

The first time you let the tears fall this night is in the shower. The salty streams get mixed with water, dripping onto your feet.

You try to feel anything.

You wait for the anger when you put on your pajamas.

You stand in the fogged-up mirror, searching for the slightest sadness on your face.

Even while laying in bed, minutes before falling asleep, you give yourself a moment to crash out. To be mad, be jealous over a boy you've loved for what feels like forever. But none of that comes.

Instead, you just feel plainly stupid. Maybe it's because of the alcohol in your system, or maybe you're ashamed you seriously thought he could like you.

You don't get any answer.

"Fuuckk."

You're never letting Sarah near the alcohol cupboard ever again. God only knows what she put in those mixes, but your head feels like exploding.

You look around the room bathed in the soft, early morning sunlight. You're not sure how much sleep you got, but it surely wasn't enough for you to forget what happened at the party.

Your phone is on the nightstand, next to a glass of water and some aspirin, probably left here by your mom.

You rub your eyes as you reach for it, your vision is still a little blurry.

There are some messages from Sarah, and you can’t help but smile when you see it all in the caps.

Of course, you can’t be happy for even a minute because, under her messages, there’s a notification from Rafe. Two missed calls and a few texts.

You squeeze the bridge of your nose as you read what he’d typed out.

Typical Rafe. Always acting clueless. So frustrating.

You bite your lip, thinking of how to reply. You didn't have the energy to talk about what you saw. Just like you were numb before, now all the emotions come with full force. If you tried to explain it, you'd probably end up screaming, crying or just completely breaking down.

The best thing to do is not to make a deal out of it— at least that's what you come up with, your head dizzy from being hungover, as your trembling fingers hit each letter.

It's for the better. Because this way, you can't get hurt even more. The thought of you spilling your heart in front of him, and Rafe's response is what he'd always use with the other girls...

You can't let it happen.

1K notes · View notes

santaasi · 7 months ago

Text

iris

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: jj maybank struggled all his life just to finally find home in your arms

warnings: fluff, slight angst at the start, no use of y/n, english isn’t my first language

word count: 3.9k

a/n: bringing myself comfort after the spoilers for the final of s4. my baby boy deserved a lot more.

ᯓ★ now playing…

goo goo dolls - iris

And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

IT WAS SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT — something so profound that JJ couldn't begin to describe it in words. Yet, he felt it in every cell of his body, in the deepest, most secret corners of his soul. It was as if he was staring into the vastness of the universe, into the boundless, all-consuming darkness that had terrified him since childhood. But now... now it glowed with a hundred, a million, a billion tiny stars — simple, yet magnificent clusters of light that transformed everything in an instant. You became his universe, his everything, and in that moment, everything changed.

JJ would be lying if he said he didn’t remember the exact moment — the exact second — he first met you. He remembered it vividly, like it was etched into his very bones, because that moment was his Big Bang. It was the spark that created the whole universe from nothing, with you as its center, pulling him into an orbit he never thought he’d find.

It was an ordinary day — at least, by JJ’s standards. A typical day filled with drinking, weed, hanging out with Pogues, and the all-too-familiar beatings from his father. After the last one, all he craved was solitude — just to be alone, to fade into the nothingness. To disappear. To stop feeling the weight of pain, to stop wondering what he had done wrong, to stop seeing the pity in his friends’ eyes whenever he showed up at the Chateau, bruised and broken.

For a fleeting moment, he wished he could stop being JJ Maybank — the lost, troubled boy everyone knew — and just be... himself. If only he knew who that was anymore.

It was night — a surprisingly cold summer night. The air carried a chill that seemed at odds with the warmth of the season, but even so, JJ found his haven between the soothing waves. The ocean cradled him gently, rocking him like a child in a mother’s arms, as if the water itself was trying to heal him. He lay on his stomach, his face dipping under the surface, seeking solace in the cool embrace of the sea, trying to drown out the swarm of thoughts buzzing endlessly in his mind.

How long had he been lying there? He couldn’t say. Time had blurred into the rhythm of the waves, and for a moment, he didn’t care. He didn’t expect the next moment to be so... startling.

You stopped just a few meters away, your breath coming in quick, heavy gasps. Your hair clung to your face, and the water began to bite at your skin with its coldness. And yet, in that brief flash of moonlight, JJ swore he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you — divine, even. The glow of the moon reflected off the water, casting a silver sheen over you, making everything seem surreal. Your slightly parted lips, your wide eyes, all caught in the stillness of the night, made something inside him twist. At that moment, he realized something, something terrifying: he was a goner.

"What the hell?"

The words slipped out in unison, an awkward moment of shared surprise. You raised an eyebrow, the frustration and relief mixing in your gaze before you splashed water in his face.

"Are you asking me what the hell?" you said, voice tinged with disbelief. "You were literally floating face down! I thought you were dead!"

JJ blinked, caught off guard, and shook his head, sending droplets flying in every direction. He didn’t respond immediately — his mind was still trying to catch up. He just stared at you, the way the moonlight danced on your skin, how the cold seemed to wash away everything else. There was something about you that both unsettled and comforted him, a mix he couldn’t quite place.

"Yeah, well," he muttered, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips, trying to brush it off. "I wasn’t, like, dead. I mean, not really." His voice was hoarse, raw with something he hadn’t let anyone hear in a long time. It barely masked the emptiness he’d been drowning in just moments ago. "Just needed a swim. Didn’t mean to scare you."

You crossed your arms under the water, rolling your eyes, but a soft smile played at the edges of your lips. "Just an ordinary midnight swim, huh?" you teased. But there was a knowing look in your eyes, like you could see through the mask. "I thought I was going to have to explain to the police tomorrow that some guy was found swimming in the ocean. ‘Local girl finds body in the water,’ you know? Not exactly the first week I imagined."

JJ raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Wait... you’re new here?"

You nodded, brushing your wet hair from your face, a small sigh escaping you as you did. "Yeah, I moved here a few days ago. Needed to start fresh, I guess." Your gaze shifted toward the shore, distant, but not quite lost. "Thought the ocean might help clear my head."

He could relate to that, more than he wanted to admit. He nodded without thinking, something about you felt... different. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice almost vulnerable. "Outer Banks isn’t paradise, but... it could be worse." The words slipped out before he could stop them, softer than he wanted, like a door that had been closed for too long suddenly creaking open. He hadn’t expected to share anything, but with you, it didn’t feel like sharing — it felt more like breathing.

The wind picked up, sending a chill over the water. You shivered slightly, pulling your arms tighter around yourself. JJ noticed, instinctively stepping closer, despite still standing in the water.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern. "Cold night for a swim."

The irony of the moment wasn’t lost on him — he, too, had come to the water to escape, to disappear. But with you standing there, he didn’t feel quite as invisible. And that scared him more than he wanted to admit.

You shrugged, looking toward the shore, but your eyes softened. "Yeah, just... a tough day, I guess. I thought the water might help me forget for a little while."

A bitter laugh slipped from JJ’s lips, and he didn’t try to hide it. "Well, looks like you found the right company for that," he said, his words more raw than he’d intended. But somehow, it felt natural to talk like this, to say things he hadn’t said to anyone in a long time. With you, it didn’t feel so forced.

You turned toward him, your expression softening. There was understanding in your eyes — like you’d been there too. "Tough day too, huh?" you said quietly, your voice almost lost in the stillness of the night.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The world seemed to hold its breath, the ocean around you a calm, sacred space. In that silence, something passed between you — unspoken, but real. As if for that moment, you both shared something intangible, something neither of you could put into words.

Finally, you broke the quiet, your voice teasing but gentle. "So... are you always this mysterious, or did I just pick the perfect time to meet you?"

A laugh escaped him, more genuine than he expected. "Maybe a little of both." He let the silence stretch on, comfortable now. For the first time in ages, he felt seen, and it wasn’t as frightening as he thought it would be.

It was ridiculous, he thought — how could a complete stranger, someone he’d just met in the middle of the ocean, at some ungodly hour, feel like they were filling a space inside him he never knew was empty?

But when he looked at you, he felt something shift, something deep inside. Something real. Something alive.

"JJ," he finally said, his voice breaking the silence. The sound of his own name felt unfamiliar, like a piece of himself he hadn’t shared in too long.

You gave him a soft smile that reached your eyes, warm and knowing. "Nice to meet you, JJ."

AND THERE IT WAS — his universe had changed. The Big Bang.

After that night, JJ couldn’t think about anything but you. Your presence consumed him, yet in a way that felt like coming alive for the first time. He found himself drifting into your orbit, again and again, as if fate itself had been guiding him toward you all along. But while he believed in fate, you thought it was just chance.

It wasn’t long before JJ began to learn more about you, obsessing over every little detail. He learned that you loved spending your free time on the beach, reading books. Books that he had never bothered with before, but now he listened to them at double speed just to be able to talk to you about them. You had a habit of finding solace in the water, the way the waves seemed to ease the weight of the world from your shoulders. And he learned that you worked in a small diner on the Cut, a place that barely registered on anyone else’s radar but was now a part of his daily life.

It became his mission to visit those places. To catch your eye, exchange a few words. He even went to some Save the Turtles event with Kie — something he’d never have attended before — just to see you, just to find a reason to talk.

He didn't know why he was so drawn to you. Why waking up felt a little easier when he thought about you. Why his days felt less suffocating when he could see you by the ocean, or feel your warmth when you wrapped him up in your arms. And most importantly — why, in a world where he wanted to stay invisible, he wanted you to see him. Because no one, not even the closest people in his life, had ever truly understood him like you did.

It might have sounded corny, but JJ knew you were different. He didn’t want to undress you or get you into bed first, like he did with other girls. He wanted to talk to you. He wanted to know you. He wanted to be near you — not in a rushed, desperate way, but slowly, patiently, like the world had all the time for them. And that terrified him. Because everything in his life felt like it was bound to break, and he was scared of getting too close, only to watch it all fall apart.

But you made him feel like he was floating, like he was finally seeing the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. And even if it didn’t last forever, he would take it. It was worth it.

Because at some moment you became his safe place. His home.

JJ DIDN'T REMEMBER THE EXACT MOMENT HE FIRST CAME TO YOUR HOUSE, or why he couldn’t go back to the Chateau after the latest fight with his father. He just knew that he had found his way to you. It wasn’t a conscious choice. It was as if the universe had decided that, for once, he deserved peace. So, he climbed up to your balcony, hiding from the world, just to see you.

The moment he stepped inside, he felt the weight of everything lift from his chest. You didn't need to ask questions, you didn’t need explanations. You just held him — no judgment, no demands. Just there. Your hands gently cupped his face, and in that simple gesture, everything felt easier. It was like you knew exactly how much he needed to be held together. The comfort in your touch was so raw, so real, that it felt like he could stay there forever and nothing would ever hurt him again.

"Hey, JJ," you whispered softly as you cleaned the cuts on his knuckles. "You're okay. It's just another day. We'll get through it."

Your words were soft, but they carried a weight. The kind of weight that made him feel like, maybe, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t carrying all the burden on his own.

"Yeah, we will," he whispered looking in your eyes finding solace in it. "How'd your day go?" he asked quietly, almost as an afterthought, as you dabbed at a cut on his forehead.

You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You know, the usual. Serving coffee, cleaning tables... Same old stuff. But then again, it’s a good distraction.”

And JJ realized, right then, that this wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t just about the mess of his life. It was about the way you understood him without needing to understand everything. You were healing him, piece by piece, without even knowing it.

You were there, not because you had to be, but because you wanted to be. And when you laid him down in your bed, curling up beside him, you whispered about your day at work, your own small struggles. You shared your world with him, and somehow, it made his feel a little less heavy.

IT WASN'T LONG BEFORE JJ OPENED UP TO YOU, really opened up in a way he had never done before. It was a slow burn at first. He kept his distance, guarding you from the mess that was his life. But the longer he stayed, the more he realized that you were the one who saw him. All of him — the messed-up, broken parts that he tried so hard to hide from everyone else. And when he realized you weren’t scared of that, he finally let go.

"I used to think that if I told you about my life, you'd leave," he admitted one night, his voice thick with raw emotion. "But... you didn’t. You stayed."

You looked at him, your expression tender, your hands tracing the edge of his jawline. "I'm not going anywhere, JJ. Not unless you want me to."

And that was the moment he knew — he had found someone who understood him in a way no one ever had. No one ever would.

One night, after sharing stories and secrets until the stars outside had started to fade, you both found yourselves standing close, the air thick with unspoken words. There was a nervousness between you, but also a tenderness that neither of you had known before. JJ leaned in, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was soft, hesitant, and filled with the kind of understanding that only comes when two people truly see each other. His lips were warm against yours, the moment suspended in time. And as he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, he whispered softly, “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

You didn’t need to say anything in return. The truth was already in your eyes, in the way you pulled him closer, your hands tracing the lines of his back like you were memorizing him. He didn’t need forever. He didn’t need promises. He just needed this. You. Now. And that was enough.

THE EVENING WAS SETTLING INTO ITS QUIET RYTHM AT THE CHATEAU. The Pogues were scattered around, some laughing, some lost in their own thoughts, and some just lounging by the bonfire. The air smelled faintly of saltwater and smoke, the crackling warmth from the fire barely reaching the edge of the pier. The world felt suspended in a beautiful hush, as though the universe itself had exhaled, and for the briefest of moments, everything stood still.

But despite the presence of his friends, despite the fire, the laughter, and the constant noise that filled every corner of the Chateau, JJ was focused only on you. Your presence was like gravity, pulling him closer to something real, something tangible. You were his escape, his universe — shaped not by chaos and pain, but by a quiet peace he had never known until you.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked softly, lifting your head from his shoulder. Your voice was gentle, threading through the sea breeze that fluttered your hair, causing it to stray in wisps across your face. You frowned slightly as the breeze brushed against your skin, the hair teasing at your cheek in an almost playful, yet annoying way. He loved how you could get lost in these little moments, how even the simplest things seemed to pull you in.

JJ, ever the thinker, gazed out at the vast ocean, where the horizon was a delicate line between the fading light of the day and the endless mystery of the night. There was something about the sea — so unpredictable, so endless — that made him feel both small and infinite. It was like he could feel the weight of the universe pressing on his chest, but at the same time, it gave him a sense of freedom, of release.

He shook his head, not really having the words to explain the depth of his thoughts, of how you had become his entire universe in such a short time. He leaned down, brushing his lips against your forehead in a kiss that felt like a promise, like a quiet vow he was ready to keep forever.

"I love you," he said simply, the words falling so easily from his lips it startled him. It was like his heart had always known the truth, but now, with you, it could finally speak it. He turned to face you, his hands gently cupping your face, and pushed a strand of hair back behind your ear. Your hair had tangled slightly in the breeze, and his fingers brushed against the soft strands as if trying to keep you grounded in this moment.

You smiled up at him, your eyes warm with affection, and for a brief second, JJ wondered if he had been imagining all of this — the way your touch made him feel alive, how your laugh filled him with a joy that felt as though he was living in a dream. He had never been one to express his feelings out loud, never been able to put his heart on the line like that. But with you, everything felt different. Everything felt right.

"I love you, too," you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips, but JJ felt the weight of them — felt how real they were, how they shifted the space between you, making it smaller, warmer, more intimate. It was like the universe had shifted in that moment, like the stars aligned just for the two of you.

But you, ever the one to keep things light, laughed softly, breaking the moment in the most perfect way. Your laugh rang out like music, a melody he couldn’t get enough of. "But everyone knows that, stupid! It’s no secret that you’re head over heels in love with me," you teased, brushing his hair out of his eyes, as if trying to bring him back down from whatever cosmic place his mind had drifted to.

JJ chuckled, the sound deep and sincere. There was no pretense, no walls. Just the two of you, surrounded by the night and the ocean, and for the first time, he felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be. His smile was soft but real, and he kissed you once, gently, on the tip of your nose, then moved to the corner of your lips, then your cheek, your forehead, each kiss like a reassurance that this moment, this feeling, was real.

"You don't get it, do you?" JJ murmured, his voice a little more serious than the moment required. He let the silence stretch between you before continuing. "It’s not just... about love, doll. It’s about everything. It’s the way you make me see the world in a way I never thought I would. The way you make me feel like... like I’m enough." His voice softened with a vulnerability he hadn’t known he could express. "Before you, everything was just a blur. I didn’t even know how to be, to feel. But with you? It’s different. You make me real, love."

You looked at him, your gaze tender, understanding. Your eyes softened, and without a word, you reached out and pulled him in for a tight hug. JJ rested his head against your shoulder, inhaling the soft scent of your skin, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning. It was just the two of you, and for the first time in a long time, JJ felt truly alive.

He had spent so many years running from everything that hurt him, pushing away anything that could cause him pain. But in that moment, wrapped in your embrace, the fear was gone. There was nothing left but the two of you, standing on the edge of the world, with the ocean stretching out before you like an endless promise.

"I never thought I’d say it," he whispered, his words coming out in a quiet rush. "But you’re my Big Bang. The thing that changed everything for me. Before you, it felt like I was drifting through the void, like there was nothing in this world worth holding on to. But now..." He pulled away slightly, looking at you with a newfound intensity. "Now, you’re my everything. You gave me a reason to stay."

Your fingers lightly brushed against his cheek, the touch so gentle it felt like a feather. You looked at him, eyes searching his face, and you smiled softly. "You don't have to be alone anymore, JJ. You’ve never been alone." Your voice was quiet, but the sincerity behind it struck him like a bolt of lightning. "We're in this together."

A small laugh escaped him, a sound that felt almost foreign but so freeing. The way you made him feel — like he was seen, understood, held — it was beyond anything he could have imagined. You were the gravity in his universe, pulling him in, holding him steady. And no matter how far out he drifted, he always knew he'd find his way back to you.

"You make me feel like the world is full of stars," he murmured, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. "Like everything that’s ever happened to me — good or bad — led me to you. Like I was just waiting for you to come and show me what it’s like to be."

You grinned, a playful glint in your eyes. "Well, don't get too carried away, Maybank. I’m not that amazing."

JJ smiled, but there was something raw in his expression, something that hinted at all the things he could never quite put into words. "You are," he said softly. "You are my everything. And for once, I’m not afraid to let myself feel it."

The world stretched out before you, both of you standing at the precipice of something so beautiful, so uncertain, yet so undeniable. The stars above shimmered like tiny promises, like constellations forming their own quiet narrative about two souls finding each other in the vast, infinite expanse of the universe. And in that moment, the ocean, the stars, the wind, and the night itself seemed to pause, holding its breath.

"I love you. So much," JJ whispered again, his voice filled with the certainty that had settled deep within him. It was simple, but it was everything. The words echoed, not just through the air, but through his heart, through his bones, reverberating in a way he never thought was possible. And as the night embraced them both, they realized that they had found their place in the world. Together.

And for the first time, JJ Maybank wasn’t afraid to be seen. Because you saw him. And that was enough

thankx for reading <3

so, that’s it. jj maybank deserved the whole world but only got this shitty ending. am i gonna watch obx4 now? probably not. am i gonna write for jj like there’s no s4? definitely yes! i think we’ll all agree that obx ended on s3 and after that nothing happened.

but every time i see the posts about jj i feel so sad… like it literally hurts on some level because he deserved his happy ending more than anyone. even if rudy wanted to leave the show they could have written a good ending for him. not one more fucked up father, but one that would take him to see the world or shit like this. i just wanted him to be happy.

i chose iris because this is so jj coded for me. i haven’t listened to this song in ages and when it popped up in my shuffle yesterday – i just wanted it to be about jj. with all his struggles, all his pain, but also with a hope for something good. so, i rly hope that you liked this work.

and again thank u for reading. thank u for liking, reblogging and commenting - it’s rly means a lot to me. you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

- your santi 🪐

masterlist

#– santi 🪐#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x you #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank #obx x reader #obx fanfiction #obx x you #obx fic

1K notes · View notes

deminetly · 5 months ago

Text

୨DR IDEAS୧

+storylines

……………………………………………………………

⋆ 70s summer camp you're a rebellious camp counselor at a lakeside retreat, caught between summer flings, late night campfire secrets and solving the mystery of a local urban legend

⋆ costume designer for a magical theatre as a costume designer for a mystical theatre, all of your creations literally come to life, weaving spells into the performances

⋆ mermaid you're a mermaid who can walk on land, living a double life as you try to protect the ocean while falling for someone who has no idea who you truly are

⋆ sailor one night, you and your friends take your dads boat without his permission, sailing the sea he always warned you about. you stumble upon a mysterious cave, its whispers inviting you inside. hesitant but swayed by your friends, you enter only to discover that magic is real and meet the local mermaids

⋆ magic school you enroll at a prestigious magic academy, only to discover you're the last descendant of a powerful, forgotten bloodline

⋆ cupid you bring people together, but one day you accidentally strike yourself and find yourself in an impossible romance

⋆ magical kingdom you and your friends were wondering through a mysterious forest when you stumbled upon a set of train tracks. they seemed to call to you, urging you to follow. as you did, the tracks led you to a magical kingdom, a place brimming with mythical creatures and endless joy

⋆ spy youre an undercover spy, assigned to follow a mysterious man who seems impossible to crack. however, as you grow closer, his charm wins you over, forcing you to choose between love and duty

⋆ 90s garage band as a member of a smalltown 90s band, you and your friends navigate the highs and lows of local fame, all while chasing a once in a lifetime opportunity that could change everything

⋆ filmmaker you are an indie filmmaker whose movies start predicting real life events with eerie accuracy. as your films gain more attention, you begin to wonder if you're uncovering truths or shaping them

⋆ royalty youre a princess in a whimsical kingdom with a unicorn as her best friend exploring the endless mysteries and places

⋆ small town flowershop owner a man keeps visiting and buying you flowers, bringing you gifts

⋆ dream curator finding yourself falling for someone youre tasked with crafting dreams for, breaking all the rules as you begin appearing in their dreams

⋆ actress you get a random role in a film, not thinking anything of it until you slowly start to realize the movie seems oddly similar to your own life

⋆ friends with the moon you have admired the moon all your life, one lonely night you hear her answering all of your calls (she gives amazing advice)

⋆ vanlife you and your s/o ran away and are now living in the countryside in your van, travelling around the country

⋆ small town mystery you move to a small town where everyone knows everyone but suddenly some strange things begin happening and you decide to solve the mystery

⋆ magical summercamp you and your best friend go to a summercamp to relax but end up discovering a magical world with all kinds of mythical creatures behind a magical bookshelf/lake

⋆ fairy dr living in a small community of fairies where your soul purpuse is just to enjoy life, find cool trinkets and explore the beautiful places nature has to offer

⋆ royalty dr where you arent royalty, instead you work for them and fall in love with the prince

⋆ cafe where customers come and trust you with all kinds of interesting stories about their lives (you can script that your comfort characters visit it too)

⋆ christmas youre an elf, helping santa create presents, think of new toys, it always feels like christmas used to, you eat gingerbreads all day

⋆ treasure hunter you and your friends found out about an ancient treasure and are now going for an adventure looking for it

⋆ summer fling youre going to your grandmas house in the countryside for summer break. you meet her neighbour, start getting close until you eventually fall in love

507 notes · View notes

blueberrybirdsworld · 18 days ago

Text

Collision 12/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : SMAU, Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut and angst

Warning : SMUT (MDNI)

CHAPTER 12 :

Serie Masterlist

After the sun-drenched beach day, the golden glow of Brazil shifted into dusky pastels, warm oranges melting into lavender skies, soft shadows stretching over cobblestones. The group had retreated to the villa just long enough to shower off the salt, toss on some linen and perfume, and reemerge looking like they belonged in a vacation ad.

They were headed out for dinner, not just any dinner, but the kind of magical, open-air seaside restaurant that only existed in memories and movie scenes. The table was long and candlelit, the ocean close enough to hear, and the air still smelled like coconut and sea salt.

Lando was the first to walk down the cobbled street, flanked by the guys.

He wore a white linen shirt, open just enough to show his chest, light-wash jeans slung low on his hips, a couple of chains glinting around his neck. He looked tanned, confident, and completely relaxed, until the moment she stepped out.

Ariana wore a flowing, blush pink halter dress that danced around her ankles with every step. The fabric floated like air, cinched just slightly beneath her chest with a silver brooch. Her hair was down in loose waves, a single flower tucked behind her ear.

And when she looked at him, cheeks a little flushed from the heat, barefoot sandals on her injured foot, Lando felt like the entire world tilted toward her.

“You,” he said under his breath, barely audible.

Ariana smiled softly. “Me?”

“You’re not real.”

She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t start. I’ll blush.”

“You already are.”

He took her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Let’s go, love.”

The restaurant was alive with music and laughter.

Everyone ordered cocktails, too many, probably. Max started a round of shots before the appetizers even landed. Kika and Pietra shared a fruit bowl cocktail so huge it came with a ladle. Charles insisted on picking the wine and somehow mispronounced the name so dramatically it became the night’s running joke.

“Did you say Pinot Grisssssio?” Alexandra asked, laughing so hard she spilled her drink.

Carlos leaned toward Ariana. “You know, Lando hasn’t stopped talking about you.”

Lando gave him a death glare across the table.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Carlos grinned. “The man’s been walking around like a puppy with your name on his collar.”

Ariana chuckled, eyes flicking to Lando’s. “That true?”

Lando raised his glass. “No comment.”

Pietra winked at her. “I’ve never seen him like this. It’s disgustingly adorable.”

Eventually, full of food and warmth and far too many sugary drinks, they left the restaurant and wandered toward the beach.

The group splintered, some skipping ahead, some linking arms, others leaning on each other. The moon had risen, casting silver across the dark waves, and the sand was soft beneath their feet.

Lando stayed behind with Ariana.

She walked slowly, barefoot, dress trailing along the sand, her arm looped around his for balance.

“You okay?” he asked, watching her carefully.

She nodded. “I’m great. Just… tired.”

He smiled, shifting their pace. “Let’s take our time.”

The others were distant shadows ahead, laughter echoing faintly. For a long while, they walked in quiet, only the hush of waves and the breeze in her hair between them.

Ariana looked up at the stars. “Do you ever think about how lucky we are?”

“All the time,” he said. “Especially right now.”

She paused. “I was really scared, you know.”

“When you got hurt?”

She nodded. “It felt like everything I was built around disappeared. I didn’t know who I was anymore. And then… you answer my call.”

He stopped walking.

Turned to face her.

“I didn’t just answer your call.”

She looked up at him.

“I answer because I missed you,” he continued, voice quieter now. “Because nothing felt the same after I left. I kept hearing your voice in my head. Seeing your face. I didn’t want this to be some short thing that ends with a flight.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak.

“I know we didn’t define it,” he added. “But I want to. I want us to mean something. Even if we’re in different countries. Even if life gets messy. I’ll figure it out. If you want me to.”

Ariana blinked once. Twice.

Then said, almost whispering, “I want that too.”

A soft smile grew on his lips.

“Good,” he said. “Because I’m completely, stupidly, utterly into you.”

She laughed, stepping forward, wrapping her arms around his neck.

And under the stars, toes in the sand, she kissed him.

Not like the other kisses.

This one was slow, reverent. Like she was thanking the universe. Like she was finally allowing herself to fall.

His hands found her waist, then her back, then her jaw, tugging her closer with the kind of desperation that came from days of restraint. Her body pressed into his, the cool breeze brushing between them, the sea singing its soft lullaby.

When they broke apart, both breathless, he rested his forehead to hers.

“I love this dress,” he whispered.

She smiled. “You should see what’s under it.”

He growled softly, half-laughing. “That’s dangerous talk.”

“Walk me back?” she asked.

“Anywhere.”

And together, hand in hand, they walked slowly back along the moonlit shore, the others still distant ahead of them, their world tucked inside one quiet, perfect night.

They didn’t speak the whole way back.

They didn’t need to.

Lando carried her in his back for the last few metters after she loose balance too many time on her injured feet. Ariana curled up against him, her cheek tucked into his shoulder, the blush pink dress whispering against his skin with every step. The sand clung to their feet, and the humid Brazilian night made her skin warm and soft in his arms.

When they reached the villa’s gates, a few of the others were still lingering on the patio, Kika and Pierre tangled in a chair, Max nursing a beer and a sunburn, Carlos and Charles deep in some chaotic debate about who finished the shots first.

The second Lando stepped through the garden path, with Ariana in his arms, the noise shifted.

“Ayyyyy,” Max called, raising his bottle. “Here they are!”

Pierre laughed. “He’s literally carrying her. Are you kidding me?”

Rebecca clutched her chest dramatically. “True romance.”

Kika grinned. “Don’t drop her, Norris.”

“Shut up,” Lando said, but he was smiling, because he didn’t care. Not one bit.

He didn’t pause. Just walked right past them all, Ariana tucked in his arms like she belonged there, her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt.

When they reached their room, someone whistled low behind them.

“I hope the walls are thick!” Charles shouted.

The moment the door slammed behind them, Lando caught her against it, mouth crashing into hers in a kiss that was more hunger than grace. Hands roamed wildly, her waist, her back, his fingers tangled in her hair, like he couldn’t decide what he needed to touch first.

He kissed her hard, reckless, pulling breathless moans from her throat as he ground her body to the wall, his cock already straining desperately against the denim of his jeans.

“God, I missed you,” he groaned against her lips, biting gently at her jaw.

"Show me," she whispered, voice already shaking.

Lando practically lifted her off her feet, carrying her the few stumbling steps to the bed. He set her down at the edge, but didn’t back off. His hands were already at the knot of her dress, yanking at the silky fabric like it offended him.

“Is this okay?” he panted, breathless.

“Yes," she gasped. "Please, Lando."

The dress hit the floor in seconds, leaving her in just a wisp of lace panties, flushed and trembling, already breathless.

“Fuck,” he groaned, falling to his knees between her thighs without hesitation.

He didn't tease. Didn't waste a second.

His hands gripped her thighs, spreading her open. He buried his face in her pussy, licking one long, filthy stripe through her folds before sealing his mouth around her clit.

Ariana let out a broken cry, her head falling back, fists tangling in his curls.

He groaned into her, the vibrations making her hips buck, grinding shamelessly against his mouth.

"You taste so good, my love," he murmured against her, then dove back in — lapping at her like he was starving, like nothing else existed but her.

He slid two fingers inside her at the same time, pumping them deep, curling up into the perfect spot, while his tongue flicked relentlessly over her clit.

It was overwhelming.

She was already soaked, trembling, helpless against the onslaught.

“Lando—fuck—I’m—” she sobbed, thighs squeezing around his head.

He grunted and sucked harder, fingers working faster.

She shattered, loud, wild, crying his name as she came on his tongue, thighs quivering, pulling his hair so hard he moaned against her.

He didn’t stop.

He worked her through it, drawing every last spasm from her until she collapsed back onto the bed, panting, too sensitive and dizzy to think.

Only then did he finally lift his head, chin shiny, eyes dark and wrecked.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning darkly.

He stripped fast, shirt, jeans, boxers, his cock flushed and thick, slapping against his stomach.

Ariana reached for him, wrapping her hand around him, and he hissed, hips jerking forward into her palm.

"You're trying to kill me," he muttered, grabbing her wrist and pushing her back onto the bed.

He grabbed a condom from the nightstand, ripped it open with trembling fingers, and rolled it on fast.

Then he was on top of her, body heavy and solid and hot against hers, kissing her hard again as he lined himself up and pushed inside in one brutal, perfect thrust.

They both cried out, Ariana clawing at his shoulders, Lando gasping like he was drowning.

He set a hard, punishing rhythm, fucking her deep and fast, grinding into her clit every time he slammed back. The bed rocked, the headboard slammed rhythmically into the wall, and neither of them cared.

"Harder," she begged, nails raking down his back.

Lando growled and pinned her wrists above her head, thrusting even deeper, until her breath was ripped from her lungs with every movement.

But after a while, she shoved at his chest, panting, desperate.

"Let me," she gasped. "I want to ride you."

His eyes went wide, feral. He flipped them instantly, collapsing onto his back and dragging her on top of him.

Ariana wasted no time, grabbing his cock, lining herself up, and sinking down onto him in one slow, devastating slide.

Lando howled, a raw, broken sound, hands flying to her hips, grabbing hard enough to bruise.

"Fuck, Ari—" he choked out, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut.

She started moving, slow, grinding rolls of her hips, dragging her clit perfectly against his pelvis.

Lando’s hands flexed on her hips, trying to stay still, trying not to lose it.

"You like this?" she teased, voice wrecked and breathless.

He just groaned, loud, desperate, the sound tearing straight from his chest.

He thrust up into her involuntarily, hips jerking, chasing her heat like he couldn’t help himself.

"You’re so fucking good," he gasped. "Gonna fucking come if you keep doing that."

Ariana laughed breathlessly, riding him harder — bouncing in messy, frantic thrusts that had Lando clawing at her waist, totally wrecked under her.

But her thighs started shaking, muscles burning, her rhythm faltering.

"Lando—my legs—"

He kept his hands tight on her hips but didn’t flip her again.

Instead, he thrust up into her, hard, deep strokes from underneath, slamming into her again and again.

Ariana sobbed, body rocking helplessly, her hands grabbing at his chest for balance.

He pounded into her, panting against her skin, whispering her name like a prayer.

“Come for me, love,” he gasped. “Come with me.”

And she did, hard, clenching around him with a cry, body locking up, eyes squeezed shut.

Lando followed almost instantly a wrecked, desperate groan tearing from his throat, thrusting deep and grinding hard as he spilled into the condom, body trembling under hers.

They collapsed into a sweaty, tangled heap, Ariana sprawled over his chest, both of them gasping like they’d run a marathon.

Lando’s arms wrapped tight around her, holding her against him like he physically couldn’t let go.

He kissed her hair, her shoulder, the side of her neck, small, dazed kisses between every ragged breath.

"You okay?" she asked, teasing gently, still panting.

He just moaned weakly against her neck.

"Lando," she teased, laughing softly. "You’re suffocate me right now."

He groaned again, louder this time and flipped them onto their sides, tucking her under his chin like a blanket he refused to give up.

"Can't’ help myself," he mumbled against her hair. "M’serious. You’re perfect."

Ariana curled into his chest, her fingers drawing soft patterns over his heart.

Lando kissed the top of her head.

“I didn’t know it could feel like that,” she whispered.

“Me neither.”

“I think I’m in love with you.” she confess.

His arms tightened.

“I know I’m in love with you.” Lando answers.

And beneath the stars still shining through the window, they held each other.

Not just after sex.

Not just after the high.

But after the start of something real.

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12

Let me know if you wanted to be added to the taglist !

311 notes · View notes

mafiadad5 · 8 months ago

Text

How can you mend a broken heart? [lmk]

“It’s only to make him Jealous Y/n, swear.”

✧ mark lee x fem!reader

✧ Genre- angst, fluff, mutual pining, best friends to strangers to lovers, fake dating, university au (only implied once though).

✧ Wc- 11k

✧ Warnings- heartbreak, kissing.

✧ Playlist- how can you mend a broken heart - Al Green / Moon river - Frank Ocean / Lose Control - Teddy Swims / Tell Him - Ms. Lauryn Hill / At Last - Etta James / ✧

a/n- omg hi again! I enjoyed writing my last mark angst so I decided to do another one with a… happier ending. I hope you guys enjoy!

────୨ৎ────

"Hey, I got here as fast as I could... woah dude, are you okay?" Mark's smile dropped the moment he saw your puffy, watery eyes through the door frame. You didn't say anything, just reached out and pulled him into a hug, sobbing into his chest.

"We're done, we're really done, Mark... it's over." Your voice trembled, each word fragile as you struggled to keep your emotions together.

Mark froze for a second, caught off guard before gently wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in tighter. His shirt dampened from your tears, but he didn't care. He just held you, trying to steady you with his presence.

"Wait who? You and Jaemin?" Mark asked, his voice filled with concern as he stepped into your apartment, closing the door behind him without letting go. His arm remained firmly around your waist, supporting you as you buried your face in his chest.

You nodded, struggling to breathe between sobs. "We had this huge fight over... Minecraft, Mark— fucking Minecraft! He told me he couldn't do this anymore. That we weren't going to work, and he just left."

You pulled back from the hug, your lip quivering uncontrollably as hot tears streamed down your face. The disbelief, the shock of it all was hitting you hard. Your mind was racing, replaying the fight over and over. It felt surreal how something so stupid could destroy everything.

Mark's eyebrows shot up, a brief expression of surprise painting his face. "Minecraft...?" He raised a brow, and for a split second, the corner of his mouth shaped into a small smirk.

Your expression shifted, eyes narrowing. "It's not funny." you muttered, voice cracking. "It's not-”

"No, no, I know. It's not funny." Mark quickly interrupted, his smirk fading as he saw the pain in your eyes. "I'm sorry Y/n. It's not funny at all."

"What an asshole for breaking up with you over Minecraft of all things." He paused, shaking his head in disbelief as he looked at you.

You let out a shaky breath, wiping your face with the back of your hand, but the tears kept coming. "It wasn't just the game Mark. He said he's been feeling like this for a while. That I didn't 'get him' anymore. And that stupid argument was just the last straw, I guess."

"Dude that still doesn't give him the right to like, leave you like that, over something so... stupid. If he was feeling something, he should've talked to you. It's not on you to just magically know what he's thinking." Mark said, eyes softening as he gently cupped your shoulder, guiding you to the couch.

You sat down, pulling your knees to your chest, staring blankly at the floor. "I thought we were fine. Like, we had our ups and downs, but I thought we would work through it."

Mark sat next to you, his arm sliding around your shoulders, pulling you close again. "You didn't do anything wrong. If he's been feeling this way and didn't tell you, that's on him, not you. You're not a mind reader."

You leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder. "I just... I feel so stupid. Over a game, Mark. Who loses someone they love over Minecraft?"

"It's not stupid." Mark said softly.

"He's the one who made this bigger than it needed to be. It could've been a conversation, but he turned it into something else. He made the choice to walk away, not you."

"But what if I'm not enough? What if... I never was?" You sniffed, trying to stop the fresh tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

Mark tightened his grip around you, his voice firm. "Don't say that. You are more than enough. Jaemin didn't deserve you if he couldn't see that. You deserve someone who's going to communicate, who's going to fight for you, not leave over some dumb fight."

You stayed quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. His warmth and presence were the only things keeping you sane right now. Mark always knew how to make you feel safe, even when everything around you was falling apart.

"I don't know how to move on from this." You whispered lightly.

"You don't have to figure it all out right now—" Mark said gently.

"I'm here, okay? We'll get through this together. One step at a time. And if that means we stay up all night, then so be it. Or like you know, we can just destroy things in creative mode until you feel better."

A small laugh escaped you, despite everything. It was weak, but it was there. "That... actually sounds kind of nice."

Mark grinned, nudging you playfully. "See? One tiny step forward already. And seriously man, Jaemin doesn't know what he's missing."

You wiped your face again, the tears slowing. "Thanks Mark. I really don't know what I'd do without you."

His expression softened as he smiled. "Well, you'll never have to find out, because I'm not going anywhere."

You laid your head on his shoulder, sitting silently as you two took in each other’s embrace.

Aren’t you glad to have a best friend like Mark?

────୨ৎ────

"So, how are you feeling?" Mark asked, his eyes flickering between the movie on the screen and you. The soft glow from the TV cast shadows across the room, but his attention was entirely on you.

You took a handful of popcorn and slowly chewed, letting out a deep sigh as you leaned back against the couch. "Better..." you said, forcing a small smile. It wasn't entirely true, but sitting next to him, you felt a little more at ease.

Mark smiled softly, sensing your hesitation, but he didn't push for more. For a moment, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, the background noise of the movie filling the space between your thoughts, but the quiet never lasted long.

You sat up suddenly, huffing as you crossed your arms. "Ugh Mark, it's just like—why did this have to happen to me? We're in the same friend group, and now it's gonna be so awkward. I can't even think about how I'll face him."

As if on cue, your phone buzzed on the coffee table, lighting up with notifications from the group chat. A notification from your group of friends. You frowned as you swiped the notifications away.

Mark glanced at his own phone, seeing the same texts. "You know me and my ex are in that friend group too, and it hasn't affected anything," He said, giving a small shrug. "As you can see, we've all moved on and if Jaemin has any sense left, he'll do the same. He won't bring anything up and will just... leave you alone."

Mark's voice trailed off as his phone buzzed again. "Plus, it looks like he's already getting the memo. He hasn't said a word since-"

"Well, what about me, Mark?!" You blurted out, pressing the "Do Not Disturb" button on your phone in frustration, your voice rising as you tossed your phone aside and slumped back onto the couch, lips forming a pout. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Mark follow your lead, tapping the same option on his own screen. It made you smile a little, knowing that even in this, he was quietly on your side.

Mark sighed and nudged you lightly with his elbow. "Look, just stop overthinking it, okay? Watch the movie. Everything will be fine. Trust me."

When you didn't respond he reached out, gently brushing away a few popcorn crumbs from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. His touch lingered for a second longer than necessary and you caught his gaze, feeling a flutter in your chest. For a moment the tension between you shifted—just the slightest flicker, but enough to make you feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

"You know..." You said, trying to distract yourself from the sudden tension."You'd make such a better boyfriend than Jaemin. How'd you and your ex break up again?"

"She broke up with me to 'focus on herself' or something like that. Honestly, I don't even care anymore. I'm over it." Mark said chuckling, shaking his head.

"Oh my god, yeah, no, I remember that. I knew there was another reason I didn't like her." You said with a teasing smile

Mark raised an eyebrow, his curiosity scratching at him. "Wait, what's the first reason?"

You raised your eyebrows right back, a mischievous smirk painting your lips. "Naw, don't get quiet now!" Mark teased, his tone light but challenging. "Tell me, or I’ll tell her you didn't like her this whole time."

"Stop Mark, oh my god. She probably already knows anyway." You giggled, swatting him playfully.

Both of you broke into laughter, the playful energy between you easing the tension, but then, your phone lit up again, snapping you both out of the moment. It was another group chat notification. You glanced at the screen, and Mark did the same.

“You're invited to my mini get together at the arcade tomorrow at 8. Idc if you're busy, drop it and be there!”

You sighed heavily and turned your phone off, tossing it aside again.

"We're gonna have so much fun." Mark said sarcastically, even though he was already typing a confirmation in the chat.

"We're not gonna have anything because I'm not going." You muttered, folding your arms across your chest. You could feel his gaze shift to you, the teasing gone from his face.

"Dude. Yes, you are." He said, his voice firm but gentle.

"Look at me! I can't go out and see him this soon. I'm a mess, Mark." You shot back, gesturing at yourself with a frown.

"You're not a mess." He said, shaking his head, his eyes softening as he watched you.

"You're upset, and that's normal. But trust me, you can do this. He didn't even respond to the invite, see? He's probably not even going. I'll be with you the entire time."

You wanted to hide from everything, from everyone, but the way Mark was looking at you—his eyes filled with quiet determination, like he wouldn't take no for an answer made it hard to refuse.

"Seriously Y/n, please come. I'll make sure it's not awkward, I swear." He said, his voice low, almost pleading.

You stared at him, meeting his gaze. After a long pause, you finally let out a sigh. "Fine... fine, I'll go." You mumbled, grabbing your phone to confirm in the group chat.

Mark's face broke into a wide smile, his eyes lighting up. "Thank you! You won't regret it. I'll make sure we have fun."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help smiling at his excitement. "You better." You muttered.

"So, I'm obviously staying the night, right? Where are my pajamas? I know I left them here somewhere." Mark said, standing up and stretching, grinning down at you.

"You always do this.” You laughed, shaking your head, getting up to retrieve them from the closet. As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you—lingering.

As you handed him his pajamas, his fingers brushed yours briefly. Mark smiled at you, softer this time, and for a moment it felt like the room had shrunk around the two of you, like the world outside didn't exist.

"Thanks." He murmured, looking at you with sparkling eyes. You held his gaze for a beat longer than usual, before turning away.

"Yeah... no problem." You whispered, getting settled back onto the couch.

────୨ৎ────

"Y/n, are you ready? I'm here."

You read the text from Mark, your phone screen glowing as you sat on the edge of your bed.

"No." you typed back quickly, slightly confused when he left you on read. A few minutes later you heard a knock on your door. You opened it and of course... Mark was standing there, a playful grin on his face.

"Dude, I seriously thought you flaked on me—" he said but paused, his eyes widening as they scanned you from head to toe. "Damn girl. We're going to an arcade, not a fine dining restaurant."

"Mark stop." You giggled, slipping on your shoes. "I'm just wearing a skirt and a shirt." You grabbed your bag and led him out the door.

"Yeah, but you look good though man. Like, really pretty and stuff like that" he stuttered awkwardly, a nervous smile creeping onto his face. Your own smile mirroring his.

"Thank you Mark." you responded softly.

"Oh, and good news. Jaemin's not even gonna be there. He never responded." He added, glancing at his phone as you walked toward his car.

"That's a relief." You said, but the unease in your stomach didn't completely fade. You climbed into the passenger seat, hoping tonight would go smoothly.

When you and Mark arrived at the arcade you both walked in with smiles, ready to see your friends, but the moment your eyes scanned the room, your smile dropped. There sitting at the table, laughing with the group, was Jaemin.

Your heart dropped. Out of instinct, you grabbed Mark's hand, holding it tightly to stop any emotion from showing on your face.

"Sorry- " You muttered, quickly pulling your hand away. It wasn't like it was the first time you'd held Mark's hand, but tonight, it felt different. More... loaded. Before he could respond you spoke again, your voice filled with nervous frustration.

"Mark you said he wasn't gonna be here." You whispered, glancing at him with betrayal.

"I didn't know!" Mark raised his hands in defense, looking at you with those endearing, soft eyes.

"Listen, no matter what, I promised you a good time, and I'm sticking to that. That's what's gonna happen." He gave you a reassuring smile and before you could say anything he slid his hand into yours again, this time intentionally.

You blinked at him, feeling a wave of warmth spread through your chest as his thumb lightly brushed your knuckles.

"Okay?" He asked, his eyes locking with yours.

"Okay." You nodded, squeezing his hand back.

As Mark led you toward the group, you couldn't help but notice the heat of his hand still in yours. Your friends greeted you with excited smiles, but your eyes immediately moved to Jaemin, sitting there with a bitter expression, his gaze on your joined hands.

"Oooo, what's this?" One of your friends teased, wiggling her eyebrows as she eyed the two of you.

You and Mark stayed silent, sharing an awkward smile, but neither of you let go.

"I thought you were with Jaemin?" Someone else asked, causing the group to agree in confusion.

"We—" you began, but quickly cut yourself off.

"He broke up with me." You said, your voice a bit too smug as you shot a look directly at Jaemin, everyone's attention shifting to him.

"And it looks like you didn't have trouble finding a replacement quickly, huh?" Jaemin responded coldly, crossing his arms.

"Mark has been my best friend for years, so was it really a replacement when he was here first?" You retorted.

The group fell into silence, all eyes falling between you and Jaemin, waiting for his reaction.

Jaemin scoffed, his lips turning into a sarcastic smirk.

"Oh right. 'Best friends'. "Funny how 'best friends' always seem to turn into something more the second things end, huh? Makes me wonder what was really going on before we broke up." He said, his tone mocking.

Mark's body tensed beside you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. You could feel the anger radiating from him, but before he could speak, Jaemin interrupted him. "I guess you're really good at keeping your 'options' open aren't you?"

You took a sharp breath, eyes dark as you looked at him. "Another excuse? Was Minecraft not enough?"

The room erupted into quiet whispers, and one of your friends spoke up, "Wait dude... you broke up with her over Minecraft?"

Jaemin's smirk fell for a second.

"It was more complicated than that." He started, but before he could finish someone else interrupted.

"Guys! Can we please just eat and play games like we planned instead of focusing on Mark and Y/n's new relationship?" A loud voice broke through the tension, trying to steer the conversation away.

"Sounds like a plan." Someone else laughed, trying to ease the mood, but as the group prepared to move to the arcade section, Jaemin spoke once again.

"Notice how they didn't deny it though."

"DUDE, CMON." Someone yelled, dragging Jaemin away from the both of you.

Inside the arcade the atmosphere lightened as your friends scattered to play games. The flashing lights and music filled the room helping you momentarily forget the earlier tension.

You and Mark stuck close together, trying out various games, but even in the chaos of flashing neon lights and arcade noises, you couldn't shake the way you felt whenever Mark looked at you. At one point, Mark pulled you toward a basketball shooting game.

"Think you can beat me?" He teased, tossing a ball between his hands.

"Of course I can." You laughed, stepping up to the machine.

The game began and you focused on shooting as many baskets as possible, the competition between you heating up. When the game ended, Mark had won by just a few points, but you noticed he seemed more distracted by you than by the score.

"Guess I'm still the champion." He said, leaning in closer as he spoke, his voice lower than usual.

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes, but smiled, nudging him playfully.

"You only won because I was distracted."

"Oh yeah? By what?" He asked, tilting his head slightly, his stare intense.

You paused, looking everywhere but his eyes.

"By... everything." You mumbled, feeling a little hot.

"Well, you're not the only one." He smiled, cheekbones prominent as he looked at you with sparkling eyes.

"Uh huh, says the all time champion." You chuckle, placing your hand on his chest, trying to push him away before the moment was interrupted.

"Hey you two! Stop flirting and come play air hockey with us."

"Stop!" You whine jokingly, looking back at Mark, realizing your hand is still resting on his chest.

"Oh oops." You both laughed awkwardly, his cheeks flushed. But as you followed your friends, you couldn't help but feel like something had shifted between you and Mark... well... maybe not? You don't know, it doesn't matter anyways.

The night had gone better than you expected, and you found yourself laughing with Mark as you headed to the car. The tension from earlier with Jaemin had mostly melted away.

"See, I told you we were gonna have fun." Mark said, glancing over with a smile that made your chest feel warm.

"Yeah I had a good time. I'm glad you convinced me to come out." You giggled, leaning back in your seat, grinning to yourself, but the moment faded as Mark went quiet, the silence lingering, thickening the air between you.

"So... when are we gonna tell them that we're actually not dating?" Mark asked, breaking the silence. His tone was light, but something about the question made your grin fall as you stared out the window.

"They'll figure it out eventually." You replied, turning to face him with a forced smile, trying to keep things casual.

Mark hummed in response, his focus shifting back to the road, but the easy vibe from earlier was gone, replaced by something heavier, something unsaid.

He pulled up to your apartment complex, the car engine humming softly as you prepared to get out.

"Thanks for tonight Mark. I'll see you later." You said, trying to sound optimistic.

"Wait—don't you want me to walk you in?" He asked, concern flickering in his eyes.

"No thanks. I’m good, seriously." You said, smiling again, his sad eyes lingering on you a little longer than usual. Something about the way he was looking at you made your heart do a weird flip, that look in his eyes.

"See you later boyfriend." You teased trying to break the tension before the air could get even weirder.

"See you later girlfriend." Mark smiled, even though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

As you shut the car door and walked up to your apartment, a strange mix of emotions welled up inside you. You felt confused—happy maybe?—but also kind of hollow.

Something about the whole night left you unsettled. You collapsed onto your couch, trying to make sense of it, when you heard a knock at the door, startling you.

You opened it to see Mark standing there again, biting his lip nervously.

"Mark. What do you want?" you joked, even though a small part of you meant it.

"Can I talk to you real quick?" He asked, stepping inside without waiting for an answer. The look in his eyes was different now, more serious.

"Yeah, sure." You said, sitting down beside him on the couch.

"What's going on?"

"It's nothing super serious, but... hear me out?" He looked like he was bracing himself for something, and you nodded, feeling the shift in the air. "Maybe we should, like... act like we're dating for real. You know, like fake date." he stuttered on his words, his eyes flicking nervously to yours. "To make Jaemin jealous."

"You want to fake date... to get back at Jaemin?" You blinked, caught off guard.

"He was definitely rattled tonight, you saw that."

You just stared at him blankly.

"And he deserves it for how he treated you. Plus, it'd be easy right? We've been best friends forever, so it wouldn't even be weird." Mark continued, his words rushing out as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

You couldn't help but laugh, scratching the back of your head. "Mark, this is a very... wild idea… so what, we're just gonna fake a big breakup later too?"

He waved that off, grinning. "Dude we'll deal with that later. Come on Y/n, this could be fun. And it's not like there's anything complicated between us—we don't like each other like that, so it's just, like, a fun game. Right?"

Your heart squeezed at that last part, the words hitting a little harder than you expected. No feelings? Nothing complicated?

After a pause, you nodded. "Ok. Let's do it."

“Yes! This is gonna be awesome." Mark said, face lighting up as he grabbed your hands in excitement, his energy infectious.

You watched him for a second, trying to ignore how warm his hands felt holding yours, how his smile seemed to linger a little too long on his face.

"You seem a little too excited about this." You teased, trying to push aside the growing tension inside you.

"What can I say? Fake dating my best friend sounds kinda fun." He shrugged, a smile still on his face.

You raised an eyebrow, but before you could respond, you yawned, feeling the exhaustion from the night catch up with you.

"Ok Mark. I'm tired, so you can, like... leave now." You said with a laugh.

Mark stood up, pretending to look hurt. "Wow, kicking your boyfriend out already. I want to break up."

You froze for a second, your eyes widening in shock.

His face softened when he realized what he'd said. "Or... maybe not! Bye Y/n."

You rolled your eyes, shutting the door on him, but just as you started to walk away, you heard another knock. You opened the door again to see him grinning sheepishly.

"You didn't say bye back." He said, eyes twinkling.

"Bye Mark." You said. You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head.

As you closed the door for the second time, you stood there for a moment, your heart pounding a little faster than it should have been. You were in a fake relationship with your best friend now. Nothing could go wrong with that... right?

────୨ৎ────

The next few days passed in a blur and nothing major had changed on the surface, but there was an undeniable shift between you and Mark. You kept telling yourself it was just the fake dating thing that made everything feel... different, but now every time you texted or hung out, the words carried a weight they never had before.

That became clear the next time Mark showed up at your apartment. You were getting ready for another group hangout, some casual lunch with everyone—including Jaemin. Mark arrived early as usual, but instead of heading straight out, he lingered by the door.

"Do I look okay?" You asked, adjusting your outfit in the mirror. It was an innocent question, one you had asked him hundred times before, but this time, when he looked at you, his gaze lingered.

"You look great." He said, his voice quieter than usual.

His eyes traveled from your face, down to your shoes, then back up, locking on yours. Your stomach flipped, and you turned away, breaking the moment. You were just reading into things. That's all.

"Thanks. You're not too bad yourself." You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Mark chuckled, but it felt off, a little awkward.

"Ready to go?" He asked, grabbing the keys from the counter.

As you stepped out together you couldn't shake the feeling that something was brewing, something neither of you were saying.

Lunch with the group was surprisingly less tense than the last hangout. Jaemin was there, but he didn't cause any scenes, probably because the rest of the group was on high alert. You sat next to Mark as usual, and he played his part perfectly, but then there was a moment when the group had split up to order food.

You and Mark were left alone at the table, the buzz of the restaurant fading into the background as you both sat there in silence.

"You're doing okay, right?" Mark asked, his voice softer than before.

"Yeah." You said, even though it felt like a lie. You weren't sure what "okay" even meant anymore.

"It's just weird, you know? Being around him like this."

Mark nodded, his hand resting on the table between you. You stared at it for a moment, then felt a sudden rush of warmth as his fingers brushed yours.

He didn't pull away.

Your heart thudded in your chest. You told yourself it was just part of the act—something to keep up appearances, but when you looked up and met Mark's eyes, there was a flicker of something real in them. Something unspoken, but heavy. You quickly looked away, pretending to check your phone. "Everyone's taking forever to order." You said, forcing a laugh.

Mark didn't say anything for a second, his fingers still brushing against yours, but eventually he pulled his hand back.

"Yeah, they are." He said, his voice tight.

The rest of lunch passed quickly, the conversation flowing but your mind kept drifting to that moment at the table. You tried to push it aside—tried to focus on what you had agreed on, that this was just an act, but with every glance Mark threw your way, every small smile that seemed more genuine than playful, you felt that barrier between friendship and something more begin to crumble.

Later that evening, you found yourself sitting on the couch, replaying the day in your head. It wasn't like anything major had happened, but the tension between you and Mark was starting to feel impossible to ignore.

A text lit up your phone.

“Hey, you still up?”

You smiled, replying quickly.

“Yeah, what's up?”

“ I was just thinking... about earlier. Do you think we're doing a good job selling this whole "dating" thing?”

You paused, unsure how to respond. He was clearly still in "fake dating" mode, but for you... you didn't know what mode you were in.

“Yeah, I think it's going pretty well. Why?”

“Just making sure man. I don't want Jaemin or anyone thinking we're half-assing it.”

You stared at the message for a moment, the weight of what wasn't being said hanging between the lines. It would be so easy to just laugh it off, keep things as they were.

But...

“You know, sometimes I forget we're faking it.”

The message sat there on your screen, your heart racing as you hit send. You didn't know what you were expecting—maybe a joke or some lighthearted reply to brush it all off.

But his reply came.

“Yeah. Me too.”

You stared at his message, your heart pounding harder now. The space between you had shifted again, but this time it felt like there was no going back.

────୨ৎ────

The next day you and Mark tried to go back to normal, pretending like nothing had changed after that conversation. It was easy enough at first. You had a study session planned and just like old times, Mark showed up with snacks and a hoodie that was two sizes too big. You sat cross legged on the floor, books sprawled out in front of you, Mark was on the couch, pretending to focus.

Every once in a while you'd catch him glancing at you, or you'd find yourself zoning out, staring at the way his hands fidgeted with the corner of a page. The atmosphere was different, and you both knew it.

Still, you didn't talk about it.

"So." Mark said, breaking the silence, "I was thinking we should do something tomorrow. You know, for the whole... fake dating thing." He fumbled with his words, like he was trying to find the right balance between casual and something else.

"Like another group hangout?" You asked, looking up at him.

"Maybe…or just the two of us? We could go out and get coffee or something, act like we're on a date. Just to keep up the illusion."

A spark flickered in your chest, but you quickly pushed it down. It's just for the act, you reminded yourself. Nothing more.

"Yeah, that makes sense." you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "We should probably post something too. You know, sell it on social media."

Mark nodded, a little too quickly. "Exactly. People will totally buy it if they see us together more."

There was an awkward pause, both of you knowing full well that you already spent nearly all your time together, but not willing to admit it. Instead, you focused on flipping through the pages of your textbook, hoping that the silence would swallow up the tension.

After a while Mark stretched out on the couch, staring at the ceiling. "It's kinda funny, isn't it?" He said, almost speaking to himself.

"What is?"

"How we've been best friends for years and no one ever thought we'd be more and now we're pretending to be something we never were."

You laughed lightly, but it felt forced. “Yeah…funny." You paused, tapping your pen against the edge of your notebook. "But like, it's not a big deal, right? I mean, we know it's just fake."

"Right." Mark echoed, but there was something in his tone that made it sound like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

You glanced up at him, catching his eyes for a split second before he quickly looked away, his face flushing just slightly. There it was again—that weird tension that made everything feel more complicated than it should be.

"Yeah…" You said, forcing a smile, "just fake."

The words hung in the air between you like an unspoken agreement, both of you clinging to the safety of that label ‘fake’. As long as you called it that, you could deny everything else.

Later that evening, after Mark had left and you were alone in your apartment, you couldn't shake the strange feeling that had settled over you. Your mind kept wandering back to the way he'd looked at you—like there was something he wanted to say, but didn't.

You weren't supposed to think about Mark like this. He was your best friend. That's all he’s ever been, and that's all this was supposed to be. You were fake dating to make Jaemin jealous, to get back at him, not because you actually had feelings for Mark. That would be ridiculous, but despite how much you tried to convince yourself, there was a tiny voice in the back of your head that kept whispering otherwise, it always did.

You shook your head, tossing your phone onto the couch. This was just a weird phase where you were overthinking everything because of the fake relationship. You and Mark would go back to normal soon, and all this awkward tension would fade away. It had to.

But as you lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, you couldn't help but wonder what would happen if it didn't.

────୨ৎ────

The next day, you and Mark met up for coffee, just like he had suggested. It was supposed to be casual—a fake date to keep up appearances. But the second you walked into the café together, the mood shifted.

Mark held the door open for you, his hand brushing against yours as you walked past him and it sent a jolt through you that you tried to ignore. He was just being polite.

Friendly.

Nothing more.

You ordered your drinks and sat by the window, the sunlight streaming in and casting a warm glow on the table. Mark was fidgeting again, playing with the sleeve of his hoodie, his knee bouncing up and down under the table.

"You're nervous?" You teased, trying to break the tension.

"What? No I'm not." He said quickly, but his knee stopped bouncing, and he gave you a sheepish grin. "Okay, maybe a little. I'm just not used to... this."

"Neither am I." You admitted, stirring your coffee aimlessly.

"But it's fine. We've got this."

"Yeah. It's just pretend anyway.” Mark said, his eyes darting to the window, avoiding yours.

"Right. Just pretend."

But as the conversation drifted to other topics and you both laughed like you always did, the line between pretending and something more blurred again. You weren't supposed to feel this comfortable with him. You weren't supposed to notice how his eyes crinkled when he smiled or how your heart sped up when he laughed at one of your dumb jokes.

You weren't supposed to feel like this was more than fake.

But you did.

And judging by the way Mark's gaze lingered on you a little too long when he thought you weren't looking, you had a feeling he was feeling the same. Neither of you said it, though. You both kept pretending. Because it was safer that way.

────୨ৎ────

You'd been feeling pretty good about the whole "fake relationship" situation. Things with Mark were comfortable, just like they always had been, and somehow playing this little game in front of your friends made everything seem almost... fun. It was easy with him. He was always easy to be around, but that changed when you spotted him with his ex.

It was by pure chance—coming out of a coffee shop with your hands full of iced drinks, you saw them together on the sidewalk. She was laughing at something he said, her hand brushing his arm lightly as they walked. Mark... he looked at her like he used to. Like she was the only person in the world. You felt your stomach twist painfully, a lump forming in your throat.

You didn't want to feel hurt. It was ridiculous, wasn't it? You were just pretending. This whole thing with Mark was fake. So why did it feel so real all of a sudden?

You swallowed hard, gripping the drink carrier a little tighter as you walked past them, pretending you didn't notice. Mark didn't even see you.

You were sitting back at home. Before you could spiral any further, your phone buzzed.

"Hey, wanna hang out later? 😊"

Your head lingered on what you saw earlier before you replied.

"Yeah, sure."

Later that evening, when you met up with Mark everything was still fresh in your mind. He greeted you with his usual wide smile, but you couldn't help but notice the slight hesitancy in his step as he approached.

"What's up?" He asked, nudging your shoulder lightly. "You seem quiet."

"I'm good. Just thinking." You responded, forcing a smile.

"Thinking too much, as usual." He giggled, giving you another playful nudge, trying to lighten the mood.

You let out a small laugh, but it felt hollow. You couldn't bring yourself to bring up his ex just yet. What were you going to say anyway? It wasn't your business. You and Mark were only pretending to be together, but as you walked, chatting about nothing in particular, the question was burning on the tip of your tongue.

"So... how was your day?" You asked casually, hoping he’d bring it up.

"Pretty chill. Just hung out with some people." He shrugged. “But now it’s better cause I’m with you.” He smiled, looking at you with those same sparkling eyes.

And you kept up the act, laughing along, pretending it didn't bother you.

But it did.

That night, when you were alone, the uneasiness grew. You couldn't stop picturing them together. The way she smiled at him, how comfortable they looked. What really made you more uneasy was the fact that he hid it from you and acted like nothing happened earlier— makes you wonder how many times this has been happening.

The level of hurt you felt was immense, the person who was supposed to protect you from your feelings, made you hurt even more… and before you knew it, you were staring at your phone, hovering over Jaemin's name in your contacts.

You bit your lip, hesitating for just a moment before typing a message.

“Hey... can we talk?”

It felt strange reaching out to him after everything, but you weren't trying to get back together. You just wanted something to ground you, something familiar, someone who could remind you of who you were before everything got messy.

Jaemin responded almost immediately.

“Yeah. Want to meet up?”

Your heart raced as you stared at his text. Was this the right thing to do? You weren't sure, but the thought of seeing Mark with his ex again made you feel like you had to do something.

“Sure.”

You agreed to meet the next day, and you knew deep down that fixing things with Jaemin wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't erase the strange ache you felt watching Mark with someone else. But maybe, just maybe, it would help distract you from it.

At least for a little while.

────୨ৎ────

Ever since you spotted Mark with his ex something in you shifted. You tried not to let it get to you, tried to remind yourself that it shouldn't matter, but the hurt was there, like an ache you couldn't shake. It was hard enough pretending this fake relationship wasn't confusing your feelings more every day, and now this?

The group meet up was supposed to be just another casual hangout, but this time you didn't feel like riding with Mark. After everything that had happened, especially seeing him with his ex, you weren't sure if you could sit in the car with him without it all bubbling to the surface.

So, when he offered to pick you up, you quickly shot it down, saying you'd drive yourself.

"Okay... cool." Mark said, sounding a little confused, but brushing it off. He didn't push it, and that was fine by you.

The arcade was buzzing when you arrived and you immediately spotted Jaemin. You hadn't expected things to be so easy between the two of you, but somehow they were. You weren't getting back together or anything, but there was a sense of comfort now. Your interactions became normal as you both slipped back into old habits—laughing, joking, sharing quick, familiar smiles.

You felt lighter, or at least you wanted to, but the second Mark walked in that fragile peace shattered. You could feel his eyes on you from across the room, the weight of his stare practically pulling you toward him, but you forced yourself to stay focused on Jaemin.

You barely acknowledged him. Every time he tried to speak, you turned to someone else, laughing a little louder, pretending everything was fine. You didn't trust yourself to talk to him, not with how confused and hurt you still felt.

Finally, Mark had enough, standing up and walking over to you. voice low as he asked "Hey, can we talk? Outside?"

You sighed, giving Jaemin a quick glance before standing up. "Yeah, sure."

The second you were outside Mark turned to you, his jaw clenched. "What's going on with you and Jaemin?"

"Nothing. We're fine now. What, is that a problem?" You crossed your arms, not wanting to do this, but knowing you couldn't avoid it forever.

Mark's brows furrowed, his voice rising slightly. "It kinda feels like it is. We're supposed to be... you know, close. And now you're acting like I don't exist... You've been ignoring me all night Y/n. And now you're good with him again?"

Your frustration finally bubbled over. "Why do you even care Mark? It's not like you cared when you were hanging out with your ex."

Mark blinked, caught off guard. "What? What are you talking about?"

"I saw you." You said, the bitterness creeping into your voice. "I saw you with her. You two looked pretty close."

He stared at you, eyes wide in shock. "Y/n, it wasn't like that. We were just talking. It didn't mean anything."

"When we started fake dating it wasn't just about making Jaemin jealous, was it? You wanted her attention too." You swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Mark's eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by your words. "What? No Y/n, that's not—" he started, stumbling over his own thoughts. "It wasn't about her. I didn't- I thought we were both in on it, just... trying to move on." His voice softened, the uncertainty in his eyes betraying his attempt to seem sure of himself.

You shook your head, the sting of disappointment tightening in your chest. "That's the thing, Mark. It feels like you did choose her—again. Every time you get close to me, you pull back the second she's around." Your voice wavered, the hurt slipping out despite how hard you tried to keep it in.

"What?" Mark asked, genuinely confused now, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated now. "But we're together, Y/n?" He said, almost as if he believed it himself.

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. "Oh, now we're together? You didn't seem to be thinking about me when you were with her."

Mark's face twisted, frustration mixing with something else—something deeper. "That's not fair." He muttered, stepping closer. "You know it's not like that."

"Then what is it like Mark? Because I don't know what to think anymore. You were the one person I never thought I'd have to guard my heart from." You spoke, your voice softer now, but still filled with pain.

The air between you was thick with unspoken words, tension swirling in the space as Mark stood there, his gaze locked on yours. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way his expression shifted from frustration to something softer, something vulnerable.

You tried to turn away, but he reached out, gently grabbing your wrist. "You don't have to guard your heart away from me... tell me how you feel."

You shook your head, trying to pull away, but he wouldn't let you. "Mark, let's just—"

Before you could say anything else, he moved closer. Then, without another word, he leaned in.

His lips were on yours, urgent and desperate, like he was trying to make sense of everything the only way he knew how, and you let yourself fall into it.

It was good… too good, and it made your head spin. It wasn't a soft kiss, not hesitant or uncertain. It was filled with the weight of everything you'd both been holding back—the confusion, the tension, the yearning that had built up over time.

For a second, you let yourself melt into him, feeling his warmth, the way his hands gently cupped your face like he was scared you'd pull away, your hands gripping his shirt. For a moment, it felt right—like all the confusion, had led to this, but then reality hit you again, hard.

"You're so confusing." You whispered, pulling away from him.

Without waiting for him to respond, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, the weight of the kiss still hanging in the air between you.

You didn't look back, you couldn't. If you did, you weren't sure what would happen next.

────୨ৎ────

You were curled up on your couch, staring at the TV without really watching it, replaying the kiss with Mark in your mind. Your lips still tingled with his taste and your heart felt heavy with all the confusion. You didn't know what to think, what to feel. The tension between you and Mark had been building for so long, but the way it ended... his words still echoed in your mind.

A knock at the door pulled you out of your thoughts. Your heart raced. It was Mark, it had to be him. He would want to talk things through? Maybe he felt the same things you did. You hurried to the door hoping for some kind of resolution, but when you swung it open your heart sank.

Jaemin stood there, hands shoved in his pockets. "Hey." He said, glancing down at the ground, then back up at you with those familiar eyes.

"Oh it's just you..." You answered, you couldn't help but to sound a little disappointed, prompting Jaemin's eyebrows to raise.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He giggled, before peeking inside "Can I come in?"

You blinked, stepping back instinctively. "Jaemin... what are you doing here?"

He stepped inside, his presence filling the space with an awkward energy. "I wanted to talk." He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I've been thinking Y/n, about us. I know things ended badly, but... maybe we made a mistake—I made a mistake. I miss you."

You froze, out of all possible times...

"Jaemin..." You began, but before you could finish, there was another knock at the door.

Your heart leaped again, glancing at Jaemin, your stomach twisting. This time you knew it was Mark. You opened the door slowly, and there he was, standing on the other side, his expression brightening for a brief moment until his gaze flickered past you and landed on Jaemin.

His face fell, the hurt in his eyes very visible as disappointment painted his face, the same disappointment you had when you saw him with his ex. Mark's mouth pressed into a thin line, his hands flexing at his sides.

"I... didn't know you had company." He muttered, stepping back, his voice thick with shame.

"Mark wait—" You started, but he shook his head, glancing between you and Jaemin.

"Looks like I'm interrupting something." he said, his voice low. "I'll leave you two to it."

Before you could say another word, Mark turned and walked away. You stood there, breathless, closing, but waiting, just incase he came back to give you a chance to explain.

"What the fuck is going on between you two?" Jaemin's voice cut through the silence.

You turned back to him, looking numbly as you stayed silent.

"Weren't you just dating? What happened." He asked, obviously being unserious, giggling at his own comment.

You sighed, "We broke up." You murmured, opening the front door, signaling Jaemin to leave.

"... Do you seriously like him?" Jaemin asked, looking at you with a face of disdain.

You took a deep breath. "Jaemin get out."You said lowly, closing your eyes, trying to keep your composure as Jaemin made his way to the door.

Before he left out the door, he stopped, facing you, a smug look on his face as he raised his brow. "Can't say that I'm surprised, I've had a feeling even before we got together." He scoffed, rolling his eyes before walking out the door.

You shut it behind him, taking a deep breath before sliding down the door, your legs too weak to stand. Everything you held in, what begged to be let out finally released. You sobbed heavily, wondering where it all went wrong. Your heart ached, feeling like it was torn out your torso and ripped in half, feeling the weight of the emptiness that settled in after Mark left. It made you feel more lost than you had before. How did you lose everything all at once? Whatever was there with you and Mark, it felt like it slipped away, just when it had started to feel real.

────୨ৎ────

The days that followed your argument with Mark were unbearable. You hadn't spoken to him since, and that silence pressed down on you more than you had expected. You were heartbroken, not just because of the confusion and hurt surrounding the kiss, but because you missed him— like a lot. You missed the effortless connection, the late night talks and sleepovers, and the way things used to be before everything got complicated.

You stopped going out with the group, preferring to stay at home alone. Every notification from the group chat was a reminder of all the things that went wrong. You couldn't face Jaemin or anyone really, not with Mark lingering in your thoughts, every memory of him reopening the wound. From what you heard Mark wasn't showing up to anything either. It wasn't just you who was isolated, but that only made things worse. He had been your rock, your best friend, and now you didn't know where you stood with him at all. It felt like you two ruined each other.

You thought about texting him, just something small to break the silence, but every time you opened the message app, you'd freeze. What would you even say? How could you explain the mess in your head when you couldn't even understand it yourself?

You were curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the TV, the sound nothing more than white noise in your brain. Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, but you ignored it, not having the energy to engage with anyone. The loneliness was suffocating, but reaching out felt impossible.

Then, there was a knock at the door.

You sat up, your heart immediately quickening. For a moment you wondered if it could be him, but you quickly brushed that thought aside. Why would he show up now, after all this time? You shuffled to the door, your fingers hesitant on the handle before pulling it open.

And there he was... Mark. He stood there, looking hesitant, his hands stuffed in his pockets. For a second, neither of you said anything, the staggered memories of the past few weeks hanging in the air.

"Mark..." you breathed, your voice shaky. You weren't sure if it was relief or anxiety.

He gave you a small, awkward smile. "Hey Y/n."

The awkward tension stretched between you, and you struggled to form words. Mark looked down at his feet, then back up at you with a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

"Uh, Jaemin... Jaemin told me something the other day." He stated, and your stomach dropped at the mention of his name. "He said that... you liked me. Like, really liked me."

You froze, your heart slamming in your chest. He knew...

You were gonna kill Jaemin the next time you saw him, what is his problem with you, he's acting like you're the one who broke up with him, but before you said anything, Mark spoke again, his eyes widened, as if realizing he'd let the truth slip out too soon.

"Shit. I—I wasn't supposed to say that." He stammered, running a hand through his hair nervously.

"I mean, it's not like I didn't already... feel like something was there, but it's just—look, can I come in? We need to talk."

You stood there for a moment, stunned and unsure of how to respond. The vulnerability of having your feelings laid bare like this was terrifying, but there was a desperation in Mark's eyes that tugged at your heart. You stepped aside, nodding slightly, and he walked in, his presence both a comfort and a source of even more confusion.

You closed the door behind him, trying to brace yourself for whatever was about to happen. The silence felt heavy as you both sat down, neither knowing quite how to begin.

Mark's gaze softened as he looked at you, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet but sincere.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. For everything."

────୨ৎ────

The silence between you and Mark stretched on as you both sat there, the weight of all the unsaid words finally crashing down. Your heart was pounding and you could barely bring yourself to look at him. There had been so many moments, so many times when you wanted to tell him the truth, but fear had always kept you from doing it, but now, with him sitting right there, you knew you couldn't hide anymore.

Mark exhaled, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped like he didn't know where to begin. You couldn't take it anymore, the tension building, the raw ache inside your chest that had been growing for weeks. You swallowed hard, finally speaking.

"I've always liked you Mark." You said, your voice trembling. His eyes snapped to yours, wide with surprise. "I've liked you for so long... but after the first time, after you chose her I had to move on. I couldn't sit around waiting for something that was never going to happen."

Mark's brows furrowed, like he was trying to process your words. "Wait... what do you mean?"

"Mark—" You giggled, but it came out more as a sigh. "I gave up when I realized you didn't like me back. That's what hurts the most. I've spent so long hiding how I feel, pretending that I was fine being your friend when all I wanted was for you to look at me the way you looked at her." You said, looking down, fidgeting with your fingernails.

"But Y/n... I did like you. Like a lot. I thought you and Jaemin were—" He stopped, fumbling for words. "I didn't think I even had a chance with you."

You let out a laugh. "You didn't think you had a chance? Mark, I've been right here, the entire time. You're the one who didn't see me. Or maybe you just didn't want to."

"That's not true," Mark said quickly, his eyes full of regret. "I saw you, Y/n. I've always seen you, but I thought you didn't think of me in that way. That's why I got with her and when we broke up, you and Jaemin started dating."

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze. "I love Jaemin," you admitted, your voice quiet. "But I can't lie and say that he wasn't a distraction... from you." You said, turning to him.

Mark seemed to flinch at your words, like they hit him deeper than he expected. "A distraction?" He repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded. "It was easier, you know? To focus on Jaemin and have a crush on him instead, to tell myself that I'd moved on, but every time I saw you with her, every time you chose her, it broke something inside me. I couldn't take it anymore."

Mark's face twisted with emotion, a mix of sorrow and frustration. "I never meant to choose her over you, Y/n. I didn't even realize that's what I was doing. You were always the one I went to, the one I trusted. But I was an idiot, and I didn't see what was right in front of me."

The room was heavy with your words as you sighed, trying to push past the knot tightening in your chest. "It's ok. I guess it doesn't matter anymore. I'm glad we cleared the air so we can go back to being friends like we used to be."

You gave him a small smile, hoping it would ease the tension, but the moment the words left your lips, you could sense a shift in the air. Mark stiffened beside you, his body language betraying the discomfort your words had caused. He stared at you for a long, quiet second, and something in his gaze made you nervous. His usual easy going smile was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead with an expression that was difficult to read.

The room fell into a thick, uncomfortable silence. His leg was bouncing restlessly, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve, like he was desperate to say something, but couldn't m find the words.

"But—" he mumbled, biting his lip nervously as his gaze remained on anything but you.

You blinked at him, confusion rippling through you. "But what?" you asked softly, your voice filled with curiosity and a bit of hope. You felt your heart rate pick up as you waited, suddenly aware of how close he was sitting.

Mark hesitated, his leg bouncing even faster now. He was clearly battling with himself, trying to decide if he should let the words out or hold them in. Finally, he took a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to be your friend."

Your heart stopped. For a moment, you were certain you had misheard him. Your mind raced to process what he had just said, but the confusion only grew stronger. "Well then... I guess we're done here, aren't we?" you replied, your voice cracking as the emotions bubbled up.

Mark's eyes widened in panic, and for the first time, he looked genuinely shaken. He swallowed hard, trying to gather himself. "No, that's not what I mean." He said quickly, his hand reaching out slightly toward you but then pulling back before he made contact.

You tilted your head, watching him as his leg bounced even faster, his fingers now anxiously twisting his sleeve. His lips parted as if to say something, then closed again. The tension in the air was unbearable.

Finally, Mark's voice broke the silence, low and trembling. "I want to be more than friends Y/n..."

Your breath hitched. You weren't sure you had heard him correctly at first. Is Mark finally saying the thing you had waited to hear for so long? You stared at him full of disbelief, searching his face for any sign of a joke or hesitation. But there was none—his expression was completely serious.

He avoided your gaze, clearly nervous as he spoke again, his voice quiet. "I like you a lot Y/n. Even after all this time, I still do. I never stopped... I just—" He let out a shaky breath and finally looked you in the eyes.

"Do you still... like me?" he asked softly, his voice barely audible, and for the first time, you saw fear behind his eyes—fear of rejection, fear of ruining whatever was left between you.

Your throat tightened, and for a moment, you couldn't speak. Your feelings, the ones you had buried for so long, were rising to the surface again. The air thick with tension, you could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you searched for the right words.

Finally, you nodded, slowly at first, then faster. "I do... I do still like you...so much." You whispered, the confession slipping from your lips before you could stop it. The moment the words left your mouth, you felt relief, like you were finally free of the weight that had been pressing down on you for so long.

Mark's face lit up at your words, his eyes shining with disbelief. He looked like he could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"You do?" he asked, his voice full of hope and vulnerability.

You nodded again, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "I've always liked you Mark. Even when I tried to move on, even when I was with Jaemin... it was always you."

Mark's breath hitched, reaching out, his hand gently brushing against yours. His touch was hesitant, like he was afraid you might pull away, but you didn't. You laced your fingers with his, holding onto him like you were afraid to let go.

"Do you... do you want to be with me?" he asked, his voice trembling as his hand tightened around yours.

Your lip trembled, and you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. This was everything you had ever wanted, everything you had dreamed of. But now that it was here, it felt overwhelming.

Instead of answering with words, you pulled him into a tight hug, your arms wrapping around him as you buried your face in his shoulder. His scent was familiar, comforting, and you held onto him like you were gonna lose him.

Mark's arms wrapped around you just as tightly as he held you close. For a minute, neither of you said anything, just holding each other in silence.

Finally, you pulled back, cupping his face in your hands as you looked into his eyes, your heart was pounding in your chest.

"Yes," you whispered, a smile breaking across your face as you leaned in, your lips brushing against his. "I want to be with you."

Before he could respond, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that felt like it was years in the making. His lips were soft against yours, warm and gentle.

The kiss deepened, slow and tender. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right. There was no pretending, no hiding. It was just you and him, finally together, finally where you were supposed to be.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and a little dizzy, you looked at him with a smile. "We finally have each other, for real this time." You whispered.

Mark smiled back at you, his eyes full of love and warmth. "Yeah..." he said softly, pulling you close again. "We do."

────୨ৎ────

The evening was filled with laughter, You and Mark were sitting close, his arm casually draped over the back of your chair, a soft smile never leaving his face as he glanced at you every so often.

The group had decided on a night in, just movies, snacks, and a lot of catching up. It felt like old times again, but better—because this time, you had Mark by your side in a way you'd never had before. Every time your hands brushed, every shared glance, you felt your heart flutter.

Jaemin, of course, wasn't letting the night pass without teasing. He smirked at the two of you as he leaned back into the couch. "Look at them" he rolled his eyes playfully, nudging someone beside him. "Lovebirds. It's like they've been together all this time. Who would've thought?"

You laughed, rolling your eyes but feeling no need to defend yourself this time.

Mark chuckled, his thumb brushing your arm lightly. "Man, it took us long enough."

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, pretending to be shocked. "Took you long enough? More like I had to shove you two together. Where's my matchmaking credit?"

The group laughed, and for a moment, everything just felt light, but the teasing wasn't quite over.

"So, Jaemin…" one of the others piped up, a mischievous grin spreading across their face. "You've been all about these smart remarks tonight... anything you want to tell us?"

Jaemin's face immediately flushed. "W-What? Me? Nah I'm just here for the drama, you know that." He said, waving it off.

"Sure…" The smirk on their face grew even wider. "Except, we've noticed you've been spending an awful lot of time with someone lately."

You perked up at that, exchanging a glance with Mark. She sat quietly on the other side of the room, raising her eyebrows in surprise, her cheeks turning pink.

Jaemin opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He was speechless for once.

Everyone burst into laughter. Jaemin couldn't stop himself from cracking a smile as he shook his head in defeat. "You guys are unbelievable."

Mark leaned over, whispering in your ear, "Guess we're not the only ones who needed a push, huh?"

“Mark Ive been known about it.” You grinned, speaking purposely loud so everyone could turn to you.

“How?” Jaemin asked, raising his eyebrow as everyone looked at you with questioning eyes.

“She was the only one who wasn’t curious about why Me and Mark were holding hands when I was still with Jaemin. She knew about the break up before any of you knew.” You answered causing everyone to raise their eyebrows in realization.

“Dude… wait you’re right.” Mark added, looking at you with a small smile.

“Oops…” Jaemin responded, everyone laughing at the squeak in his voice.

As the night carried on, you found yourself taking little moments just to breathe in the atmosphere, to hold onto this feeling.

Every smile he gave you, every gentle touch, was like a stitch pulling the pieces to your heart back together. The pain you'd carried for so long was fading. Mark was helping you become whole again.

For the first time in a long time everything felt right and as you sat there, surrounded by laughter and love, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And as you looked around the room—at the friends who had stuck with you, at the boy who had once been your closest friend and was now so much more, you realized something.

You were finally happy.

Oh yeah… and his ex left the friend group! Xoxo

794 notes · View notes

keferon · 3 months ago

Note

Writing this before I go to bed lolll anyways ~~

The ocean was much darker, much colder than Jazz had remembered. It spread out in all directions, no concrete walls to keep him trapped, no ceiling above but blue-black sky. Stars glittered, the moon’s light rippling across the surface of the water. He was free.

A few meters away, Prowl floated, gazing at the mer who’d been deprived of the sea for years. He hurt for Jazz in a way he couldn’t describe. The weight of it crushed him, knowing the mer had been kept in captivity since he was a calf and remembered next to nothing of his life before. Staring at Jazz now, Prowl could see wonder in his expression. Could see the realization dawning on Jazz that he was out, he wasn’t in captivity anymore. How could anyone do this to someone? Hold them hostage for years for entertainment? His blood boiled thinking about Jazz floating at the surface of his – their – enclosure, eyes empty and staring at nothing, bored out of his mind. He swam to Jazz’s side, concern apparent on his face.

“Are you okay?” Not the best question perhaps, but Prowl had to know what Jazz was thinking.

“I missed the stars,” the mer responded, blue eyes still fixated on the sky. “There are so many out here, I’d forgotten…” Jazz stopped then, lowering his gaze to level with Prowl’s. “I’ve forgotten everything.”

Prowl lurched at that, unsure at first how to respond. “You haven’t forgotten everything,” he told Jazz, “You have been trapped in a concrete box for years. That alone has done so much damage to your psyche.”

Jazz’s eyes lowered to the waves before he muttered, “Yeah, I��m damaged alright. Flopped fins and unable to remember my own mother.” With that, he dove beneath the waves, leaving Prowl concerned he’d scared his friend away. He dove down after Jazz.

“I am sorry, Jazz, I shouldn’t have phrased it that way,” Prowl whirled to face Jazz head-on. “You are not damaged. The way you’ve been treated is horrible, but you are not the problem.”

Jazz huffed and crossed his arms, looking away from Prowl’s unflinching gaze. “I can’t even remember their songs,” he whispered into the dark. “I can’t remember. I know my pod sang, I know my mother sang, but for the life of me I can’t remember them.”

He shut his eyes, biting back tears. He then felt a gentle pull on his wrists. Prowl pulled his arms away from his chest, taking Jazz’s hands in his. A high-pitched, warbling melody emerged between them. Prowl’s voice dipped lower, holding longer notes. He clicked occasionally, seeing through to what felt like Jazz’s very soul. The melody reawakened the memories buried deep in Jazz’s mind. He pulled at the strings, beckoning them to return to him, to remind him what the song meant. Note after note Prowl sang, and the two mers drifted together, resting their foreheads against one another. The meaning slowly came back to Jazz.

I’m here.

I will not leave you behind.

I love you.

Prowl’s voice echoed in the water around them, the melody burrowing into Jazz’s being, down to his very marrow. He felt as though his soul was being cleaned of all the dust that had gathered in the corners through years of neglect. The meaning was so clear then, Jazz buried his head into Prowl’s shoulder. The memories, his memories, of his pod and his mother and the love she had for him returned, and he ached. The need to sing erupted within him.

With a trembling heart, Jazz offered his own voice. His song was different, reminiscent of the supposed ‘calming melodies’ the aquarium played while humans were visiting. His clicks were lower in frequency and uneven in rhythm, but they fit in with Prowl’s long, higher notes. Their combined voices created a melody all their own, one that could grow and change as they did.

Prowl and Jazz held each other that way for a long time, singing softly to themselves in the dark. The ocean stopped to listen, to warm the water around the mers and keep them safe. These two, at least, had made it.

Hoping this wasn’t too inaccurate lore-wise, I haven't been able to read everything about this au, all I know is I LOVE IT. This is,,,my first time submitting a fic to someone, so I hope it isn’t terrible ^t^ thank you for reading!!! Love what you do, Keferon!!!

Oh man oh man OH MAN THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL HFCBHDBJUFD PLEASE I WANNA INJECT YOUR WRITING STRAIGHT INTO MY VEINS

#apocalyptic ponyo #ponyo jp writing #jazz #prowl #jazzprowl

388 notes · View notes

itsgivingmami · 22 days ago

Note

Domestic beach Rhea domestic beach Rhea domestic beach Rhea domestic beach Rhea

Painting shit, cooking, child (?), swimming, early mornings, having sex on that balcony you talked about, conjoining their properties, gardening, gardening, painting shit, chores

The Sky Looks Better From Her Porch-

Coastal Town AURhea Ripley X Reader

The night is perfectly still except for the hush of the ocean. The small seaside town lies quiet behind you — windows dark, doors closed, everyone long asleep with the exception of some rowdy teenagers driving through and staying the night behind obnoxious at the motel. Warm summer air clings to your skin, the cicadas buzz around like they were made to fill silence and everything around lingers heavy with the scent of drying salt and distant honeysuckle. Above, a high moon drips silver light across the sand and gentle waves. After the long, hot day you and Rhea spent working around the house — sweat and laughter shared over repairs and rearranging furniture — this peaceful beach feels like another world. You kick off your sandals at the dune’s edge and sigh as the cool sand squishes between your toes. The heat of the day still radiates faintly from the ground, mixing with the ocean’s damp chill. Beside you, Rhea slips her hand into yours, lacing fingers with a familiar ease, chunky rings and calloused palms. Her thumb strokes over your knuckles in a small, absent circle, a quiet gesture of affection. In the moonlight, you glance up at her and find she’s already looking at you. A soft smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

“Come on,” she murmurs, nodding toward the water. Her voice is low and warm, sending a little shiver of anticipation through you. Together you walk toward the shoreline, hand in hand wobbling on sinking sands as your legs protest from hours of work. The rhythmic rush of gentle waves grows louder, and a cool breeze lifts strands of your hair from your neck. You still feel the day’s warmth simmering under your skin — not only from the summer heat but from the way Rhea has been with you all day. There’s a quiet intimacy between you now that wasn’t there a few days ago, a knowledge in every shared glance and touch. Whether you were scrubbing floorboards or fixing that loose shutter left rattling by the storm, you felt her eyes on you, felt the heat of unspoken promises in her smile. Every accidental brush of arms or playful touch when passing tools only stoked the already lit, slow-burning fire between you. By the time night fell, the air itself seemed to throb with unspent tension and desire.

Now, standing at the water’s edge, you grin and squeeze Rhea’s hand, excitement fluttering in your belly. The ocean stretches out before you like a dark, beckoning mirror for the moon. A small wave rushes over your feet, cool and shocking. You gasp softly at the contrast against your hot skin. Rhea huffs a quiet laugh at your reaction and releases your hand. “Cold?” she teases.

You shake your head, determined. “Refreshing,” you correct with a playful smile. The truth is it is cool, but deliciously so. After such a sweltering day, the water’s caress feels heavenly. Another wave foams around your ankles, and you bite your lip, already eager to go deeper. But before you can take another step, Rhea’s fingers hook gently under the hem of your t-shirt.

“Let’s get this off you, sweetheart,” she says. Her tone is soft — not a question, but a tender directive. Confident, protective, affectionate. The dominating note in her voice sends warmth blossoming in your chest, then lower. There’s no hesitation in her movements as she helps peel away your clothing. You raise your arms willingly, heart fluttering at the reverence in her eyes. Rhea lifts your shirt up and over your head, slow and careful, as if unwrapping a cherished gift. The moon’s glow washes over your newly exposed skin. A balmy breeze skates across your bare midriff, raising a trail of goosebumps. Rhea’s gaze follows, and you feel seen — completely, worshipfully seen — under her eyes

She tosses your shirt to a dry patch of sand above the tideline, then steps closer. Her fingertips, still a little rough from handling tools earlier, skim down your arms and ignite sparks beneath your skin. When her hands find the waist of your shorts, you inhale sharply. Even now, after all the intimacy you’ve already shared, being undressed by Rhea makes your pulse quicken and cheeks warm. Maybe it’s the open air, or the moonlight, or just her. She has a way of looking at you like you’re something precious.

“You sure?” she asks softly, hooking her thumbs into your waistband. The glint in her dark eyes is playful, but there’s an undertone of earnest care. Always attuned to you — making sure you’re comfortable.

You answer by covering her hands with yours and guiding them further down, giving a cheeky little push. “I am if you are,” you murmur. Your boldness earns you a quiet chuckle.

“Oh, I’m definitely sure,” Rhea replies, a grin flashing over her face. In one smooth motion, she kneels in the sand as she draws your shorts and underwear down. The fabric slips down your thighs, then your calves, until you can kick them off. Before you can feel too shy about standing naked on the beach, Rhea tilts her head and presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your hip. A gasp catches in your throat. Her lips there are warm and reverent, the scrape of her piercings just barely grazing your skin. It sends a thrill through you. She lingers, nuzzling the sensitive spot just below your navel, her strong hands caressing the backs of your thighs. Soft possession. You tremble, fingers finding their way into her hair for balance — and maybe to silently beg for more. Rhea’s hair is thick and slightly damp at the ends from the humidity, the dark strands sliding between your fingers.

She plants one more kiss — just above your belly button — before rising to her feet. The naked hunger in her eyes as she looks you up and down makes your breath stutter. Under the moon’s silver gaze, you feel like the only two souls on earth. “You’re so beautiful. Let me see you.” There is such genuine awe in her voice that all your nervousness melts away, replaced by a liquid heat of desire and trust. You let her ease your arms open. She rewards you with a slow smile, then surprises you by suddenly tugging her own tank top off in one fluid pull.

Your eyes roam appreciatively over Rhea’s revealed form. Moonlight etches every line of her toned body — the defined muscles in her arms and shoulders, the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts. She is breathtaking. Scattered tattoos darken her tan skin. You’ve traced those tattoos with your fingers in daylight, but under the soft night glow they look almost magical, sigils of shadow and light on a goddess. A spattering of old scars and new scrapes mark her here and there, tangible proof of her strength and tenderness combined.

Rhea notices your admiring stare and quirks a brow playfully. “Like what you see?” she teases. You don’t even have the wits to feel embarrassed at being caught; instead, you nod slowly, drinking her in.

She chuckles, stepping out of her loose jeans and kicking them aside. “Good,” she purrs. “Because I’m all yours.” In the darkness, she extends a hand to you once more. Her rings catch a glint of moonlight — faintly cool against your heated skin as she takes your hand. All yours, she said, but the way she carries herself — the quiet command in her voice, the sure grip of her hand — makes it clear that you are hers as well. The thought sends a delicious little thrill through you.

Completely bared to the night and each other, you and Rhea wade into the ocean. The first higher wave splashes at your knees and you squeal softly at the temperature. It’s cooler than bathwater, but the day’s heat in your body quickly adjusts. Rhea wraps an arm around your naked waist, steadying you as the sandy seabed slopes downward. Her touch is reassuring and strong. She leads you in, deeper and deeper, until water foams around your hips, then your ribs. When a small wave breaks against your back, you lurch, but Rhea is there, holding you close with a protective arm. You both dissolve into quiet laughter as a bit of saltwater sprays your faces. You sputter, wiping droplets from your lashes.

Rhea’s dark hair is slicked back now, dripping at the ends; a few rivulets trace down her neck and chest. You watch a bead of water roll between her breasts and disappear, your mouth turning dry despite the ocean all around. The sight stirs boldness in you. The two of you are alone, entwined in moonlit water — free and half-dreaming. With a mischievous grin, you crane up and plant a sudden kiss on Rhea’s jaw, just shy of her ear.

She hums at the affection, tightening her arm around you. “Mm, what was that for?” she asks, voice rumbling pleasantly from her chest.

You shrug coyly, running a hand over her shoulder underwater. “Just felt like it,” you say. Your fingers drift to toy with a lock of her wet hair at the nape of her neck. “Plus, you had a drop of water… right here.” You kiss the spot again, slower this time, lips lingering against the pulse point beneath her ear. You feel more than hear the soft intake of Rhea’s breath.

Before she can respond, you suddenly twist out of her hold and dart a couple of steps away, laughing. The water resists your movement, but you push through it, creating an arc of spray. Rhea blinks in surprise at the loss of you in her arms. A wicked thrill dances in your belly at her confused look. You splash her lightly, giggling. “Catch me, if you can,” you challenge, eyes flashing with daring.

For a split second, Rhea just cocks her head, that lopsided grin of hers spreading across her face — half amused, half predatory. Playful dominance ignited. “Oh, you’re in trouble now,” she drawls.

You let out a squeal and try to paddle farther out, but the water makes you slow and Rhea is incredibly fast when she wants to be. In two powerful strides she’s on you. A delighted shriek escapes you as her arms come around your waist from behind. You’re lifted off your feet as easily as if you weighed nothing. Water cascades off your limbs as Rhea spins you around and draws you flush against her slick body.

“Got you,” she growls softly against your neck. Her voice is rich with triumph and something darker that makes your stomach flip — the darker side of her coming out to play. Your heart skips and then races as she holds you caged against her front. One of her arms crisscrosses your front, just beneath your breasts; the other circles your hips, keeping you pinned to her. The cool waves lap at your lower bodies, but everywhere Rhea’s skin meets yours, you feel heat. You stop squirming, melting into the solid warmth of her. In truth, you never really wanted to get away. This was exactly what you wanted — to stir her up, to feel that confident power in the way she touches you.

Rhea nuzzles into your wet hair, her lips finding the shell of your ear. “Naughty girl,” she murmurs, the affectionate chastisement sending a hot flush through you. Her teeth graze your earlobe and you gasp, hands coming up to grasp at her forearm that’s banded across your chest. She’s holding you so securely, as if daring you to try to escape again. But all you do is whimper softly, leaning your head back against her shoulder and you spot the night sky above, a smear of stars and moon, as Rhea begins to pepper slow, teasing kisses down the side of your neck. Each press of her lips, each flick of her tongue against your skin, draws another trembling sigh from you.

“You think you can just tease me and run off, hm?” Rhea’s voice is a low rasp. You can hear the smile in it, though, wrapped in desire. The hand she has across your front slowly drags upward, and your breath catches as her palm cups your breast. Her fingers find your nipple, already peaked from the cool water and arousal, and she rolls it in a gentle pinch. Pleasure spears straight from that tight bud to the pit of your stomach; you cry out softly, arching your back. Your ass rubs against Rhea’s hips as you writhe, and you feel, unmistakably, the shiver that runs through her at the friction.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” she groans against your neck. There’s a slight strain in her voice now — she’s as turned on as you are. You grin breathlessly, loving that you have any effect on this confident, breathtaking woman.

“That was kind of the idea,” you manage to gasp, even as her hand sends another wave of sensation through your body. You reach back with one arm, looping it around Rhea’s neck to hold on as she torments your nipple with deliberate tenderness. If the cool of the water then runs down her neck from your arm bothers her she doesn’t mention it. Your other hand covers the one she has splayed at your hip, and you lace your fingers through hers under the water. The gesture makes her pause for a heartbeat. Slowly, she interlocks her fingers with yours, both of you holding tight while her other hand continues its slow, sensual circles over your breast. The mix of sweetness and sinful touch makes your head spin.

Rhea’s lips curl against your throat. “Such a brat tonight,” she chuckles, affection thick in every word.

“This was your idea,” you point out, she gives your nipple a firmer pinch. You whimper and press your thighs together under water, seeking relief for the ache building there. Immediately, Rhea’s hand releases your breast and skims down your torso, as if she read your mind. Her fingertips trail over your stomach, then trace the curve of your hip. She grips your thigh, urging one of your legs to hitch up

“Here,” she whispers. “Put your leg over mine, love.”

Breathless, you obey, lifting one leg and hooking it back over her strong thigh. The water buoys you slightly, making the position easier as she half-supports you. This motion opens you up, and the next gentle wave that rolls by causes your body to press more firmly against Rhea’s front. You feel the heat of her center briefly rub against your backside and it makes both of you moan softly.

Rhea slides her hand from your thigh inward, fingertips gliding through your folds under the water. She groans appreciatively against your ear at what she finds. “So wet for me already… and not just from the ocean,” she purrs. It’s true — your arousal has been steadily building, mixing with the saltwater on your skin. When her fingers part your slick folds, a deep shudder wracks through you. The water’s coolness contrasts with the searing heat of her touch. Your free hand claws lightly at the arm still bracing your upper body, fingernails digging in as pleasure spikes.

“There you go,” Rhea soothes, kissing along your jaw as two of her fingers tease your entrance, circling slowly. “I’ve got you. Let me take care of you darlin.” The nickname drips from her lips as richly sweet as the feeling coiling in your core. You surrender utterly, every muscle in your body going lax against her. You trust her completely — with your body, with your heart, with this moment.

She slides one long finger inside you and you both gasp. Even with the water easing the way, the sensation is intense. She doesn’t rush it, giving you time to adjust as she curls that finger inside sends sparks flying behind your eyelids. Your head falls back on her shoulder, and she turns to capture your parted lips with her own. The kiss is slow and consuming. You taste salt on her mouth, taste the faint mint of the tea you both had after dinner, taste a hunger that matches your own. Her tongue finds yours in a languid dance, and you moan into her mouth when she adds a second finger inside you. Your leg around her trembles, supported firmly by her thigh, and your joined hands under the water clutch each other desperately.

The night folds itself around you — the susurrus of waves, the distant cry of a night gull, the shimmering moonlight — all of it blurs as Rhea steadily works you open. The pleasure she builds in you is deep and tidal, like the ocean itself. Her thumb finds your swollen clit and begins to rub in slow, deliberate circles that make you keen against her lips. She swallows each of your soft cries with gentle kisses, murmuring praise: “That’s it, love… I know it’s good… I’ve got you… let it happen.” Her fingers curl inside you just right, pressing on that spot that makes your toes curl into the water. Heat licks up your spine, your body tensing as the wave of release draws near.

You break the kiss, gasping for air. “Rhea— I’m…” is all you manage. Your voice is thin, trembling with need.

“I know,” she whispers, forehead resting against yours now. Her dark eyes are locked on your face, observing every flicker of pleasure that crosses it. “I can feel it. Come for me, sweetheart.” The command in her voice — gentle, encouraging, yet unquestionably in control — is all you need to tumble over the edge.

Your climax crashes over you like a sudden wave. You cry out, the sound lost to the open air as your body jerks in her arms. Rhea holds you tightly, anchoring you against the storm of bliss. Your inner walls clench around her fingers; she groans at the sensation but keeps them moving, drawing out your pleasure, coaxing you through every pulse of ecstasy. Stars dance behind your closed eyelids. You’re distantly aware of your fingernails digging into the back of her hand (the one still intertwined with yours), and you loosen your grip, but she only squeezes your hand harder, letting you ground yourself in her.

“Good girl,” Rhea murmurs as aftershocks ripple through you, making you shiver. She slowly stills her hand, buried deep between your thighs, and holds you as you come down. You’re breathing hard, body limp and sated. If not for her firm embrace, you’re sure you’d slip under the water, boneless and spent. Rhea presses feather-light kisses along your hairline and temple, murmuring soft, sweet things you can barely process but feel all the same: praises, soothing sounds, your name mixed in with little endearments. You blink your eyes open finally, and realize they’re stinging with tears — not of sadness, but overwhelmed emotion. Perhaps it’s the intensity of it all: the setting, the tenderness, the way she cherishes you. It’s almost too much, in the best way.

Rhea gently withdraws her fingers, eliciting a final aftershock quiver from you. She unwraps your leg from her thigh and turns you in her arms so you’re facing her now. Your knees feel weak, so you cling to her shoulders, and she supports your weight without question. “You okay?” she asks softly, peering at you in concern when she sees the shine in your eyes. Her strong hands slide up and down your back reassuringly.

You answer by leaning in and kissing her — a tender, grateful kiss. Your lips still tremble against hers, but you pour everything you feel into it: Yes, I’m okay. More than okay. That was incredible. You’re incredible. She seems to understand. When you break apart, both of you smiling, you rest your forehead against hers.

A breeze skims over the water’s surface, stirring a slight chill now that your passion has warmed and spent itself. You shiver, and Rhea immediately rubs her hands briskly over your arms. “Let’s get you warmed up,” she says. Ever the protector, she won’t have you catching cold on her watch. You nod. As blissful as the water is, your body is cooling and starting to crave a soft towel and Rhea’s even warmer embrace on dry land.

You tilt your face up to look at Rhea. Her gaze is on the horizon now, where the moonlight dances on the water. Her profile, lit softly in silver, is peaceful. Loose strands of her dark hair stick to her cheek and forehead. Gently, you reach up and brush them back. She turns her attention to you, and the smile that curves her lips is pure adoration. Your heart gives a little flip; you don’t think you’ll ever get used to being on the receiving end of such a devoted look.

Rhea touches your cheek, tucking a damp lock of your hair behind your ear. “How’re you feeling my love?” she asks quietly. The question is laced with meaning — physically, emotionally — all of it. Her other arm stays wrapped securely around your waist, as if even now she can’t bear to let you drift an inch away.

You snuggle closer, covering her hand on your cheek with your own. “Perfect,” you say, and you mean it wholly. Your limbs are pleasantly heavy, your heart light. “Maybe a little tired,” you add with a soft laugh.

Rhea grins. “I wore you out, did I?” There’s a hint of smugness in her voice. You roll your eyes playfully and pinch her side in retaliation. She squirms with a chuckle, then retaliates by kissing the tip of your nose.

“You sure know how to show a girl a good time,” you quip, feigning lightness, but there’s unmistakable sincerity beneath it.

“Anytime you need a midnight swim…” Rhea winks. Then she grows a touch more serious, brushing the pad of her thumb over your cheekbone. Her eyes search yours as if making sure you truly are alright, that you’re happy. Whatever she sees in your face makes her expression soften even more. Her next words come out a bit quieter: “I love you.” It’s the first time she’s said it out loud. Your heart seems to stop and then surge with joy in your chest.

You feel your eyes burn again, and you bite your lip, smiling so wide it almost hurts. “I love you too, Rhea,” you whisper. Saying it feels like finally exhaling a breath you’d been holding for days. She lets out a little content sound — halfway between a laugh and a sigh of relief — and pulls you even tighter against her.

You rest your head on her shoulder, tucking under her chin once more. Her embrace is your safe harbor; you could stay here forever, listening to the steady beat of her heart beneath her damp skin. After a moment, you mumble, “We should probably head back soon…” You think of the cozy house down the road, of dry clothes and the bed that surely misses you both. Yet you make no move to get up just yet. Neither does she. “Stay over tonight?”

“Couldn’t make me go home tonight if you tried,” Rhea replies. She isn’t ready to let this moment go, not quite yet. And truth be told, neither are you. One of the towels has slipped from her shoulder, but she doesn’t seem to notice the night air anymore. She just rubs warmth into you, up and down, her palms broad and soothing. You’re exhausted and blissed out, and if you’re not careful, you might actually fall asleep right here in Rhea’s arms on the sand. Not the worst fate, you think with a smile.

Rhea tilts her head and presses a lingering kiss to your hair. Her lips move against your crown as she speaks, voice velvety and earnest: “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” It’s as if she sensed the last flicker of insecurity in your heart and needed to banish it. Perhaps she’s reassuring herself too — that this is real, that neither of you is dreaming.

Your throat tightens with emotion at her words. You slide your arms around her waist beneath her towel, holding on as if to silently say me neither. A gentle night breeze ruffles the edges of the towels around you, cocooning the scent of salt and sand and her. You let your eyes drift closed, knowing that when you open them, Rhea will still be here.

Wrapped in Rhea’s embrace under the moon’s tender vigil, you have never felt more safe or more loved. The two of you remain curled together on the shore, whispering the kind of sweet, quiet promises that only midnight and the ocean will ever know. In the morning, the sun will rise on a new day — but for now, time is suspended for you and the woman who holds your heart, each of you secure in the knowledge that neither is going anywhere without the other.

—

Rhea stands barefoot in the soft hush of dawn, hands wrapped around a steaming mug as she leans against the kitchen counter. Through the open window of your coastal cottage drifts the scent of the sea, salty and cool, mingling with the rich aroma of fresh coffee. She smirks as if she can still see the two of you wading last night, your head thrown back against her shoulder. Pale golden light spills in with the sunrise, painting long stripes across the wooden floor and warming Rhea’s skin. In the quiet, she allows herself a rare moment of stillness. Her dark lashes flutter with each slow blink as she gazes over the rim of her mug to where you lie sleeping.

You’re curled up on the couch just a few steps away, tangled in the sheets the two of you pulled from the bed at some point in the night to “watch a movie before bed” knowing full well you wouldn’t be getting back up. One bare shoulder peeks out from the linen folds, gilded by the early sunlight. Your face is half-hidden by a tumble of hair, and your lips are parted in the gentlest sigh with each sleeping breath. Rhea’s chest tightens at the sight. She watches you like a secret she doesn’t want anyone else to find, utterly mesmerized by how serene you look in this fragile sliver of morning. In this light, you are all soft curves and warm glow, and God, Rhea thinks, you’re beautiful.

The cottage is still except for the quiet tick of the old clock on the mantel and the faint crash of distant waves outside. Last night’s bouquet of crimson roses sits in a vase on the kitchen table, perfuming the air with a sweet, floral note beneath the smell of coffee. Beside it, two empty champagne flutes catch the dawn light, a leftover sparkle from the celebration you shared. A pair of your heels and a little black purse lie discarded near the couch, their glittering details now still and calm after the excitement of yesterday. Each detail of the room feels sacred to Rhea—the scattered evidence of laughter and passion, of you in her life. She rolls her sore shoulders and smirks to herself at the dull, pleasant ache in her muscles. It’s the kind of ache that has nothing to do with her usual workouts or the long hours at her shop, and everything to do with how close the two of you were last night. A flush of pride and tenderness warms her from the inside out.

Rhea takes a slow sip of coffee, trying not to make a sound. The strong, dark roast is laced with a drop of honey—your preferred way to sweeten it, she’s learned. The taste makes her smile against the rim of the mug. This is what she never knew she needed: a quiet morning bathed in gold, the taste of salt and honey in the air, and you—you still here, dreaming peacefully after a night in her arms. She can hardly believe she gets to have this. A part of her is afraid to blink, worried the entire scene might vanish if she does and she’ll wake up surrounded by the floating dust of her shop with a home she can’t fill. So she keeps her eyes on you, memorizing every detail: the way the sunlight turns your hair into a tousled halo, the gentle rise and fall of your blanketed form, the subtle twitch of your fingers as you begin to stir. Rhea wanted to kiss you so bad in that moment that it’s a physical ache—an ache deeper than muscle, nestled somewhere in her heart. She chews the inside of her cheek, suppressing the urge to crawl back into those sheets with you and press her lips to every inch of your sun-kissed skin. Not yet, she tells herself. Let her sleep a little longer. Still, her pulse quickens at the thought.

Quietly, Rhea sets her mug down. The porcelain clink is barely audible, but her eyes dart to you to make sure you haven’t woken. You only snuggle deeper into the pillow with a soft murmur, and Rhea’s lips curve into a gentle grin. Mine, she thinks, the word reverberating like a prayer. It surprises her, how fiercely true it feels. She steps closer, drawn helplessly to your side. The floorboards are cool under her feet as she moves carefully avoiding the creaky boards, but the sunlight spilling through the sheer curtains guides her path. Rhea sinks down to a crouch beside the couch, bringing herself level with you. With a careful hand, she adjusts the sheet to cover your shoulder where the morning breeze had kissed it chilled. Her fingertips can’t resist brushing lightly over your bare skin as she does—just a whisper of a touch, tracing the line of your shoulder to the curve of your arm. Your skin is warm and impossibly soft under her thumb. Rhea’s throat tightens with affection so acute it almost hurts. In sleep, you subconsciously lean into her touch, and she feels her heart slip a beat.

Her gaze falls to your hand resting just above the blanket’s edge. In the pearly light, she notices the way your fingers are curled loosely, palm turned up as if waiting to be held. There’s a faint pink mark on your ring finger— a scratch from moving a book shelf that had it out for you. She lifts your hand gently, her much larger hand enveloping yours, and with her thumb she tenderly smooths over that little mark on your ring finger. What would it be like… The thought unfurls before she can stop it. What would it be like to actually slide a ring onto that finger one day? Her ring. A promise of forever.

Rhea swallows, suddenly feeling the rapid thud of her heartbeat in her ears. The idea strikes her both as wildly premature and absolutely, undeniably right. A swell of emotion rises in her chest—hope, love, and a tiny seed of fear all tangled together. She pictures it for a split second: you in front of her, eyes wide and shining with tears of joy as she asks you the question that’s now echoing in her own mind. She can almost see a golden band catching the light on your hand, feel the way it would seal the two of you together. The image is so beautiful it terrifies her. Rhea shakes her head softly, as if to clear the daydream. It’s far too soon to be thinking like this… isn’t it? She brushes the thought away hastily, blowing out a slow breath. Yet it stays—stubborn and sweet—hovering at the edges of her mind like the scent of honey that lingers in the air. She leans her forehead against the back of the couch for a moment, closing her eyes. Her fingers are still entwined gently with yours, and she gives your hand a delicate squeeze, grounding herself in the present: you’re here, in front of her, warm and safe now. That’s what matters this morning, she tells herself.

Your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks, and Rhea senses the subtle shift in your breathing as you begin to wake. She lifts her head, watching intently as your eyes slant open, soft and bleary with sleep. For a heartbeat, you look confused—until you spot her. Rhea’s face is inches from yours, a tender smile already on her lips. Good morning, she had planned to say, but the words catch in her throat at the way you gaze at her. A slow, dreamy smile spreads across your face, and Rhea’s world tips sideways. How is it possible that you can look at her like that—as if she is the sunrise?

“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” Rhea finally whispers, her voice low and husky from the quiet. She reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. The pad of her thumb caresses your cheek in the aftermath, savoring the heat blooming there. You nuzzle into her touch like it’s the most natural thing in the world, a contented little hum escaping you. The sound makes Rhea’s heart do a slow flip.

You begin to push yourself up, intending to sit or reach for her, but Rhea is quicker. With a soft growl of disapproval—more a rumble in her chest than a truly stern sound—she presses her palm lightly against your shoulder to keep you down. “Ah, ah,” she chides gently. “Stay right there. I’ve got you.” There’s a playful authority in her tone, a gentle dominance that makes your pulse quicken beneath her hand. You relent with a quiet laugh, sinking back into the cushions. Rhea hovers over you, her dark hair falling forward a bit, her eyes searching yours. In them, you find only adoration and a hint of that confident mischief you love so dearly.

Satisfied that you’re not going anywhere, Rhea lets her hand drift from your shoulder to cradle the side of your neck. Her thumb traces the outline of a faint bruise she left just below your collarbone—a tiny mark from last night’s passion that deepens her smug smile. “How’d you sleep, darling?” she murmurs. The endearment slips out without a second thought; in the golden quiet of this morning, it feels as natural as breathing. You bite your lip, pretending to consider, and Rhea arches an eyebrow, waiting. “Perfect,” you whisper at last, one of your hands coming up to rest over the strong hand she cups at your neck. Your fingers can’t even circle her wrist completely—she’s that much bigger—but you squeeze her hand in return. “Though waking up to you is the best part.”

Rhea’s breath hitches. She’s never been one to blush, not outwardly, but your words send warmth flooding through her that has nothing to do with the sunlight. “Yeah?” she rasps softly. Her thumb sweeps along the line of your jaw now, a reverent, lazy stroke. “Lucky me.” There’s a rough honesty in her tone, cracking just slightly at the edges with emotion. You see it in her eyes: Rhea is marveling at this as much as you are. The formidable, confident woman who usually greets the world with a smirk and raised chin is now looking at you like you hung the stars. It makes your chest ache. You tug gently at her hand, guiding her down toward you. “C’mere,” you whisper. It’s as much an invitation as it is a plea.

Rhea doesn’t need to be asked twice. She yields, lowering herself until her weight is partially against you, half beside and half atop, careful not to crush you against the cushions. The couch dips under her as she shifts, one arm slipping beneath your shoulders to pull you close. The sheet twists between your bodies, but neither of you care. All you feel is the warmth of her bare skin where it meets yours and the steady thump of her heart as she presses her chest to yours. Rhea’s face hovers above yours for a deliciously tense moment. She studies you, her green eyes flickering over your features—the curve of your lips, the blush high on your cheeks, the way your own eyes flutter shut in anticipation. She realizes she’s smiling, a slow, almost predatory grin at how eager you are for her kiss. God, I love you, she thinks, the words blazing through her like sunlight. Her hand at your jaw tilts your face up just so, holding you exactly where she wants you. And then Rhea kisses you.

It’s a gentle kiss at first—her lips brushing yours in a soft, searching caress. You taste coffee and sweetness on her mouth, and underneath that, something uniquely Rhea. A quiet sound escapes you, and that’s all the encouragement Rhea needs. She deepens the kiss, pressure growing just enough to make your toes curl under the sheets. Her dominance is subtle but sure: she captures your lower lip between hers, suckling lightly in a way that makes you gasp. Her arm around you tightens, keeping you firmly against her as she claims your mouth with slow, deliberate passion. Each move is unhurried, savoring. She’s kissing you like she has all the time in the world, like she plans to still be kissing you when the sun is high and even when it sets again. And you, blissfully caged in her embrace, wouldn’t dream of stopping her.

When Rhea finally pulls back, it’s only because you’re both breathless. She presses one more small kiss to the corner of your mouth, an almost shy gesture that contrasts with the heat that just passed between you. Your eyes flutter open to find her gazing at you, face close and haloed by the morning glow. Neither of you speaks for a moment. Foreheads touch, noses brushing in an intimate nuzzle. You feel her fingertips drawing light circles on your hip now, just above where the sheet covers you, a promise of affection with no rush for more. This quiet is comfortable—golden and sweet—filled only with the faraway call of gulls outside and the shared rhythm of your breathing.

Rhea’s mind drifts, as it has a habit of doing when she’s this close to you. She remembers the thought that struck her minutes ago, the one she tried to dismiss. With you warm and pliant in her arms, your lips still tingling on hers, it returns now with full force: forever. A lifetime of mornings just like this one. Waking up to your sleepy smile and the soft rasp of your voice. Bringing you coffee in bed and stealing kisses that taste of salt air and honey. Slipping a ring onto your finger that glints as bright as the sunrise—making you hers in every possible way. The intensity of that longing makes her tremble, just slightly. Instinctively, she holds you closer, as if anchoring herself to the present moment. She’s not ready to voice any of this, not yet. It’s too new, too sacred a dream to put into words. But as you cradle Rhea’s face between your hands and kiss her once more—sweet and light, a silent I love you—she knows the idea isn’t leaving her. It nestles itself into her heart, turning fear into a gentle anticipation.

“Hungry?” Rhea asks softly, her lips curving against yours in a playful smile. There’s a rasp of emotion still in her voice, but also a brightness now—a quiet excitement for the day ahead. You grin, recognizing the spark in her eyes. Whether she means for breakfast or for something else entirely, you’re not sure, but either way you nod. Mmhmm. Your stomach flutters as Rhea eases back, rising to her full height and scooping you up with ridiculous ease. You squeal in surprise, arms looping around her neck on instinct. She chuckles, low and pleased, cradling you against her chest as if you weigh nothing. “I’ve got you,” she repeats, and the confidence in her tone makes your cheeks warm. Standing tall in the soft morning light, Rhea holds you like a bride in one arm while grabbing the forgotten coffee mug with the other hand. The picture of domestic bliss with a touch of her playful strength—it makes you laugh in pure delight.

She carries you the few steps back into the kitchen area. Gently, she perches you on the counter, and you gasp at the cool marble against your thighs. Rhea smirks, stepping between your knees to shield you from the morning chill. Her hands find your waist, thumbs rubbing reassuring circles there. “Stay,” she commands softly, and you do—your legs dangling, arms still around her shoulders, utterly content to let her take care of everything.

For the next few minutes, you watch Rhea move about the tiny kitchen, refusing to let you lift a finger. She reheats the coffee and pours a second mug for you, adding just the right touch of honey the way you like in a pastel mug, its siblings still hidden in the cabinet with the rest of your ginormous mug collection. Every so often she glances back at you, and each time her eyes soften in a way that makes your heart flutter. Sunlight catches in her messy dark hair and dances over the tattoos that coil along her arms. There’s a small scratch on her back—your doing, from last night—that peeks out beneath the hem of the old band tee she’d thrown on. The sight of it makes you smile lazily, pride and affection welling up. Mine, you think, echoing her earlier sentiment, though neither of you speaks it aloud.

When the coffee is ready, Rhea returns to you. She hands you your mug, then wraps an arm around your back to steady you on the counter as she leans in to clink her cup softly against yours. “To us,” she says in a half-joking, half-tender toast. Her breath ghosts warm against your cheek. To this morning, her eyes seem to say. To every morning that might follow. You beam at her, nudging your mug against hers once more. “To us,” you echo, and take a careful sip. It’s perfect—hot and sweet, and exactly what you need.

Rhea watches you drink, her arm still secure around you. There’s a subtle pride in her gaze, as if making you happy is the most important job she’s ever had. You take another sip, then another, savoring the way the honeyed coffee spreads warmth through you. Outside, a golden sunbeam breaks through a passing cloud, flooding the kitchen in light. Dust motes dance around you both like tiny stars. Rhea squints slightly at the brightness, but she doesn’t move away; instead, she only tucks you closer into her side, sheltering you from the glare with her broad shoulder. The gesture is instinctive, protective—so Rhea. You bite your lip to hide a smile as you lean your head against her strong shoulder.

In the comfortable silence, Rhea’s thoughts wander once more. She realizes she isn’t scared anymore—not right now. The fears that nipped at her earlier have quieted, soothed by the simple reality of you here beside her, warm and content and hers. Maybe the future is uncertain. Maybe the idea of forever will always be a little frightening. But as Rhea presses a kiss to your temple and hears you sigh in bliss, she knows one thing with unwavering clarity: every bit of that future, every sunrise and salty breeze and slow kiss, she wants to share with you.

Her free hand finds yours atop the counter. Gently, she interlaces your fingers, her thumb brushing over that same ring finger once more. She smiles, a private, hopeful smile that you catch just a flicker of when you tilt your face up to hers. Someday, she thinks, heart swelling as you smile inquisitively back at her. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow—but someday, she’ll find the courage to ask. And if the answer is as golden and sweet as this morning, then Rhea knows it will be worth every ounce of daring.

For now, she has this moment, and that is enough. The two of you stay like that, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, sipping coffee in the quiet dawn. Outside, the ocean whispers against the shore, and the first gull cries out to announce the day. You rest your head on Rhea’s shoulder, and she turns to press her lips into your hair. Neither of you needs to speak. In the stillness, in the glowing light that turns both salt air and sweet honey into something sacred, Rhea holds you close and silently promises you everything. And as the morning sun climbs a little higher, she dares to imagine that promise shimmering on your finger one day—a secret dream, lingering like the taste of honey on her tongue, as enduring as the sea.

And later that day when you come bouncing out the bedroom in a white sundress ready to go visit Pearl in town you missed the way Rhea stumbled and growls to herself.

—

Rhea stepped cautiously through the door, ears filled by the distant hum of voices and gentle music. At first, the room seemed to be empty – just a soft glow of string lights and the faint scent of jasmine wafting through the air. It felt serene, almost ordinary, until you flicked on a switch and the lights fully revealed the gathered faces. “Surprise!” erupted in unison, and Rhea’s breath caught in her throat.

She froze a moment in the threshold, stunned. Around you, the warm glow of candles and fairy lights bathed the living room in golden softness. Rhea could hardly believe her eyes. There were flowers pinned up like confetti, an intricate banner overhead spelled out with her name in your handwriting, and an array of food laid out on the table – all her favorites.

Buttercream cupcakes with lavender petals, tiny quiches with thyme and goat cheese, a charcuterie board arranged in a sunflower pattern. Rhea could see the careful details: the cups with her monogram, her favorite records quietly spinning in the background, a low hum of music you had lined up – a gentle instrumental her mother used to play. Each element you had thought of. Each detail spoke to how deeply you knew her.

Her eyes found you across the room. You stood in the center of it all, wearing that warm smile that made her heart lurch. You were handing out glasses of sparkling grape juice to friends. You laughed as you met her stunned gaze, raising a hand in greeting. “Welcome, honored guest,” you teased softly, voice full of happiness. Rhea’s lips quivered into a grateful smile even as her eyes filled with tears.

Rhea’s world narrowed to this space you had created for her. She felt the gentle warmth of the string lights as they draped around the room like a protective cocoon. Music floated through the air – soft jazz, her secret love, which you had discovered. The scent of rosemary and lemon thyme from the appetizers mingled with her own perfume and the faint trace of something spicy she couldn’t quite place – was it you, or a favorite dish you’d included? Every sense told her that you had built this moment just for her.

She stepped in fully, crossing the threshold. Your eyes were warm, luminous. In an instant she was rushing across to you. Friends and acquaintances greeted her with hugs and claps on the shoulder as she passed. But there was only one who mattered to her right now, beating in her heart like a drum.

Her cheeks felt hot with emotion as she came to you, slipping her arms around your waist and letting you hold her in a fierce hug. “You—” was all she could manage at first. Over the noise and bright lights, she faintly heard you asking if she liked it, if she was okay. But her world had narrowed further until it was only you and her embrace.

Rhea pulled back slightly, hands on your chest, steadying herself. “You did all this for me?” she choked out, voice thick. You smiled and brushed a kiss to her hair. “Of course,” you murmured. “I wanted you to feel how much we all care. We love you.” Even as you said it, Rhea’s heart cracked open.

Tears spilled down the sides of her cheeks. She tried to wipe them away on her sleeve, but two of your gentle fingers covered her hand to halt the motion, giving her time. Instead, she pressed her lips to them, tasting salt mingled with the sweetest comfort. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Everyone here was happy and smiling at her, not pitying her like she had always expected on past birthdays. It was nearly overwhelming.

Rhea drew in a shaky breath, looking around at the gathering. Everyone was watching, eyes warm. The air was full of soft conversation and laughter. The sight should have made her retreat, the center of attention. But instead she felt like you had built an embrace around her with all these caring eyes, welcoming her home.

She saw people she admired, parts of her life, all here because of you. Even new acquaintances, friends made recently, had come just to celebrate. Some held glasses, raising them as she passed by with you. “To Rhea,” they cheered. A well-wisher handed her a little card, which she accepted with a trembling hand. She felt so seen in every glance, like each friend was a mirror showing her how they saw her – gentle, strong, worthy of joy. For the first time, she began to believe it herself.

Your hand found the small of her back, guiding her through the guests. You whispered, “Let me get you a drink,” and her throat tightened. It was a surprise party – meant to celebrate her – but you were always hers, too. The thought made her head swim with a kind of dizzy happiness, that she was yours as well in this carefully built world.

Rhea managed a few words of thanks to the helpers – “I love the cupcakes,” “Lavender is my favorite,” “Your playlist is perfect.” Each compliment you had earned came out haltingly as if stepping through cotton. Finally she said thanks to you, voice soft. “This is… the kindest, most beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

You smiled at that, pride shining in your eyes. “You deserve it, more than anyone,” you said quietly. Rhea could feel heat rising in her chest. Deserve? She had always thought so little of what she deserved.

Careful not to break the spell, you guided her gently to a quiet alcove at the back of the room. Rhea’s fingers twined instinctively into yours as you moved away, leaving the circle of guests behind. You weren’t leaving the party entirely – just taking a breath together.

Outside on the small balcony, string lights draped overhead like a miniature Milky Way. The night was warm, still. In the distance, the city lights shimmered and the buzz of the party inside was a muffled glow below. The air smelled faintly of the magnolia tree by the railing, and something earthy from the pot of basil by the sliding door.

You quietly closed the door behind the two of you. Rhea’s senses shifted. The world felt smaller – focused solely on the two of you now. The din of celebration was still there, a comforting murmur through the glass, but this porch was your private sky, your own little world.

Rhea’s not good at this part—receiving. Holding soft things without crushing them. But the ache in her chest when you laugh? When you blush? When you look at her like this moment might be your favorite of the whole night?

It’s unbearable.

It’s perfect.

It’s going to destroy her.

“You okay?” you murmur, stepping closer, voice low. Private.

She nods.

Then shakes her head.

Then reaches out and drags you in by the waistband of your dress, hands firm, grip unrelenting, until your knees knock into hers and your glass clinks against the deck railing.

“Ree?” you breathe.

Her eyes are dark, unreadable. Her voice is lower than it’s been all night.

“You did all this… for me?”

You smile. Tilt your head. “Of course I did.”

No hesitation. No agenda.

Just you.

Rhea doesn’t even mean to pull you in harder. Doesn’t mean to press her mouth to yours like she’s starving. But it happens anyway. Because suddenly her hands are on your hips, her thigh sliding between yours, and you’re already gasping into her kiss like she’s the only thing keeping you tethered.

You let her take the glass from your hand. Set it on the railing. Your fingers thread into her damp curls, still kissed with sea salt from earlier.

She kisses you deeper. Slower.

“Get on.”

You blink, lips parted, heart stumbling in your chest. “Here?”

A nod. A command. Her voice velvet and heat. “Now.”

And you do.

You straddle her thigh slowly, the thick denim rough against the softness between your legs, the pressure immediate. Her hands anchor you there, one gripping your waist, the other trailing up your back beneath the hem of your sweater.

“Atta girl,” she murmurs, proud and possessive and just a little rough. “Take what you need.”

You rock once.

“It’s your birthday yknow,” You remind her, that the night is about supposed to be about her, her happiness, her pleasure. She growls at you like it forced its way from her ribcage and her hands come to hold your hips tightly.

“I know,” she breathes like she’s the one riding watching you, “so give me the gift I want,”

And she watches you unravel.

Your mouth drops open. Your hands find her shoulders for balance. Her thigh flexes beneath you, firm and sure, grinding up as you move. She keeps you steady, guides your rhythm, breathes your name like worship. Like threat.

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” she growls against your jaw. “Look at you. Fuck.”

The sounds of the party keep on below. No one knows you’re here—panting against her neck, riding her thigh like it’s the only thing in the world. Your body’s soft, your moans are sweeter than any song the speakers could play.

She presses her mouth to your ear.

“Think I’d let anyone else see you like this?” she whispers. “No, baby. You’re mine.”

Your breath shudders. Your hips stutter. You cling to her like the night’s too big without her touch.

“Good girl,” she murmurs. “There you go. That’s it. Make a mess on me. Come for me, baby. Come now.”

And you do.

With a quiet cry, with your face buried in her neck, with your whole body trembling. You come undone, completely, absolutely hers.

Rhea kisses your temple, your cheek, your lips. Soft now. Gentle. Her arms wrap tight around you, holding you through the aftershocks, through the quiet.

The wind lifts the edge of your sweater. The stars are visible overhead. And from here, the party feels miles away.

When you pull back, breathless and glowing, she brushes your hair behind your ear and says, low:

“Thank you for tonight.”

You smile, eyes soft.

“Happy to make you feel loved,” you whisper.

And she kisses you again.

Because you do.

And she is.

—

The house smells like lemons and margarita rim and you.

Sunlight cuts through the kitchen window in slanted beams, catching on motes of dust and the edges of bubbles floating from the sink. You’re barefoot, of course—always barefoot—and half-drenched in soap suds, your hair twisted up, an old tank of hers hanging loose off one shoulder like it doesn’t belong to anyone anymore, like it was always meant for you.

You’re supposed to be cleaning.

Rhea’s supposed to be helping.

Instead, she leans in the doorway with her arms crossed, hips tilted, watching you slide half across the tile in a way that’s more dance than chore. having far too much fun for someone who did too many jello shots last night. You’ve got a sponge in one hand, your other arm flung wide for balance as you spin once, laughing at your own almost-fall.

“You’re gonna bust your ass,” Rhea calls, voice low, teasing. Still hoarse from a night of singing, sipping and then sleep.

You glance over your shoulder, grinning. “Not if I stick the landing.”

“You’re not wearing socks. It’s a health hazard.”

“Says the woman who climbed a roof barefoot to hang string lights.” Rhea doesn’t respond right away. She just watches.

God, you look like summer. Like joy with a pulse, like warmth people in cold places yearn for. Like the kind of reckless that makes her want to drop everything she’s holding and follow you anywhere.

She walks in slowly, hands dragging through her hair, pretending to be more composed than she is. You’re singing now—half real, half humming—words drifting in and out like you’re too full of light to bother catching all of them.

The floor is slick with soap. A trail of bubbles streaks from the sink to the hallway. One of the dish towels is soaked and abandoned across the dining chair like it gave up halfway through the job.

“You’re a menace,” Rhea says, grabbing another towel to mop at the counter.

You don’t answer.

You slide straight up behind her and wrap your arms around her waist, wet tank sticking to her shirt, bare legs against denim, your mouth pressing a quick kiss between her shoulder blades.

“Bite me,” you murmur.

And that’s how she knows she’s lost.

Rhea turns around, towel still in one hand. She doesn’t even try to keep a straight face. “Oh, you wanna play that game, do you?”

You raise both brows, eyes sparkling. “What game?”

She lunges before you can run.

You shriek—loud and delighted—and dart around the island just in time to dodge her grab. But she’s fast. And tall. And determined. You barely make it past the fridge before her arms wrap around your waist and lift you straight off the ground like you weigh nothing.

Your laughter is breathless. Wrecked. Glorious.

“Rhea!” you yelp, kicking slightly, hands grabbing her shoulders. “Put me down, the floor’s—”

She spins you once, then does exactly that—sets you down right in the middle of the soap-slicked tiles.

And you immediately slip.

But Rhea’s hands are still on you, catching you before you fall, holding you steady like she always does. You’re both breathless now, tangled in the middle of a half-clean kitchen with music still playing and the smell of citrus and lavender curling around the open windows.

Your hands rest on her chest, your forehead pressed against her collarbone. Your laughter slows.

“You okay?” she murmurs, brushing your hair back with soap-wet fingers.

You nod, still grinning. “Perfect.”

“Even with the soap floor and the near-death experience?”

“Especially because of those.”

Rhea leans down and kisses your cheek. Then your jaw. Then the tip of your nose.

“You,” she murmurs, “are absolute chaos.”

“And you,” you say, tilting your head to meet her gaze, “are smiling more than I’ve ever seen you.”

She softens instantly.

Because it’s true.

Because you said it like a gift, not a compliment.

And she wants to earn it every day for the rest of her life.

You’re still tangled up when you tug at the edge of her shirt, wrinkling it more than the washing machine ever will.

“You know this means we have to re-mop, right?”

Rhea groans. “Unless…”

“Unless?”

“…We just make it worse.”

And then she’s dragging you down with her—right into the mess you both made.

You squeal as your knees hit the wet tile, as her body presses over yours, laughter and kisses mixing into something that has nothing to do with chores anymore. Just soapy kisses. Damp tank tops. Hands sliding over skin.

The floor never gets finished.

But Rhea doesn’t care.

Because your smile is the only thing in the house worth polishing.

—

The bell above the surf shop door jingled softly as you stepped inside, the familiar scent of salt, cedar, and sun-warmed resin enveloping you. The late afternoon light streamed through the large front windows, casting golden patterns on the wooden floor.

Rhea was at her workbench, focused intently on sanding the curve of a new board. Her hands moved with practiced precision, muscles flexing beneath her tank top as she worked. She looked up at the sound of the bell, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Hey, you,” she greeted, brushing a strand of hair from her face, leaving a smudge of dust on her cheek.

“Hey,” you replied, crossing the room to press a quick kiss to her cheek. “Thought I’d keep you company while you finish up.”

“Always welcome,” she said, her eyes softening as she looked at you.

You wandered around the shop, admiring the rows of surfboards in various stages of completion, the tools neatly arranged on the walls, and the sunlight dancing across the metal surfaces. One particular beam of light caught your eye, reflecting brilliantly off a set of sharp shaping tools.

Drawn by the shimmering light, you reached out, fingers hovering just above the polished metal.

“Careful!” Rhea’s voice rang out, sharp with concern.

You jumped, turning to see her striding toward you, her expression a mix of exasperation and worry.

“Why do you insist on injuring yourself?” she asked, gently pulling your hand away from the tools.

“The light was reflecting all cool,” you explained, a sheepish grin on your face.

Rhea sighed, resting her forehead against your shoulder. “What are you, some kind of bewitched crow?” she mumbled, her voice muffled. “Always chasing shiny things.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around her. “Maybe I am. But you’re the shiniest thing in here.”

She looked up at you, eyes narrowing playfully. “Flattery won’t save you next time.”

“Noted,” you said, leaning in to kiss the tip of her nose.

Rhea chuckled, pulling you closer. “Come on. Let’s get you a safer distraction.”

She led you to a cozy corner of the shop, where a small couch and a stack of surf magazines awaited. As she returned to her workbench, you settled in, content to watch her work.

—

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the backyard garden. Rhea stood among the rows of blooming flowers and thriving vegetables, her hands covered in soil as she tended to the plants. The scent of lavender and rosemary filled the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of freshly turned soil.

You emerged from the house, carrying a tray with two glasses of iced tea, condensation dripping down the sides. “Thought you could use a break,” you said, offering her a glass.

Rhea took it with a grateful smile, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “You’re a lifesaver.”

You sipped your tea, surveying the garden. “It’s looking amazing. You’ve really outdone yourself.”

She chuckled, taking a seat on the edge of a raised bed. “Couldn’t have done it without your help.”

You sat beside her, letting the sun warm your skin. “Remember when we first started this garden? We had no idea what we were doing.”

Rhea laughed, the sound rich and full of joy. “We planted tomatoes in the shade and wondered why they didn’t grow.”

You grinned. “We’ve come a long way.”

After finishing your drinks, you both returned to the garden, working side by side. You weeded the flower beds while Rhea pruned the rose bushes, occasionally stealing glances at each other and sharing smiles.

As the afternoon wore on, you found yourself near the hose, a mischievous idea forming. You picked it up and sprayed a gentle stream of water in Rhea’s direction.

She yelped, turning to face you with a mock glare. “Oh, it’s on now.”

Before you knew it, a full-blown water fight had erupted, laughter echoing through the garden as you chased each other around, getting soaked in the process.

Eventually, you both collapsed onto the grass, breathless and dripping wet. Rhea turned to you, her eyes shining with happiness. “I love you, you know.”

You reached out, intertwining your fingers with hers. “I love you too.”

—

The sun’s barely cleared the roofline when you catch her around the waist a small whine leaving you.

Your arms loop slow, deliberate, just above the hem of her tank. Warm palms under cotton. Fingertips against bare ribs. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t wreck her a little, the way you always know exactly how to melt her spine first thing in the morning.

“Babe,” she warns, voice low and scratchy with sleep. Her keys are in one hand. Her boots are laced. She’s technically five minutes late already. “I gotta go.”

You hum into the back of her shoulder, ignoring her completely. “Are you sure you don’t need help sanding things?”

Rhea turns just enough to glance down at you—your cheek against her back, one eye squinting up like maybe she’ll say yes just to keep you close. You’re in her shirt again. It hangs off one shoulder, too soft to handle. Your legs are bare. She curses under her breath and plants her feet firmer.

“You’re a menace,” she says.

“I’m a muse,” you correct.

“Menace muse.”

You laugh—light and muffled against her skin. “Can I come with you?”

“You said you were painting today.”

“I changed my mind.”

“You were excited last night.”

“Now I’m excited about you.”

Rhea groans. Actually groans. Lets her head fall back with theatrical agony. “Why do you do this when I have to leave?”

“Because it works.”

She should go. She should pull away. But your hands slip under her shirt just a little, your palms flat over her stomach, and she sways into it without thinking. Her chest rises on a sigh. One of your thumbs brushes the scar near her ribs and she has to breathe through her teeth.

“Alright, Picasso,” she says, voice softer now. “What if I bring your paints across the lawn later? Set you up in the back corner of the shop while I work on boards?”

You perk up instantly. “With the radio and the kettle?”

“Sure.”

“And the snack shelf?”

“Don’t push it.”

You lean into her side now, eyes closing like this is the exact spot you belong. “We’d be very productive.”

“You’d be distracting.”

“You like that.”

She grins—can’t help it. Presses a kiss into your hair, quick and grounding. But you don’t let go. And she… doesn’t really want you to.

“Should I set you up a studio upstairs even though you’re across the lawn?” The words slip out casually. Too casually. She’s already halfway through tying the strings of her hoodie when you freeze against her back.

You pull away just enough to squint up at her.

“That space barely fits your bed and dresser,” you say slowly, like you’re unsure if this is a bit. “It’s not going to fit studio stuff, I have like 4 different easels,”

Rhea lifts a brow.

“Okay,” she says, like it’s obvious. “But what if my bedroom stuff wasn’t there?”

The silence hits different this time.

Your lips part. Then close. Then part again like you’re trying to keep up with what she’s just implied—but your heartbeat’s already giving you away.

“Where are you gonna sleep, babe?” you ask, not teasing now. Just quiet. A little unsteady. She shrugs. Turns to face you fully. Her hand comes to rest low on your hip.

“Here,” she says. “With you.”

The back door creaks a little in the wind. The kettle inside the house clicks off. Somewhere down the road, a gull cries sharp and far away.

But in this moment—it’s just you and her. Your wide eyes. Her thundering pulse. And the wordless stretch of morning light between two bodies that already live like they belong together.

You’re still blinking at her. Still stunned.

So she cups your cheek.

Leans in.

And murmurs against your mouth:

“Think about it. I’ve already got the keys.”

—

It’s nearly closing when the bell over the surf shop door jingles, and Rhea doesn’t bother looking up. She’s wrist-deep in polishing wax, sleeves shoved up, sweat glinting at her temples. “Jay,” she calls without looking. “If this is about your board again, I’m filing for custody.”

“I’d like partial visitation rights,” he replies easily.

That earns a grin—crooked, tired. “You’re worse than the tourists.”

Jay shrugs as he crosses to the workbench. “Not my fault I like things smooth.”

Rhea wipes her hands on a rag. “What do you need, wax boy?”

He leans on the counter. “Your girlfriend said you needed help moving a dresser.”

That makes her still. Just for a second. “She did?”

“Yeah. She stopped by the café this morning. Said something about making space today and needing an extra hand “obscenely heacy” with furniture.” He tells her as if it’s just a regular occurrence, air quotes and all.

Rhea blinks. Her mouth opens. Closes.

Jay arches a brow. “You didn’t know?”

“No,” she says. “I—no.”

But she’s already moving, heart thudding hard, pulling the rag from her waistband and tossing it aside. She grabs her keys off the hook by the door without another word.

“So… is that a yes or no on the wax?!”

Jay watches the door bounce on its hinge a couple times, the chimes swinging in the quiet. He glances around the shop, an extra pink mug on the back counter next to her black one, there’s a new throw blanket on the worn sofa, pencils and broken charcoal scattered on the side table. He smiles softly and grabs a post it from behind the small cash counter.

‘Down to help when you’re done being love birds, call me- J’

She’s already halfway across the lawn when she sees the light on in your bedroom window. Your bedroom. Her breath catches.

You’re inside—back to the door, hair pinned up with half a pencil, wearing cutoff sweats and one of her old tanks. You’re dragging a chair toward the corner of the room, eyebrows drawn in concentration.

She knocks once.

You turn.

“Oh,” you breathe with a content smile. “Hey, I was gonna text—”But she steps inside without waiting. Her voice is quiet. Uneven.

“Jay said I needed help moving a dresser?”

You nod, already tagging her to the centre of the room with you. “Your plants can go there,” you say, pointing to the patch of sun-soaked floor beside the window. “I already cleared half the closet.”

Rhea stares at you.

Not like she’s surprised.

Like she’s breathless.

“You want me here?”

“You’ve been here, Rhea.” And that’s all it takes. She kisses you before the chair’s moved, before you finish clearing her bedside table and adding an extra hamper.

Hands still rough from work, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw like she’s checking if you’re real. You melt into it easily, instinctively, fingers looping around the hem of her shirt like you always knew this was the moment it would happen. Her mouth moves against yours with that slow intensity she saves for things she can’t quite say yet. Gratitude. Relief. Want.

When she pulls back, her forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing like you just made it through a storm.

“You cleared half the closet,” she murmurs.

You smile. “Well, I use the other half.”

Her chest lifts in a small, stunned laugh, eyes still closed.

“And the dresser?” she asks.

You nod toward the far wall. “It's shitty. I figured we could use it at the shop but I didn’t want to scratch the floors.” Something in her flickers at that—gentle, sharp, familiar. The kind of emotion she’s spent most of her life avoiding because it meant losing control. But now it just means she gets to keep something. Someone.

You.

“God,” she says, voice quiet, “you really want this.”

You step back just enough to take her in fully. The sweat-damp collar of her shirt. The sawdust still on her boots. The disbelief softening her mouth.

“Of course I do,” you say, tilting your head. “You asked me and I can’t find a single reason to say no,”

Rhea shakes her head once, slow. A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “You’re gonna wreck me.”

You grin. “Little late for that.”

She groans, pulls you into a hug that lifts you slightly off your toes, then sets you back down like she’s claiming space with her body. One hand settles at the small of your back, the other tangling loosely in your hair.

And for a long moment, she just holds you.

No jokes. No teasing. No armor.

Just her.

Just here.

You whisper into the side of her neck, “Do you want to help me finish setting it up?”

She glances around the room. The opened drawers. The candle you’d lit an hour ago that smells like vanilla and driftwood. Her mug already in the sink from the night before. Her boots tucked near the back door.

Her mouth softens again, eyes almost reverent.

“No,” she says, dragging her thumb across your lower lip like a promise. “I want to lay you down in this bed and christen it as ours .”

And when she picks you up this time, you don’t stop her.

You just smile and whisper, “Welcome home.”

—

The morning was already warm by the time Rhea laced her shoes and hit the sand. Leaving you sleeping in the bed you now share with a soft kiss to your crown and a grumble about being safe on your part. Golden light spilled across the tide like a blanket still half-pulled over the ocean’s body. Her tank was damp with spray before she’d made it past the dunes, feet pounding steady along the shoreline, breath syncing with the rhythm of her stride.

It was a run she knew by heart now—soft earth near the waterline, her shadow long in the early sun, gulls flitting overhead and her thoughts slowly uncoiling. A way to burn through the thoughts she’s learning to leave behind, choosing to replace them with what you’re building for her, the images you’re painting behind her eye lids. But today—just past the curve near the jetty—something tore out of the dunes like a small hurricane.

Sand exploded.

Paws thundered.

And suddenly, a massive dog was barreling toward her.

Rhea skidded to a stop, heart jumping.

“Whoa—hey, easy!”

Too late.

He launched straight into her, a blur of grey and ears and uncoordinated limbs. Her knees buckled. They both went down in a whirl of salt and fur and sand.

The dog was enormous. Some kind of Great Dane mutt, with a wide chest, gangly legs, and seaweed stuck to one of his ears. Rhea braced her hands against his shoulders, laughing despite herself as he slathered a lick across her cheek and wagged his entire body with joy.

“Okay, okay! Jesus—you’re bloody heavy.”

No collar. No tags. Just wet fur, soulful eyes, and a tongue the size of a bath towel.

Rhea sat back in the sand, heart still racing as the dog flopped beside her with a groan like he’d just completed a marathon. His tail thumped in the wet sand. She looked around—nobody in sight. No distant voices calling a name. Just early sun, endless dunes, and one very pleased dog panting at her feet like she was the best thing he’d ever found.

“Great,” she muttered. “You’re lost, aren’t you?”

He sneezed in response and rolled onto his back.

Rhea sighed. Swiped the sand off her knees. Then leaned down and rubbed his belly because… well, he was there. And he clearly wasn’t leaving.

Fifteen minutes later, she’d searched up and down the beach. Nothing. No other runners. No beachgoers. No posters on the lifeguard hut. And every time she walked more than ten feet away, the dog followed—bounding, loping, tongue flapping like a flag.

“Alright, you’re mine for now,” she said, watching him plop beside her on the curb outside her shop. “But you better not eat my boards.”

He sneezed again and wagged his tail like a drumbeat.

—

You wake up alone and roll out of bed, going to make coffee for when Rhea gets back. You place your hands against the sink and yawn before rising again. It’s quick but a flash of white catches your eye and sure enough in Rhea’s window.

“Come over when you’re awake baby,” in scrawled writing, you grab her flannel off the back of the kitchen chair and slip on your sandals. Making your way across the lawn to the shops backs door, you knock twice and let yourself in.

“Okay, don’t freak out,” she said the moment you stapled through the door, which is usually Rhea for I did something slightly questionable but undeniably charming—voice breathless and weirdly giddy. “But I think we should keep him.”

“Keep who?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “He found me. He’s sandy, massive, and possibly the size of a small horse.”

You stare at her confused, sleeves rolled, a piece of toast still in your hand. You barely stepped through the door before something tackled you from the side.

“Holy—”

You went down hard, oofing as an enormous grey and goobery blur pinned you with affection. The dog panted happily above you, drool flying, tail slapping the floor like it owed rent.

Rhea, standing near the workbench, tried not to laugh. She failed.

“I see you’ve met.”

You blinked up from under the dog’s bulk, squinting through fur.

“He’s huge.”

“He’s perfect.”

“He just body-slammed me into next week.”

“He’s enthusiastic,” Rhea corrected, already crouching to tug him gently off you. He obeyed immediately, slumping down next to you like he’d claimed you as his second favorite person in the world.

Rhea offered you a hand up.

You took it, brushing off your— her shirt. The dog pressed his head into your thigh and groaned, soulful and adoring.

You looked at Rhea.

She looked at you.

“Dammit,” you muttered reaching down for him. Rhea’s smile was soft, a little crooked. She scratched behind his ears and nodded. “

“Do you think he has people?”

“I looked. Didn’t see anyone. No collar, no microchip.” She reached down, giving his ribs a rub. “But he’s not scared. Not starving. He found us like he meant to.”

You knelt again, this time letting him lean into your chest.

“He smells like seaweed,” you murmured.

“So do you sometimes,” Rhea teased.

You elbowed her.

And then—

Then you caught it.

The way she was watching you, eyes soft and wide, like the sight of you curled up on the surf shop floor with a drool-happy Great Dane was something holy.

You smiled.

“What’re we gonna name him?”

Rhea looked down at the dog. He wagged his tail once. Twice.

“Something big,” she said. “Something dumb. Something that fits.”

You tilted your head. “Atlas?”

Rhea grinned.

Atlas groaned in approval.

And the surf shop—already full of boards and salt and sawdust—grew just a little more alive.

—

The candles are mostly wax now.

One’s burned down to a pool, wick flickering inside it like the last breath of something sacred. Another leans slightly in its glass—crooked but still standing. Rhea doesn’t move to fix them. She doesn’t move at all.

She just watches you.

You’re perched on the stool in front of your easel, legs bare, one foot curled against the rung, the other grazing Atlas whose happily snoring. Your robe has slipped off one shoulder. It’s black—her favorite one on you—and it’s barely tied. Like you forgot to finish the knot after refilling your wine. Or maybe you just didn’t bother.

You’ve got a drink in one hand. The brush in the other.

There’s raspberry pink on your wrist and ultramarine under your thumbnail. Your hair’s a mess. Tipsy and barefoot, skin glowing in the soft spill of candlelight, you look like you’ve been painted already. Or conjured. Or summoned.

And Rhea can’t stop looking.

She’s got her elbow hooked on the kitchen counter behind her, a drink sweating in her palm, one hip leaned lazy against the wood. There’s no music. Just the tick of a wall clock, the wind through the cracked window, and the faint sounds of your breath when you exhale too slow.

The painting doesn’t matter. Not to her. She can’t even see the front of it.

All she sees is you.

The focus in your eyes. The looseness in your limbs. The way your bottom lip drags through your teeth every time your brush moves a little too close to the edge. The way your breath catches when the candlelight shifts the shadows on the canvas.

You’re beautiful when you’re still. But like this?

She wants to fall to her knees for you.

Rhea takes a sip of her drink, eyes not leaving your body.

You sigh—soft, distracted—and set your brush down, flexing your fingers like they’ve just come back to you. You twist in your seat to reach for another color, and that’s when your robe slips.

Further this time.

The knot doesn’t hold. The silk pools at your hips, and suddenly, she can see the entire line of your back, the sweet curve of your waist, the side of your breast, bare and lit by flame.

You don’t notice.

You just hum softly and sip your wine, your fingers streaked with paint, a curl of hair falling across your cheek like it was placed there for a reason.

Rhea forgets how to breathe.

She sets her glass down without looking, stepping forward. Quiet. Careful.

You don’t turn. But your voice is warm, still soft with wine and sugar and sleep.

“You’re staring.”

“Can you blame me?”

You laugh, throat low and open. “Is it the painting or the robe?”

“It’s you,” Rhea says, and you freeze just slightly.

Her hands come to your hips, palms warm against silk. She presses close behind you. She’s still wearing her tank, but her jeans hang loose at the hips, her belt unbuckled, her body heat turning molten where her chest brushes your back.

Your lips part.

She leans in, her breath against your ear.

“You look like a sin someone prayed for.”

You shift in your seat, leaning back into her. The robe slips more. Your head turns slightly—like you want her to kiss your neck. She does. Once. Then twice. Her teeth scrape gently across your pulse.

Your eyes flutter. “Rhea…”

She presses her thigh between your legs from behind, guiding you with a hand at your hip.

“Keep painting,” she murmurs. “If you can.”

You shudder.

Her thigh fits right. Tight. Firm between yours. Her hands skim up your ribs, under the robe, fingers sliding over soft skin, slow and sure and reverent. She doesn’t rush.

You grind against her thigh, slow at first, and she groans softly into your hair.

“You have any idea what you look like right now?”

You shake your head, breath hitching.

“Fuckin’ divine,” she whispers. “Messy and warm and mine.”

Your body moves against her, the rhythm lazy and sinful. Rhea’s hands slide up to cup your breasts, fingers dragging over your nipples as her lips trace the curve of your neck.

You’re gasping now, panting into the air like she’s pulling sound from your lungs.

“You’re not painting,” she teases, one hand sliding down to your thigh, tightening her grip.

“Can’t,” you manage. “Fuck—can’t think.”

She grins. “Good.”

Her thigh flexes. You cry out, quiet and desperate, one hand still clutching your wine glass, the other reaching blindly for the brush—dropping it instead as your hips stutter and her name slips from your mouth like a prayer.

She holds you through it.

One hand on your stomach, the other between your legs now, fingers sliding against you slow, then faster, just enough.

“Come on, baby,” she murmurs. “Give it to me.”

And you do.

She kisses your shoulder when you fall forward, chest heaving, mouth parted, robe clinging to sweat-slick skin.

“Next time,” she growls, voice wrecked, “I make you finish the painting before I finish you,”

You laugh. Wrecked. Warm. Completely hers and allow her to carry you to bed, heavy paws trotting after you

—

Rhea is halfway through her toast—shirtless, barefoot, hair tied up in the laziest knot imaginable—when the scream happens.

Your scream.

She drops the toast immediately.

“Baby?!”

There’s no answer. Just the slam of the back screen door and a yelp that sounds half-laugh, half-absolute-terror.

Rhea bolts.

Atlas beats her there.

By the time she steps out onto the back patio, the Great Dane is mid-sprint—ears flapping, mouth open, legs all limbs and sand—as he barrels toward—

A seagull.

A very loud, very surprised seagull that had the audacity to land next to you while you were watering the basil. You’re frozen. Still holding the watering can like a weapon. The bird squawks, takes off, and Atlas launches himself three feet into the air with a feral bark like he’s auditioning for the Coast Guard.

He lands with a thud and skitters sideways into a lounge chair. You blink. Then dissolve into laughter so hard you double over. Rhea laughs, too—once she’s sure you’re not actually in danger. She jogs over, eyes crinkling. “You okay?”

You nod, wiping tears from your cheeks. “He tried to kill it.”

Rhea places a hand on your lower back and leans into your space, warm and smug. “Told you he already picked you.”

You grin. “You jealous of the bird or the dog?”

“Both,” she mutters. “But mostly the dog. He took the middle of the bed and gets to protect you?”

You nudge her playfully. “Maybe next time you’ll bark louder.”

She growls against your ear in response—low and teasing—and just like that, the whole day begins again: with laughter, soft kisses, and the sound of paws chasing shadows across sun-warmed sand.

—

The porch smells like rosemary and sea salt.

Not a recipe—just life. Just summer steeping into the air. The kind of scent that clings to skin and makes everything feel like it was always meant to be soft.

You’re curled into one corner of the porch swing, bare legs folded beneath you, wrapped in a cotton hoodie that still smells like Rhea—warm, sun-dried, faintly herbal, with a hint of something sharper underneath. Her tank is loose on you, too, one strap sliding off your shoulder every time you lean forward to sip from the cocktail she made. Something tart. Pink. Glittering with melting ice and rimmed with chili sugar.

The sun’s just beginning to dip, and the sky is drunk on it. All honey-gold and orange creamsicle, smeared with clouds that look like they were finger-painted by gods. The porch lights have already flicked on above you—bare bulbs strung between the eaves, glowing warm as candle wax. One of them hums faintly. Another swings just slightly in the breeze.

Atlas barrels past again, all paws and flopping jowls, barking once at a firefly like it personally offended him. He skids into the edge of the grass and gallops back the other direction, chasing it like it’s the moon. You laugh into your drink, your mouth gone sticky-sweet with citrus, and catch Rhea watching you from where she’s leaned against the railing.

She’s still in her joggers from earlier, a sports bra and a loose tee thrown over top—one side hitched up enough to show a stretch of tattooed skin. There’s a faint flush along her chest from the last heat of the day. Her eyes are on you like you’re not just something to admire, but something to hold. To know. To keep.

“You’re in my clothes again,” she murmurs, lazy and fond.

You grin, smug. “Maybe you should stop leaving them where I can find them.”

“Maybe I leave them on purpose.”

“Oh?”

Her eyes glint, and she takes a sip straight from the bottle she’s been nursing for an hour now—something dark and rich that she claimed was too good to mix. She sets it down and wanders over barefoot, slow and loose-hipped, until she’s standing just beside the swing.

She leans down. Plucks your drink from your hand. Sips it with a smirk, tongue flicking across her bottom lip like she’s testing more than just flavor.

Then, without asking, she swings one leg over the bench and drops down beside you—long, lean, solid Rhea, all heat and ink and quiet power. Her thigh presses against yours. She smells like sweat and shampoo and smoke and skin.

You can feel the joint tucked behind her ear before she even pulls it free.

She lights it with one hand and holds it out to you, her fingers brushing your lips as you inhale. The burn is soft. Slow. Like honey gone dark.

You exhale into the air between you, and Rhea watches the smoke drift upward like it’s art.

“Y’know,” she says, voice gone lazy with wine and affection, “this—” she gestures, vaguely, at the swing, the dog, the half-buzzed quiet—“might be it.”

“It?”

“The dream.” Her head tips against yours, heavy and warm. “Fireflies, you in my hoodie, dog with a stupid name. Little bit high. Sunset turning your skin gold. This is it. This is everything.”

Your throat aches, suddenly, in the best way.

“You’re high,” you say softly, teasing.

She hums. “Yeah. On you.”

You roll your eyes but lean into her, body slotted to hers, and when she kisses your temple, it’s slow. Thoughtful. A promise drawn in skin.

Atlas bounds back up the steps, tongue lolling, flops his entire body across your feet like he’s been chasing the secrets of the universe. You giggle and reach down to ruffle his ears. Rhea watches you with something deeper now—something older than the sea.

When she speaks again, her voice is a little rougher.

“You ever think about forever?”

You blink. Look over at her.

“Like… this?”

She nods. “This. You. A house that smells like paint and salt and burned toast. Big dumb dog. Me bringing you coffee before you’re even awake enough to open your eyes.”

Your breath catches.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think about it.”

“Me too,” she says.

Then she kisses you again—slow, open-mouthed, tasting of sugar and smoke and everything sacred. Her hand cradles your cheek like you’re the most fragile thing she’s ever trusted herself to touch. Like she’s already planning how to love you better tomorrow.

The swing creaks beneath you.

The porch lights flicker.

The fireflies rise like stars.

And somewhere deep in your chest, the moment folds into your bones like it’s always been waiting.

Like this—like her—was always meant to be your home.

—

If you made it this far I am very proud of you, that was a long one! Likes, comments, and blogs always appreciated. Hope you enjoyed see you soon for some regularly scheduled program fics

#rhea ripley fanfic #mami rhea #rhea ripley #rhea ripley fanfiction #wwe one shot #wwe raw #rhea ripley fluff #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x you #wwe #rhea ripley x fem reader #rhea ripley x oc #rhea ripley smut #wwe rhea ripley #wweraw #wwe monday night raw #wwe smackdown

165 notes · View notes