#trying to color and slightly shade for the first time in. a while

[umblrspectrum]

i hate perspective. happy new years also

[clovermoters]

anytime, anywhere - lando norris x childhood sweetheart!reader

summary - lando fell in love when he was ten years old, heres small moments of that love over the years.

warnings - kisses, panic attacks, small amount of violence & lando being a SAP

wc : 8k

some music - work song, hozier | my love mine all mine, mitski | love of my life, harry styles | pov, ariana grande | super rich kids, frank ocean.

authors note - hi! as always, enjoy! reblogs & likes are always hugely appreciated!! lots of love, clove!

ten - the meeting

The fluorescent lights of the afterschool program shined bright as you were sitting at the snack table, quietly picking away at the food your mom packed for you this morning. It was 5:30, most kids had been picked up by their parents or siblings. Leaving you and four other kids left, one was a curly haired boy who was sitting not far across from you. Working away at his homework. 

You remembered he was in your class. Lando, you remember, was his name. He was quiet, and he sat far across the room from you, so you haven't spoken to him much since meeting him in september. 

One of the coordinators for the program, Allie walks into the room, having left minutes prior to take a phone call, she looks at you with a sympathetic look on her face before sitting down next to you carefully.

You already know what she's going to say 

“Hi sweetie, that was your mum” she began, taking a deep breath trying to keep her voice low. “Your parents are going to be a bit late today, your mum said dad will get here as quick as possible” she continued. 

This wasn't the first time your parents have called, they were late most days, you tried to understand that they have unpredictable jobs, with both your mum and dad being doctors at one of the top hospitals in the country. 

You huffed, nodding before pulling out a colouring book that was given to you by your teacher as homework, the same homework the brunette across the room was doing. 

Down the table, the other three boys seemed to have heard your conversation with allie. 

“Ooooohhh y/n’s parents abandoned her!” one of them taunts, the boys burst into giggles before Allie sends them a stern face. they don't let up. 

“Isn't this like the third time this week? They must forget about you alot” they poke while their laughter grows louder 

You see out of the corner of your eye, Lando looks up from his book, his eyes looking to you while your head stays down, trying to focus on your coloring.  

Tears prick your eyes as Allie sends them to the hallway, probably to tell them off, some more. The sound of your sniffles fill the room and Lando watches you wipe your tears with your sleeve before he stands up and makes his way across the room and places himself right next to you. 

“I like your colouring” he says shyly, like he isn't sure what to say. You turn to him, his green eyes looking into yours as he offers you a warm, genuine smile. You find yourself smiling softly back at him, like it was contagious. 

“Thanks, yours is okay” you giggle mischievously, looking down to see his work. His colours were slightly different than yours, but you both had the same idea with shades and detail, his jaw dropped in faux offense. 

“Hey! They look the same!” he says, you both break out into a fit of giggles, playfully chatting while you continue with your artwork. 

When Allie returns, she finds you two in a very in depth conversation about the movie you watched in class today. Crayons scattered around the abandoned colouring books, she smiled softly at the two ten year olds as she watched a special bond form between them. 

You chatted about everything, Lando told you about his newly found hobby in karting. How he wanted to try competing and was mostly excited to miss school for races. You told him small details about you, his attention never wavering as you spoke. 

You both chatted until the rest of the kids had left, leaving just you two and Allie, who was sitting quietly in the corner playing some game on her phone. 

“You should come to one of my races” he declares, “i'll let you drive my kart” you cringe slightly, frowning at the boy. the thought of operating the machinery scares you slightly. “When you win a race I'll go karting with you.” You say shaking your head at him, 

The door opened and in walked a lady whose eyes found lando almost instantly, lando had his back to the door since he was fully immersed in his conversation with you. 

“I think your mums here” you say as Lando whips his head around to see his mum. He smiled, getting up from his seat and hugging her tight. You felt your shoulders drop as you realized lando would now go home, leaving you alone. 

“Hi sweetheart, ready to go home?” she asks her son, who hesitates before he answers. Lando made eye contact with you, the girl he’d found a new friend in and felt quite sad to leave her here, when he got to go home. 

Looking at his mum, he shakes his head “no i wanna stay with y/n until her dad comes.” 

His mum looked at you, shrinking into your chair with all eyes on you. She had a sparkle in her eye as she watched him make his way back to you. She could tell her son had grown fond of you by seeing how he continued your conversation as if his mum wasn't there.

“so, if I win a race, you will come karting with me. deal?” he holds his small hand out, you smile, showing him a toothy smile that made his ten eight year old brain stop in time. Wanting to freeze frame it and paste it onto his eyelids. 

You shake his hand 

“deal.” 

Fifteen  - the unofficial first date

You were anxiously scuffing your feet into the asphalt of your local karting track. Lando had won his first karting race long ago, he was actually set to win his first series this year. But you two had never gotten around to getting you into a kart and on track with him. 

Since that day five years ago, you two had been inseparable. He took you to races on the weekend, and you had helped him catch up in school when he needed help. 

You even started going home with him after school and your parents began to just pick you up at Landos. 

Lando knew he liked you, he had known since he met you. Since your hand brushed against his when you both reached for the same crayon. Your smile was contagious and he swore you grew flowers wherever you walked. 

What started as a small elementary crush– over the years had bloomed into something bigger, something Lando couldn't explain just yet. 

Lando was so excited to show you karting, you could see it on his face. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet while he pulled you through the garage with his hand held in yours. You tried to ignore the butterflies that have made home in your stomach years ago when Lando started getting touchy like this with you. It started with his hand lightly brushing your shoulder in conversations, hugs that lasted longer than they should’ve while his head was tucked snugly in the crook of your neck. 

he leads you to a small single seater that you assumed was yours for the afternoon, “this is what you’ll be driving, i'll be in my kart with you the whole time” he explains, showing you how to control it and the proper steering technique, while throwing in a couple tips. His hand is still laced with yours as he tells you about his own kart. 

You loved seeing him in his element. Watching him race was your favourite thing. You admired his face as he spoke, the freckles you've grown to love topped with his curls that he was still learning to care for properly (after you had begged him too). 

“You with me?” he nudges your arm, shaking you out of your daydream. You nod 

“yeah, just zoned out a bit.” you reply, 

When you walked out in fireproofs and a karting suit, Lando felt like time froze, the world around him spinning to a halt as his gaze found you. He thought you looked beautiful everyday, but seeing you in a race uniform made his mind go fuzzy. 

His breath caught in his throat as he watched you walk over to him, holding a helmet and gloves. His green eyes sparkling at you, like you were the only girl in the world.  

He helped you with your helmet, his fingers brushing under your chin as he clipped the chinstrap, sending shockwaves down your spine. When you were secured he gave you a light tap on the side of your head before you both got in your karts, starting your engines. 

-

You were slowly getting the hang of the machinery, the kart vibrating underneath you as you took each corner with more confidence as you went, Lando staying steadily out in front of you. Turning his neck around to check in on you when you two would rush down the straights. You understood why he enjoyed this so much, the thrill of taking a corner slightly too fast, pushing the kart to its limit. 

You almost enjoyed it too much. 

The barrier came quickly, you hit a dead spot on the track, your kart skidding straight into the make-shift padded wall. When Lando watched the yellow flag fly out, he immediately felt his stomach drop, turning around to see you wobbling slightly in your kart. 

Stopping his kart safely off the track, his feet hit the ground as he sprinted to you, dropping in front of you, flicking his and your visor up, his eyes scanning yours frantically as he watched tears brim your eyes. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, his concern evident in his voice as he checks you over. “Where does it hurt?” you groan as he moves your arm slightly, cringing as your muscles contract from the sudden shock. 

“Im okay, just annoyed, im sorry” you huff, tears threatening to fall from your eyes, you knew how much lando wanted to take you karting and show you his world. And now you've ruined it by crashing. 

“No, no none of that.” he soothes, helping you out of the kart and back to the garage. Sitting you down and helping you take your helmet off. You looked adorable when he saw your messy hair from the balaclava. Lando had never wanted to kiss anyone yet, but at this moment he was coming very close to kissing you. 

It was like an itch that surged his whole body, the desire he felt to do all the things a couple does. He wanted to try them, with you. The hand holding while walking to classes, the nights spent wrapping in eachothers arms, he wanted all of you. 

 he wanted to learn what being in love was like, and he only saw himself learning with you. 

“Are you sure you're okay?” he asks cautiously, concerned that your adrenaline hasn't allowed you to fully feel any pain you might be in. 

“Yeah, i think i'll just be sore” you sigh, taking a sip from the water bottle he retrieved from the cooler for you, sitting himself on the floor in front of you. He's looking up to you like he's mesmerizing every inch of your face, studying every mole and freckle. 

Lando chuckles, “oh yea, you're gonna hurt like hell tomorrow” he jokes, you kick him lightly as you break into a fit of giggles, your laughs filling the garage with a sense of joy. 

The mechanics nearby smile at the two of you, infatuated with the way Lando acted in your presence. On a normal race weekend, he was focused, almost unable to see past the task at hand. With you, he was light, laughing, almost as if you showed him what happiness was. 

Your laughs die down and you catch yourself staring at the way his nose crinkled as he smiled. How his curls sit perfectly even after being smushed in his helmet. Your cheeks go flush while you fidget with the hem of your fireproof. 

Lando gaze locked onto you, he watches as your face focuses on your fingers, smiling softly before he stands up, offering his hand out to you. 

“c’mon, lets make my dad get us ice cream” 

You break out into a smile, linking your fingers with his before standing up, you two making your way to find Landos dad. 

Even though karting didn't go how he had planned, Lando felt today was a successful day nonetheless. Because he got to spend his day with you, showing you his other world he loved, the world he was building and working towards, imagining what the future would be when he climbs his way to the top, and he knew he wanted you to be right there with him when he did.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue” you say playfully as you walk with him towards the car, he just smiles, his curls bouncing as he strolls beside you.

“Anytime, anywhere.” 

Seventeen - bruise knuckles with a side of love  

The lights were dimmed as you walked into the house of your friend's house, music was pumping through the speakers providing background noise to the conversations you could hear flowing throughout the room. 

Your eyes scanned the room, looking for the familiar head of chocolate curls who you refused to admit was the whole reason you had come. Lando had been away karting for the past week and you haven't seen him, when you spot him, he has his back turned to you fully engrossed in a conversation with Max Fewtrell. 

Max's eyes catch your from over landos shoulder, a small smirk creeping into his face as he announces your entrance.

“ayeee!! There she is!” he shouts, landos head whips around, slightly confused to who Max is referring to, when he spots you, his eyes light up. You two lock eyes and it's like the world falls away for a moment as you take each other in. He noticed you had straightened your hair differently, training a soft curl at the end of your hair, framing your face perfectly. 

He's on his feet in seconds, making his way across the room to close what felt like a ravine between you. Mumbling a soft hey while engulfing you in a hug, it felt like coming home after a horrible day. His arms squeezing you softly as he tucks his head into your shoulder. You hug him back, closing your eyes as you both linger in the hug for a moment. 

You don't realize that it's been long until Max is next to you, he clears his throat loudly, startling you guys apart. He smiles, greeting you with a brief hug that has Lando sending him a slight glare. You failed to notice the brunette pinching his friend's side afterwards, max letting out a small whine. 

You told Lando how much he missed school, he shrugged it off with a laugh, you both knew he had given up on completing school. Joking that you were getting the degree for both of them. The three of you had always been close, going through schooling together since you were young. Though Max knew there was a bond between you and Lando that he would never be able to fully understand. 

You two understood each other without even having to speak, if Lando was upset with a race, Max often would text you as they drove home, you’d be waiting for them on the porch with snacks and a movie. Lando falling into your embrace before you settled on your own end of the couch, one of his favorite films playing on the tv. 

If Max looked over to you two, he’d see Lando absentmindedly playing with your fingers, he’d see you slowly running your hand through his curls, something you knew would calm him down 

You always knew lando needed comfort after a bad result, but you failed to understand that all he ever really needed was you. 

 “I'm gonna go grab a drink, do you want anything?” you ask softly, pointing to the small mini bar that was set up in the corner, one of the guests dramatically pouring non-alcoholic drinks as if you were in a club. 

“Monster pleasee” he drawls, smiling widely as if mimicking a little kid asking for candy. You roll your eyes with a smile before turning to Max, who shows you his already half drunk redbull. 

You turn away, sauntering your way to grab the beverages, lando and max watch you as you make your way. Once you're out of earshot, Max drops his smile before turning to smack lando in the arm. The boy yelps in pain, grabbing his arm with an unamused look on his face

“Oww!” Lando groans as Maxs face stays serious. 

“Why haven't you told her” he asked, leaving no room for bullshit. Lando and you had been dancing around the idea of a relationship for years, and he was tired of it. He was tired of seeing his two best friends hopelessly in love with each other and choosing to ignore it. 

“It's just not the right time,” Lando argues, his voice small. He tried so many times to tell you, to blurt his feelings out like a case of word vomit, to just scream i love you in your face. But every time, the words died in his throat at the possibility of you not returning his feelings. 

“Bullshit.” max counters “you two have been all heart eyes since we were what? twelve? I don't care whatever story you’ve run in your head, she loves you Lando and you both need to open your eyes and see it” he commands, sending a blow straight to Landos heart as he exhales with a sigh, his gaze fixed on you chatting with the boy handing out drinks. 

“What if it doesn't work out? I'm never here anymore max, how is that fair to her?” Lando says, a sense of longing evident in his eyes while he looks at you.

 Max’s offense crumbles slightly, but he didn't let up “she loves you enough to fight for it. She just needs to know you're willing to fight for it too.” he offers, you make your return, holding two cans of monster, the two boys staring slightly.  Like they had just been caught doing something they shouldn't. You frown slightly, your hand rising to cover your face.

“Do I have something on my face?” you ask worried, your hand rubbing along your features as you search frantically. Lando chuckles, lightly grabbing your wrists to halt your movements 

“No no,-” he breathes through a laugh, his touch sending sparks up your forearms  “you look beautiful” he said lowly, like it was only for you to hear. 

 You exhale deeply with a small laugh, sending him a soft, genuine smile that had Lando seeing double. 

This boy was done for. 

– 

The atmosphere had shifted since you arrived, the party was now in full swing as bodies filled the house, the base of the song vibrating underneath the floor. You and Lando were standing in a corner, your conversation light as you both nursed your drinks. 

Lando was explaining the new video game he and max had started playing when he was– quite rudely– interrupted by a boy approaching you, it was the same boy from the drink bar, whose name you learned was james 

“hi y/n, i just wanted to say that i enjoyed our conversation earlier. It's always a pleasure chatting with you” he smiles, one of those smiles that has a cheshire cat behind it, one that makes you slightly stiff next to lando. James didn't acknowledge landos presence, acting as if you were standing next to a plant pot. 

“Oh, thank you james.” you say, noticing lando’s eyes have turned to the black and neon can in his hand, fiddling with the pull tab. He's trying not to listen, but the way you shifted towards him slightly as James kept talking to you made him wary. 

“–hey you wanna get outta here?” James offers. 

Something in lando snaps when he sees the cocky smirk on his face.

“Woah,woah,woah, let's slow your roll here, mate.” he steps slightly in front of you, puffing his chest. 

“Last time I checked I wasn't talking to you” James barks back. his voice became louder as you hid behind lando. 

 “she clearly doesn’t want to be talking with you” he argues, you could see Landos fists balling at his sides. the monster abandoned on the windowsill behind you. Landos neck grows red as the anger bubbles underneath his skin. 

“Yk’what, why don't you let me and the lady have a conversation, yeah?” he says trying to push past Lando, his tone dripping with smugness. 

Oh that had Lando seeing red.

His fist connects with James' jaw, then his nose. Sending him to the floor, you gasp as James groans, before getting up and raising his fist. He doesn't have the time to think before Lando sends another blow to his chest, knocking him down for good. 

Two guests go to James, picking him up to place him on the couch as Max rushes over to you and Lando, his eyes falling to Landos hand.

“Shit mate–” he exhales, scanning the room for a way out “–c’mon let's go get some ice and fix that, you have to drive this weekend.” 

He leads you upstairs to a somewhat secluded bathroom, shutting the door as Lando sits on the sink, the pain from his hand evident in his movements. 

You haven't spoken since the fight, slightly shaken up from watching your best friend almost did beat the living daylights out of someone. You didn't want to think about what could've happened if James was able to land his own punches. 

You press toilet paper to his bleeding knuckles, and Lando hisses from the pain of you pressing on the inflamed flesh. Dropping his head onto your shoulder as max ruffles through the cabinet.

“score!” he exclaims, holding up a bright red first aid kit. He pulls out the alcohol wipes and hands them off to you. 

“m’sorry, this is gonna hurt” you say quietly before you clean the wounds, lando squeezes his eyes shut at the sting, his uninjured hand finds your waist, using it as a lifeline. 

Once the wounds are clean you begin to wrap his hand, your touch light as max hands you gauze, but nothing to secure it with. 

“Max, I need tape or something–” you mumble, focused on the task at hand. Lando watches as your tongue pokes out of your mouth while your eyes –which he's just noticing are slightly glossed over– are focused on carefully covering the wounds. 

Once Max makes his way to find you tape, you and Lando are left in silence, spare from the muffled sound of music still coming from downstairs. You were mumbling soft swears as the gauze would slip in your hold. 

“um- i'm really sorry–” lando breaks the silence, you look to him but he won't meet your eyes, “–i didn't like where he was going with that, but if you–uh..wanted him though, i understand” he says low, his eyes fixed on his lap while you look at him slightly shell shocked.

You scoff, almost like a laugh “you’re an idiot” he looks up, green eyes pouring into yours, hyper aware of the hold you had on his hand and his on your hip.

“Wh-what?” he breathes, confused. You send him a small are you stupid? look before saying what you’ve been trying to build the courage to say for years.

“I don't want him, god did you see his greasy hair?-” you roll your eyes, lando chuckles softly before you continue “i want you, you muppet”

Lando froze, he stared at you with nothing but admiration, you stood in front of him with a smile on your face, he swore he could’ve died right there. He exhaled deeply as a smile grew wide on his face, reaching both ears as he pulled you closer.  

“Thank god because i'm not sure what i would've done if you didn't” he whispers, his eyes flicking to your lips, tilting his head down slightly. You leaned in slightly, his breath fanning across your face before he locked his lips onto yours. 

The kiss was slow, but hard, like the crescendo of a musical piece. Years of longing being poured into it, your lips slotting together perfectly. Moving in sync as your free hand cups his jaw. He pulls you closer by his hold on your waist, humming slightly when you bite his bottom lip.

 The world seemed to have faded away as he deepened the kiss. His tongue swiping across your bottom lip, asking for access you happily granted. You kissed him until you were breathless, smiling against each other's lips, you swore you could see sparkles in landos eyes.

“ten year old me is so happy right now” he mumbled against your lips, smiling so wide as you giggled. You kissed him again, softer this time, drinking in the kiss that you had dreamt about for years.

You kissed him multiple times in that bathroom, the pain in his hand forgotten as his focus was solely on you. 

That was, until the doorknob jingled before Max opened the door, holding tape and a bag of ice. You step back quickly as Max halts his movement, it didn't take an idiot to put two and two together. Your puffy lips, landos slightly messy hair, and his poorly wrapped hand that had been perfectly wrapped when he left moments ago.  

All he did was smile, before handing lando the ice to hold to his hand. He hands you the tape before moving back to the door, lingering in it before he leaves.

“I am so, so, fucking happy for you both.” is all he says before shutting the door, leaving you alone once again. 

You turned to each other slowly, staring for a moment before you broke out into giggles. Once you both quiet down, you rewrap his hand, maybe stealing a kiss or two (or three) while you work, making up for all the time you could’ve been kissing him over the years. 

Lando watched you lovingly, thinking to the future. Yes he was scared, he was scared of what this meant with you in school and him racing. But he could see that you wanted this, you wanted him. if he had to die fighting to make you two work, he was gonna sure as hell try. 

Nineteen - through the storm

The crisp autumn air turned your nose red as you walked through the streets of London towards Max and his girlfriend, Pietras’ flat. It was Saturday afternoon and Lando was in Italy, it was Lando’s first year in F1, you two had been dating for two years now, and had your own flat in London you called home. 

Every race weekend, it became a tradition for you to watch qualifying and the race with Max and Pietra. Ordering pizza while you shout at the tv against anyone who dares to overtake your boyfriend. 

Opening the door you waltz in, announcing your arrival before shrugging your shoes off, placing your coat and bag in the mudroom. Your sock clad feet pad across the floor into the living room where Max had set up the broadcast. 

“How's he doing?” you ask, grabbing a blanket and snuggling into the couch. “He's doin’ fine but I'm not sure we're getting out of Q2” he answers, a sigh escaping his lips as you frown. Lando had told you the struggles he's been having recently with the car, not being able to find that balance he needs. 

The media knew it too, it felt like every time you checked your phone, someone had something horrible to say about the man you loved. You knew it was getting to him despite the brave face he put on. 

Your boyfriend was the type of person who wanted everyone to love him, the amount of scrutiny was eating at him while all he did was try his best in the car he was given.

 It wasn't his fault the car he was given was a tractor.

You watched anxiously as the timer ticked down, a minute left in Q2. Lando was setting his final lap, nibbling on your fingernails as he rounded the final sector, crossing the line to land in P14. his teammate Carlos sainz, landing in P7. 

You deflate, knowing lando wouldn’t be happy with himself, you knew him too well. After years of watching him in F3 and F2, you know what was running through his head and it killed you that you couldn’t be there with him. 

When he was home earlier in the month he told you one night how the one thing that scared him was people thinking he didn’t deserve his seat, this result certainly didn't help him with his self doubt. 

“He's going to be so upset” you mumble, turning your ringer on while you wait for his call. Another small tradition you had was if you weren't in attendance, the minute he had a moment alone, he was on the phone with you.

Max nods silently, Pietra sighing as she makes her way to the kitchen to order pizza for you all, silence stretching throughout the apartment as you watch the final moments of qualifying. 

As the commentators congratulated the pole sitter, raving on about the final laps that had been revolutionary all you could think about was Lando and how he was beating himself up over this. 

You could see the tweets now, the hate, the scrutiny that was going to flood your socials the second you looked, just as you went to pick up your phone, it vibrated from lando calling you, the goofy smile of his contact photo smiling back at you as you answered the call.

“heyy baby!” you say, walking into the guest room for some privacy, sitting down on the foot of the bed. The line was quiet for a moment before Lando responded with a soft “hey” his voice wobbled as he spoke.

“You drove really well lando.. don't beat yourself up over one bad quali” you say softly, keeping your tone light. Soft sniffles came from Landos end of the line, your heart squeezes as you hear him cry softly. Lando wasn’t a crier, so when he did, you knew he was close to his breaking point.

“I can't do this anymore,” he sniffles. “I don't even want to know what they're saying right now.” he cries. You listen to his broken sobs as tears escape your own eyes. You hated being so far away from him while he was hurting like this, he was alone and vulnerable and that made you want to scream. Wishing you could crawl through the phone and get to him. 

You debated telling his trainer, getting someone else in the room with him to make sure he was safe, but you knew he needed to let it out first. You’d tell Jon later, right now you needed to be there for lando. 

Landos breathing starts to become ragged as his sentences come out in short breaths, you hear the panic attack coming before it fully hits him, his voice was shaky as it grew quieter. His words dying in his throat before he could say them, you could hear his breathing becoming more frantic. 

“Lan, baby i need you to breathe for me” He was sending himself deeper into a panic and it only worried you more. You felt useless just listening while he struggled to find a breath.

“I ca- i cant” he chokes out, his sobs echoing through the phone as you begin to frantically text Jon. Your fingers shaking as you message the man, tears flowing down your face.

You: 911!

You: get to landdo now he's habvin a panic attack on the phone wit me 

You: please jon im panicjking myself listning to him

Jon: On it.

You keep assuring him through the phone, trying to say something– anything that will calm him down. Telling him to unzip his race suit, asking him what he can smell, see, hear, or taste. None of it worked, the boy was breaking down in your ears and you felt helpless while waiting for Jon to find him. 

You hear the door open on the other end, the phone falls to the floor as the murmurs of Jons voice filter down the phone. You don't hear much for a few moments, taking the time to compose yourself, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your landos hoodie. 

“hey y/n, he's all good now, i'll have you call him back in a bit. Are you okay?” Jons voice crackles through the phone after a while, you exhale a sigh of relief, clutching a hand to your chest. 

“Yeah… sounds good, thank you jon.” you say softly, hanging up the call.

You splash some water on your face before returning to max and pietra. The two noticed something was off with you immediately. 

“You okay? How is he?” Max asks slowly, you didn't say anything. He could tell something was wrong when tears flooded your eyes. Closing the distance, he pulls you into a hug as a sob escapes your lips, you clutch onto him while you cry. Tears pour down your face as you explain what just happened, Max listens with sympathy written all over his face. 

 Hes silent for a moment, before an idea pops into his head “Let's get you to italy.” he says, determination in his voice as he grabs his phone, immediately googling flights. 

“what- but i don't have anything packed- what if there's no flights” you ramble, slightly shocked he was so set on this idea, he shakes his head, finalized in his decision that you needed to get on a flight as soon as possible and he didn't care how.

“Go home and pack, you don't need much it's only a night- SCORE” he turns the phone around, showing you a flight to Italy “leaves in four hours, if we hurry.. we can get you there” he says. You two lock eyes, a new sense of determination blooming inside you. You needed to be there for Lando, and you were going to get there.

It all happened so fast, one minute you were packing clothes into a duffle bag, and now you had landed in Italy, the flight was quick, two hours from London to Milan. You sat in the cab, the streetlights fading by as you made your way to landos hotel. 

The hotel was beautiful, wishing you could've come on better circumstances, thinking back to all the times you and Lando would be talking late at night, hushed whispers about what it was going to be like once he reached F1, all the places you’d go together. 

You never expected what reality would end up being. 

You stood in front of landos hotel room, Jon was standing next to you. Since the phone call, you had asked Jon to stay with lando. Explaining to him why incase of an emergency, you wouldn't be available for lando. He immediately agreed and also offered to walk you up to the room upon your arrival. 

Once the door opened, and you saw him. His eyes looked drained, his hair was messy from him running his hands through it. When he locked eyes with you, they widened so big they could’ve popped out of their sockets. 

He stared at you for a moment, trying to decipher whether or not you were really here, actually in front of him at his hotel in Monza. Once he felt you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace, it hit him. 

It hit him hard.

“Oh my god” he breathed as he melted into your arms, his emotions bubbling over again as tears escaped his eyes. He had never felt so relieved to be in your arms, not since that moment in a bathroom years ago, it was like you were an angel sent straight for him. 

He pulled away to get a good look at you, you were wiping his cheeks softly. He still couldn't believe you flew to him. 

“Are you actually here, or am I dreaming?” he asks, a wet chuckle escapes you both as you realize you're also crying. 

“Im here, i'm real” you smile, pulling him back into a hug as you smooth the hair on the back of his neck. “I couldn’t stay in London when you were here in this state. It would’ve killed me.” you sniffled. His hands wrap around you, holding on like if he’d let go, you'd disappear, and he'd wake up from this nightmare with you still in london. 

He pulled back, placing a soft kiss to your lips before mumbling many “i love yous” into your mouth as you kissed him back, soft and slow. Forgetting about Jon standing a few feet away from you two. He turns away slightly, letting you have your moment. 

You pull away echoing a soft “sorry” to Jon who just smiles softly, shaking his head in dismissal as Lando wraps his arms around your waist, activating his clingy-ness. 

You say goodnight to Jon as you and Lando head into bed, the events of the day taking their effect. Lando immediately wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling his face into your shoulder, placing soft kisses on the exposed skin before resting his head on your chest. 

“Thank you, for understanding me more than I do myself” he mumbles sleepily, his breaths even out as he finally looks at peace with his mind. Your smile is warm as you place a light kiss to his forehead before finally resting your eyes, having your boy in your arms. 

And when you wake up to a text message from Jon, attached is a video of you and landos reunion he recorded secretly, you smile, cropping the video properly to post on your instagram story.

Posted is a small 10 second clip of Lando realizing you were standing in front of him, then showing the hug you two shared. Rocking back and forth as intelligible murmurs are exchanged between you two. 

captioned for you, anywhere, anytime. 

Twenty two - a handprint on her heart

The sun was shining down on your face as you perched yourself on a lounge chair on the exquisite yacht you get to call home for the summer break. You sported a bright orange bikini as you read your book while you listened to the waves below you.

It was peaceful, until you heard the stomps of two smaller people, followed by the stomps of a bigger person. You looked to the door to see Mila and Athena squealing as they ran around the deck, followed by none other than your boyfriend, who was chasing them, pretending he was a sea monster. 

“Look! There's auntie, she’ll save us," Mila shouts as the two girls make a beeline for you. You quickly place your book down so the girls can climb on top of you, hiding from their overly enthusiastic uncle. 

“Ohh auntie can't save you now! She's on my side” he says playfully while you begin to tighten your grip around the girls, not strong enough to hurt them, but tight enough to where they would struggle to break free. 

The girls giggle as Lando ‘rounds the couch, the girls wiggling in your arms, sounding cries of betrayal while you laugh at the trio's antics. He makes it to your pile of laughter and starts tickling the two girls until they are breathless.

Once he ceases the tickles attack, you let the girls free. They hop to the ground, their baby feet bouncing off the deck as they make their escape from the tickle monster, but to you he's just lando. 

Lando lets out a sigh as he sets himself down on the couch next to you, placing his arms around your shoulder. You had been on this yacht for a week and he had already worked up a tan, he looked divine, the sun hitting his face perfectly as he turned to look at you before placing a kiss on your temple. 

“y’know, it’ll be nice when we have our own munchkins running around a yacht one day” he says, far too casually, as his hand traces your shoulder. You both knew you wanted kids, but also knew being twenty two, in the height of landos career was not the right time for either of you to even think about creating your own bundle of love. 

Before you could respond to him, Max waltz’s his way onto the deck, sunglasses propped on his face as he spots you two. “Don't you two look cozy” he jokes, acting like you two haven't been head over heels for each other since you were small. It was a running joke for years, Max loves to tease you two about anything and everything.

Today was no different 

“oi! LN,” he says, lightly smacking landos sunburnt shoulder, causing the brunette to wince. “When are you proposing, I've got bets placed man!” he says with a faux serious tone. 

You giggle at him, you had discussed this before, you had an list of milestones that you and lando wanted to complete in a specific order

Championship

Marriage

Kids 

“You act like we haven’t basically been married for years max” you say, playfulness evident in your tone as Lando pulls you closer by the shoulder. Lando knew Max was just joking, but deep down part of him did want to forgo the list years ago and just make you his wife.

He's known since before you were officially dating that he’d marry you, it was obvious to him, you were the only option. The only person he saw his future with, the woman he goes home to, the mother of his children, you checked all the boxes of perfection and he was anxious to put a rock on your finger to solidify it for eternity. Devoting himself to you completely. 

Lando observes as you and Max move onto a different topic, he observes every detail about you, the way your nose crinkles when you smile, how your freckles pop when you spend more time in the sun, the way you always manage to speak with a heartwarming smile etched onto your face. It made him dizzy the way he knew you better than he knew himself. You were his everything, there is no lando without you. 

“Lan baby, you with us?” you ask, noticing he spaced out slightly. Nodding he smiles, placing a kiss on your hand, interlaced with his.

“Yeah, just thinkin’” he says simply, thinking for a moment before he taps your shoulder, 

“Wanna go for a walk?”

– 

You walked down the side of the boat, your fingers interlocked as the sun casted a golden light on your skin. Lando rubbed his thumb over your knuckles as you walked to the edge of the boat, overseeing the mediterranean behind you. 

Lando is quiet for a moment, his eyes following the horizon while he thinks. You can see in his eyes he's piecing his sentencing together but struggling– after a while, he speaks up. 

“Max got me thinking,” he pauses, taking a deep breath “I wanna change the list.” 

Your heart stops, looking up at him to find anything on his face that says he's joking, you meet his eyes already looking at you, 

“Are you serious?”

He chuckles, running a nervous hand through his hair, “I've never been more serious about anything in my life baby,” you feel tears welling up in your waterline. “I've known my whole life that I wanted to marry you, I don't want to let a championship decide when.” 

He brings a hand up to cup your cheek, your bottom lip trembling while he continues. 

“You're it for me baby, I can’t remember what my life was like without you in it and I don't want to have to learn. You know me better than I know myself, I am hopelessly in love with you and there's nothing that will ever change that,” you were full on crying now, he takes a moment to collect his thoughts, 

“–loving you is my greatest achievement, no championship could ever come close to how i feel about you,” Lando feels a lump form in his throat as he tries to finish his mini speech before he becomes emotional. 

“Let's get married” 

You cry softly before you cry out a yes and Lando feels a surge of love flow through him. 

“Yeah?” he smiles so wide as you nod, tears freely flowing down both your faces as he pulls you into an earth shattering kiss.

He kisses you like you’re his last breath of fresh air— soft and sensual, holding your face with such gentle care like you’d break if he let go. 

You pull away for air, giggling into each other's lips, stealing more kisses as the sun begins to set over the sea. The air felt warmer as you kissed your fiancè, you kissed him again, and again, you kissed him so many times you forgot where you were. 

That was until Lando pulled away sharply with a gasp. “Wait here” he mumbles before he takes off running back into the yacht, you take a seat while you wait for him to return, slightly confused to where he ran off to. 

Moments later he comes back, hands held behind his back as he makes his way over to you, a cheeky smile spread across his tanned face. 

“I'm sorry, your actual ring is at home.” you choose to ignore that fact for the time being. “But I do have this,” he chuckles as he pulls a small ring pop from behind his back. 

You laugh at the small candy as he opens it, placing it on your left ring finger, placing another kiss to your lips, you throw yourself into his arms, returning the kiss in full force. 

“It's perfect, thank you.” you mumble into his mouth. 

He rests his forehead against yours, his green eyes pouring into yours— a window to his soul showing nothing but love for you as he pulls you closer, his smile giddy. “We're getting married!!” he exclaims, you both giggle as you revel in being newly engaged. 

You think back to when you were kids, before the fancy cars and extravagant races, you loved him before he made a name for himself, before the outside voices. When it was just you two on a karting track, nobody watching to see where he goes next. 

you will continue to love him in the highs and lows of his career, as he shows the world what he's truly made of. You will forever be there, holding his hand, being his first phone call. Continuing to support him throughout it all, believing in his dreams as they’ve now become yours. 

You will love him when it's over, when it's just you two in the quiet mornings, for when you have nowhere to be. When you're old and grey living in the countryside in London, hand in hand on the porch side of your family home, grandkids running around in the yard. 

Like a handprint over your heart, Lando had plastered himself over every inch of your existence. His love hidden in plain sight of places you’ve yet to even realize. you loved this boy with every fiber of your being, and you would love him in every universe, in every past life and through the next. 

You will love him anywhere, anytime. 

~~

i hope u enjoyed, thank u so much for reading <3

[reveriebae]

Sugar-coated Sin

pairing(s) : Choi San x reader

word count : 8383

summary : A harmless cookie, a hidden crush, and a night of no return.

genre : smut

warning(s) : Explicit sexual content, aphrodisiac use, desperation, begging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight corruption kink, switch!San, submissive reader, rough and messy oral, mild dub-con due to aphrodisiac effects, fluids everywhere, slight degradation, heavy praise, cock-drunk reader, love confessions in the heat of the moment. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N : Maybe...just maybe, this one is the filthiest fic I've ever written :>

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut 🪐

The glow of the TV screen flickered across the dimly lit living room, casting soft shadows on the walls. The movie played on, but neither of you was really watching. San sat comfortably on the couch beside you, legs spread lazily, one arm slung over the backrest while his other hand rested on his thigh. You had invited him over under the pretense of a casual movie night, a friendly hangout between neighbors. But the truth? You’d been harboring a quiet, desperate crush on him for months, watching him through your window when he left for the gym, catching glimpses of his toned arms whenever he wore sleeveless shirts, and hearing his deep, sleepy voice whenever he greeted you in the morning.

Tonight, he was so close, sitting right beside you, his scent—a mix of fresh laundry and something unmistakably San—lingering in the air. Your heart raced, but you kept your cool, tucking your legs beneath you as you reached for a handful of popcorn.

The coffee table in front of you was littered with snacks—half a bag of chips, an open pack of gummies, and a single, unopened box of purple cookies. It had been there since the beginning of the night, untouched, yet its unusual color stood out among the rest.

San’s sharp eyes landed on it after a while. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the box as he leaned forward to grab his drink.

You blinked, feigning curiosity as you followed his gaze. “Hmm?”

“The cookies. They’re purple.” His brows furrowed slightly as he picked up the box, turning it in his hands. “Where’d you get these?”

You shrugged, acting completely indifferent. “I dunno. Maybe my friend left them here last time. Probably blueberry or something.” You popped another piece of popcorn into your mouth, keeping your expression perfectly neutral.

San hummed, seemingly satisfied with your answer. He opened the box with a crinkle of plastic, pulling out a cookie. It was a deep shade of violet, oddly smooth, and smelled faintly sweet—almost floral. He gave it a brief sniff before shrugging and taking a bite.

It took barely a second before he hummed in appreciation. “Oh, these are good,” he muttered through a mouthful.

You glanced at him, watching as he chewed slowly, his jaw flexing with every movement. “Yeah?”

“Mmh,” he nodded, already reaching for another. “They’re soft, kind of sweet but not too much. You really never tried them?”

You shook your head, hiding your smirk behind the rim of your glass as you sipped your drink. “Nope.”

San, completely unaware, continued eating. One cookie turned into two. Then three. Then four. You watched as he absentmindedly finished the fifth, licking a stray crumb off his thumb before grabbing a sixth without thinking. He was completely at ease, eyes flicking back to the screen as the movie droned on, paying no attention to the way his fingers twitched slightly against his thigh.

It started subtly.

The first thing you noticed was the way he shifted in his seat, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off an odd sensation. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and his brows knitted together briefly before he relaxed again. You pretended not to see it, keeping your gaze trained on the screen even as you observed him from the corner of your eye.

Minutes passed, and San’s breathing grew a little heavier. Not noticeably so—but you caught it. His chest rose and fell just a fraction quicker than before. His fingers twitched again, flexing briefly before he balled them into a loose fist.

Then, he exhaled sharply through his nose.

You turned to him, feigning curiosity. “You okay?”

San tensed at your voice, his head snapping toward you. His pupils were slightly blown, his lips parted as if he was about to say something—but he hesitated. His jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” he muttered, voice slightly hoarse. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

You blinked, tilting your head innocently. “You sure? You look kinda… hot.”

San inhaled deeply through his nose. His fingers dug into his thigh, gripping the fabric of his sweatpants as he forced out a chuckle. “M’fine.”

But he wasn’t.

The flush creeping up his neck told a different story. His body was heating up, slow and unbearable, a warmth that started in his stomach and trickled downward, pooling between his legs. He shifted again, subtly this time, pressing his thighs together as if that would help. His cock twitched, and he bit the inside of his cheek, willing it to calm down.

Not now. Not here.

But fuck—he could feel everything. The way his clothes clung to his skin, the way the air suddenly felt too thick, the way his heartbeat pounded just a little too hard in his ears. And then there was you.

You, sitting beside him, completely oblivious. Looking so fucking innocent.

San let out a slow breath, gripping his knee to steady himself. He could feel his body reacting against his will, heat rushing straight to his groin as a dull ache settled low in his stomach. He swallowed thickly, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

It had to be the cookies.

He glanced at the empty wrappers on the table, realization dawning—but it was too late. His body was already betraying him.

And the worst part? You weren’t even helping.

You shifted slightly, your thigh brushing against his just barely, and San had to suppress the whimper threatening to escape his lips. Fuck. He was too aware, too sensitive, too turned on, and you weren’t even doing anything.

Or maybe you were.

Maybe it was the way you leaned closer to grab your drink, your scent hitting him in full force. Maybe it was the way your lips parted slightly when you took a sip, or the way your throat bobbed when you swallowed. Maybe it was the way your fingers absentmindedly toyed with the hem of your shorts, completely unaware of the hell you were putting him through.

Or maybe—just maybe—it was the way you turned to him, brows furrowed in faux concern as you murmured, “San, are you sure you’re okay? You look really flustered.”

His breath hitched.

You were too good at this. Too good at acting clueless.

And fuck, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold himself back.

San swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus—on anything but the unbearable heat coursing through his veins. But every second that passed made it worse. His skin felt too tight, his sweatpants suddenly too restrictive, and his cock throbbed in his boxers, demanding attention he couldn’t give it.

Not in front of you. Not when you looked at him like that—so wide-eyed, so innocent, like you had no idea what you’d just done to him.

You shifted closer, your hand grazing his arm as you peered at him in mock concern. “San…?”

His breath came out shaky. His fingers twitched against his thigh. His jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

“Don’t.” His voice was hoarse, strained, like he was barely holding himself together.

You blinked. “Don’t what?”

San exhaled sharply, his grip on his knee tightening. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

His nostrils flared. His body jerked when you shifted again, your knee brushing against his thigh, and this time—this time—it was too much. His cock twitched violently in his pants, straining against the fabric, and he felt it—the way the pulse of need shot straight through him, leaving him aching.

“Fuck—” he hissed under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

You stared at him, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. The way his fingers dug into his thigh, white-knuckled, as he fought against whatever was happening to him. And then, ever so sweetly, you asked—

“San… what’s wrong?”

His eyes snapped open.

Oh, you were good.

Too fucking good.

San turned his head slowly, fixing you with a look so dark, so desperate, it sent a shiver down your spine. His pupils were completely blown now, his face flushed, his chest rising and falling just a bit too quickly.

And then—his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and fuck, it was almost shy the way he whispered—

“I need you to leave.”

Your brows lifted. “Huh?”

His jaw clenched. “I need you to leave. Now.”

You blinked at him, feigning confusion. “Why? This is my house”

San exhaled hard through his nose, shifting again, trying so desperately not to move his hips—but it was useless. He was already hard. Painfully so. His cock pressed against the fabric of his sweatpants, aching, and every little movement sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through him.

And you—

You sat there, looking at him like you didn’t just wreck him completely.

His fingers flexed against his knee. His tongue flicked out again, wetting his lips. He was holding back—barely—but the cracks were starting to show.

And then, you said it.

Soft, sweet, and utterly devastating.

“…San, do you need help?”

His entire body froze.

Silence. Thick, heavy silence. The only sound was the low hum of the TV, the flickering light casting faint shadows across his face.

San didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

You watched him carefully, noting the way his shoulders tensed, the way his fingers flexed just slightly.

He turned his head, gaze locking onto yours, dark and unreadable.

“…What did you just say?” His voice was low. Dangerously low.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “I asked if you need help. You look really uncomfo—”

San let out a sharp breath, a broken, frustrated laugh leaving his lips as he leaned forward, pressing his elbows to his knees. His hands threaded through his hair, gripping at the strands, his shoulders heaving.

“You—” He exhaled shakily, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “You don’t even know what you’re doing right now, do you?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

San let out another laugh, but this one was strained, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His legs spread just slightly, enough that you could see the outline of his problem if you were looking.

Which you were.

His voice dropped even lower, rough and needy.

“Baby, if you don’t leave right now…”

A pause. A breath.

And then—

“…I won’t be able to stop myself.”

The room felt unbearably hot, the space between you crackling with something thick, something dangerous. San sat there, legs spread just enough for you to see the bulge in his sweatpants, his fingers gripping his knees so tightly his knuckles were white. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his tongue darting out—again—to wet his lips.

He was trying so hard to keep himself in check.

But you weren’t making it easy for him.

You sat there, all wide-eyed and sweet, your lips barely parted in faux confusion, your body angled ever so slightly toward him. You were playing your part perfectly, pretending to be clueless, pretending you didn’t see the way his cock strained against his sweatpants, thick and aching.

San let out another shaky breath, his fingers flexing, nails digging into the fabric of his pants. His entire body was tense, trembling with restraint, his mind a mess of heat and hunger.

“I’m serious,” he gritted out, voice dangerously low. “You need to go.”

But you didn’t move.

Instead, you shifted closer, your knee brushing against his, and—

Fuck.

San’s entire body jerked, a low, strangled noise catching in his throat. His hands flew to his thighs, gripping them so hard it was almost painful. His lips parted as he sucked in a sharp breath, his head tilting back against the couch, his jaw tight.

Oh.

You bit the inside of your cheek, watching the way his chest heaved, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. His skin was flushed, a deep, burning red creeping up his neck, his hair slightly damp with sweat.

“…San?” Your voice was soft, so innocent.

His fingers twitched. His nostrils flared.

And then—he turned to you.

Slowly.

Dangerously.

His pupils were completely blown now, his lips slightly swollen from how hard he was biting them. His expression was wrecked—half desperate, half pained—but beneath it all, there was something else.

Something dark.

Something hungry.

“…You’re fucking with me.” His voice was hoarse, dripping with frustration.

You blinked. “I’m not.”

His jaw clenched. “Yes, you are.”

“I really don’t—”

“Baby.”

You froze.

San’s hand suddenly shot out, fingers curling around your wrist—not rough, not forceful, but firm. His grip was warm, burning, his thumb pressing against your pulse point, feeling the way it jumped beneath his touch.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He felt it.

And fuck—his lips curled into something almost dangerous.

“…You like this, don’t you?” His voice was a whisper, low and intense.

You swallowed. “San—”

“You like watching me like this.” His thumb stroked against your wrist, slow and deliberate. “You like seeing me hold myself back. You like seeing me suffer.”

You opened your mouth—to deny it, to keep up the act—but then San’s grip tightened, just slightly, just enough to make you feel it.

Your breath hitched.

San exhaled sharply, his eyes flicking down—to your lips, to your throat, to the way your chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. His own breathing was shaky, his entire body trembling with the effort to keep himself from snapping.

He was holding on by a thread.

And then—

“…You really shouldn’t have let me eat those cookies, baby.”

San was unraveling.

His grip on your wrist tightened for a brief moment before he let go—only to move faster than you could react. One second, he was sitting beside you, barely holding himself together, and the next—

You were on your back.

Your body sank into the couch, your breath punched out of you as San hovered above, his hands gripping your thighs so tightly you could feel the heat of his palms through your shorts. His pupils were blown, his lips parted, his chest heaving as he stared down at you like he was about to devour you whole.

“San—”

“Shh,” he rasped, shaking his head, his thumbs stroking against your skin. “No more talking.”

His voice was ruined—wrecked with frustration, with need, with the unbearable ache that had been building inside him since the moment he ate those damn cookies.

And then—

Rip.

Your breath hitched as your shorts and panties were suddenly yanked down in one go, the cool air hitting your bare skin. Your thighs clenched together on instinct, but San didn’t let you close them—his hands pushed them apart, his fingers digging into your flesh as he spread you open wide for him.

“Fucking finally,” he groaned, almost in relief.

Heat flared through your body, your stomach twisting into a tight knot as you felt his breath—warm and heavy—ghost over your exposed skin.

“S-San—”

“I don’t wanna hear a fucking word,” he cut you off, his voice dropping into something dark, something dangerous. His hands tightened on your thighs, his fingers pressing deep into the flesh. “You’ve been sitting there all fucking innocent, acting like you don’t know what you’re doing to me—”

He let out a sharp, frustrated breath, his head dropping for a second. Then—he lifted it, eyes locking onto yours, dark and unreadable.

“You wanna act clueless?” His voice was quiet, deadly. “Fine. I’ll make you understand.”

And then—

His mouth latched onto you.

A sharp, broken moan ripped out of your throat as his tongue flattened against your pussy, broad and hot and hungry. The first stroke was messy—desperate—his lips parting as he sucked at your clit, his nose pressing against your skin as he buried himself between your legs.

Your entire body jerked at the sudden intensity, your fingers flying to grip the cushions as a choked gasp left your lips. “S-San—!”

But he didn’t let up.

He was starving.

His tongue moved sloppy and wet, flicking against your clit before dragging down, tasting every inch of you. His groan was deep—needy—his hands tight on your thighs as he pushed them further apart, forcing you to take everything he was giving.

“Fuck,” he growled against your skin, his breath hot and ragged. “Taste so good, baby—fuck—”

His tongue delved into you, deep, his lips moving in frantic, desperate kisses against your heat. His nose nudged against your clit with every movement, sending sharp shocks of pleasure racing up your spine.

Your legs trembled, your hands flying to grip his hair, trying to pull him away—but he didn’t budge. If anything—

He groaned, his hands flying up to grab your wrists, pinning them to your stomach.

“Oh, no,” he murmured, voice wrecked, his lips dragging against your soaked skin. “You’re not stopping me.”

You whined, your hips jerking as his tongue circled your clit before sucking it hard into his mouth. Your vision blurred, a broken sob leaving your lips as pleasure shot through you, hot and searing.

“S-San—! Oh, fuck—”

His grip on your wrists tightened. “That’s what I wanna hear,” he groaned, his tongue pressing against your clit in slow, intentional circles. “Not that fake little innocent act. I wanna hear you beg.”

Your chest heaved, your fingers twitching in his grasp. “P-please—”

San moaned—loud, needy, his hips grinding against the couch as if he was getting off on this just as much as you.

“Fuck,” he panted, his lips dragging against your skin, his tongue dipping deep before flicking back up to circle your clit again. “Say it again.”

Your back arched, your legs shaking in his grasp. “San—please—”

He growled, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking hard, his tongue flicking fast—and your entire body convulsed, a sharp cry ripping from your throat as the pleasure crashed through you, sudden and violent.

But he didn’t stop.

Even as your body twitched, even as your thighs trembled, even as your moans turned into desperate, choked whimpers—he kept going.

Over and over and over.

Rough. Messy. Unrelenting.

Your voice cracked, your hands struggling against his grip. “I-I can’t—!”

San moaned against your skin, his hips rolling again, his cock aching in his pants.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, his tongue dragging against your heat, devouring you. “You can. And you will.”

San was a fucking menace.

You had no control anymore—your body was his to ruin, his to wreck, his to make completely fall apart beneath him. His hands were firm on your wrists, keeping you pinned to your own stomach, his tongue relentless as he ate you like a man possessed.

His desperation was palpable—in the way his lips sucked at your clit, in the way his tongue flicked fast and sloppy, in the way his hips kept grinding against the couch as if he was getting just as much pleasure from this as you were.

And the worst part?

He was.

“San—fuck—” Your voice was a broken whimper, your head thrown back against the cushions, body jerking with every frantic stroke of his tongue. “T-too much—”

San growled into you, the vibrations shaking through your core. His grip tightened on your wrists, forcing you to stay put as he dove back in, lips wrapping tight around your clit as he sucked hard—

Your vision whited out.

A sharp, guttural cry tore from your throat, your back arching clean off the couch as a second orgasm ripped through you, just as intense as the first.

But San—

San didn’t stop.

“F-fuck, San—!” Your voice was wrecked, your thighs trembling violently as his tongue kept flicking, kept circling, kept fucking devouring you.

He was insatiable.

“Taste so fucking good, baby—” he groaned, his voice wrecked, his mouth messy with you, his lips dragging sloppy kisses over your soaked skin. “Gonna make you cum for me again, yeah? Gonna let me ruin you?”

Your breath came out shaky, a mix of pleasure and overstimulation making your body jerk beneath him.

“C-can’t—” You whined, shaking your head, your fingers twitching in his grip. “San, please—”

San moaned against you, his hips rolling into the couch again, desperate, needy. “Mmm, baby,” he breathed, voice hoarse, lips shining with your slick as he glanced up at you. “You keep saying that, but you’re so fucking wet for me.”

His tongue dragged against your entrance before flicking up again, circling your clit in tight, fast motions. “Your pussy’s begging for me.”

Your body shuddered, a whimper leaving your lips. “S-San—”

His fingers squeezed your wrists, keeping them trapped. His eyes were dark, desperate—his own body trembling with restraint as he devoured you again, his tongue flicking faster, his lips sucking harder.

You were gone.

Pleasure built again, fast and merciless, your thighs shaking as San wrecked you with his mouth.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, tongue swirling sloppy and wet. “Cum for me again. I wanna feel it.”

Your body jerked, your voice breaking as your orgasm slammed into you—so hard, so intense it left you gasping for air, your fingers digging into the couch, your hips jerking against his mouth.

But even then—

San still wasn’t done.

His mouth was still messy against you, his lips still sucking, his tongue still fucking you, his own breath ragged, his cock so painfully hard in his sweatpants he could barely think straight.

His head lifted slightly, his tongue flicking against your clit in slow, precise strokes. And then—his voice, hoarse and wrecked.

“One more.”

You whimpered, your entire body shuddering beneath him.

San pressed a soft, wet kiss to your clit, his voice a rough whisper against your skin.

“I know you can take it.”

San was insatiable.

You were wrecked beneath him—your body trembling, your thighs shaking, your breath coming out in sharp, shallow gasps. Your brain was muddled, your skin burning hot, your core aching from the relentless pleasure he’d already given you.

But San?

San wasn’t done.

He refused to be done.

His mouth pressed another slow, wet kiss against your clit, his tongue flicking just enough to send a sharp jolt through your already sensitive body. Your legs twitched, your breath catching in your throat, a desperate whimper slipping past your lips.

San groaned at the sound, his hands tight on your thighs, keeping them spread as he dragged his tongue through your slick folds again—slow this time, teasing, torturing.

“F-fuck—San—” Your voice was broken, your fingers twitching against your stomach, where he still had them pinned.

San hummed against your skin, his lips curving slightly. His breath was warm, heavy with desire, his own body trembling with restraint. His hips twitched again, his cock so achingly hard beneath his sweatpants that you could feel his frustration radiating off of him.

But he wasn’t relieving himself.

No.

His only focus was you.

“I need one more,” he murmured against you, his lips pressing another sloppy kiss to your clit, his tongue flicking just right. “I need it, baby. I need to feel you break for me again.”

You whined, your head turning to the side, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your body shuddered from the overstimulation.

“S-San—”

His fingers tightened on your thighs.

“You can take it,” he whispered, voice low and wrecked. “I know you can.”

And then—

His mouth latched onto your clit again, his tongue flicking fast, his lips sucking hard, his desperation coming out in the way he devoured you like a man starving.

Your body jerked, a sharp cry breaking from your lips as another wave of pure pleasure slammed into you—hot, intense, merciless.

San groaned, his hands shaking as he held you down, his tongue flicking, licking, sucking, taking everything he could—

And your body broke.

Your moan was raw, shattered, your legs trembling violently as the pleasure ripped through you one final time—so strong, so overwhelming that your vision blurred, your entire body going limp beneath him.

And finally—finally—San pulled away.

His breath was heavy, his lips wet, his face completely wrecked as he slowly lifted his head, his fingers still tight on your thighs. His pupils were blown, his skin flushed, his entire body trembling with restraint.

He was desperate.

Needy.

His cock was aching, straining against his sweatpants, his hips twitching with every deep breath he took.

And yet—

His eyes stayed on you.

A slow smirk curled his swollen lips.

“…Now,” he murmured, voice rough, low, dripping with satisfaction. “Be a good girl—”

His hands finally released your wrists, and one of them dragged down your body, warm and possessive, until his fingers pressed against your wrecked heat.

And then—

“And open that pretty little mouth for me.”

And he wasn’t waiting any longer.

His fingers curled around your jaw, his grip firm as he tilted your head up—forcing you to look at him. His eyes were dark, blown wide with lust, his lips parted, his breath coming out ragged.

“Open,” he rasped, his voice wrecked from how much he’d devoured you already.

You barely had a second to react before his thumb pushed against your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open just enough—

And then—

San spit.

A hot, thick glob landed on your tongue, the sensation sending a sharp shock through your system, making your thighs clench, your body shudder beneath him.

San groaned, his grip tightening on your jaw, his cock twitching in his pants at the way you just took it—at the way your tongue glided against your bottom lip as you swallowed.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, his voice shaking with restraint. “You’re so good for me.”

His free hand shoved at his sweatpants, yanking them down just enough for his cock to spring free—thick, leaking, his tip an angry red from how long he’d been holding back.

He couldn’t wait anymore.

He needed your mouth.

“Tongue out,” he murmured, voice low, dark with hunger.

You obeyed without hesitation, your tongue flicking out just enough—

And San groaned, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock as he dragged the tip against your tongue, smearing his precum across it.

“Shit—” His breath shuddered, his hips twitching forward, his patience snapping all at once.

And then—

He pushed in.

Your mouth stretched around him, your throat constricting as he bottomed out in one slow, deep thrust, his cock pressing against the back of your throat, forcing a wet, choked gasp from your lips.

San moaned, his grip on your jaw tightening, his head dropping back for a second before his gaze snapped back down to you—watching as your lips stretched around him, your mouth completely full of his cock.

“Fucking—” His voice was wrecked, his hips trembling. “God, your mouth—so fucking perfect—”

And then—

He started to move.

Slow at first—teasing, dragging his cock out just enough before pushing back in, making sure you could feel every inch, every throb, every pulse of him against your tongue.

But then—

His restraint snapped.

His hips snapped forward, hard and desperate, forcing a wet, choked sound from your throat. His fingers dug into your jaw, holding you in place as he fucked into your mouth, deep, rough, his groans growing louder, needier.

“Fuck, baby—fuck—” he panted, his breath ragged, his hips snapping against your lips with each thrust. “Your mouth—so fucking good—so tight—”

Your throat constricted, your eyes watering from the sheer intensity of it—but San didn’t stop.

If anything—

He got rougher.

His pace quickened, his cock dragging against your tongue before slamming back in, his moans turning into needy, desperate growls. Spit dripped down your chin, your lips swollen, your breath coming out sharp through your nose as you tried to keep up with the way he was using your mouth.

And fuck—

He loved it.

“Look at you,” he groaned, his hand fisting your hair now, holding you in place as his cock slid deeper, making you gag around him. “Fucking messy for me. Taking it so good, baby—”

His hips stuttered, his breath hitching, his body tensing as he thrust in deep—

And then—

A low, wrecked moan tore from his throat as his cock pulsed, his cum spilling hot and thick down your throat.

He held you there, deep, making sure you took every drop, his fingers tight in your hair, his breath heavy as he watched you—your eyes teary, your lips puffy, your throat constricting as you swallowed everything he gave you.

San groaned, his entire body shuddering, his cock twitching one last time before he slowly pulled out, watching as a thin strand of spit and cum connected your lips to his tip.

His thumb wiped it away—only to push it back into your mouth, watching as your tongue flicked against the pad of his finger, as you sucked it in.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice shaky, his thumb stroking against your lip. “You’re so fucking good for me.”

His breathing was still ragged, his body still trembling—but even through his post-orgasm haze, even as his cock twitched from the sheer sensitivity—

His fingers dragged up your body again, slow, deliberate.

And then—

He smirked.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice low, dangerous.

“We’re not done yet.”

San’s breath was still shaky, his cock twitching against your skin even as he came down from his high—but fuck, it wasn’t enough.

Not even close.

His fingers twitched against your jaw, his thumb dragging over your spit-slicked lips, his eyes blown wide with hunger as he stared down at you. His body was still on fire, the heat curling deep in his gut, his cock already hardening again despite just having emptied himself down your throat.

His entire body ached with need.

He still wanted more.

And more.

And more.

His breath shuddered as his gaze dropped lower, trailing over your wrecked body, your thighs still trembling from the orgasms he’d already given you. His fingers ghosted over your stomach, down to your dripping heat, his jaw clenching at how soaked you still were.

“You’re so fucking ruined already,” he murmured, his voice low, rough, wrecked.

But his fingers pushed in anyway—two, then three, stretching you open again, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion. Your body arched into him, your breath coming out in a sharp, needy whimper, your walls clenching around his fingers as he started thrusting them in deep, slow.

His free hand gripped your thigh, spreading you wide, his lips parted, his eyes wild as he watched his fingers disappear into you, over and over and over again.

And then—

His cock twitched.

San groaned, his patience snapping all over again.

His fingers left you just as fast as they entered—only to be replaced by his cock, sliding between your folds, the tip smearing his precum along your entrance before he pushed in, slow, deep, stretching you all over again.

A sharp, broken moan tore from your lips, your back arching against the couch, your nails digging into the cushions as he bottomed out in one deep, desperate thrust.

San choked on a moan, his arms trembling as he held himself over you, his head dropping forward, his breath shaky against your skin.

“F-fuck,” he groaned, his voice shaking, his hands tightening on your thighs. “You’re—so tight, baby—so fucking wet—”

And then—

He snapped his hips forward.

A sharp cry ripped from your throat as his cock slammed into you, deep and hard, his grip unrelenting as he held you there, forcing you to take every inch, every pulse of him inside you.

And he didn’t stop.

His pace was brutal, his thrusts fast, his body shuddering with pleasure as he pounded into you, his voice breaking into low, needy moans with every sharp snap of his hips.

“Fucking—shit—” San’s voice was wrecked, his head dropping to your shoulder, his hands gripping your hips so tight they were bound to leave bruises. “Feel so fucking good, baby—feel so tight around me—”

Your moans were shattered, your entire body jerking with the force of his thrusts, your mind already melting from how deep he was, from how ruthlessly he was fucking into you.

And fuck—he was losing himself.

His hands suddenly flipped you, pressing your chest into the couch, his weight caging you beneath him as he thrust back in, his moan ragged, wrecked, completely fucked out.

“You wanted this, huh?” he growled against your ear, his hips snapping against your ass, his cock hitting that spot deep inside you over and over and over again. “Wanted me to fuck you like this? Use you like this?”

Your moan came out choked, your fingers digging into the couch, your body completely fucked out beneath him.

San groaned, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, his body shaking as his cock twitched inside you, his thrusts growing sloppy, desperate.

“Gonna cum—” His voice was wrecked, his hands trembling against your skin, his pace quickening, snapping into you harder, deeper— “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

His hips jerked, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside you, hot and thick, his moan shattered as his body shuddered against yours.

But even then—

Even after he’d emptied himself inside you, even after he’d fucked you to the point of exhaustion—

San didn’t stop.

His cock was still hard. His breath was still shaky.

He was still aching for more.

His arms wrapped around you suddenly, flipping you back onto your back, his lips crashing against yours as his cock thrust back into you—

And he groaned, deep and wrecked, his hands gripping your body, his hips rolling into yours again, his body shuddering from the overstimulation, from the sheer desperation consuming him.

San’s body was burning.

Every inch of him was on fire, his skin too hot, his breath too shaky, his cock still throbbing inside you even after he had already cum so hard his vision had blurred.

But it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

His hands were everywhere—gripping, grasping, trembling as they explored every inch of your wrecked, sensitive body. His fingers dug into your hips, dragging you up against him, his breath shuddering as he felt just how soaked you still were, how your slick was dripping down his thighs, how your body trembled beneath him.

And fuck—he needed more.

His lips crashed against your neck, sucking, biting, devouring as his hands spread your thighs wide, his hips grinding against yours, his cock pulsing inside you.

“Shit—” His voice was wrecked, his grip tightening on your body. “You’re so fucking wet, baby—so messy for me—”

And then—

His fingers slid between your legs, pressing against your clit, rubbing fast, sloppy, his cock still deep inside you, stretching you so perfectly you could barely breathe.

Your body jerked, a sharp, broken moan tearing from your throat as his fingers played with you, as his cock twitched inside you, as his breath came out in needy, desperate little gasps.

“Gimme—gimme another one, baby—” His voice was pleading, desperate, his pace quickening, his touch growing rougher, sloppier. “Just one more—fuck, just—please—”

And then—

Your body snapped.

A sharp cry tore from your lips as your orgasm crashed over you again, your thighs trembling, your vision blurring as you gushed all over him, soaking his thighs, his cock, his stomach—everything.

San choked on a moan, his head dropping against your shoulder, his body shuddering as he felt you squirt all over him, felt how wrecked you were, how completely ruined you were beneath him.

And fuck—

He still wasn’t done.

His hands dragged down your body, his fingers trembling as they gripped your thighs, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, shaky, needy—

“Baby, I need—” His voice broke, his breath ragged, his cock twitching inside you. “I need you again—”

His hips snapped forward, deep, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls, his hands grasping, clutching, desperate as he fucked into you again, as if he hadn’t already ruined you.

His voice was pleading, his hands shaking, his lips trailing down your skin as he whispered, begged—

“Just one more, baby—just—just one more—”

His skin was burning, his body shaking, his cock aching—but fuck, he still wasn’t satisfied. His lips were glossy with spit, his thighs soaked from how many times you’d already squirted all over him, his breath coming out in needy, ragged little moans as he panted against your skin.

And you?

You were just as wrecked.

Your body was limp beneath him, your voice hoarse from how many times you’d already screamed his name, your legs trembling as he pushed them apart yet again, refusing to let you close up, refusing to let you hide from him.

His fingers gripped your thighs, spreading you wide, his breath shuddering at the sight of your dripping, swollen cunt, slick and messy from everything he’d already done to you.

And fuck—he still wanted more.

His cock throbbed, his mouth watering as he lowered himself between your legs again, his hands grasping, clutching at your thighs, his lips brushing against your soaked heat as his voice came out shaky, wrecked—

“Baby, I need—” His voice broke, his breath hot against your skin. “I need to taste you again—”

And before you could even process it—

His tongue was on you.

A sharp, choked gasp tore from your lips as his mouth latched onto you, his tongue sliding between your folds, his lips wrapping around your clit as he sucked, hard.

“San—!” Your voice cracked, your fingers jerking into his hair, tugging, pulling—but he didn’t care. He growled against you, his arms tightening around your thighs, locking you in place as he devoured you, as if he was starving, as if he’d die if he didn’t have you.

And fuck—he was so messy about it.

His tongue was sloppy, wet, licking and lapping at your cunt like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed you more than air itself. Spit and slick were everywhere, coating his lips, dripping down his chin, mixing with the wetness already soaking his thighs.

And fuck, he loved it.

His hands dug into your hips, pulling you against his face, his moans vibrating against your heat, his cock twitching between his legs as he grinded against the couch, so fucking needy, so fucking wrecked just from tasting you.

“San—fuck, fuck—” Your breath was ragged, your fingers clutching at the sheets, your body jerking with every sharp flick of his tongue. “You’re so—so messy—”

San groaned, his hips grinding harder against the couch, his hands shaking as he dragged his tongue down, circling your entrance, his voice coming out slurred, wrecked—

“Can’t—can’t help it, baby—” His tongue pushed in, fucking into you, his moan shattering as he felt you clench around him, as he felt your thighs shake, your body trembling beneath his touch.

And then—

“Gonna make you squirt again,” he murmured, his breath shaky, his tongue pulling out just to be replaced by his fingers, two—then three, stretching you wide, fucking into you deep, his mouth still latched onto your clit, sucking, moaning, ruining you all over again.

Your moans turned shattered, your body jerking, your hands gripping his hair so tight it should’ve hurt—but fuck, he loved it.

And then—

You snapped.

A sharp, choked scream ripped from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you, your body jerking, your back arching as you gushed all over his face, soaking his lips, his chin, his throat.

San moaned, deep and wrecked, his hips twitching, his cock aching as he fucked his fingers into you, forcing more out of you, watching as you dripped down his arms, as your thighs shook, as your entire body gave out beneath him.

But even then—

Even after he had licked you clean, even after he had made you cum so hard you could barely breathe—

San still wasn’t done.

His cock was throbbing, his body aching, his hands gripping your thighs as he flipped you over, his voice ragged, wrecked, pleading—

“Just one more, baby—” His breath was shaky, his cock pressing against your entrance, still soaked with your slick, your juices still dripping down his thighs. “Just—just one more—”

And then—

He slammed into you, hard, deep, his moan breaking as his cock dragged against your oversensitive walls, as your body clenched around him, as he lost himself in you all over again.

And fuck—

He was never stopping.

Your limbs were twitching, your skin burning, your mind completely blank from how many times San had already fucked the breath from your lungs. Your thighs were sticky with slick, your body completely boneless beneath him, your voice hoarse from all the screams he’d already pulled from you.

But San?

San was a wreck.

His body was shaking, his chest heaving, his cock still twitching inside you, still aching, still so desperate for more. His fingers clutched at your waist, trembling, his lips dragging against your cheek, his breath hot and shaky, his voice coming out wrecked, pleading—

“Baby, please—” His voice broke, his hands shaking as they gripped you tighter, his lips feathering over your jaw, your ear, your throat—begging.

You whimpered, barely able to move, barely able to breathe, your body too sensitive, too wrecked to even process the words properly.

“San—I can’t—” Your voice was shaky, barely even a whisper, your hands weakly pressing against his chest, trying to stop him, trying to make him listen. “I—I can’t take anymore—”

San whined.

A deep, desperate, completely wrecked little sound, his entire body shuddering, his hands gripping you tighter, his lips pressing against your throat, begging, pleading—

“Baby—please—” His voice was strained, so wrecked that he could barely form words, his body so desperate that he was practically vibrating with need. “I need you—fuck, I need to feel you again—”

His hips jerked, his cock twitching inside you, still so hard, still aching for more, still so needy that it physically hurt.

“Just—just let me, baby—” His voice cracked, his breath hot against your skin, his hands still clutching at you, his body still begging even though he already knew your answer.

And then—

His hips pressed in.

Deep.

Slow.

And you gasped, your body jerking, your thighs trembling as he pushed himself inside you again, his cock stretching your already wrecked, overworked walls, making you feel every inch of him, making you take him whether you could handle it or not.

“San—stop—” Your voice broke, a sharp, shaky gasp leaving your lips as your nails dug into his skin, your body twitching from the overwhelming sensitivity.

He didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

His breath was shaky, his voice cracking, his body shuddering as he buried himself inside you again, whimpering, his hips rolling, his hands gripping your thighs as he forced you to take him.

And fuck—he was crying.

Tears were stinging his eyes, his moans high, wrecked, his body completely losing control as he fucked into you, desperate, starved, whining with every thrust.

“Baby—fuck, I—I can’t stop—” His voice was strained, shaking, his breath ragged as he buried his face into your neck, his hands trembling as he held onto you, as he kept moving, as he kept fucking you even when you were already gone.

Your body jerked, a sharp, choked cry leaving your lips as another orgasm ripped through you, so strong, so shattering that your vision blurred, your body convulsing, your mind blanking out from how fucking wrecked you were.

And he followed right after.

A sharp, wrecked moan broke from his lips as his hips snapped, as his cock throbbed, as he spilled inside you all over again, so deep, so full, his release mixing with the mess already dripping between your thighs.

His entire body shuddered, his breath gasping, his hands clutching at you like he never wanted to let go.

And even after—

Even when his body was completely spent, when he was too wrecked to even move—

San was still inside you.

Still deep, still full, still holding on like he couldn’t bear to be apart from you.

And his voice?

It was weak, whispered, still shaky from everything he had just done.

But it was real.

It was raw.

“Baby…” A deep, shaky breath left him, his lips brushing against your temple, his arms still wrapped around you, still clutching onto you like you were the only thing keeping him sane.

“I—I love you.”

You didn’t know what to say.

Your heart was pounding, your breath shaky, your body still aching in the best possible way—but your mind was a fucking mess.

San wasn’t supposed to say that.

This wasn’t supposed to be love.

This was supposed to be a one-time thing, a secret indulgence, something you’d both pretend never happened in the morning.

But now—

Now, San was looking at you like you meant something.

Like you weren’t just the girl next door who had accidentally drugged him with aphrodisiac cookies.

Like you weren’t just someone he fucked senseless on the living room couch.

Like you were his.

And the worst part?

You wanted to be, badly.

“San…” Your voice was weak, your fingers shaky as they traced over his jaw, your heart twisting in your chest as you looked at him—really looked at him.

His eyes were red-rimmed, still glassy from how hard he had come, his lips were kiss-swollen, his hair was a mess, sticking to his damp forehead.

And he looked so fucking beautiful.

So wrecked.

So vulnerable.

So in love.

And it fucking terrified you.

Because if you let yourself believe it—

If you let yourself have him—

You didn’t think you’d ever be able to let him go.

“…Say it again.”

San’s breath hitched.

His fingers tightened on your waist, his lips parting slightly, his eyes widening just a fraction—

And then, in a voice so soft, so reverent, so raw it sent a fucking shiver down your spine—

“I love you.”

His breath was still shaky, his body still pressed against yours, his fingers still gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear. His heart was pounding, his lips parted, his eyes locked onto you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

You could feel everything.

The heat of his skin, the way his chest rose and fell against yours, the way his cock was still inside you, still keeping you full, still reminding you exactly what just happened between you.

But none of that compared to the way he was looking at you.

Like he was afraid of what you’d say.

Like he already knew he had ruined everything.

Like he was begging for you to fix it.

And fuck—

You wanted to.

But you were terrified.

Because this wasn’t just about sex anymore.

This was real.

"Baby…” His voice was barely a whisper, his fingers trembling as he reached for your cheek, his touch so gentle, so careful—like he was scared he’d break you. “Please… say something.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight, your mind still spinning from everything—the way he had taken you, the way he had begged for you, the way he had said those words like they had been burning in his chest for so fucking long.

And maybe they had been.

Maybe you had just been too blind to see it.

Your lips parted, a shaky breath leaving them, your heart twisting as you met his gaze—those deep, desperate brown eyes, searching yours for something, anything to hold onto.

Your fingers curled into his hair, your chest tightening, your voice small as you finally, finally whispered—

“…You love me?”

San’s breath hitched.

His grip on your waist tightened, his lips parting, his entire body trembling as he swallowed hard, his voice so wrecked, so raw when he answered—

“I do.”

No hesitation.

No doubt.

Just San, stripped bare in front of you, exposed, vulnerable, completely yours.

And something inside you fucking snapped.

Because he meant it.

Because you had wanted this for so fucking long, wanted him for so fucking long—and now, he was right here, saying the words you never thought you’d hear, giving himself to you completely.

And you couldn’t stop yourself.

You grabbed him, your lips crashing into his, your fingers clutching at his hair, pulling him closer, deeper, letting him feel everything you couldn’t say yet.

He broke apart in your arms.

A shaky, wrecked moan slipped from his throat as he melted into you, his hands gripping you like you were the only thing keeping him alive, his body pressing you deeper into the couch, his kiss so needy, so desperate, so full of love that it made your chest ache.

And when he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot against your lips, his voice still shaking—

“Say it back.”

Your heart stopped.

San’s fingers tightened on your waist, his breath ragged, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered again, this time more pleading, more wrecked—

“Baby, please… say it back.”

And you could feel it—

The way his hands shook, the way his body tensed, the way his eyes were glossy with something he was trying so fucking hard to hold back—

The way he needed this more than anything.

And fuck—

You did too.

Your fingers brushed over his cheek, your lips trembling, your heart pounding as you finally, finally let the words slip out—

“I love you.”

A sharp, shuddering breath left him, his lips crashing into yours again, his hands everywhere—on your face, your waist, your thighs—like he was memorizing you, like he never wanted to let go.

Like he never would.

And maybe, just maybe—

Neither would you.

[vanteguccir]

OKAY BUT IMAGINE the very time you ever mention kids around either Matt or Chris. like the relationship is getting serious yknow, and you just casually mention ‘our kids are gonna be so cute’ or ‘do you think they’ll have your eyes or mine?’ like they would absolutely LOSE IT. they would get all gushy and instantly be like ‘we can make one right now’ or ‘we can practice for the future’

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤOUR KIDS ARE GONNA BE CUTE * MATT STURNIOLO * BLURB

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N mentions her thoughts about their future children to Matt for the first time, and he absolutely lose it.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader

WARNINGS　::　Mentions of becoming parents.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The air smelled like warm vanilla from Y/N's candle burning on the coffee table, and the only sounds were the faint hum of a playlist Matt had thrown on shuffle and the occasional rustling of a blanket being adjusted.

Y/N and Matt were on the floor of the living room, a mess of art supplies spread out between them.

It had started as a joke when Matt pointed at his last drawing glued to the fridge, making some comment about never being able to color inside the lines as a kid, and Y/N had promptly pulled out one of those oversized coloring books meant for children, the ones with thick, black-outlined cartoons and pages that smelled like paper from an elementary school classroom.

So now, here they were, stomach-down on the living room floor, legs bent at the knees and swinging absentmindedly while Y/N concentrated on shading in a cartoonish giraffe. Matt was beside her, hunched over a page with his tongue slightly poking out in concentration as he attempted to color a macaw in different shades of blue.

"This is always so relaxing." Matt muttered, switching to a green crayon to shade the macaw wing. "Think' m'brain just shut off in the best way."

Y/N hummed in agreement, watching the way his fingers moved, slightly calloused from years of gripping drumsticks and gaming controllers, now delicately holding a crayon as if it were something precious.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Y/N sighed contently and let her head drop against her arm, admiring the half-colored giraffe in front of her.

"Our kids are gonna be so cute coloring together. Imagine them coming to us with a new drawing every day."

It was such a casual, passing comment, said with the same energy as commenting on the weather. But the moment the words left her lips, the entire room seemed to freeze.

Actually, no. Matt froze.

Like, completely.

His fingers went slack. The tiny crayon rolled off and disappeared somewhere into the carpet, but he didn’t even register it.

Our kids.

His heart did a backflip. Then another. Then it practically shot into orbit.

Y/N, still focused on her giraffe, didn’t notice the way that his posture went rigid, or how he turned his head to look at her as fast as humanly possible, blue eyes wide and blinking like she had just uttered the most beautiful words in the English language.

Our kids.

She said our kids.

Matt inhaled sharply, trying to calm the way his chest was suddenly tight with love.

"What?" His voice came out slightly choked.

Y/N glanced up at him, eyebrows raising slightly at his reaction.

"What?" She echoed, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Did I- was that weird?"

Matt shook his head rapidly, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to form a sentence, but his brain had just blue-screened.

"No! No, no, no, it’s not weird, it’s just-" He exhaled sharply, then, out of nowhere, let out an actual whine, burying his face in his hands.

Y/N blinked.

"Matt?"

"I’m gonna lose my mind." He groaned dramatically, peeking at her through his fingers.

His milky skin was now flushed in a deep shade of pink, and his big eyes were so ridiculously, stupidly soft that it made Y/N’s heart stutter.

"You can’t just say that out of nowhere, baby. I was not prepared. I was having a normal, peaceful time, and then you just drop that on me?"

Y/N’s lips twitched in amusement.

"Drop what? That our kids are gonna be cute?"

Matt let out a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a strangled gasp, as if he physically could not handle the sheer concept of it. He shot up onto his knees, ignoring the slight pain coming from his ankle with the moviments and placing both hands on Y/N’s cheeks with sudden urgency.

"Say it again."

Y/N giggled, tilting her head.

"What, that our kids-"

"Angel, I swear to God, you’re gonna put me in an early grave." He looked like he was having a full existential crisis, running a hand through his hair before gripping the back of his neck as if trying to steady himself. "Can we make one right now? I'm fully prepared to be a dad, just realized it-"

Y/N burst out laughing, shoving his shoulder lightly.

"Matthew!"

"I’m being so serious." He insisted, grabbing Y/N’s hands and squeezing them like a man possessed. "You don’t understand, baby. I love kids. I’ve always loved kids. And then you’re here, coloring next to me, saying words like ‘our kids,’ and now I can't stop thinking of a mini mix of me and you coloring in our living room."

Y/N swore she felt her heart physically swell, tilting her head and observing his gentle expression.

"... Do you think they’ll have your eyes or mine? Because, personally, I think they’d look adorable with your eyes."

"Matt." She whispered, a little overwhelmed by how utterly, devastatingly in love with him she was in that moment.

His face softened even more, which Y/N hadn’t even thought was possible.

"I’m serious." He murmured, thumb brushing over her knuckles. "You see a future with me like that? Do you really?"

Y/N nodded without hesitation.

"Of course, I do. The prettiest and most perfect future."

His expression melted into something so tender that it made Y/N’s chest ache. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath tickling her upper lip.

"Good." He whispered. "Because I think about that all the time. And now I’m never gonna stop thinking about it."

Y/N smiled, nudging her nose against his.

"So, we’re in agreement?"

Matt grinned, eyes twinkling.

"Our kids are gonna be very cute."

© vanteguccir

[pucksandpower]

Seeing Color

Lando Norris x soulmate!Reader

Summary: the average person goes their whole life without seeing so much as a drop of color, so safe to say you’re quite surprised when the sky suddenly turns blue while you’re covering Formula 1 for the first time

The sky’s a muted gray, just like every other day of your life, as you stand in the bustling paddock of Silverstone, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach.

This isn’t what you signed up for. Football’s your thing — sweaty players, goals, and post-match interviews in rain-soaked stadiums. But motorsport? Formula 1? It’s a different beast altogether.

“Just one race,” your supervisor had assured you. “It’ll be fine, Y/N. You’re a pro.”

Easy for them to say. The paddock is a maze of garages, team colors (which are a uniform grayscale for you, of course), and a cacophony of sounds that’s more overwhelming than a packed Premier League stadium.

You’ve been briefed on the basics — Max Verstappen’s the reigning champ, Lewis Hamilton’s the legend, and Lando Norris, the homegrown young talent, just secured P2.

P2. The words feel alien, even though you repeat them to yourself over and over, willing them to become familiar. Podium finish, second place. You’ve got this.

But the truth is, you don’t. Not really. And it’s showing as you fumble with your notes, trying to prepare for the post-race interviews. Your heart’s racing faster than any of the cars on the track.

“Hey, you alright there?”

The voice comes from behind you, startling you out of your thoughts. You turn around and see a young man — not too tall, with curly hair, and a faint smirk playing on his lips. You recognize him immediately, even in black and white.

Lando Norris.

“Yeah, just-” You scramble for professionalism, straightening your back and offering what you hope is a confident smile. “Just getting ready for the interviews.”

Lando’s eyes flicker down to the notes in your hand. “First time covering F1?”

Your smile falters. “Is it that obvious?”

He chuckles softly, and for a moment, it’s as if the world around you narrows down to just the two of you standing there in the paddock, the sounds and chaos fading into the background.

“A little,” he admits, leaning casually against the wall, as if he’s got all the time in the world. “But don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound surprising even yourself. There’s something about his easygoing manner that puts you at ease, just for a moment. “I appreciate that.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, right?” He asks, and you’re caught off guard that he knows your name.

“That’s me,” you reply, slipping into the role of interviewer as best as you can. “Congratulations on P2, by the way. How was the race for you?”

He glances at you, and for a brief second, his expression changes. It’s subtle — almost imperceptible — but it’s there. Something shifts in his eyes, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Thanks,” he says, but the word comes out softer than you expect. There’s a pause, a moment of hesitation, before he continues. “The race was … it was intense. But honestly? Standing here right now … it feels like something else is happening.”

You frown slightly, not understanding. “What do you mean?”

Lando looks at you again, more intently this time, and you’re acutely aware of the way your pulse is thumping in your ears. “Look around,” he murmurs, his voice low, as if he’s sharing a secret. “Do you see anything different?”

You blink, confused. You glance around, expecting to see the same monotone world you’ve always known, the same dull shades of gray. But instead … you see it. A soft glow in the distance, a faint tinge of color in the sky.

It’s … blue.

A gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it. “What …”

Lando steps closer, his expression as bewildered as yours. “You see it too, don’t you?”

“I-I don’t understand,” you stammer, your heart racing even faster now. “This can’t be real. I’ve never seen color before.”

“Neither have I,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “But … I’m seeing it now. Because of you.”

The air around you feels electric, charged with something you can’t quite name. Your eyes lock onto his, and suddenly, the world isn’t gray anymore. It’s alive with hues and shades that you’ve only ever imagined. His eyes, a stunning shade of fluid green, meet yours with the same wonder.

“This can’t be real,” you repeat, more to yourself than to him. You’re trying to make sense of the impossible, of the vivid blues and greens and reds that are slowly seeping into your vision, like the world is waking up from a long sleep.

Lando reaches out, his hand hovering near yours, not quite touching. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze that’s startling — like he’s just as unsure of what’s happening as you are. “I think …” he starts, then stops, swallowing hard before trying again. “I think it’s because we’re soulmates.”

“Soulmates?” You echo, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. You’ve heard the stories, the myths — how the world is black and white until you meet the person you’re meant to be with.

But it’s just that, isn’t it? A myth? A fairytale? With over 8 billion people on Earth, the chances of actually meeting your fated match are slim-to-none. Most of the population has grown to accept that they will never see anything other than black and white.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “That’s what they say, right? You don’t see color until you meet your soulmate. But I never thought it’d actually happen. Not like this.”

You’re silent for a moment, trying to process it all. The colors, the implications, the fact that this person — this stranger — is suddenly supposed to mean everything to you. It’s overwhelming.

“I don’t even know you,” you whisper, voicing your fears. “How can we be soulmates if we don’t even know each other?”

Lando’s smile is small, almost shy. “I guess we’ll have to change that, won’t we?”

The words are simple, but they carry a weight that you’re not sure you’re ready to bear. But when he looks at you like that, with such sincerity, you find yourself nodding.

“Yeah,” you agree softly. “I guess we will.”

He takes a step closer, and this time, his hand does brush against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You feel it in every nerve, every inch of your being. It’s like the world has shifted on its axis, and you’re standing at the center of something much bigger than yourself.

“Can I ask you something?” Lando’s voice is quiet, almost tentative.

“Of course,” you reply, your voice just as soft.

“What’s your favorite color?”

The question catches you off guard. It’s such a simple thing, and yet, in this moment, it feels like the most important question in the world. You look around, taking in the colors that are now flooding your vision — the vibrant greens of the trees in the distance, the deep blues of the sky, the bright reds and yellows of the cars and team logos.

“I don’t know,” you admit, and the honesty of it feels right. “I’ve never had a favorite color before.”

Lando smiles, a real smile this time, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds. “Pretty sure I’m legally obligated to say mine’s papaya,” he laughs, and you notice it for the first time — the vibrant hue of his team’s colors, standing out against the grayscale world you’ve known until now. “I think you’ll like it.”

You smile back at him, feeling the connection between you deepening with every passing second. It’s terrifying, and exhilarating, and everything in between.

“I think I might,” you say, and the words are full of a promise that you’re not sure you fully understand yet, but that feels right nonetheless.

For a moment, the world falls away, and it’s just the two of you, standing there in a kaleidoscope of color that’s bursting into life all around you. The roar of the engines, the clamor of the crowd — it all fades into the background as you look at each other, truly seeing each other for the first time.

“So … what happens now?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando’s hand tightens around yours, and there’s a steadiness in his gaze that grounds you. “We take it one step at a time,” he says. “We get to know each other. And we see where this goes.”

The simplicity of his words is comforting. There’s no grand declaration, no rush to figure everything out. Just a promise to take things as they come, to let whatever this is between you grow naturally, in its own time.

“I’d like that,” you say, and you mean it.

He grins, that boyish charm back in full force, and you can’t help but smile in return. “Good,” he says. “Because I think we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other.”

There’s a warmth in his tone that makes your heart skip a beat, and for the first time since this whole whirlwind began, you find yourself excited about the future — about the possibility of what’s to come.

“Yeah,” you reply, your smile widening. “I think we are.”

And as you stand there, hand-in-hand with Lando Norris, surrounded by the vibrant colors of a world that’s finally come to life, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is where you were always meant to be.

[cheezb6llz]

If you’re willing, I’d love to spoil Movie!Shadow with all the best things. Maybe just a full spa day for him after his crash down to earth. Of course, I’d definitely gaslight him into thinking bath bombs are real explosives to keep things interesting 😈

I hope you’re having a good day/night/time even if you don’t do my request. Thank you

SPA DAY!!!

MOVIE! SHADOW X READER

WHEW THIS IS KINDA LONG.. this was so adorable though i love it!congrats on first non yandere request LMAO written with human reader in mind, def more on the platonic side!!

—————

Shadow had been glaring at you for the past 5 minutes. His arms were crossed, muscles were tense, and that usual scowl was still plastered on his face. The only thing that made it entertaining was the white towel draped over his shoulders, showing his clear reluctant participation in today’s plan.

“I don’t see the point of this.” He muttered while eyeing the steaming hot bath like it was some sort of enemy trap. “This is a waste of time.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a nice swirly purple and white bath bomb you had recently picked up from the store. “Oh please, lighten up! You’ve been through a lot, you deserve a little relaxation.”

Shadow scoffed, but didn’t exactly protest as you held the bath bomb in your hand. You inspected it before a brilliant idea stuck you.

You looked over at him, eyes wide with mocking seriousness.

“Okay, so this thing.. This thing is dangerous.”

That got his attention. His ears twitched as he turned to face you fully. “..Dangerous?”

You nodded, lowering your voice like you were sharing top-secret government documents. “Yeah, you drop this in the water, and BOOM! explosion.” You dramatically gestured an explosion with your hands.

Shadow’s whole body tensed, his eyes darted between the bath bomb and the tub, analyzing the situation like he was preparing for battle. His fingers twitched like he was debating if he should snatch it from your hands and toss it out the window.

But before he could react, you threw the bath bomb straight into the water.

Shadow flinched. His legs bent like he was about to bolt, arms slightly suspended in the air, quills bristling. But instead of some fiery explosion, the bomb fizzed and swirled in the water, releasing a cloud of color and the soothing scent of vanilla and lavender.

You slowly turned to look at him, trying your absolute HARDEST not to laugh. He looked shocked at first, but then his eyes narrowed as he turned to look at you.

“…You tricked me.”

That was it. You lost it. You clutched your stomach as you laughed uncontrollably, leaning forward a bit. “Oh my god, your face! I should’ve recorded that!”

Shadow scowled, crossing his arms again and looking away, murmuring something about ‘idiotic distractions’ or something. But you didn’t miss the way his quills slowly settled and how he hadn’t stormed out yet.. He was actually tolerating this.

After recovering from your laughing fit, you turned back to Shadow, who was staring at the tub as if it had personally offended him. The bath bomb had fully dissolved, leaving the water a soft shade of purple and covering the surface of the water with a layer of foam.

You placed a hand on your hip. “You are getting in.”

“I don’t-“

“Get. In.”

You stared him down, meeting his same level of intensity. Eventually, he sharply exhaled, muttering something under his breath before he stepped towards the bath.

“I loathe this.” He said, slowly sinking himself into the water. He immediately stiffened up.

“Relax, it’s just water.” You stepped closer, grabbing a washcloth.

Shadow shot you a glare, but slooooowly eased into the warmth of the water. His rigid posture loosened as he placed his hands at the bottom of the tub.

You kneeled down at the side of the tub, dipping the washcloth in the water and squirting some body wash onto it. “Alright buddy, lets get you cleaned up.. Wait, should I be using body wash or shampoo for this? Ehh, whatever.”

You said, pressing the washcloth up against his shoulder and gently rubbing it up and down his arm, trying your best to be careful around sore spots. Up close, you could really see how much he’d been through. Scrapes and bruises littered his entire body from the crash.

“..You aren’t used to letting people take care of you, huh?”

You asked, softly running the cloth down his back.

Shadow huffed, barely opening his eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

“Uh-huh.. And yet, here you are..” You dipped the cloth in the water again before reaching for his quills, he flinched. “Hey, quit moving, I’m trying to wash your hair- er- quills- whatever.”

He sighed but allowed it, tilting his head back for you to work. Once you finished, you grabbed a nearby facial mask, one of those cooling gel sheet masks. “Okay, last step, face mask time!”

Shadow snapped out of his relaxed state, eyes sharpening. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh come on-!”

“No.”

“You survived a fall from space, but a face mask is too much for you?”

He watched as you peeled the face mask out of its packaging and carefully went to place it over his face, but the SECOND it touched his skin- nope. He ripped it off his face, tossing it aside.

“That is disgusting.”

You sighed dramatically. “You’re impossible.”

“Hmph.”

Well, that was the closest you were going to get to a “thank you.”

—

Once shadow was washed up and dried off, you guided him over to sit on a low stool in front of you. His fur and quills were still a bit damp, and you could tell he was this close to bolting when he sensed what was coming next.

“You aren’t leaving until I brush you out.” You declared, holding a wide tooth comb in your hand like it was a weapon.

Shadow tensed. “I can handle it myself.”

“Sure you can, but will you? Probably not.” You plopped down behind him before bringing the comb to the thickest parts of his fur. “Just let me do this, okay? You’ll feel better.”

Shadow sighed but didn’t move, and that was good enough for you.

You started slow, brushing through his fur carefully with long and gentle strokes. His shoulders were still tense, but as you worked, you felt him gradually relax. You ran your fingers through his quills, detangling them a bit.

He was softer than you expected. You’d assumed his quills would be coarse and stiff, but once they were damp they had a sleekness to them. His fur, especially around his neck, shoulders and chest was thick but smooth under your fingers.

“Seeeee? Not so bad, huh?” You said as you brushed through the last stubborn knot.

You still couldn’t believe he was actually letting you do this.

You switched to a softer brush and worked through the shorter fur on his arms and back. His breathing evened out as the tension in his muscles fully unwinded. Soon enough, his eyes closed and he slightly tilted his head forward.

You almost gasped. Was he actually enjoying this??

You decided to test it. You ran your fingers along the back of his neck, gently scratching at the base of his quills.

He visibly shivered.

You bit back a grin. “Ohh, so this is the weak spot?”

His eyes immediately snapped open, he turned to glare at you, ears flattening a bit in embarrassment. “Enough-!”

You held up your hands, laughing. “Okay, okay! No more!”

Shadow crossed his arms and looked away.

Still grinning, you pat his shoulder. “See, Shadow? Now you’re all clean, brushed out, and relaxed. Admit it, it was nice.”

Shadow hesitantly answered. “It was.. Tolerable.”

But the flick of his ear and the fact that he didn’t run away completely told you it was way more than that. And that was great.

—

HES SO CUTE AHHHH

[kiyawritesforf1]

ORANGE HEARTS AND ACCIDENTAL CONFESSIONS

Pairing : Lando Norris x Reader

Words : 2.1k

The roar of engines buzzed in the air like electricity, the familiar vrrrrrooom rattling through Y/N’s chest as she stood just inside the Silverstone paddock. It was her first time at a Grand Prix, and it just so happened to be her 20th birthday.

She could hardly believe it.

The Silverstone GP. The home race. McLaren country. And she was actually here.

Well—technically, she was mostly here because of her little brother, Eli, who had a surprising amount of charisma for a 7-year-old and had begged her to take him after winning a radio contest. She couldn't say no. Not when he looked at her with those eyes. And not when it involved McLaren.

She tugged nervously at the hem of her papaya-orange hoodie, the one with a subtle Lando Norris logo stitched near the pocket. She told herself it wasn’t because of him—it was just a cool hoodie. Comfortable. Good color. That was it. Totally not because Lando was, like, ridiculously cute or anything.

"Eli," she whispered, crouching beside her brother as he waved frantically at the crowd of fans nearby. "Remember, we’re just here to watch. No chaos, okay?"

He grinned, teeth missing in typical 7-year-old fashion. “No chaos. Got it. But can we still find the McLaren drivers?”

Y/N’s stomach flipped. “I mean… maybe? Don’t get your hopes—"

Before she could finish, a cheerful paddock assistant called them over.

“Hey! You’re the radio contest winners, right? Come on, you get a quick meet-and-greet with the McLaren drivers before qualifying!”

Y/N froze.

Meet. The. Drivers.

She turned bright red on the spot. Her brother, on the other hand, fist-pumped the air and yelled, “LET’S GO!”

The McLaren hospitality area was cooler, quieter, but somehow even more intimidating. Y/N could barely focus. There were crew members zipping by, fans waving politely, and cameras everywhere. She tried not to shrink into her hoodie.

Then came the moment.

Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri walked in casually, like they weren’t internationally loved racing drivers. Lando had a charming grin plastered on his face, curls slightly messy, while Oscar looked more chill, nodding politely as they approached.

Eli whispered, “They look way cooler in real life.”

Y/N had lost all ability to breathe. Or blink. Or function.

“Hey there!” Lando greeted, crouching slightly to Eli’s height. “You the big fan we’ve been hearing about?”

Y/N opened her mouth to answer, but Eli was faster. “Well, actually—she said I was the fan. But it’s not true. I like Oscar more. She’s the one who’s obsessed with you.”

Y/N nearly died.

Lando’s eyebrows shot up, and his grin widened. “Oh really?”

“I—he—I didn’t—I meant like—” she stammered, face the shade of a ripe tomato.

Oscar chuckled. “You throwing her under the bus already, mate?” he asked Eli, who nodded like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Yup. She even watches your Twitch streams. And when you crashed in Austria last year, she nearly cried. She talks to the TV during races.”

“Okay,” Y/N gasped, “you’ve made your point.”

But Lando looked delighted. He leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing. “So, you’re my secret biggest fan, huh? And here I thought it was Eli.”

“I’m not—well I am—but not—like that—I just really like—your driving—” she winced as the words fell out. “I should stop talking.”

“Nah,” Lando said, smirking, “This is fun.”

Eli beamed. “You should see the poster in her room.”

“Eli!” Y/N squeaked.

Oscar leaned toward Eli, mock-conspiratorial. “Does she have one of me too?”

Eli shook his head solemnly. “Nah, sorry. She says you’re cool, but not Lando cool.”

Oscar placed a hand over his heart. “Tragic.”

Lando was trying not to laugh. “Well, now I’m definitely signing something for you, Y/N.”

Y/N peeked up at him through her lashes. “You don’t have to…”

“Oh, I want to,” he said, handing her a sharpie with a wink. “Where should I sign? Hoodie? Poster? Phone case?”

She practically combusted on the spot.

The rest of the meet-and-greet was a blur. Oscar and Eli got along weirdly well, both sharing a deadpan sense of humor that made Y/N question if her little brother had been swapped at birth. Meanwhile, Lando kept finding ways to make her flustered—offering her papaya-colored snacks, nudging her arm when she got too quiet, casually calling her “my favorite fan.”

She’d never felt so seen. Or so teased.

As they were leaving, Lando suddenly leaned over.

“Hey, before you go,” he said. “Can I ask something?”

Y/N blinked up at him, suspicious. “Maybe?”

“If I signed something else… like, I don’t know… your ticket stub or a coffee cup… would that count as a birthday gift?”

Her heart nearly exploded. “H-how did you know it was my birthday?”

Eli, once again, unhelpful: “She told me not to mention it so you wouldn’t feel like you had to do anything. But she hoped you would.”

Y/N covered her face with both hands. “I can’t take him anywhere.”

But Lando just laughed, taking the cup from her hand and scribbling on it. When he handed it back, it read:

Happy Birthday to my #1 (but totally not) fan. Coffee sometime? - Lando :) + his number.

She stared.

“Did you just—give me your—?”

“Only if you’ll use it,” he said, a little quieter now. “You don’t have to. But… I’d really like it if you did.”

Oscar clapped Eli on the back. “Hey, what do you think? Should she go on a date with him?”

Eli crossed his arms, thinking. “Only if he lets me drive the simulator next time.”

Lando grinned. “Done.”

Eli gave a thumbs up. “Then it’s a yes.”

Y/N groaned, but smiled. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Believe it,” Lando said, bumping her shoulder. “See you soon, birthday girl.”

They walked out of the paddock into the sunset-pink sky, the sound of engines fading behind them.

Eli was skipping beside her, chattering about Oscar’s jokes and simulator promises, completely unaware that his matchmaking might’ve just changed Y/N’s life.

She looked down at the signed cup in her hand, cheeks still pink.

Yeah. This was the best birthday ever.

End of Part 1

————

It will be random snippets from their life nothing too serious

[zolass]

Oh!!! Uhhh how about OC x bttm! Reader where reader is a much soft spoken/passive guy and OC is the one who teases him a lot? Bonus points if Reader takes a second to process suggestive jokes & is significantly taller than OC (because I've never read a taller bttm b4 LMAO)

MY MUSE ···─Tease! Rafayel x Taller! bttm Male Reader

Summary: Where you find yourself in the grasps of an famous artist, who simply asked you to be his muse and even paying you for it. But why does it feel like that there's more behind all the teasing from Rafayel. wc: 1.2k

tags: fluff, teasing, taller shy reader (reader is as tall as sylus), nudity, mentions of sex and multiple rounds, (pls tell me if I forgot smt)

Note: I'm sorry if you wanted smut with this one, or a different character. Hope it's still enjoyable. But ngl I like the dynamic T_T

You were sitting at the coast, your shoes dug in the sand as you squatted down. The waves barely missed the tip of your shoes, while you simply stared at the mesmerizing display of the ocean. Your fingers were playing with the sand absentmindedly.

So you didn’t hear the approaching footsteps in the sand, until a hand landed on your shoulder. Looking up surprised, you came face to face with the handsome male that you had been working with for a few months, Rafayel. 

“Hey, beautiful.” Rafayel said, it was a common thing he called you by. At first it was a rather big surprise for you, but it made sense as he hired you as his muse. “Hey Raf,” you greeted him back with a small smile on your lips before you stood up.

Now it was Rafayel’s time to look slightly up at you. “I made breakfast and coffee– so the sooner we are there, the more time we have!” Rafayel said, while he grabbed your hand and pulled you along the shore towards the place you call your home since the last few months.

Many would question why you lived with the painter, all the while you’re ‘just a muse’ as some would like to call it. You didn’t have to pay for basically anything, freeloading off of the other. Of course at the beginning you wanted to know why he did it, just as confused as others would be, even going as far as not accepting the payment he gave you. But his words at the beginning simply were “creativity doesn’t wait around, so I have to grasp it while it’s simply there.”

Quickly you found yourself in the open kitchen, with a steaming coffee mug in front of you, and the simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. As you were enjoying your breakfast in silence, Rafayel’s eyes were trained on your figure. Tall, even taller than him, soft locks framing your face. Your eyes that always held warmth in them, even when others would say he was annoying and too much when he wanted to paint another piece, you simply sat there in your own bubble, going along with his orders without speaking up about it. 

After the first three days, Rafayel started to relax more, speaking more with you, having conversations while on and off ‘work’, soon he also started to make suggestive jokes, he loved to see the halt in movement of whatever you’re doing, taking a few seconds to take in his words before a beautiful reddish color would adorn your cheeks, that you would try to hide.

Maybe that was it, what made him slowly develop this warmth in his chest whenever he thought of you, was seeing you or was simply close to you. 

The clearing of your throat brought Rafayel out of his thoughts, “You alright Raf? You didn’t touch your breakfast yet,” you asked with concern, lacing your voice. Rafayel couldn’t help the flutter in his stomach because of your concern for him, he quickly cleared his throat before he looked at you with a playful smile on his lips. “Just thinking about something– you know.. I don’t mind looking up at you, but I bet you would look better under me.” 

It took a few seconds for the words to register in your brain, and as they did he watched as your eyes widened and face heated up, adorning your cheeks in a slightly reddish shade. You didn’t know what to say, your mouth opening and closing. A chuckle left Rafayel as he watched your reaction, “Okay if you’re done let’s start,” Rafayel started, as he cleaned up the table. 

As he walked to the empty canvas, he couldn’t help but halt in his movement, a sudden idea in his head. “[name] you said– you would do anything as my muse right?” The sudden question surprised you. But you took a few seconds to think of how you should answer, so after a bit you nodded, before adding a yes. 

Rafayel couldn’t help the giddy feeling in his stomach, it might be rather risky but he decided to do it anyway, who knew if he had the chance ever again. “Then– strip,” he said loud enough for both of you to hear. 

You stared at him wide-eyed, “Pardon?” 

“Only your shirt,” Rafayel quickly added, backing out half way. Yet he wanted to see your slightly toned chest, without a shirt blocking most of the sight. You were still kinda shocked, before you gave a short okay. 

Soon you were seated on a small chair with a translucent cloth layered across your naked torso, your eyes sometimes looking at the concentrated face of Rafayel, his words still lingering in your head, before the silence was interrupted by a young woman with dark brown hair walking in. 

Quickly you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hide your exposed body, which was clearly a failure. Both of you stared at each other with wide eyes, a rose color dusting the woman's cheeks. 

The clearing of a throat was heard, both your heads focused on Rafayel, yet his expression changed. “Didn’t think you would come by so early..” he said, with a slightly annoyed undertone which surprised you and apparently the woman too, “should I come back some other time-” Rafayel quickly spoke a sharp yes, before his eyes landed back on you.

Shortly after you both were back alone, a blush still coating your cheeks, your one arm trying to hide your chest, while you held yourself on the chair with the other. Suddenly Rafayel stood up and walked towards you, before standing still in front of you.

As he leaned down, you didn’t know what to expect but certainly not, that he would push a strand out of your face, with a charming smile on his lips, “You know darling, I love that you’re so tall– more room for me to leave marks,” he said. It didn’t take long for you to blush in embarrassment, biting your lip.

“Then why don’t you show me?” you asked in a whisper, first you thought he didn’t hear what you said, but instead you heard a chuckle and a hand reached out towards you. Looking at the hand and then at Rafayel, you could see the way he looked at you. Still rather playful but there seemed to be more of a seriousness hiding behind the exterior, “Sure, anything for my mesmerizing darling,” he spoke.

And so you found yourself that day in multiple rounds of passionate sex, different positions, all the while Rafayel fucked you into the mattress and filling your hole with one load after another and the sweet words were uttered from Rafayel’s lips. Lovebites and hickeys littering your skin, while you were held tightly in the other’s arm at the end of the day.

You both watching as the sun slowly dropped below the waves, a kiss was placed on your shoulder, “Like I thought, you look so fucking beautiful beneath me,” Rafayel teased. A chuckle leaving him as you hid your face, before he turned serious, “I want to take you out on a date, [name].” 

It surprised you, but there you were already having slept with the man, so a date couldn’t be that awful right? 

Rafayel waited for your answer, and as you said yes, he couldn’t help but feel oh so giddy. He hugged you close to his chest, “Then we go when you can walk without pain, hm?” and all you did was huff, as your ears also turned red, “sure,” were the only things you uttered before both of you watched the sunset, before you slowly drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

[kooyabooya]

OMISSION

julie x m reader

21k words

There’s always going to be that one occurrence in your lifetime. Where, even when all possibilities of it happening just doesn’t seem to line up, still does. 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

Doomed to regret, or relieved of the fact that you’re given a chance after waiting for who really knows how long, it all arrives in the same fashion. You’re pretty certain that things like these transpire for a reason; and sometimes, the best part about this mystery is what’s to come after. 

Truth be told, it’s an unexplainable miracle how Julie still remembers you after all these years. 

Okay, that statement itself might be an over exaggeration, and it’s been roughly about five years? Maybe seven? Shit, it might be even eight or more. The game of life doesn’t have time for someone like you to stand idly, dozing off and unbothered like that’s how you want things to be. 

Nonetheless, you analogized this to your circle of friends about how you and Julie are like parallel lines: destined to be side by side, never to cross each other's paths to meet in the middle. You’ve convinced yourself long ago there would never be any form of instance crossing past that line of being in love with her, ever. Despite what everyone says otherwise, the teasing never stopped; a recurrence every once in a while with your high school friends (and hey, it’s not your fault that you tense up at the bare mention of her name or see a picture of you and her together from when you were kids and not have a crossing thought of what could’ve been). She’s been the one person who was always there for you, until eventually going away and out of your life before you could even understand what any of that meant in the first place.

It doesn’t matter if it’s the first time you’ve set eyes on her or the last, because a part of you seems to stop in their tracks whenever she’s within line of eyesight. 

–

Midday, at the peak of rush hour traffic around the airport, there’s a scramble of newcomers and departing travelers through the doors of the terminal. The sporadic influx of people with one or two hand carries, and various cart goers with enough baggage to stay in the country for more than a projected month. 

You pull the corner of your lip when you see a familiar shade of bright ash colored hair, retro shades shielding her face from anyone that might notice at a glance. Her luggage was surprisingly less than what you have expected: a bulky backpack that’s roughly the size of her entire midsection (she could go hiking or backpacking for all you know) and a large suitcase with a duffel bag stacked on top of it. 

Julie being Julie, she decided to go the comfort route of her outfit rather than the haute couture style that she always plasters her social media profile with which was a nice change to see considering the amount of sponsors she has at her age. She scans the line of cars with the hazard lights on along the lane, immediately bee-lining for yours while you’re leaning against the side with the engine still running and not with the hazard lights on, just to make it easier for her to spot you. 

When she finally stops her footing a few inches before the curb, she lets out this sigh when the handle of her suitcase clicks back in, plopping the duffel bag onto the ground as if she’s making her presence known, you take a quick look around ensuring that she wasn’t trying to make a scene. “Hey,” she calls over. There’s no second thought; you could be fifty feet away and still spot her. 

Julie runs a hand through her hair, chin tilted up slightly when you get onto the sidewalk from the street, signifying the clear difference in height. She’s at your neck, and you’re glad that she stayed around there - you know, just to annoy her. 

Coming off ever-so casually, “Hey.” 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

You lift your eyebrows with one at the highest point you could take on your forehead. “What do you think?” 

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?” 

A shake of the head, you’re giddy in an instant second. 

“Seriously?” She starts, pulling out her set of earbuds and her glasses simultaneously, raising an eyebrow before squinting her eyes closely to your face, and all you’re doing is just letting your head fall a few degrees left to keep her second guessing. “There is no way they let you be my personal chauffeur for today.” 

“Well, about that.” you scoff, stepping on the concrete away from the asphalt while also fishing out a folded twenty dollar bill from your pocket. “I was doing some errands for my parents before I got hit with the last minute memo to pick up some girl that’s been too busy with stardom.” 

“What’s the adult dollar for?” Julie asks, fighting the smile terribly while you’re matching the same energy. “Are you tipping for yourself?” 

A pause forms between the two of you, staring, reading into each other’s expressions. The white noise of cars coming occasionally broken with scattered honks across the place. You kinda look stupid with the twenty dollars in between your fingers, but Julie breaks first by looking down, you’re rolling eyes at how simple it’s been after all this time - easing into her, and she does the same. 

She steps forward with swinging arms, capturing you in between them. Julie was always the outgoing one with affection. Growing up, you kinda got sick of her being up all in your space. Now, you’ve come the long way ‘round; her hand lightly grips the back of your neck, you’re shaking her side by side with your arms around her waist, suddenly she’s got a hand to your cheek before she pinches it just to annoy you. One thing for sure: you enjoy the small bubble entrapping you with her, not giving a care for what’s going outside of it. 

“Oh my god?” you tell her breathlessly, half drunk on the sweet scent of her hair, pushing her back slightly to get a second look at her, trying to process how much she’s grown. “You- your hair….”

“I know right?” she acknowledges, tilting her head off to the right while hiding away. “Didn’t think that orange would be my color in the first place and now, I own it.” 

She looks good, and somehow she’s still the same Julie you remember spending a good chunk of your entire childhood with to know that unchanging fact. 

“Long flight?” you ask her, hands on her shoulders with a quick massage. “You know what they say about airport crushes; see them once, and they’re gone the next moment for forever.” 

“No one has ever said that.” Julie laughs, flipping some of her hair over the shoulder, her lone hand lightly underneath your forearm, not letting the faintest clutch of your sweater get to you because it will, and it seems that the personal point still stands, but you remember the conversation with her regarding that all those years ago - unsure if the sting is still present or not, you’ll have to ponder sometime later. “Always the one to say complete nonsense to me and expect to understand it,” she closes the distance with you again, a slightly more prolonged hug, relaxing into your embrace again with a sleepy sigh, “But yes, I’m still tired.” 

“So much for getting lunch.” 

“Oh, we can still get lunch, if you’re paying of course.” She says, pressing both of her index fingers together innocently, dodging your eyes on purpose before you realize what she’s actually doing. 

“Typical of you, Julie.” 

“What? I’m not doing anything.” She replies, shaking her head. Your peripheral view catches a person wearing a neon yellow vest approaching you two, probably coming over to issue a warning that you’re picking up and not parking. Looking in the same direction, she too, takes the hint, realizing that you’re in a slight time crunch and the reunion can take place somewhere else. “Besides, I was always the one to get you lunch after school when you said that you weren’t hungry.” 

“I could just take you straight home,” you say, popping the trunk to put all of her belongings in the back.

“Don’t! I’m kidding, obviously.”

That’s your Julie. 

“Unless you don’t let me pick the place to grab something, then I guess you could take me home then, if it isn’t that much work for you.” She remarks while you’re rounding the car from behind, slotting in the gap to open the door for her before she swaps places with you on the outside and her on the opposite side. 

Regardless of the absence, she’s hit it off with you again like nothing had ever happened, the habits of goodwill when you’re shielding her head from the roof of the door frame and shutting it when she finally sits in. 

It’s like a rerun of old memories coming back. When the whirr of the engine springs to life from the ignition, paired with the dragged out sigh of Julie settling into the passenger seat of your car, leaning the seat all the way back with her feet on the dashboard. She’s also surprised that you kept a few trinkets that she put in the interior, but the main takeaway was the polaroid on the left side of the speedometer. The image wasn’t that big of a deal if you’re looking at the date scribbled with a sharpie, but it’s her lips pressed against your face on the last night before she went away to pursue her own endeavors. As for the gesture itself, Julie laughs it off since the main reason was because she had one too many drinks - which was understandable, to say the least.

(Well, friends have their own ways of showing off their love from a platonic standpoint, so this was just one of those instances; nothing more.)

You and her just talk for what seems like ages, forget with the notion of playing catch-up. She’s only been here for probably less than an hour and half at this point, and you could care less with the traffic on the way to the niche coffee spot where you and Julie have always gone to after school days and study sessions. 

She points out to you that everything is pretty much the same since she left it - like she runs the place - and in a way, it felt like that to you for a while. It’s all in the scattered corner stores, the park with those two stationary bikes that she’d ride just because she’s bored, that one avenue of houses that you and her talked about owning one day if the lottery was won between the two of you. All of these things start coming back to you like stills from an old film camera. 

“I helped get the house redone with flooring and everything,” you tell her, flicking the blinker up and looping right into the parking lot of the cafe. “Figured that it was time to change some things up around there for once.” 

Right when you set the car to park, clicking off the seatbelt and she too does the same; you glance over to the passenger seat while grabbing for your wallet and keys, seeing Julie on her side, head propped up to her hand, a leg tucked to her chest before she nods her head down to let the set of sunglasses fall weirdly on the bridge of her nose, fixing it soon after while softly smiling back. “Anything else that I missed out on that I haven’t heard from the others?” 

You look up, pursing your lips together with a hum, trying to give somewhat of a legitimate answer, “Perhaps one thing: me.” 

Julie stares at you unimpressed, slightly cringing at what was just said while you’re wearing a dumb grin spread across your face. Her chin dips diagonally, insisting silently that you give her a valid explanation, but you don’t. She knows your fair share of flings and failed talking stages, and she’s not far off the cut too; coming to you for advice about how guys operate because you understood well that some of them only think with their fucking crotch and not their brain most of the time. 

She sighs, this time with a light smirk in acceptance. “Fine, I’ll take that to be an acceptable answer.” 

Phone and wallet in one hand, the other opening the door, a turn of the head shields you biting your inner lip, mind slowly falling into the delusional thought of filling the gap in your amygdala of what should’ve been done in the first place. 

Maybe if you had the chance to go back in a time machine to alter the causes, the outcomes might’ve been in a much different space entirely. 

–

Though, it’s worth mentioning that you and Julie have never actually tried dating each other up until she left during junior year. The idea itself wasn’t necessarily tempting, but the lone strings in your heart decided at best that it wouldn’t escalate anything higher than what you already had with her. 

–

Sure. 

Everything comes natural when it’s with Julie. Out of everyone in your small circle of friends, it was you and her that have been tethered together since you two were basically in diapers. She was born a few days before you; in the same hospital, on the same floor. Your mothers already had a tight-knit connection even prior to you and her even stepping in the picture of their lives. Then there’s the special aspect of being a pair since preschool; nearly all the moments were either you and her not too apart from the other. 

You poke a straw through her latte before handing it to her first, only to take the same drink and bring it back around for you to have to take the additional one you bought instead. Everything starts to settle like old times. She’s telling you stories about what she’s doing with her career; nothing short of traveling around the world, giving you the most colorful way of what occurred even if it was the most simplest of things. The brand deals, the collaborations, how she loves what she’s doing. You couldn’t be more proud of her for taking her life by the reins because you and her both agreed that staying here in this town would only hold her back to what she really wants. 

“So,” she starts, placing her phone down after showing her pictures of her recent outing somewhere in Poland. “Remind me what you’re doing again?” 

She’s sitting across from you on the table, leg over the other, hands linked at the knee. Her drink is almost finished, there’s a half eaten croissant while you’re playing back all of the things that might be worth noting. You look up to see that subtle smirk, a hint of her dimples that you’ve probably fantasized about kissing because they’re just there, her pretty cat-like eyes, low and heavy, and her hair just looks amazing to see since the papaya color really suits her well. 

“Well, it’s nothing really worth sharing,” you say, grabbing another sip through the opening of your drink, “This job I got starts in a few weeks, and oh- grad school’s finally done and over with.” Julie nods in excitement, clapping quietly with her fingers while you’re waving a hand up to save the embarrassment. You show her the grad photos and ceremony, and tells you looked good, apologizing for not showing up earlier to be that for your massive accomplishment. 

“Anything else that you’re doing to pass time?” she asks, stealing your drink since she finished hers. 

“I write a little here and there. No big deal.” 

“You do?” 

You shrug, “Kinda, sort of struggling with this one story or idea that’s been rattling my brain for the past couple days now.” 

Julie does the similar action like she did earlier while getting out of the car; that slight lean back with narrow eyes to subject something suspicious. “Is it the kind of writing that I think it is?” 

“Jul, it’s just poems.” you tell her, adjusting your chair closer while she spills a mess of giggles while you snatch back your drink for another sip to keep yourself distracted. “You know that I get lost with reading. It was just that one time that you caught me red-handed.” 

“You’re not at fault for hooking me onto that kind of stuff too.” she replies, fingers bridged together to support her chin with her elbows on the table, “I will say, the mind can create the wildest imaginations.” 

“Have you noticed what you’re doing with those outfits and dances?” 

“Hey, I read those comments every now and then.” Julie takes back your drink to finally finish it, placing the cup off to the side with the half-eaten croissant to open up the table for conversation. “It’s just one way of staying engaged with fans without even interacting with them.” 

That’s the kind of line you drew with Julie: being her supporter while she’s coming into her own. Making a name for herself through her own route of success to being famous, garnering attention by the minute with every post that she makes of herself or with others. You find yourself staring at pictures of her in outrageous outfits a little too long at times, watch the parts of her in videos on loop because she’s radiating with happiness, enjoying what she does. Her voice is distinct for you to pick out, and you’re wondering also: what did the world do to deserve an angel like her for just being the way she is? 

She was a constant in your life, the couple of minutes you set aside in your schedule to see what she’s up to while in school or work - an out reaching thread you’ll dip down to see where she is or what she’s doing. 

Can’t be mad at her for not keeping up with you after all this time anyway. 

“Why did you bring me here?” Julie asks, her tone serious with hands now on her lap. 

Instead of sugarcoating the inquiry, you’re mature enough to the point where some things are best given flat out the first try rather than scaffolding the truth bit by bit. 

–

(It’s a flashpoint in the same spot years ago; the end of one thing, the start of another. Only main difference of this was the seating arrangement: you with your back against the fence and Julie on the opposite end with someone carrying a tray back inside the cafe. 

The receipt was already on the table, empty orders of drinks just waiting to be discarded. It’s sundown, and the inside was already packed with various students cramming in bits and pieces of study guides for that history test they’re all convinced that they’ll fail. Not you, because you’re confident in your academic abilities so why lose sleep over it. 

“I’m finally going forward with this.” Julie tells you, sitting idly while she just went you through the potential plan of her journey to success. Bottom line still stands: she’s going away, and the news still hits you like a deer caught in headlights. She nudges your shin that makes you snap out from your trance off into the distance, “Are you even listening?” 

“I am- I was.” you answer, shaking your head while scratching, because you’re aware of the facts. Julie has been pushing to get herself off with her feet up in the sky, and managed to land a chance to finally make that silly dream of being famous into a reality. It’s been brewing behind the scenes, seeing her pace back and forth between phone calls while having a quick bite before dinner at her place. “So it’s really happening this time.” 

“Yes.” She says, as if the news itself already didn’t tear an opening in your heart from the beginning. Any lingering feeling that was there for her was about to be ripped away from you in the next few days, and there’s not a lot of time left either; so why put in effort to even try and convince her when her mind is already made. 

“Only a matter of time until you’re finally gone.” 

“Don’t say it like that.” 

“You know how I am with things like these.” you tell her, flatly. “The sentiment coming from me feels wrong, but it's your dream and I don’t want to jeopardize that.” 

Julie’s expression softens, meeting your eyes. They’re filled with fading stars while hers are glassy, lip quivering while she reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing the ridges across the wrinkles of your knuckles - how the touch will be an unknown to her, inevitably. 

“You’re not hurting me.” she says, smiling, confessing like it’ll give you some comfort to live with. “You never did.” 

She knows your wavelength better than anyone else besides your parents. Nodding at her reassurance, you put away the one thing that you should’ve said in hiding, since it’s already too late. You don’t even know when she’ll be back let alone have the expectation for things to be the same later, because it won’t be. 

It’s also impossible to satisfy the urge in telling her everything right here and now, put all of your thoughts and feelings on the table with no regrets; it’s there, but you’ve stomached the feeling deep down enough to keep it inside.) 

–

“I mean, this is where we left things,” you tell her, bearing a smile, “why not start right where we left off?” 

–

What’s talked about throughout years is all recapped in the matter of a few hours. You’ve gone around the town in different spots, talking about the notable events that occurred in each and every one of them. There’s a fill-in between different friends and shakeups of relationships and careers that has Julie in shock at the misdirection through the juicy details that never in a million years she would believe had happened. It’s still going, even when you drop by your home to see your parents and their adopted child (figuratively speaking) for a bit before carrying on with the drive to absolutely nowhere with the switch from your car to your mom’s SUV. 

“What’s it about?” Julie asks while you stop at a red light. “Don’t tell me it’s a shitty sob story you’re struggling with.” 

A press on the brakes, maybe a little too hard that slightly sends your body and hers jerking forward. And to that she punches your shoulder while you’re laughing. “For calling my story shitty.” 

You’re reminded of her rudeness with words - letting out all the profane words that she’s been forced to bottle up for so long, letting it slip here and there for comedic relief. But with you, the rules never really applied to her, and you’ll do a limit test of crossing various things off the list, it’ll happen. 

“Still haven’t answered my question.” she reminds you, a pinch to your arm also to let you know that she’s not playing around. You let her get her way, something that you’ve accepted a long time ago. Now with her newfound image, she’ll use that to her advantage that won’t definitely come back to bite her in the ass. 

The glow from the excruciatingly long light catches Julie’s face from the corner of your eye. She raises a brow in suspicion when you look forward out into the open road, endless waves of darkness swallowing up the fading street in the distance. “It’s about past lives.” 

“What.” she snorts, “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” 

(You wave your hand back at her while she giggles, and you say that maybe staying at your house was a better idea than going back into town.) 

“This was exactly what I was talking about,” you tell her, glancing at her side profile, the canvas of her cheeks, her hair in a loose ponytail that she’s twiddling around between her fingers, eyes looking up to the sky above before looking back as an implication to continue. “I found inspiration about this one movie where two friends who’ve been forced apart from each other, only to find their way back in the most cliché way possible.” 

“So original.” 

“Oh, fuck you.” 

“Okay, yeah.” Julie lets out a bigger smile, the one where her eyes also mirror the same movement as her lips. “Give me a more indepth version of this when we get to our destination and I’ll reconsider your pitch.” 

As soon as she says that, the light finally turns green, and you gradually press down on the gas pedal. 

–

Here’s what the general consensus doesn't know about you and Julie; an omission of facts, one might say. 

Only a few handful of people among your circle of friends would know of the situation where Julie had convinced you to pose as her fake boyfriend sometime around sophomore year. To be fair, the guy trying to court her during lunch was a bit of an ass when talking to her - being so stuck up and over his own head that made you want to punch the dude, so not even more than five seconds of their interaction was enough for you to shut any sort of speculation down entirely. 

Everyone from the outside looking in would all share the same tune: there would be no way in hell that you’d get past the friends aspect with Julie. 

(But it did happen; in that short time, and even if it wasn’t actually a real relationship with her- well, that didn’t really matter anyway.) 

It’s all over your face. In pictures from different hangouts, videos in school projects, people calling out of you daydreaming during in between classes or breaks, getting in trouble for cutting class just to make sure everything was according to plan (and not because Julie forced you to ditch since you would say yes regardless).  Most guys who were gunning to have their chance turned down by Julie would fall back entirely whenever they see you and her walking together - because they somewhat already knew of the endgame about to occur.  

As for the memory itself, you faintly recall some sort of verbal agreement with her, things to sell the whole act from both parts: hand-holding, the mandatory dates, and all of the other stuff that was easy to fall into since you and her were so comfortable with each other already. The only issue, however, was the projected timetable of how long this fabricated ‘relationship’ was supposed to last. 

“We have everything down,” she tells you, scruffing up the soles of her shoes along the sidewalk one day after a ‘much needed debriefing’ at the park. She’s pulling you by the sleeve - you know, for good practice. “I think we’ll be fine going forward.” 

“You didn’t say how long we’re supposed to keep up this act for.” you say, opening the gate to her front yard and up the steps to the door. “The three month rule exists for a reason.” 

“And you expect me to believe that?” 

“It’s an unspoken requirement.” you reply flatly. 

Julie bats her eyelids at that, getting on the first step of her porch to make herself taller to you, twists her body mirroring yours with hands on both sides of your collarbones. She lifts your face up, thumbs on your cheeks that could pose as teardrops because of how solemn your expression was, and she smirks at the appearance. “You’re nervous.” 

“Nervous?” you ask, face slightly flushed and side-eying her fingers pinching your cheek. “I was just a little hesitant, that’s all.” 

“What’s there to be afraid about?” she asks, stepping closer to the edge where it was natural for you to circle your arms around her waist. Deliberate, but every action with her was just right without having to question yourself if you’re doing what she wants you to do. “I helped you with all of the things that I wanted you to do with me in this relationship.” 

You sigh, “Not all things.” 

Julie looks at you puzzled, head cocked to the side at the unknown mentioned. Knowing her, she’s quick enough to realize what was being implied without having to say it explicitly. Few seconds pass, humming, trying to let those nerve synapses do their work before eventually realizing what was running through your mind. “Ah,” she says, nodding along to your level of thinking. “If you wanted me to say that, then you should’ve.” 

“What were you thinking?” 

“You’re a terrible kisser.” 

“Do you really want me to answer that?” you tease, scanning Julie’s eyes, her pert smile, the subtle lip bite you catch at the last second before hiding the lower half of her face with the oversized sleeve of the sweater. 

It was the last thing that was necessary to do. You’re thinking of the test drive of that from the other day, how you just gave a weak peck of a kiss only to poorly play it off as being ‘not ready’. Julie assures you that it was okay, and you tried it again. 

(The second time was a lot better. And, uh, it still needs more, hm-) 

“If we really want to make this work,” you tell Julie, fingers clasped together behind the small of her back, gravitating her closer to your chest. Her hands are slithering around the back of your head and neck, “Best to have it done properly. No mistakes.” 

Julie nods in agreement, reminded that she was the one who roped you in to do all of this for her. This facade could have some sort of meaning when it’s over, but for the moment you could see on her face that she was relieved. “Right, if you want the part, you have to own it.” 

Her head dips down to yours, sealing the deal with a kiss, smiling at the improvement when you return it fantastically well. She pulls away with half-lidded eyes, and maybe this lip lock was the first of many, time can only share so much. 

“Alright then,” she whispers against your lips, brushing against yours delicately, “that was a whole lot better.”

–

Aside from selling the act from nearly all of your friends, you kept it to yourself that this ‘relationship’ with Julie should’ve been real from the start. Though, you can’t even blame yourself for the idiot you’d become whenever Julie’s steamrolling into your personal space in between classes. If anything, even if they knew the thing was real or fake, they all took the hint of backing off to give you two the respected space whether it was intended to be actually authentic or not. 

Even if you wanted to be discreet - which, more often than not, was the complete opposite -  it did feel like they were invading your guys’s privacy if it was in the halls, in front of the door for her next class or yours, or even at parties to which everyone spread word that you couldn’t stand being a few seconds away from Julie - keeping yourself in close proximity unless she said otherwise. 

(Like you’ve admitted; you’re an idiot for letting yourself be this way for Julie. You can't really help yourself when she’s so forward with wrapping arms all over, keeping herself magnetized with you before her going away was even in the picture. Laughing about silly things that others from the outside could never really comprehend what you and Julie talk about. Having conversations with her was incredibly easy; that, and along the hands on hands or hands on legs or arm on shoulder. Then there’s the loving gaze you’d give her - staring shamelessly and blatantly doing it with no problem at all as if it was the last few seconds you’d ever have, and it would be everything.

So. The ‘act.’)

Sometimes you’d completely forget the whole purpose as to why you’re even doing this thing with her in the first place, since it felt so natural. It’s typical for a high school romance, kissing with a reason behind it or without having one at all. 

You’d do it to punctuate something, convince her to consider otherwise, lower your eyes and tilt your head, slot your lips with hers. If you were with anyone else besides her in this scenario; it would have the same effect, but wouldn’t hit your heart as hard as you wanted to. Julie would stare at you, nodding, understanding, having known that this cosmic binding was meant to stay that could transcend time itself - linking pinkies together, as an extension of your hearts being hitched together. 

When she finally called the verbal agreement of the fake relationship off, you were certain that things would still stay the same between you two; which it did, of course, but she was open about the loving intentions you had for her, regardless if there was a label to it. 

(You and her would hide away from others after that, still, just because the company with each other was better compared to your friends - no disrespect to them, of course. And all of those times of doing that - well, you made it known how you really felt about Julie without saying it. The kissing was there as a plus, remember?)

–

The point still stands: you remember all of it. You expected Julie to be the same; hoping to shield the feeling of her leaving with every intent as possible until the clock would eventually reach zero. It was never a part of the conversation, but the weight hung heavy even if you or her mentioned was coming to pass. 

You’ve learned to drop such expectations - much like taking things with a very small grain of salt, because any solid assumption would only lead to thoughts that would only crumble you from the inside out. The more blanks you have, the better. 

Delusion might be one thing, blindly falling in love was a shot in the dark to your own admission, but that silly idea of ‘she fell first, he fell harder?’; come to think of it, it might’ve been put in writing long ago and it all circles back without any single warning at all. 

This is what people realize about Julie, and you were the first person to know of this: she always breaks through other’s expectations. 

She’s an ever changing current of some form that could only be described as groundbreaking. Pushing boundaries of standards to new horizons. A highlight that was destined to shine brighter given the right tools and exposure to let her do that one simple thing that she’s good at, being herself. 

Miles ahead of everyone, never wanting to look back. And there’s you, falling slightly behind from her, on purpose - because watching her take on the world was something that you could handle for as long as you lived in the same space with her. Distant, but not far. The small thread of imaginary rope in your head clinching onto the fact that she’ll see you for you, and maybe the labels could all be sorted out in due time.

“And here we were,” she begins, arms out to the sides like gliding on air. She’s in your varsity jacket, in trade for the unfinished ice cream in your left hand, nursing it for yourself while she’s elevating herself on planters or benches; anything to bring joy with the simple things no matter how silly it was. “Feels so good to finally be home for a quick minute.” 

It’s a little bit late, the light posts are on, wind gusting through the small park where you’ve shared countless memories when you and Julie were kids. Everything around the place is timeless, only replaced with a few renovations scattered here and there around the area, but still the same. She’s alongside the railing, the other side a calm river housing scattered sounds of crickets and cicadas. 

On the opposite end, was your mom’s SUV with the back parked in. Some fine luck that they made a space to be near that big old tree with enough branches and leaves to serve as shade when the sun hits the highest point in the sky. Despite the darkness, you liked it compared to the daytime, whereas Julie was the inverse. 

“Does anyone know?” You stop short when she turns around, hands pocketed in that lent jacket. “You, being here. On vacation if this was your plan for a while now.” 

“Well yeah,” she responds, approaching closer with her mouth open while you spoon feed her another bite of butterscotch from the small cup, pulling lips inward to clean any remains of the desert. “Sure, I could’ve gone anywhere else to have time off, but I chose to come here. Decided that it would be a good thing to come and see everyone after so long.” 

You nod at that, admiring the reason. Hiding that small tug in your heart that should be small enough to not notice. 

Julie knows you better than yourself sometimes, and she can see from your eyes that you’re trying to go beyond what's being said. 

She steps forward, because she can, and you’re not against that. This is where she thrived back then: doing everything to make you uncomfortable. And yeah, it was very simple for her to do back then in high school; the little gesture she does with her shoulders and scrunching face to let you know that she’s won. Putting up with her antics was one thing, but it was nothing that you can’t handle - practicing all of the little tricks and quirks to perfection in the hopes of holding your own if it ever happened again, just like now. 

“Look at you,” you chuckle, “always on some form of borrowed time.” 

She steps closer, hand out to guide yours with the empty cup of ice cream, setting it on the stone adjacent from you two. 

You’re not sure who’s really in control of who in this current moment. All of this was led on from the continuation of bouncing stories between your work life and hers, the details of people in your corporate circle commensurating a string of complaints and drama that you’re not all invested in, but kept an open pair of ears for them just out of the goodness of your solid gold heart. Julie also spills her fair share of things that she’s done, telling all with that maddening grin of hers, the way her cheeks elevate at the pull of her lips, how her eyes draw this curve that hides the irises while you could see the gums beyond her teeth. The low glow of the light post casts this in bronze, the timeless features you’ve seen countless times, in all of its glory. 

“Do you remember,” she prompts, closing the distance once more with her chest slightly puffed up, shoulders rounded back and relaxed, hands still in the pockets of your jacket she’s borrowing. “About that time where we posed as a fake couple back in high school?” 

“All because you couldn’t take the fact that everyone wanted you back then?” 

“Maybe say it a little better than that,” Julie muses, nudging your elbow to keep on teasing, “You’re within the ballpark, however.” 

“Right.” 

Julie smirks, mixing a noise between a soft laugh and sigh, looking up dutifully with those doe eyes. “God,” she says, studying your stoic expression, “even now, you’re still the same after all we did.” 

This might be a double-edged sword of words, a back-handed compliment if you’re going to dissect the linguistic skeleton. That old rhyme of ‘stick and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’, has never been more true than now. You remain unfazed, smirking, staring. The wind suddenly picks up where it sweeps Julie’s stray strands of hair in front of her face. 

You can’t help but giggle at the way she leans down with a small squeal, hands covering the top of her head to prevent any mess caused by the natural course of nature. Helping her stand up straight, your fingertips sweep those tousled strands, smoothening them to eventually make it look more presentable, not giving any care with how your hands are cupping her face. 

Her question pops up in your head again: about how all of this seems familiar. Feeling the small pull of tension in the air when you gaze into her eyes again - filled with a longing that was tucked away, radiating with sparkles that shouldn’t even look real, but they are. You’re trying to think, and yet, “Maybe. You could be right. And you being here with me like this tells me exactly everything that I need to know.” 

“Really.” Julie coos, dimples deepening, “Would you like to elaborate on this?” 

“I think you can explain that a whole lot better than me.” 

She nods her head, raising a hint of suspicion with an eyebrow, “You think?” 

“I know,” you respond. Guilty as charged, she played you this entire time, and somewhere along the lines of accepting it the best way, “Well, you know too.” 

Thousands of miles apart, decimating that to the single digits, now being mere inches apart - closing in like before; and maybe you were just falling into an old habit the way you pull her face towards yours. Something like this takes practice, could honestly come off as a natural action at this moment: you kissing her, like it was meant to happen. You could never forget all the times she made you feel like this. Only difference is, she’s slipping through the cracks along with you. 

Julie tugs herself closer to you, trying to mend her body into yours; becoming one. She’s ballooning more into the press of your lips before shying away, shrinking, hands moving from your elbows straight up to the nape of your neck. One of your hands snake to the smallest point of her back, holding her curving spine steady, not letting up the exchange of her intoxicating air passing through your mouth and nose - it only has you feening for more. 

And she hums this sound, low and deep, firing impulses within you that will take nearly every bit of brainpower left to resist. 

“Juls,” you murmur softly, pulling away for a slight second, feeling the clutch of her hands around the fabric of your sweater-

All of that attention is zeroed in on this transcendent sound that she makes, sealing it with your lips again, all needy and deprived and in desperate want that would literally kill you on the spot. She’s willing to take you away, devour every bit because she will, and you’d be okay with that. 

“You have–” she gasps, “no idea.” Dear Lord, she’s breaking by the instant - pulling herself back with your fingers tangled in her hair. The moonlight towering over illuminates this glow on her skin, basking in it while you’re giving her this same look of endearment that you’ve had for most of your life. You might be deserving of it, she could say otherwise; maybe it’s one of fate’s tricks blessing you for once. 

“You do remember.” Playing into Julie’s mind game, falling into the sinking temptation that she’s unknowingly doing over you. It feels tense, but at the same time it doesn’t. “And here I was beginning to wonder if you’d forget everything–” 

“Trust me,” she tells you, hand ghosting over the length of your collarbone while yours reels her small body closer. By the neck, she pulls you to close the distance. “My memory is just as good as yours.” 

(Oh, and it’s how you’re reminded again and again: at how Julie is one half of your brain - a perfect compliment to you for so many years. No one even comes close, and some have tried; they could never get you like she does.) 

“I want you,” Julie’s soft voice twists your ears right back. “Fuck, I’m only gonna say this one more time: I need you.” 

You probably don’t recall the number of things you dreamed of hearing, but this might be one of them. It’s not a question or an answer, nor a quote said intrusively. If anything, this was the green light you’ve been waiting for; there’s just only one thing left to do then. 

–

Forgetting Julie was always going to be an impossibility. 

When a girl like her has her face in literally everywhere that you could imagine: in photoshoots, brand events, social media engagements; the magic of being famous really transforms one’s landscape if they can break the threshold - which she has, and in one way or another - she could never hide away from the bright lights. 

Except at a time like this, you’re glad the darkness envelops both of you. 

“Mmph.” 

Your vision is focusing in blanks, searching for something, fixated on the silhouette of your hand floating over Julie’s head, slowly bobbing down along your length, lips wrapped tight around your cock and her tongue sweeping the grooves along the underside; the ligaments at the knees are way past the possible bending point where you could take them, hips forward while this girl is laid flat on her stomach with the trunk open, and you’re also thinking: who in the actual fuck would be out walking this late in the night to see this form of public indecency? She stops halfway, shakes her head side-to-side, coaxing the head on both sides of her inner cheeks, humming with every intent of praise at how good your cock tastes in her mouth. 

“Fuck,” you rasp, letting your head fall slack backwards, smoothening Julie’s silky hair when she pulls back up, teeth grazing the tip that has you let out a pathetic groan. “You’re so good at that.” 

“Mmmmh.” 

The pop she makes off the head is sinister, and you’re already imagining the smile she has spread across her lips, swiping her tongue across to make them more wet than it already is. She’s giving you a hard time to think straight, and you’re still blown away with how forward she was into blowing you, not wanting to waste a minute before you and her could even make it back to the house. 

“How are you holding up?” She asks innocently, seeing the hint of her honey amber eyes dart at you while her wrist is giving a wandering tug up the length, tensing up every fiber in your lower back to keep it there. 

“Do you really want me to give you an answer?” And Julie chuckles at the flex of your thigh when she runs her fingernails over it. 

Julie then gets back right to work, enveloping your cock into that sweltering heat of her mouth, coaxing it in all the ways you’ve fantasized before - grunting and exhaling spells of air when she dives down deep, deeper, massaging the head with her slick throat - all the way before putting a ring with her thumb and index finger at the base, practically purring at the constant rhythm she’s doing on you, to get you undone. 

Your stomach does this funny little twitch, like a punch to the gut once her hand finally gets to dance along the shaft, stroking along the slick surface while her mouth services a fresh supply of wetness swirling all over. She hums in approval when you take matters into your own hands, wrapping two fingers across the bottom of your cock while she’s happily bobbing her head along the length, picking up a consistent rhythm of spit and dribbles coming out of her mouth, pushing you towards that breaking point, sliding her plump lips across the tip before swirling back in, hollowed cheeks, your eyes slightly rolling back, vision swimming, hunting for a way to stay conscious. 

And the only subjective thing you’re inclined to do, not like there’s any other option for anything else, is to just let her have it. You’ll cum for her, all over her pretty face, and have her slip your cock back into her mouth to make you cum again in a few minutes flat. She knows that it feels good for you, there’s no doubt about it; how you can see her eyes with the occasional glow of your phone going off to break light, glaring at you with every intent of swallowing you. 

“Paint my face baby.” Julie whispers. It’s not a proposition, she wants it to be set in existence, “your cock is so pent up for me, all you have to do is just let go.” 

“Christ-” 

That’s what pretty much sets you off. 

Your shaft is molten around your hand, cockhead pressed agasint Julie’s perfect lips, hips jolting in quick pulses; you also might’ve heard your kneecaps crack a bit in the dead silence, three thick threads of cum landing on the curves of her cheeks, hearing her hum in content. Her mouth opens to let the next few shots of release settle into their new warm home, head wrapped around that opening, riding out the last bits of sensation as you’re draining everything all over her face and in her mouth. The overhanging light for the trunk switches on with what remains of your spent energy, catching that smug grin when she’s resting your cock on her cheek, parting lips open with a small dribble of cum leaking from the slit still, to which she licks with her tongue on the underside while having her eyes still trained on you. She’s all blissed out, irises focusing and unfocusing - almost cross-eyed; and just like before, you’re captured around her little spell once again. 

A few seconds later and she’s wiping the damage from her face, licking it up from her fingers - fondly taking in the sweetness of your cum on her tongue while feeling out her jaw again, trying to internalize the feeling of your dick filling her slutty little mouth. She won’t forget it, and neither will you. 

“You taste good,” she mumbles after getting up on her knees, ducking slightly so that her head doesn’t hit the roof of the car, “y’know, if that wasn’t already obvious enough.” 

“Decorum, Julie.” You tell her, straightening your legs out for what felt like an eternity. “Thanks,” you follow up, “I do try my best with my own things.” 

Julie lets out a snort, wiping her lips with any lasting remains of her drool mixed with your cum, “Jackass. Always so stuck up for being an ass.” 

“You just said ass in the same sentence twice,” you comment, propping yourself on elbows to where Julie leans down across the width of your chest, towering over you. 

She leans lower while your head bumps the backseat, face nearly centimeters away from yours, hearing and feeling the needy breath against your lips when your hand skates up her waist, teasing with a fingertip before you lightly clutch her back, allowing her to fall down and kiss you. 

She’s not far away from you now, but instead right here in your arms. This is progress; good progress and maybe even better. You can barely see the hickeys along the column of her throat in the darkness - something that you’ll revisit to make her revel in the feeling of your mouth over them, a get back of sorts in trade for giving what she wants. 

“I hate how you’re such a smartass.” Juile tells you while pulling away. But hey, at least she’s saying that with a smile. 

–

The whole town gets slapped with inclement weather throughout the week. 

And yeah, you’re pretty much giving your phone screen or laptop or even the television that no one really uses around the house a dirty look when you see the consistent set of numbers with the picture of a few clouds mixed with rain at the bottom of them. Though, it doesn’t really make sense for it to rain when the weather was nice for once up till now. The percentages of rainfall were particularly high, especially around this time of year which typically means: hey man, it would be best to just stay inside, maybe catch up on some of those books you’ve been putting off for quite a while because of school. You could also use this ample time to finally get that story also, get some words in while the thoughts are fresh, or something like that. A third option would be calling Julie, since as it turns out, her parents are gone - which also means she’s home alone, and whatever you do with that piece of information is entirely up to you. So what’s it gonna be? Besides, you still need answers as to what your current dilemma is with her relationship-wise, and ignoring the fact that she feels the same way should be ringing alarms in your head as it is. 

You could curse your mom or bless her, because she gave you a favor to do by going to her house to drop a few things off. 

One worrying drive later in the wet darkness, and a well managed job to beat the unrelenting rain before it got worse, you’re at her doorstep knocking. The steady thrums of the droplets hitting the roof before the knob clicks and the hinges creak open. She lets you in with no hesitation, patting your wet hair while you’re tending your soaked jacket to the coat hanger. 

“Didn’t your mom say that it was a good idea to wait until this storm lets up?” Julie asks, walking ahead to the living room while carrying one of two bags that you brought over, contents being various snacks and clothes that you were willing to give to her since you hardly ever wore them. “Thanks for bringing my favorites for me,” she beams happily, “I haven't had these in a long while.” 

“Managed to get them a day before today,” you tell her, trailing along her pathing where the space in the house opens up more. “I thought the forecast said less than 40% of rain would come.” 

“You still believe in what they say on the news?” 

“Not all the time, but it’s good to stay informed.” 

Julie steps away into the kitchen while you plop down on the couch, leaning your head back on the cushion while the sound of plastic rustling fills your ears. Few moments later, she comes back with a sizable bowl of pretzels, placing it on the table before she goes and gets two bottles of water; which you scoff at first but appreciate the simplicity of maintaining a healthy diet. 

You and her pick up right where you left off. Talking about anything and everything that was worth it in terms of interesting topics. The television has one of those random sitcoms provided on the streaming service after trying to search for one for about five minutes or so, feeding each other occasionally while trying to hold in laughs while staring at each other. 

“How long have you had that color?” Gesturing with a head pat to yourself while Julie downs the lasting remnants of what’s in her cup. She gives you this gaze with the clack of the glass on the table, leveling her gaze with you - the low glow from the tv serving as the prominent source of light, catching the smallest sweep of her hair right at the ends, tilting her head to match yours in curiosity. 

“For about a month. And honestly,” she breathes, “I was pretty skeptical about choosing this color in the first place,” she adds, pulling her knees closer to her chest, “but I guess you could say that I was convinced to try it out.” 

You purse your lips, reaching over the the near empty bowl of crackers while Julie is holding in a laugh, offering the other half to her with an outreaching hand - to which she leans over with an open mouth, happily receiving the remains on her mouth while you’re alternating glances from the screen to her. 

“By the way, my parents actually just went out to visit my grandparents,” she adds, realizing that shere was a missing set of keys from the pot where you set yours past the front door; not to mention the two vacant spots on the shoe rack where they would usually be. “So I guess it’s just us alone here if the storm doesn’t let up.” 

And by some comedic timing, you get a text on your phone. Basically it just says from your mom to stay over at Julie’s for the night, after getting news of the road being unsafe to drive with the rain as the cause of one or two accidents already. 

(You might consider yourself lucky; but what good would that serve since you’ve already put yourself miles ahead of the competition in getting with Julie?) 

“If this is some form of good news,” you tell her, showing the message bubble from the phone screen, to which she unleashes this gummy smile, understanding by that cosmic connection you two have built together that doesn’t really need a logical explanation. “I think you’re in good company for tonight at least.” 

Julie then leans forward. No- she launches herself at you while you and her were sitting along the bottom of the couch, playing along by letting her weight collapse on top. You pay no attention to how her arms hook around your neck, but you do focus on the press of her lips to your cheek; it’s honestly worth sharing a laugh at her nestling into the groove along your neck and collarbone, patting her back to let her know that you’re also happy with staying. 

There’s this odd silence, to where she pulls away. You could also hear the faint sound of whatever sitcom was on the screen to provide a calm ambience. It’s appalling to how beautiful she looks without any makeup on, hand mindlessly clutching onto her oversized sweater to where she tenses up on impulse - almost unsure at first, only to grab your wrist soon after. 

“I’ve been wondering,” she prompts, face upright while you press your tongue against the inside of your cheek, “how come you and I never made anything official between us?” 

“What do you mean?” you blindly ask. “I thought I made myself obvious enough about how I feel about you.” 

“You were,” she responds, inching her body closer towards yours. “Though, it hasn’t crossed my mind before recently, when we–”

“Yeah, I know.” 

“You’re not weirded out about it?” 

Anything that you say from this point on would only solidify your case. You’ve always wanted the idea of Juile being all to yourself, despite her being big enough for everyone else to get a wanting chance at her too. This realization came to you on a random day, probably, when you’re just going along with your day before you suddenly dropped whatever you were doing - staring off into the distance because at the end of it: you’ve fucked yourself head over heels for her from the start. 

“I wanted-” your words get caught up behind the tongue while Juile’s fingers are branching out to your shirt. 

“You sound unsure about something.” Her voice is laced with mischief, teasing. 

“-to talk about last time, and even if we do bring it up, you know- us,” you add with a raised hand with hers, “I just hope that it’s not a one time thing.” 

“It’s not.” she tells you, face pouting with scrunched brows. “You worry too much sometimes, even back in high school, you were always like that.” 

She’s not wrong, but also, she’s right for calling you out. 

“I could just leave right now if it makes you feel better.” You start to stand up from the floor, only to be stopped by Julie’s tighter grip on your hand, causing you to freeze for a moment. 

“I’m just glad,” her shoulders rise and fall with the pressure mounted on top of them finally lifted from whatever was plaguing her, “That after all this time: you still stayed for me.” 

It’s just like that other time, and you’re catching her train of thought faster than the words can come out of her mouth. This wasn’t something to think twice about - if you don’t take the second golden chance fallen at your lap, it’ll be a lasting regret filling the back of your mind once she goes back to the world that she created for herself. 

“You know.” She tells you, with that endearing grin of hers, filled with so much of everything that has you fractured from within, because she doesn't need to say anything else. “You know all too well for me anyway.” 

A hesitating shuffle of your butt across the hardwood, you’re scooching closer to her, lowering eyelids, hand trailed to the nape of Julie’s neck until you and her make ends meet. In an instant, she’s suddenly reformed into this being of wanting, need, someone who will let you have their way over them. 

She pulls away panting, you give her another kiss to the jaw. “Funny, how the tables have turned.” You tell her, twisting your head to the opposite end before she meets your lips again - this time a little more hectic, hands grasping along the fabric of your shirt, almost peeling it off at the first go. 

“C’mon now,” says Juile, hand underneath to your stomach before trailing down to the waistband of your pants, “Don’t make me change my mind like last time.” 

–

Here’s a silly thing: upon arriving, Julie suggested that it would be a good idea for you to sleep in her room (and in this case, it has happened before; way too many times to be exact, gossiping about nonsense or cramming material at the last minute the night before a big test. Another funny memory to recall.) She teases that it’s nothing for you to be worried about, and it's not like you were going anywhere else for tonight. 

Instead, you insisted on using the guest room that she has, but here’s the funny part; you and her don’t actually make it back up to her bedroom anyway. 

The harmony of a laugh she lets out when you slip your shirt off of your frame, catching her staring for a few seconds too long - biting her lip and some of her index finger, she can’t help but be in awe. A new, fit, and refined look that replaces the scrawny and nimble image that you somewhat hated for the longest time - towering over her on the cushions of the couch, helping her slide out of that oversized shirt to see a white sports bra - sweatpants soon after with a matching set. You’re nicking your head to the side in disbelief, eyes overloaded with the image straight out of your fantasies - only this time now to be all too real. 

“Holy shit,” you breathe, unable to blink while you get a hand on her hips, off to the right where there’s a small tattoo - an anchor, grazing your thumb over to see if that was also another secret she kept from you (from everyone, for that matter) - there’s also her impossibly slim waist, her luscious thighs, the definite line down the middle where her abs are at. This could be another win in your year of success, and then again, no one else but you gets to see her like this. 

“Got something to say?” Julie asks, smirking with her head slightly tilted back, up on elbows, “They do say that girls are breathtakingly beautiful wearing white.” 

A click of your tongue, not willing to argue with that take, because she’s right. It’s within the lines of superiority, giving someone the respect that they deserve. She could have it, but she also likes it when you don’t even think of giving her that kind of luxury. “My mouth has a lot more things to say than just words,” you tell her, the pair of hands sliding up to the tight elastic resting underneath her breasts. 

“Care to share what you’ll do to me?” 

You get rid of that annoying sports bra, for starters - hands filling up with the supple size of her breasts, fast to wrap around her upper back while you’re peppering the new territory with kisses all over, her head falling back even more to open up and let you ravage and mark and the tens of other things that you’ll get your chance on, eventually. 

She’s heaving with shaky breaths, not wanting your lips to leave her body the more you indulge in her perfect skin. Nails are quick to dig into your back, slightly, and it’ll just add on from there. The levels of touching, holding, kissing, and the anticipatory downright fucking you’ll give her soon enough-

“Am I on the right track for you so far?” you ask, quick to get your lips on hers while she’s shrinking into a whimpering mess into the couch. 

Julie has managed her good graces for so long now, and you’ve played the waiting game. No matter how long it took, it might be a gamble with your feelings for not being able to move on - it was possible then, but as of this moment, you already made your decision. 

“You’re the fucking worst,” she pants, a loosely planted hand that slides off when there’s the press of your thigh against her clothed pussy, feeling her legs sandwich you in between to prolong the wanting feeling. “I’ve been wanting- waiting for so long.” 

“Really now?” you say, voice filled with heat when you help her slide out of her sporty bottoms, finally cutting the last line of caution tape. A quick look down - and her cunt is there, in all of its glory - slightly glistening at the lips and primed for what’s to come. You’re surprised at how wet she is, even more surprised when she grabs your wrist to get your fingers alongside her aching slit; a small hiss of air passing through her teeth inward while you're spreading her little by little. “We’re a little ahead here aren’t we?” 

“Fuck- please,” Julie spits out, eyes scrunching shut while you press a finger in to asses, and she’s practically liquid down there. She’s acting completely different from earlier - failing terribly to keep composure - but she’s just as infectious as she always is. “You don’t think I know the amount of times you’ve yanked one out while thinking of me? Believe me, I know.” 

“I didn’t say anything about it.” you reply, thumb lightly pressing against her clit while your middle finger curls a bit inside her, feeling her hips shoot upward off the cushion. You’re also doing everything in resisting the urge in the growing bulge in your pants, to ignore how badly it’s throbbing for you to snap and get yourself acting exactly how she wants to fuck till one of you goes dumb; cock drunk or pussy drunk, it’ll end in those one or two ways. “But it’s true: I want you also.” 

Julie just mewls at your fingers, clenching around them, that forces a soft chuckle out of you. This was the first time that she’s losing her patience, and you’re going to milk the hell out of this moment for as long as you can. 

“Don’t be-” she’s rambling with an open mouth, blinking fast, “Don’t be a bitch. Everyone knows that I wanted you for so fucking long.” 

Well what do ya know? She would be the one to cut the wire and jump on the grenade between the both of you in confessing. There are very little things kept secret with her, some things you might’ve forgotten along the way, but you’ll keep this in your mind for as long as you live. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, pressing your lips together while you slide your fingers out of her, the squelching sound vile for your ears to register. Hands are quick to meet her hips, scooching closer with a pull, to where her ass meets the top of your thighs. “Yeah.” 

“Need it,” she pleads, “Need your cock inside of me.”

You’ve managed to get your sweats off in record time, pressing her legs up to where her heels are facing the ceiling. These feelings from embers that were supposed to die out years ago, but they never did, and this dirty act serves as a testament of everything you’ll put out on the table - for her. It’ll be shown in her swollen lips, the trail of hickeys scattered across her body, down to the crimson marks from your hands holding on for too long. Consider this a long shot in a stroke of luck - because no one will know her like you do. 

And when you’re doing this steady approach of rubbing the head of your cock, against her aching cunt, waiting to be filled - you don’t even think twice about it at all. There’s this relief, washing over; almost in reverence to being dipped in holy water through the baptism ritual, feeling her walls slide all over the length of your cock. There’s also this shared ache, the mirrored rise of both your chest and shoulders. Once the ache finally subsides, you just stay inside her for a second. 

“You–” and albeit you’re at a loss of words also; Julie’s face writhes, grasping for both of your hands secured past the middle, keeping her in place. The limitless amount of things that you’ll get your way in: mouth fast to her neck? You’ll do it. Pin her against the armrest of the couch with her ass up, or maybe have her do the work in bouncing back, and she will. Managing your cock fully inside her tight hole was good to settle with for now, “This fucking cunt, Juls–” 

She sucks her stomach in, mouth now slackened, the utterances and noises that she unleashes would never hold up in an interview if they gave her the opportunity to speak her mind as she pleases. But she’s not caught up in the city and it’s stars; instead, she’s with you, on her couch, in her house, taking your- “Baby,” it’s really sweet how she keeps up with the pet name, “fuck, fuck, fuck- I can’t with your- your cock is - that’s so deep, holy fucking shit-” 

You’re pretty much slightly drunk at how well she wraps around your cock, crying without fail. The octaves rising up with every hit back in, and she’s absolutely knocked. It won’t stop with the wash of rain hitting the window panes, feeling the rising heat between you two grow gradually larger, fixated on the extremely tight vice she has over you, and you’ll take that as a gift. 

“I’ve dreamed of this for so long,” your voice drags lowly, upping the ante the more you carve your cock into her, the tight hotness becoming more and more addicting by the minute. Julie was always an advocate for showing confidence in her looks, and it shows: in her pictures, the way she flaunts around that has everyone’s jaws dropped to the floor, all angles and good sides of her - behind closed doors, you’ll make sure that no one will see this version of her. 

(And in a way, you do get it, you’ve understood the script written in your head now that you finally have the feelings fully reciprocated, and claiming this girl as yours would only be the start of it.) 

When you’ve finally pushed her over, screaming, that’s the only cue you’ll ever need to keep breaking her. 

“Please, please, please-” 

“Tell me all about it, hm?”

Julie grins with her eyes squinting barely open, gasping out some form of a declaration. 

“You’re, fuck- fuck me,” the air between you clashes with the contrast of warmth from the bodies - the coolness of the air conditioning filling the room, only for it to be backdrafted. Her flawless face is amazing to look at, leaning up for you to dip down and kiss her, hands still fast to her hips, her back arches with a slight lean back, trying to keep the motion going with every stroke and grind and touch you have over her. She’s getting close, you can feel it in the addicting clench, and you’re almost at your wit’s end. 

“Needed me for so long, hmm?” you ask, smiling against the hot surface of her porcelain features, “then cum baby, all over this dick. I know you want to.” 

She mumbles, something close to a string of ‘yeses’, and her whole body trembles. 

It’s filthy, gross, impure, sloppy, pushing deep; angling past the trench to a euphoric feeling that she’ll only demand from you. The way that your hips slap against the bottom of her thighs, grasping her hips and across the supple skin the more you fuck through her orgasm. In some way, this was your get back for what she did to you in the back of the SUV that night, needing little to no words to punctuate the lovely sounds of her hitching breaths with every stroke back into her wet, tight cunt. Her grip on your wrists goes deathly, clenching you the same way her pussy does on your cock, and she’s still stuttering - the whimpers and whines the only serviceable words she can only speak while you groan in slamming her deeper into the couch. 

There’s really no room for a margin of error, every drive back into her only gets you closer to that edge, and while she’s reduced to nothing less but a piliant puddle of mush from the head down, you unbury yourself, fist wrapped around the length of your shaft when you finally release your hot, sticky load all over the fine canvas of her midriff. Covering her - over her chest and waist, all fucked out silly and just laid out to immerse in the ropes of cum spread out across, soaking her. 

“You- you,” Julie sputters out, while you have a hand off to the left side of her head, barely supporting yourself with what little energy left in not toppling over her nimble body. “Oh my god. Oh my god?” 

You’re still riding on that high, finally letting your body go slack when you meet her lips again. She moans in content, how her tongue clashes against yours, trying to power its way through into your mouth. Pulling on the bottom of her swollen lip, just to be a tease, “Julie,” you mumble, breath grazing against her cheek, smiling. That same lip wobbles a bit, an implication that she’s still processing what just happened, aside from the shaky breaths and unfocused eyes. “Baby.” 

A lazy smile brightens up her whole image. Her eyes are fluttered shut, but her lips and the faintest tip of her ears tell a different tale entirely. It’s the same smile you fell in love with since seeing it the first time, it never gets old. 

“I love it when you say ‘baby’,” she starts with a soft tone, gentle, tender. “You have no idea how bad my head spins when you say those things to me.” 

Through the small pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the window panes and the roof tiles, you think to yourself at how this moment should never end. The present moment like now will be ingrained into your brain for as long as you’ll move on with living. “I think.” you say with a whisper, laying your body over her - kissing her cheeks, her forehead, feeling her hands slide up the well defined muscles on your back. She tries to hide away, putting her head off to the side, and you’ll get the top of her neck too. Anything for her to finally have you, it’ll be a fair transaction. “I do.” 

“Tell me more?” 

“I’m just glad you didn’t forget about the many things that I’ve already put myself out for you.” you tell her, and she nods in agreement. The interlink between you two has never been stronger than ever, and this moment will just solidify it. 

–

You’re scouring through the fridge and cupboards for something substantial to satisfy your spontaneous midnight cravings. There’s actually a load of different options; a wide variety of chips and snacks in the pantry. In terms of drinks, not much for you to work with - and a glass of water or milk would be good enough to take since it wouldn’t be much longer until you’ll eventually fall asleep. 

Unless you're Julie, who’s standing next to you in the kitchen while you’re assessing her foods (still naked along with you, by the way), licking off some of your cum off her stomach slowly, a stray finger trailing up your waist since some of it did get on you as well. 

It also doesn’t help how she’s sucking on her fingers shamelessly - hollowing her cheeks, pursing her lips, sticking out her tongue that will only put your head in a downward spiral. She’s massively fucked for doing that, with those cat-like eyes she has - but dude, you’re still staring at her. 

“Can you like-” you nick your head off to the side, diverting your attention away from her to lock on the same open bag of half-full pretzels she put in the bowl when you first came in, deciding to settle with that but pulling it out onto the edge of the counter. “Do you really have to do that in front of me?” 

“Doing what?” she asks you innocently, almost stupidly. She’s wetting her bottom lip, and man is she evil for doing that continuously. “It’s not my fault that you came so much. My pussy is just that amazing for you.” 

Oh, fuck her. Seriously. 

She’s back to her chirpy, bubbly vibe with that tone in her voice, the witty remarks also came back in full force. Your brain is probably in overload mode with how she’s blinking sweetly, smiling all knowingly like she usually does. It’s a longshot that you’ll draw this up to be a one-time thing, let alone be a golden chance done by your work single-handedly. Within these walls and as long as she’s with you, everything about it just feels right in its place. 

“You’re such an asshole,” you breathe, closing the door to the fridge with a quarter-full bottle of orange juice, Julie getting ahead with two empty glasses ready on the counter. Everything that she does even if it’s the simplest of tasks is undeniably attractive for some reason; no matter if it’s her on the balls of her feet, reaching the cupboard or walking past you with the sway in her hips, one thing does settle back into your mind: she’s here, and that’s pretty much all that matters at this point. “I should give you a napkin to wipe off the stains on your abs.” 

“Or I could just keep on licking it off while you pour me a glass.” She muses, tilting her head up while you kiss the crown of her head, pulling a few lazy strands of hair to the side, “Why did it take us forever to finally do that? I mean, and here I thought that you would be a little more underwhelming with your moves in bed.” 

“You mean the couch, Juls. C’mon. Let me remind you that you’re the one who went and kissed me first.” 

“And the things that you said about dreaming to fuck me actually came true,” she laughs, lightly clinking the rim of her glass with yours before sharing a nice, homey drink together. “All of those jokes about you and the guys wanting a chance with me, well guess what, you’re the winning contestant that blew away the competition.” 

Side-eyeing her, you press your back to the fridge, she’s standing on the opposite end, legs crossed together - mirroring your posture, she’ll match whatever energy you give her, knowing that you’ll always do the same. This could be some silly pairing of toothbrush to toothpaste, and despite the difference in lifestyles, how your lines of successes came at different times, it seems that the parallel line you drew between you and her long ago finally reached a crossroads, which is a good thing, of course. 

“The girls also said the same thing,” she tells you, “about how out of everyone in our circle of friends, it was somehow going to end up with us being together.” 

You take that with a grain of salt, unsure if what she was saying was true or not. But she knows that she’s right; you took the realization first before she did - since she’s usually stubborn in some cases and won’t listen until it finally hits her, but it took her long enough. All of those rumors back in school and the whole skit of you posing with her may be a tipping point, but after putting yourself through that with her, a part in your head was always confident that she’d see what you’re seeing. 

“Maybe they saw it first before you did,” you say, pulling her by the arm and into your space, feeling her arms circle around your waist while you’re rubbing her shoulder. “I’ve always been like this.” 

“You got there first,” she replies coyly, tilting your head down for another meaningful kiss, “Blame me for being oblivious.” 

–

Turns out that Julie’s parents came back to the house first thing in the morning. Well, they’re pretty relieved that you came over and stayed the night even with the weather going absolutely crazy over the past few hours, telling you about how one of the old trees came down blocking the road and cutting off access in some areas of the town. They didn’t bother to ask about the obvious marks spread across her neck and yours, and the bite mark on your wrist was also a small concern to be worried slightly - uh, you’ll talk to the girl regarding that later. 

As for the present situation in terms of appearance while breakfast was made, you’re wearing one of her shirts that was blindly pulled from the closet before instantly passing out soon after. In all honesty, Julie liked how cute you looked with that stupid Hello Kitty graphic across your chest, but it was still a good laugh. 

“She could’ve given me one of your shirts,” you tell her dad, passing a plate with half a stack of pancakes soaked in syrup, “Though, my clothes were already drenched from the rain and all.” 

“I would’ve been fine with it,” her dad says, “Would’ve been better to get you changed out and not keep you in your own clothes for the night.” 

“He knows that I steal from your closet as it is. He’s also crazy if I was gonna have him walking around the palace in one of your shirts, dad.” Julie butts in, bumping your shoulder while her parents are drinking in the sight of their daughter getting along so well with you like it’s old times. They’ve treated you as if you were one of their own, and it goes the same way whenever Julie stays over at your place. Even as kids, staying over and waiting for the other to pick you or her up was always the usual gig. Julie’s parents saw you as someone who is very easygoing, only to be chained to their daughter till the point where separating you two was a stupid decision. You could also assume that they even talked to her about the whole relationship stuff, and they’d be supportive of it, and marriage wouldn’t even be an issue to get around with.

“Will you be busy this summer?” Julie’s mom asks, breaking all the stories from past years in the kitchen. “You finished school and everything, right?” 

“I did,” you answer, feeling Juile’s arm on your shoulder, pulling your head towards hers to wipe off a small patch of syrup stuck on your bottom lip with her finger. “Not supposed to start my new job for another few weeks or so.” 

Julie’s mom hums in excitement, “Look at you, all grown up and getting your life together in the real world. Like your parents, we’re also proud of you too. Julie especially.” 

You gawk at Julie comically, earning a side-eye from her before she playfully slaps your shoulder in retaliation. Both of her parents let out another laugh while you’re veering your face away from her hands. She puts a leg on top of yours on the seat, subconsciously palming it while feeding you another piece of pancake from your plate. “I really appreciate you guys, and I don’t think I could ever express that enough.”

“And you have already.” Julie agrees, openly kissing your cheek while you’re internally breaking down for a slight second soon after. That assumption about her parents being super supportive if you and her finally made it official - well, that was most certainly the case when the both of them nod in approval towards you and her. 

“Your parents love me, and we most definitely love you.” Julie says, and you’ve never been more reassured or comfortable about anything in your life. 

–

Everything falls into the same sense of normalcy like it was before. Some days you’re spending your time at her place, and on other days she’s over at your place. And in between those days where it’s just you and her together, it’s replaced with the sporadic rotation of hangouts with old friends and colleagues who got wind that Julie’s now a mainstay (just for the summer, in case you forgot). 

Some of your friends also tell you and Julie about their insights about the same stories, all while sharing a few bites of appetizers and circling drinks until one of you guys play the silly idea of putting all your credit cards on the table for the waiter to pick a lucky winner at random to pay for the whole meal. 

Not long after, the small party migrates from the restaurant to one of your friend’s houses, where the drinks seem to keep on coming it feels like - being a bit buzzed on the couch while your eardrums are pounding from the somewhat acceptable cover of whatever song they blindly picked from the song book. You’re a little out of it, but still conscious enough to have another sip of water as the viable substitute, words loosely slurred but still discernible to be fine with. 

That is, until Juile is heaving out on your arm, leaning over away from the couch, laughing about some funny memory that happened back in high school - it’s also worth mentioning: she’s drunk, and also a lightweight. You could also look back at the apparent irony that she wouldn’t go all out with the alcohol before entering the restaurant, but here she is - completely lost in the plot at this kickback. 

“You’re gonna throw up if you lean forward like that.” you tell her, holding her up by the shoulders to correct her posture, some hair is also in her face and you part it off to the side with the instinctual thumb rub on her cheek. 

“Did you tell everyone here that you and I finally fucked?” she slurrily spits out, causing everyone in the group within the close proximity of the couch to be in a collective state of shock, though, that’s quickly dissipated with you confirming everyone’s suspicions - despite not being fazed or fully surprised. 

(Before anyone else asks, you’re telling the group. Yes, we also made it official after God knows how long. Are you happy now?) 

–

Later, she’s back in your room for one night, maybe two. 

The whole place is riddled with waves of nostalgia, Julie’s additional presence opening up the sweet wound that never really hurted you in the first place; if anything, it makes the nocturne appearance of the moonlight breaking through your blinds and into the space where you’d want to keep things just the way they were. It’s in the trinkets and collectibles; the multitude of shirts you’ll let her steal (which she already has), a trophy that she broke on accident, and the wilted corsage for when you took her to do anti-prom activities for fun when she gave you the news about moving away from you and this town. The small recap on film running through your head is short-lived, kind of like the roll burning up when there’s nothing left - much of a story unfinished. You and her could recount all of the things that make your room yours, and you wouldn’t mind wasting time talking about the many different kinds of nonsense with her. 

“I’ve been wondering,” she tells you, “actually, more than just wondering.” 

She’s straddled across your lap, fingers dancing along the back of your head - your hands and eyes are wandering all over, from the visible window of her cropped shirt, helplessly holding onto her on her sides, the gradual curve from the rise of her ass, hiking to the spots where you’ll bruise her skin and–

“I’m sorry,” you’re left breathless and laughing a good amount when you look down at her sweatpants, “since when were you so bold with hiking up the ends of your lacy panties for me to notice?” 

Julie presses her tongue to the inside of her cheek, knitting one brow closer to the bridge of her nose, hands neatly rested across your traps while she’s snickering at you keeping your eyes stuck to her body - letting your fingers trail up and underneath her cropped shirt, realizing that she didn’t have a bra underneath to begin with. She reads into your next move when your hands stop at her sides, crossing hers over and slipping the shirt, tossing it in some corner of the room where you’ll look for it later, taking in the valley of her breasts and the nice size when you get your thumb and finger beneath them. 

“You’re getting off topic.” She says to you with a click of her tongue, calculated, knowing that there were more pressing measures to be discussed rather than have you shamelessly lusting and drooling all over her pleasantly enticing skin. “Answer the question, dickhead.” 

“Language.” you chuckle, leaning your neck up for a pitiful kiss - to which she accepts. 

It’s awfully quiet around your side of the neighborhood. The only things that break the silence in every few moments or so is the distant beep of the smoke detector downstairs; that, and probably the occasional pass by of a car down the street.  

She asks you the question bouncing around her mind, but you pay no attention since you’re leaving chaste kisses across her chest. 

“Hm?” you have the audacity to hum, causing Juile to flip some of her hair forward - a flash of her ego at best; and another thing about it, you’re so into that. “Must’ve missed the question again. Wha–” 

“You really didn’t have anything serious going on while I was away?” Julie’s implying about any kind of special connection, whilst being very indifferent in the way that she speaks. “Not even good fuck that’s worthy of swiping your v-card?” 

“Okay, then explain how good the experience was when you were doing it with me.” you reply, touch of the fingertips nestling on the outer edge of her back - sliding lower, more forward when you give the faintest pull to bring her closer to you chest. “I’d love to hear all the details about it, actually.” 

“You just want me to say that you’re a good fuck for me.” 

“In more ways than one, yes.” 

Her arms make way, coiling around your neck - tauting themselves gently when you slip the lace at her hips between your fingers. Pulling them down a bit, just to test something, an attempt at best to make her open up all the neat perks and merits of what will entail later. No need to get more depth in the details, you already have most (if not all) of it memorized about her. She’s leaking out the bedroom eyes in the blackness of your small room, and it’ll reel you in whether you’re sensible to resist them or not. 

“If this feeds your ego,” she tells you, singing the sentence along her tongue and to your ears, “you’re right, and I won’t bother to argue.” 

Like you could ever complain to her or vice versa, Juile knows that her own pride will come tumbling down at the cost of you - as you’re electrifying her with every passing touch, sliding the pants and underwear off of her while giving her no chance to recover with a tit in your mouth. 

A pop off the nipple, and she’s running a hand through her hair, trying to keep herself focused, and failing. “Want me to prove myself to you again?” 

She presses her lips to yours, hard. A clash of the tongue and pull of your neck for more leverage, rut her hips across yours to test the friction - that growing heat from within her core, a singularity that many others would die to feel let alone hear the lovely sounds coming out of her mouth. 

“Please,” murmurs Julie, smiling against the bottom of your chin, the grip on her ass tweaks tighter. You’re already imagining the red marks that would defile that creamy, holy skin. 

“Try me,” she husks, “you’ve pretty much earned it.” 

–

(Julie has never been more right about you. The way she puts up all of these walls and red tape; basically begging you to rip right through them, and you do. She’s flustered and left in broken pants the first time you make her cum, screaming and trembling by the second, and you have her a sobbing mess by the third time ‘round, coming undone by your cock. When you slide out of her well-worked pussy, her eyes roll back and up - raw, undone, satisfied - a move up to licking you clean with a swipe of the underside, a kiss to the tip that keeps you hypnotized for a few seconds, and she wants you to keep this in mind. 

“Have I proven a point?” you ask her in full content, hand fastened to the headboard of your bed while you’re straddling her chest, happily wrapping her pretty lips around the head of your cock. “You looked like you enjoyed it a lot.” 

She curls her back in and out when you finally shift and collapse next to her, a lazy kiss to your neck, humming sleepily as if she gave up in keeping it hidden from the rest of the world. “I did,” she whispers ‘round the cuff of your ear, kindly admitting it along your skin. “You’re everything I wanted bundled up all into one.”) 

–

The implication still stands: Julie was never meant to stay rooted to this town. 

She altered her own destiny into becoming a well known individual (since the term ‘famous’ wasn’t too appealing to put it, according to her). She’s sharing all of these different experiences, events, the interactions with people she would have never thought of meeting in her life let alone be in the same space as them. You’re sharing a buttload of things from your end of the scope, how some things stayed the way they are, for the most part. And it’s something that crosses your mind–

“I never really said to you directly about how proud I am of you,” you tell her, happily swinging your right leg around on the swingset outside your guys' favorite cafe. “I’ve told your parents countless times whenever I would see them, but-“

She has her leg over yours, shoulder meshed with her head leaned over - in one of your hats doing its job well enough to keep her appearance concealed; a bit pointless when literally everyone around the town could recognize her with ease. 

“They told me,” she reassures, fiddling along the plastic bit of the string from your hoodie, pursing her lips out with a crease of the eyebrows. “You couldn’t keep in touch with me, but they could, and maybe I could’ve squeezed you in along with them - all you had to do was just ask.” 

Her lips quirk when she makes eye contact with you, rolling them over and right when she scrunches her nose, knowing well at how much you could put up with her antics. 

“That would’ve made things a whole lot easier, but hey,” she laughs, admitting stupidity where it stands, “What matters to me is that you finally had the chance to tell, despite everything.” 

Well, I’m proud of you. You’re saying it again, this time straight to her face and not playing as the messenger. I was with you every step of the way, and now we’ve both made it to where we want to be, and maybe more. 

You’re pulling a piece of hair over the cuff of her ear, she melts at the touch of your palm. Julie then leans in eyes pulling to a close, then the abrupt call of your name on the intercom signifies that the order was ready; letting out a short laugh while a parting slap to her thigh separates you two for just a few moments. 

One quick tip later of a few cents, and she looks up with those oversized rims of her glasses, smiling sweetly once you hand her the same latte she always orders during schedules and events. She’s sipping it instantly while you’re moving her leg up back to where it was before; nodding along at how good the drink tasted. 

She appears distant, pondering about something - zoning out to the distance while she slowly learns back against your shoulder. You’re looking out also, letting the eyes wander for anything in the cool early hours of the morning. 

“Do you resent me? For leaving you? This town, our friends, and everything behind?” she suddenly stops drinking to ask. 

Blinking, you’re trying to find something substantial for an answer. “Well…” 

“Be honest.” she says enthusiastically. “I want nothing but the truth.” 

It takes only a few moments to consider, and you’re always honest with yourself when it comes to talking to Juile. She always wanted to understand your side on certain things: opinions on important matters, what kinds of clothes look good on her and what doesn’t, even the stances on who matches with who and the possible compatibility between the two that isn’t you or her. You lick your lips, tilt the drink in your hand but just enough to not where it’ll spill. 

“I’ve already told you what I thought about everything that day,” you say, placing the drink on the bench to prevent from letting the wetness from the cup soak to your fingers. “It hasn’t changed. And it never will. Me being with you since the beginning should already say enough.” 

“Ah, you’re right,” she breathes, pouting her lips slightly because you could easily tell that she’s managed to let that slip from her mind, and you don’t blame her for that. She continues to ramble on about all of these regrets that seem to unravel and fall out - her cool breaking down once the realizations set in of the countless sacrifices she had to make. “How silly of me, overlooking that day.” 

A shake of her head only brings the disappointment to the front faster, and she keeps drinking up her latte. You catch the smallest hint of a twinkle in her eyes, the middle part of the plastic top hitting the edge of her nose once finished with the beverage. Instinctually pressing your lips to her cheek as reassurance, she smiles at that, letting you take her empty cup to toss a few steps away from the bench. 

Coming back, she’s on her phone, smiling her heart away at something that she’s proud of for sure; you can’t help at how cute she looks when she’s all geeked out - emitting more confidence that you could only dream of matching.You’ll get a chance of that with her help, or not; either way, if she’s happy, you’re happy. 

“I was out in Europe for a shoot before our break,” she lets you in on her project, “The concept is very niche for all of us, and I’m very happy we pushed forward with this. Consider it as an insider look as appreciation for the way you’ve been treating me.” 

She’s showing you a quick slideshow of Julie in an extremely wicked bikini top, a roll of green wrapped around her middle in a poor attempt of a ribbon around her body. Then there’s the short video of her on the stationary bike, and then the actual choreography. It’s leaving you in shock, so there’s really only one way of reacting. “I- holy shit. Julie, the–” 

You’re watching how exciting it is for her to show these things to you, it’s adorable. She lets you in about all of the logistics, music, overall approach to how they wanted this thing to be received. The drive, passion, how everyone played a part into making this work; you understand that level of thinking entirely. “Right? This was exactly what I was talking about.” she’s tapping along your arm, “I can easily tell which part is your favorite already.” 

“Not even gonna say it.” 

“You should because it’s me.” 

“Fucking christ,” you mutter, swiping her phone to get a closer look. She leans closer with a mischievous giggle at the thumb replaying the clips over and over again. “Hate it, someone like you should never be this hot.” 

“But I am.” she replies, placing both of her legs across yours. “That’s the fucked up thing, isn’t it.” 

“It’s also amazingly fucked up how good you are at twerking.” 

“Didn’t come from practice baby, it’s all natural.”

You’re left gaping at her, shocked even. Julie’s eye smile is the only thing you see while she's covering up her face in embarrassment, wondering if the current judgment you’re giving her will stick for the foreseeable future. 

It’ll throw you for a loop, but it’s still hot. 

“I might have to rethink my life choices from here on out.” you tell her, staring up at the ceiling with a smile while she playfully punches your shoulder out of annoyance. 

–

A beat later, you’re staring at the ceiling. 

More specifically, the ceiling in your room, barely holding it together when you look up at the sight of Julie’s backside, cock vanishing in between in that glorious canyon of her ass, bouncing up and out with the pitches in her moans go further up the gradual scale. 

“Fucking hell,” you hiss, hands resting along her calves while she slams her hips down, lightly thrusting yours up to meet her in the middle. The pressure already hot around your length, murmuring some words of praise that fall toward nearly inconceivable to understand. She sits up, and you’re hypnotized by the way she raises her hair up to reveal more of her surprisingly toned back, peeking over her shoulder, while your head just plops back to the pillow behind. 

“You like that,” she murmurs, rocking her hips in a forward-backward motion along the stiff line of your cock, “oh- you love when you get to have my ass like this for you.” 

“God-,” you huff out, pathetically, vision blackening to a fine point. “Holy shit- I could never get tired of this pussy, ‘feels so damn good.” 

She falters forward, letting most of her lower body do the work, spreading her thighs out more for your hands to come to grips with. Flipping some of her hair back, while reversing her ass at the angle where you feel all of her, you’re worried if your dick will stay in one piece by the end of it. 

“Just sit there like a good boy and relax,” Julie tells you, with a firm determination above the creaks of the bedframe, “don’t even do anything.” When she grinds down, deep, to where you’re thrusting your hips upward to hit her favorite spot, she coos at how you failed to put up with her instructions. “Look at you, not even listening to what I’m saying, shame on you.” 

“Don’t really care,” you offer - an admission of guilt would be a better way of describing it, “You always get what you want anyway, so it’s my turn.” 

You could feel the smile from across her lips, happily taking the opportunity to fuck herself over your cock choking her all the way down to the hilt. The slick sounds coming away from your groin and hers is a lovey track you’ll never get tired of hearing, and she adores the sounds coming out of you as well, it’s unholy, slamming back down with the sweetest whines projecting from her mouth. 

She shimmy’s her hands up your thighs, sitting upright, letting you rest inside her warm hold for just a second while she catches her breath. Then, with a move of one leg, and the other to follow, she’s on the opposite side, caressing your head while your fingers are quick to get her hips moving again, amazed when you slide up in her, quivering thighs and a shaky breath to get you softly laughing. 

The slaps of her hips on yours get louder for a few moments; admittedly, you kinda just let yourself go because her cunt should not be this easy to spread apart. In addition to that, her mouth hovers next to your ear, mumbling words or something remotely close to a verbal sound while you’re fixated on the clench her walls have over you. 

The vision only fades out more, then the hearing also goes: 

“Pill.” she tells you. That singular word entails a thing. One thing, and probably the testaments that will come after - if you’re ready for it, but let’s face the facts: for someone like her and the industry that she’s affiliated in, no one is ever really ready, but you’ll be in on it if she’s the first on board. 

You’re not letting up your pace anytime soon, grabbing a handful of her ass, and bringing her back down to Earth. “Juls, you–” 

“I want your cum.” she simply says, “just yours.” 

It’s also not worth putting up a fight for much longer when she cums first; the gritty groan that has you sighing in tandem. She’s powering through with her lips on yours, wanting your body to completely crumble underneath her, fucking past your threshold - a kiss to the corner of your lip, in the most menacing action she could do to you, well pleased and–

“You’re so- fuck, filling me up was also one of your dreams, wasn’t it?” 

Hey, in all fairness, let her have this one on you. If it means having her breasts all over your tongue or her nails gripping the nape of your neck, you’ll be adamant in not letting her go. 

–

Your mind gets in this gray area. Things might be in a constant loop in terms of activities, or maybe you’re dialing it back from the hammering heatwave the other day. It’s not that, just the foggy morning on a lazy Sunday. 

You’re taking slow steps across the hardwood floorboards in your house, glass of water in your hand. There weren't any plans for you and Julie for today, so the second best option which was the logical one was to stay inside, despite doing that for four out of the seven days last week. There’s also this quiet appreciation you have when the ominous setting of the house is in complete darkness, with the light fog serving as the present light source when you reach back to your room upstairs. 

Upon returning, the visible spot of where you slept, and Julie adjacent to the right, still knocked out. It’s very calming, you realize, how peaceful she looks while sleeping, the gentle rise and fall of her chest underneath the sheets. The small tousle of her hair is spread out across the pillow, with her left arm and leg in the same position as it was when you were in bed with her before waking up.  

Mindful of what she mentioned about her sleep schedule being all over the place at times, you decide to admire her bare face when you’re thumbing her cheek. 

She twists a bit at the touch, the subtle stretch of her body underneath, shaking off the slumber little by little. The comforter resting along her neck shifts down, revealing the apparent lines of hickeys across the column of her neck - a favorite preference of yours that you’re carefully examining while she slowly flutters her eyelids open. 

A look up, and you’re leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Figured I’d let you sleep in for a bit longer, but it looks like you don’t want to.” 

Julie pulls a lazy smile, shifting her body slightly deeper into the cushiony confines of the bed, not wanting to move. “Do I want to know when we both passed out last night?” 

“I wouldn’t worry about it.” 

“It’s also not like we’re gonna do anything today. I mean, it’s been hot for most of the week. And, we only got lucky with the rainfall around here.” She finally decides to sit up a bit, pull some of the sheets over her body for a little more coverage. Your parents are out early again seeing relatives, an advantage in this current scenario: just you and me alone? Where you’ll fuck me again and again until the screams bounce off the walls and the neighbors will come over to complain for the hundredth time-

“You’re right. We don’t have anything planned for the time being,” you tell her, another helpless kiss to give that sends your brain giddy signals because your gorgeous lover and best friend for years is making you act like a freaking kid once more - not that you’d complain about it. 

“Aside from watching that series you found, I’d rather just stay inside for today.” Julie suggests, scooching closer to you on the edge of the bed. “Cook us something for breakfast.” 

That will happen, eventually, but you’re too busy working your lips all over Julie’s face. Tip your forehead in, get a kiss to her temple, then her cheeks, a stray one next to her nose, the end of her nose, her jaw. She’s too smitten with the private displays of affection, gratefully accepting it with an arm thrown over the shoulder, lightly laughing a crinkled nose with her face brightening. 

It’s moments like these, away from the attention of others, behind closed doors, where the cameras and die-hard fans of Julie’s persona don’t typically have the golden chance to see, they’d envy to be in your place - as the one person out of everyone in her life to have this side of her. She tells you that fame itself is a weird paradox to get sucked in by, and in a way she’s absolutely right. You know from the get-go that Julie is one of the most beautiful, soft-spoken, and well respected individuals you have ever had the blessing of knowing. 

“Anyone ever told you how amazing you look?” you ask her, her squinted eyes losing all seriousness when you laugh. 

The look of adoration you have on her bare, sleepy face. It’s a sight that you don’t want others to cherish other than yourself. 

“I’d rather just stay in this room and stare at you if I could.” 

“Isn’t that what you’re doing already?” she asks, biting her lip while you’re tilting your head from right to left, mimicking her doe eyes that she rejects with a hand soon after, for now. 

You bite your lip, let out a tsk, and something snaps in your head for one second. Lips are fast to the line of her neck, hand slithering to her back, laying her back down on the bed gently. Julie tenses up for a moment, then lets her body go slack, allowing you to leave no nook or crevice untouched with the feeling of your tongue. 

“Breakfast?” she asks. 

“Not now,” you answer, kissing the pulse point right beneath her jaw, soothing with a soft bite of your teeth, “Just indulging.” 

“I see.” 

She murmurs and squeaks once you let your hands join the party. Kneading and massaging her breasts while you shift yourself down to the line of her collarbone, inhaling the leftover aroma of sex from the previous night. Her hand’s quick to the back of your head, tugging hair while you let your right hand jump down to her hip. A move of the sheets, to open things up, and your mouth shifts in between the cleavage, getting lower. 

Julie putting legs together was a futile effort, sliding along her luscious thighs while your tongue streamed down her abs. The grip of her fingers got a little tighter, closer to desperate. 

“Enjoying your fun?” 

“Very.” 

Your eyes lock on to that tattoo that hugs above the hard bone of her hip. It's a simple design: an anchor. The meaning of it is something that she never got around to explaining, feeling the ink across the pad of your thumb before smothering it in a string of kisses, to where she laughs at the silly feeling. Your hands curve up her waist, while your head is at her belly, descending down even more to where you're hovering right above the designated area you’ve set your sights on. 

A check of the clock in a quick glance, and it reads nine-thirty. There’s definitely some extra time to waste before starting the day. 

Juile lets in a sharp inhale when you get yourself comfortable, arms underneath her legs, parting them. She sees the glint in your eyes when you’ve finally started to bring the trail of kisses from her inner thigh upwards, anticipating for what’s to come. You can tell that her vision is getting hazy, a cross-eyed gaze that only pushes you to absolutely ruin her, and hold your end of the deal. 

“Have I ever told you,” you start, a teasing kiss to her folds, “how amazing your body is?” 

“I don’t think you’ve told me explicitly, but showed in other ways.” she replies, propping herself up with an elbow and a heel down to your spine. 

That’s your Julie.

You press her down, from the waist, a harsh suck on the clit, and get the first few samples of her addicting slick down your mouth. She sucks in her gut right underneath your fingers, and you hum in approval. 

Pulling away, licking your upper lip, and some of her bed hair gets in front of her face, heaving. “And by the way,” you tell her, “I”m getting you back with the whipped cream this time.” 

She nods, knowing well that it’s pointless for her to fight the foreshadowed climaxing sounds coming out of her mouth with the back of her hand. 

–

Julie brings out a side of you that only seems to really bloom fully when she’s around. It’s something that never really gets acknowledged, let alone be brought up in moments where you’re truly at your most vulnerable state - the side where all of these hardships and struggles in being a good person, blinded by perfection, all seem to wash away from the touch of her hands and lips, combined with the reassuring words of encouragement. 

That said side truly blossoms when you genuinely feel the intimacy above what the mind wants you to think. Aside from all the hand-holding, arms linked, stolen kisses while waiting at the red lights, sharing bites of the same food order, tearing away skin in little nips, the sex itself escalated a lot more than just sheer lust taking over both of you. It’s above than just the regular conventional fucking. 

So you bring it back to where you and her unpacked all of the bottled up feelings: 

On the couch, but this time at your place rather than hers. By literal unpacking, when you sink your cock inside, the relief of her walls clamping down around you, moaning out alternating expletives and your name, letting her body go limp as you increase the pace, pounding her senseless, have the raw urge to just get rough and pin her down in this spot where she’s supposed to be. You’ll want to be locked away with just her for no one else to see, to have her all to yourself; it’ll be selfish of you, but she’d agree where your head is leveled. 

“It’s not even all that special- ah-” she blurts out while you have your hands cuffed to the back of her shoulders, leaning in to place a languid kiss across the fine column of her neck. You’re fucking out all the sounds and whines out of her, bottoming out every drive in, her legs rest just above your backside ankles stacked - your mind is already frizzled out, and so is hers, pulling ever fiber inside your muscles and bones into getting her astonishingly destroyed, “it’s just- your cock is- fuck- fucking perfect.” 

She’d want you to be gentle sometimes, but when it’s rough? Oh man, you’ll let the actions speak louder than your fucking words. 

“In through your nose, Juile,” you whisper with a bump to her forehead, holding her down at the waist while your hips aim tried and true, into the hottest spot deep in her cunt where you can reach, “That’s it baby, there we go. Just be pretty for me, like this. I’ll take care of the rest.” 

“Ugh,” she huffs, letting her eyelids drop finally when you’ve made her reach that euphoric sensation first, gasping when she feels a hand wrap lightly around the jaw, forcing her mouth open, a few broken sounds get let out, panting. Her back arches while you slip your other arm under, and manage to drive your cockhead even deeper - it's a new feeling of bliss that has you in disbelief. “More, please-”

She is so- so slick around your cock. A dam of an orgasm within you and her just waiting to finally break. You keep the motion going: pull your hips out, and drive back in. Pull your hips a bit further out the second time, and the snap of your thighs hitting has her crying. It’s mind numbing; you’ve lost your composure with her the first time fucking your feelings out to her, and it’ll be like this for as long as you’re together. She could ruin you like right now - in the next day, week, month; hell, for the foreseeable future. The notion in itself is already devastating to think while this girl beneath you is shuddering, as you’re pounding her ruthlessly, pulling her hips back to yours, coaxing her worked pussy well past the brink to the point where you’re hearing your own heartbeat thumping in between your ears. 

“You’re so good…” she croons, lifting her head up bareilly to kiss you, get a few nails dragging along your back, let the pain soothe the filthy fuck you’re giving her. “Please, just– like that, god, fuck me, more, more-” 

“Shh.” 

Some things in life are better left unsaid. 

“I want to be yours before I go.” she whimpers, sounding off depressingly - like she’s unwilling to cope with the fact of leaving you. Her eyes are glassy, begging almost - like this was the one fear she’s afraid to live out when the time comes. 

The sobs mix in with the slaps. She’s reduced to much less than a puddle, all worn out and exhausted, reaching out in desperation, keeping you close. You and her are so flushed, the stifling warmth could make you sick. 

“Baby,” you breathe, a fast and tender kiss to give her all the reassurance that she’ll ever need. “You’re not- I’m never letting you go. Not now, not ever.” 

By the time she’s whining and writhing and spilling out these bittersweet sobs, rocking your cock down the crevice until you’re fucking your load right down her gut. You’re hunched over, fingers digging into the two small divots below the small of her back, hips bucking, a culmination - a nod, callback, homage, whatever you’d like to call it. You’ll leave your sentiment here, along with your heart, pulsing every beat out until the strokes get slow, lethargic. 

Until you finally lay to rest with a kiss to her temple. 

You tilt your face, let the breath graze across hers. Her hands are clasped together, your thumb pulling a bit of her hair away from her cheek. She’s shaking a bit, chest heaving but calming as the seconds pass on the clock. 

“I was always yours.” This was the lasting resolve you’ve had with Julie, “from the very start.” You’re muttering while she’s knitting her eyebrows, trying to take time to recuperate, fluttering her eyes open that tears down the final wall within your chamber. 

She tries to form something within the rows of her teeth, and though it might not be recognizable to your ear canals, you press your forehead against hers again, letting that lazy smile do damage for the thousandth time since she got here. Drink in the moment while the crickets start singing their patchy tones. 

“It’s you,” she says, tiredly. “It’s always been you.” She’s softly laughing while you’re peppering her with kisses, and she’s quick to get both of her hands on opposite ends of your face, having one for herself because she’s selfish. “No one else even comes close.” 

Finally closing her eyes, you pull a soft smile, internalizing what was just said. 

–

The agenda is running blanks - you’re stuck doing the usual, daily routine that you’ve built a proper consistency with. Sometimes, it feels like you’re running a rerun of that one annoying sitcom your dad plays to serve as background noise while doing chores around the house. 

In other words, it’s been a little bit dry. 

“You never really told me,” you tell her, leaning back against the car while squinting through your sunny’s, staring up at the building in front of you. “I’ve always wondered if you’d take the chance to teach a class here in your free time.” The building, that is, Julie’s old dance studio; one of a few places that has served a pivotal purpose in your friendship and relationship with her. She tells you that you would’ve done a few things well if you had chosen to pursue the same passion as her years ago, and you laugh at that. 

“Something to consider,” she starts. Walking back towards the car while you sigh and have an eyebrow lifted. “Think they’d take me in when I’m supposed to lay low for the time being?” 

“Talk about laying low when everyone knows you’re back in town.” You shrug. 

“I might just do it.” 

“Then go for it.” 

You pass her a drink that was bought from one of her favorite spots just five minutes down the street, puts the refreshing taste down her throat before returning the cup. 

“I’ve only got a few more days,” Julie says, twisting your attention from your phone back to her. And once again, you’re reminded. You’ve known the stakes long before she even arrived here. The low burst of a bus passing by, a daunting noise you'll hear again once you drop her off at the airport when it happens. “The company wants me back to finalize a few things before the next project.” 

“Right,” you nod, remembering clearly about the short topic when she brought it up the other day. “Can’t be a show if they don’t have their star present to make it happen.” 

Julie shifts a shoulder, tilting her head and prompting you to walk with her. There wasn’t anywhere else to go in this town, and you’ve done the lot. At this point, you’re just enjoying the quality time spent well with her. 

And it gets you wondering - probably the fine line between delusion and deep thought about: What would it be like if she didn’t become famous in the first place? Would she pursue other endeavors besides doing dancing and music that she could be proud about? What if it didn’t work out back then, and she had to come back here? None of those things really matter unless she tried, and look what happened; she did try, and she made it. 

It’s after all these years of building her own life, you realize again, that even though there's that apparent gap of leaving you in the dark for all this time, she’s still the same - deep down, in this very moment where no one else sees her as this superstar, but a regular person. A person, to you, that has grown much more than what you could have ever imagined possible. The list of things in your mental checklist has filled up to the point where the paper roll in would have to be extended, maybe stapled to a stack. 

You hit the jackpot in the roulette love-life that some are very lucky to have. That longtime childhood friend-next-door neighbor turned to lover seems very make-believe and cliché if put in writing, but you’ll fill the blank journal page of that story somewhere down the line. 

(An idea, or, ideas - for the topic of that entry, start forming. Maybe it’s a good thing to set some time aside to rewrite that empty draft completely.) 

She’s here now, she’ll be gone soon; but the unchanging fact is that you’ll be her strongest supporter. An act of affection that doesn’t really need to be said out loud, and you’re cheering her on even if she’s begging to stay in this town. You love her and what she does; you’ll love her even if there’s some distance between you two. 

Love. You blurt out while zoning out to the small skyline, it’s such a funny concept to think about. Even if–

“What was that?” Julie asks, stopping in place while you’re suspended on the sidewalk. “Did you say something?” 

And, some things in life are meant to be said. 

“I love you.” The own voice in your throat sounds unnatural, like a spirit possessed you into saying it. You clear your throat, not willing to hide away from anything - especially her. “I’ve always loved you. Didn’t you know that?” 

Julie turns her body square to you, a tilt of her head, inquisitively, lightly scrunching her face at what you just confessed, admitted - determining if you just committed perjury at this very moment. All she did after a second was nod in agreement, looking you in the eyes that tell a whole lot more, “Yeah, I knew that.” 

You cringe, throwing the most gummy grin at her imaginable. She laughs, walking forward with a small hand slap to your chest. It’s silly, cute, and so sweet. This girl has weaved into your heart, threading it so tightly that everyone else outside your little bubble knows that you’re hers. A keepsake, one of many. 

“Think you can handle missing me?” she asks, hand on your cheek - and this time you’re the one leaning into her touch. “From the looks of it, you’re gonna be struggling. Like, a lot.” 

“Tsk,” and you’re rolling your eyes while she starts to walk again, “I worry, like a normal person should.” 

“What’s there for you to worry about?” Julie asks you with her hands stacked behind her back, “until then, we’ve got all the time in the world. Now c’mon!” 

She grabs you by the hand, and you’re left smiling since it’s been something to be fine with. Because at the end of it all, she’s always right. 

Best believe that you won’t forget it. 

-

// i hope you enjoyed!! wanted to pop in here to say a quick massive thank you for all the amazing support since my debut so far. it genuinely means the world to me and I appreciate you guys from the bottom of my heart. much love to everyone, stick around for more, and stay healthy <333 // 

[sincere1ystar]

Shining just for you

coriolanus snow x fem! reader

After things get messed up between the two of you at the gala, Corioanus is desperate to fix things between you two again

authors note: guys when i mean desperate i mean DESPERATEEEE

Everyone always said that the C in Coriolanus Snow stood for calculating. What a silly saying, because when it came to you the C in Coriolanus Snow stood for clueless.

The image he built himself as a man who oozes with power crumbles in a matter of seconds around you. You liked it that way, you knew it was just a persona and if life hadn’t pushed him around the way he did he would’ve stayed soft.

When the two of you first met you didn’t fall pity to his charms like the rest of the peers around you. He liked that about you, you were diligent. You had beauty and brains, unlike those lifeless souls that threw themselves at him as they fluttered their eyelashes. He considered himself lucky to call himself yours and he wasn’t afraid to show it either. Every gala he was there right on your arm, and if you didn’t encourage him to go converse with the other party-goers  to others he probably would have stayed there.

You had built a home in Coriolanus’s heart, love was too weak a word to describe his emotions towards you. He didn’t consider himself a violent man, but for you he wasn’t afraid to roughen up the edges of himself. To make his image seem more powerful than it already was, so people would fear him and not even think about hurting you. 

Of course he got invited to many galas, it was only natural considering he had made a name for himself now. Still, he viewed them all as pointless affairs and if you weren’t so fond of going to them he wouldn’t bother to even step foot in the venue. 

Although his signature color is a shade of deep red, he often matched whatever color you were wearing. Tonight it was a cerulean blue to match your dress of the same color. The only thing that stayed the same was the white rose in his handkerchief pocket that eventually ended up behind your ear. 

As you’re finishing up the final touches to your look Coriolanus comes behind you, adjusting the straps of your dress as he leaves soft kisses on your neck.

“Coryo we’re gonna be late-“, you try to protest but he quickly silences you with a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“We can spare a few minutes can’t we darling?”, he cooed.

By the time you manage to drag him to the car sent for you two, you’re already late to the party. Not like Coriolanus cares though, it was time well spent.

Usually when the two of you arrive to any sort of event, he would stick by your side for atleast the first part of it until some buisnessmen or some senator pulled him away. But this time since your arrival was later than usual, the minute you two walked through the doors some of his fellow associates dragged him off to discuss business. You don’t mind much, knowing he has work to do as you walk over to a few friends of your own.

While you enjoy yourself, chatting away like the social butterfly you are, Coriolanus finds the whole event to be tedious and torturous . He wasn’t even paying attention to what his colleagues were saying, too busy stealing glances at you giggling as your friend told a story about her latest date. He’s so intrigued by observing you as if he was stuck in some trance, that he doesn’t notice Aurelia, a woman married to a local senator whom she openly despised, practically throwing herself at him.

He doesn’t snap out of it , not until he feels her red painted lips slightly touch the tip of his ear. The only thing he feels in that moment is utter disgust. The fact that someone other than you attempt to get this close to him was appalling. Did she not see the wedding band on his finger?

After chatting away with your friends for a while, you politely excuse yourself to make your way to Coriolanus since it seems that all his fellow politician friends have now left. Just as you’re about to approach him, you notice her. The woman who is all over Coriolanus, as if she wasn’t married already to another senator and he wasn’t already yours.

You’ve always been the confrontational type, which is why it’s no surprise when you come up right beside them ready to tell Aurelia to back off. Well that was before you overheard her say in that sultry voice of hers, “A man like you shouldn’t be stuck at some flimsy party like this Coriolanus. I bet you want to get out of here don’t you? Y’know my hotel room is better than any party…”

Before Coriolanus responds, you storm out with anger hot on your heels. How dare he. You decide to just go home, taking the car despite Coriolanus still searching for where you went. He can find his own way home. Better yet why doesn’t he get a ride with Aurelia, surely there’s another spot left in her husband’s car.

Your rage doesn’t die down, even as you reach the manor and tuck yourself into bed. You don’t have too much time to notice how empty it seems with Coriolanus’s side of the bed being vacant before he rushes in, his words overflowing out of his mouth. But it’s all a blur to you, tuning him out completely as you shift your body to face the wall while pulling the blanket up.

It’s not until late at night just as you’re about to fall asleep, when you realize he’s begging.

“Darling.. darling please”, he mumbles almost pitiably. He continues desperately kissing your skin with your back still turned to him. “Didn’t even notice what she was doing.. was too busy looking at you”.

You don’t say anything in response and continue staying still, but you’re not pushing him away and Coriolanus takes this as a sign to keep going. “I pushed her away the minute I noticed what she was doing. I would never be unfaithful to you darling, you know that… you’re the only one for me”.

The stubborn part of you wanted to continue to ignore him, but the more reasonable side of you decided to hear him out. “I suppose… I was overreacting just a little bit. Fine”-, you start before you were cut off by his kisses.

“Thank you. Thank you sweetheart… I know I don’t deserve it”, he rasped while leaving little frantic kisses all over your face, “Don’t deserve your forgiveness. Don’t deserve you”.

“Not so stoic and cold are you now Coriolanus Snow?”, you think to yourself. Oh how funny it would be if all his politician friends see how he acted under your finger.

[atrwriting]

I cannot shake the thought of Logan (any era) just being infatuated with a bimbo reader! Wearing pink or light colors all the time. Short and cute little outfits that definitely get him riled up even when they don’t mean to. Basically just Logan fucking them dumb like the little bimbo they are🤭 (SORRY NOT SORRY)

anon ur onto something with this one hunni 🤌🤌

———

pretty in pink:

everyone thought that logan would only like people like a school teacher or jean — but that wasn’t always the case, no. logan’s real type? the type of girl that pushed every bad thought, memory, or nightmare from his brain? the type of girl that forced logan to remember that there were some good parts of lie? the type of girl that reminded him what it was like to be a fucking man?

a fucking angel of a woman.

oh, god — you were something. you were it for him. you had the type of innocent, doe-eyed expression that caused him to choke for a second — get the hiccups for the first time in decades. you looked soft — so soft, almost too soft for him.

he’d come to your bakery every now and then — not wanting to draw too much attention. you only wore light and bright colors, the kind that he never reached for when he had a choice. you were like bubble gum to him — sweet and light, ready for him and only him.

he didn’t want to be weird, no — he couldn’t. what if he lost you? his never ending days were growing longer, and longer and he needed something to hold onto — even if it was just a cup of black coffee and a muffin two (and if he was greedy) or three times a week.

“can’t i interest you in something else, sir?” you giggled, pausing while you rung his order. “you’re the consistent type, don’t want to fix somethin’ that ain’ broke — but i bet i could find you something you like.”

he let his lips give the faintest smile, but inside he was fucking screaming. the slight southern twang in your voice was enough for him to want to fork over his entire wallet to you. you had your pretty pastel scarves wrapped around his ankles and wrists and, ugh — would he give anything to bite into like the peach you were.

“i trust you, darlin — whatever you think i’ll like,” he rasped, trying to keep his cool.

when he saw your eyes sparkle, and a natural blush mix with the kind you brushed on — he knew he had you. even if it wasn’t as needy as the thing inside him — oh, he knew he had you.

he started coming around more and more after that — sometimes at night, right before close. hoping for the chance to take you out after. he noticed everything about you after the day he called you “darlin’” — the way your eyes raked up and down him when you first noticed him, the way your hips would sway a little bit extra in those tiny flowy skirts, and the new shade of light pink that was always on those perfect, supple lips.

oh, fuck — he was down bad for you. so bad.

it wouldn’t be for another month or two when the soft skin of your palm slipped between his fingers and pulled him into your office, under the guise of wanting to “show him around.” he could’ve tutted at the pick up line — but he didn’t care. how could he when you plopped yourself on top of your desk, and spread your knees ever so slightly?

you couldn’t help but stare as you watched the big, bad logan walk toward you with his hands in his pockets. there was a hunger in his eyes, one for more than just sweet treats. you giggled at the sight and folded your bottom lip into your mouth — tasting the subtle hint of strawberry that you hoped logan liked.

“been feeding me the best for months now, doll — you’re gonna let me thank you?”

his hands ran up and down the soft skin of your thighs, wanting oh so badly to travel underneath the thin and short skirt. you could feel the want from him, the need — because you knew it was the same as yours.

there was no time wasted when you slipped off those pretty pink panties and sling-shotted them at him. his eyes darkened when he caught them, stuffing them into his back pocket. he captured your lips in a kiss that made you arch your back into him — clinging to him for support. he couldn’t help but grab onto your perfect hips and roll them against his as the juices from your pussy leaked onto the rough denim of his jeans. you whined into his ear at the feeling, keening into his touch.

“that’s it, doll,” he spoke, thrusting two fingers past your folds. “i’ll take care of ya.”

he pushed your foreheads together, and your eyes drifted closed as your mouth hung open. he watched with an intense gaze at how those petal pink lips fell open for him — just for him. he kissed you hard, drinking in every whimper that was just for him.

he would’ve thrown your body down onto the desk and fucked you well into the night — but you wouldn’t let him, no. you were his good girl, and you wanted to please him oh so bad. you made him sit you both down on your desk chair, you bouncing on top of of his iron thighs. he made you take everything off then — your bra, panties, the world — except for those pretty pink socks and head band. your curls bounced on your shoulders, curling around the peaks of your nipples — and logan pawed at them hungrily.

your mind was frosting at this point — soft, creamy, ready to mold however he wanted you. you felt his hands roam up and down the soft skin of your abdomen, stopping to pinch at your breasts as they bounced for him, and just for him.

“that’s it, doll,” he grunted. “show me you can make a mess for me, yeah? be my good girl — that’s right —“

oh, you were — you so were. the smell and taste of him drove you mad — wanting nothing more than to have him stuff you full of his cum and have you both watch it leak out.

“please, lo —“ you whined, your back arching more as you caught the sweetest angle. “‘m so close for you —“

“fuck, that’s my girl —“ he wrapped his arms around you then, thrusting up inside your pussy. “too much for you, baby, huh? couldn’t take it?”

it sent you over the edge — causing you to fall forward and catch yourself with your hands on his shoulders. you rolled down onto his cock as the walls of your pussy tightened, tightened, and tightened. little gasps left your lips, but logan only heard them as cries — cries for him.

“yeah —“ his voice was gruff now, long and drawn out. primal even, only wanting to encourage you to let go. his hands were pulling at the flesh of your ass now, slapping at the sensitive girl. “keep cumming for me, doll. show me you can make a mess.”

“fucking god, lo —“ there were tears at your eyes now, mixing with the black of your mascara.

the sight before logan? his pretty in pink doll that liked to cook for him, crying for him because she felt so good? nothing better in the world. absolutely nothing. his balls tightened at the sight, forcing his hips up into your pussy. his lips wrapped around the tip of your nipple — sucking on it greedily as you rode out your orgasm, shivering against him. he came with another thrust, holding you down onto his cock.

“there’s my pretty girl,” he whispered, voice cracking as a bliss formed in his eyes. “so, so good for me.”

———

eeee sorry if it sucks love u <3333 -L

[kenacoki]

A Night To Remember

// Pairing // Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley x Fem!Reader

// Genre // fluff

// Summary // With your birthday right around the corner, the 118 decide to throw you a surprise birthday party. Unbeknownst to you, that wouldn’t be the only surprise of the night…

// Word count // 3.5k

// Warnings // none!

// Dividers // sister-lucifer

“No, no, no…a little to my left—yep. Perfect!” Buck glances down at the clipboard in his hand as he checks off the final box on the list. “And that’s it!”

Hen and Eddie look at each other as they descend from their ladders, both stepping back to admire the banner.

‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY (Y/N)!’

“It looks great, Buck.” Hen smiles as she spares a glance behind her to the entrance of the firehouse. “Does Bobby have the cake done yet?”

“Yep! He had to let it cool for a minute, but he’s up in the loft icing it now.” Buck explains as he sets down the clipboard. “I’m going to go change before (y/n) gets here.”

Eddie checks the time on his phone, “Better hurry, man. She should be getting here anytime.”

By the time Eddie looks back up, Buck is already gone from his sight. He laughs to himself as he trods up the stairs to the loft, “He’s hopeless.”

Eddie’s only upstairs for a few moments before he hears your voice calling out from downstairs.

“Hello! Buck…Hen…Eddie…? Where is every-”

“SURPRISE!”

The abrupt chorus of cheers catches you off guard causing you to panic at first. Jumping slightly, you look up towards the loft and see most of the crew peering down over the railing looking at you.

“Jesus Christ, are you guys trying to give me a heart attack…” you laugh, hustling up the stairs. As you reach the loft, you feel your breath hitch in your throat at the sight of the decorations.

The room is filled with twinkling lights, giving off a dreamy atmosphere. The tables are adorned with white tablecloths and celestial-themed centerpieces, adding to the starry ambiance. The walls are adorned with streamers of various shades of dark blue and black, resembling the color of the sky after the sun goes down. The entire space has an almost whimsical touch.

“Oh wow…” you glance around the room in disbelief, overwhelmed with happiness. You let a shaky breath escape your lips, “You…you guys did all of this for me?”

“Is it someone else’s birthday and we don’t know it?” A voice speaks up from behind you…Buck. You whip around and catch sight of your best friend hustling up the loft stairs, “Cause the cake says (y/n)…and that’d be a real pain to change.”

A smile curls at your lips as you playfully roll your (e/c) eyes, “Ha. Ha. Where’d you learn that joke? The back of a cereal box?”

Buck’s hand plops down onto the top of your head as he ruffles your (h/c) hair, causing it to become messy.

“Hey!”

Buck laughs and walks over beside Eddie. You grumble to yourself as you attempt to fix your hair. While you’re doing this, Bobby quietly grabs the chocolate cake he’s prepared and carefully walks over to you.

“Happy birthday to you…” Your head snaps around as you hear Bobby begin to sing, your eyes widening at the sight of the cake.

The rest of the 118 starts to chime in, “Happy birthday dear, (y/n)…” Bobby holds the cake out in front of you, and the reflection of the candle on the cake flickers in your eyes.

“Happy birthday to you!” With a deep breath, you close your eyes and gently blow the candle out…

“What’d ya wish for?” Chimney questions, taking the pan from Bobby as he starts to cut slices of cake for everyone.

For a moment, your gaze drifts over to Buck…his face contorted in a smile at something that Eddie’s said. The outer corners of his eyes are crinkled from how hard he’s smiling. You can’t help it as your heart flutters in your chest at the sight.

Of course, it’s right then Buck would avert his attention to you. Your gazes lock briefly…you can feel the hair on the back of your neck raise as your cheeks take on a slight twinge of pink. Coughing, you avert your attention back in the direction of Chimney.

“If I told you, then it wouldn’t come true. Do you want that for me, Chim? For my wish to die.” You joke, attempting to cover the flustered expression on your face.

Bobby smiles as he rolls his eyes at your behavior, letting Chimney place a piece of cake on his plate. Chimney places a piece onto his plate, “You know, this whole surprise party idea was Buck’s, believe it or not.”

His brown eyes meet yours as he places a piece of cake on your plate, “The man is a menace when he gets a clipboard.”

The group can’t help but chuckle at Chimney's comment, Hen and Eddie giving Buck a sly smile. Meanwhile, Buck’s face turns a light shade of red in embarrassment. You smile in amusement at Chim’s teasing.

Buck clears his throat, trying to change the subject, “Anyway…” he mutters, a hint of redness still apparent on his cheeks as he approaches Chimney. “Give me a slice of cake.”

Chimney dramatically groans before plopping a piece down on Buck’s plate, “There you go, buckaroo.”

Buck looks at him unamused as he strides toward you, his voice quiet so only you can hear him.

“C’mon…” He walks over to the emergency exit door. Your brows furrow in confusion as you cautiously trail behind him, cake still in hand.

“Uhh…where are we going?” You question, watching as Buck uses his behind to open the door. He brings his finger to his lips, silently shushing you.

“You’ll see…” The two of you start up the stairs, the noise from the party slowly fading into the background as you get closer to the roof. Your mind is filled with curiosity and anticipation as you follow him, your guys' steps echoing throughout the stairwell.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he pushes open the door and steps outside onto the roof of the firehouse. The warm night air of L.A. surrounds you as you step outside, the heavy door closing behind you. The only noise provided being the sounds of the city off in the distance.

Buck walks to the edge of the roof that overlooks the city, taking in the bright lights. He sets his plate of cake down on the parapet surrounding the roof, he puts his hands in his pockets. There’s a small, almost contemplative smile on his face.

“You better have a good reason for dragging me away from my party, Buckley.” You jokingly tease, settling yourself beside him. You rest your elbows on the stone parapet, turning your attention towards Buck.

He glances at you from the corner of his eye as you speak, his eyebrows raising in amusement. He lets out a small chuckle as he turns to fully face you.

“Oh come on, am I not allowed to have a private moment with you on your birthday.” He teases, a wide smile on his face.

He slowly takes a step closer to you, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck. The smile on his face is coy like he’s got something up his sleeve.

“I uh, wanted to be the first one to give you your birthday present.”

Your eyebrows raise at his words. He-he got you a gift? A wave of curiosity fills your mind as you wonder what he could have possibly gotten you…

He reaches into his back pocket, his hand emerging with a small, crumpled-up black velvet bag. He holds it out to you, a sheepish grin on his face, “Here ya go. Happy birthday.”

You tentatively reach out and take the bag, your heart skipping a beat as your fingers brush against his. Your heart pounding in anticipation as you bring the bag closer to you.

You slowly open the small bag, your eyes widening as you peek inside. Reaching inside, your fingers brush against something cold and metal. You glance up at Buck curiously…just what exactly did he get you?

Holding the object in your hand, you raise it to eye level so you can see it properly. Your breath catches in your throat as you get a good look at the item in front of you. It’s a delicate golden necklace, a small sunshine charm with your initials engraved on it dangling from the center…

Your heart involuntarily skips a beat at the sight of the necklace, any words instantly dying in your throat. You look up at Buck, your eyes meeting his with a look of complete shock and awe on your face.

Buck smiles back at you, a hint of shyness in his expression. He looks almost nervous as if he’s waiting for you to say something, “You, uh, like it?” he asks, a small bit of uncertainty in his tone.

You open and close your mouth a few times, struggling to find the words. You’re completely stunned by the gift, your heart swelling with emotions. After a moment, you manage to find your voice.

“I…I-It’s beautiful..” you whisper. “I love it.”

Buck’s crooked smile widens, his nervous expression turning to one of pride. He clears his throat, his eyes studying you for a moment, “Do you want me to put it on you?”

Your heart nearly beats out of your chest at his question, the idea of having him put the necklace on you making your heart race in your chest. It’s such a simple, innocent act…and yet, here you are feeling like this. A small shiver runs down your spine as you look up at him; the butterflies in your stomach back in full gear.

“Would you?”

Buck’s eyes seem to gleam at your question, “Yeah, of course. Turn around for me.” he replies, his voice soft.

You spin around slowly, your back now facing him. Your heart is pounding like crazy, every fiber of your being filled with anticipation as you feel him step up right behind you. Buck basically pressed against your back. You feel his fingers brush against the nape of your neck, his warm touch sending jolts of electricity shooting throughout your body. You have to refrain from involuntarily shivering as he leans closer to you.

Buck is incredibly gentle as he brings the necklace to your neck. You feel the cool gold of the necklace against your skin, the metal sending another shiver down your spine. His fingers graze the back of your neck, his nails brushing against your skin as he carefully fastens the clasp.

The feeling of his touch against your skin is enough to almost drive you insane. Your heart thundering in your chest as you desperately try to control yourself.

Slowly, you turn around to face him, one of your hands instantly reaching up to touch the necklace that’s now sitting delicately on your collarbone. As you look up at Buck, you notice the way he’s staring down at you, his eyes taking in the sight of you with the beautiful necklace around your neck.

Buck stares down at you for a moment, his eyes taking in the way the necklace hangs across your collarbone as you toy with it with your fingers. He seems unable to tear his gaze away like you’re a piece of art that he’s admiring.

After a moment, he seems to catch himself, and he clears his throat softly, “It, uh, looks good on you…” he mutters quietly.

A small smile immediately forms on your face at his words, your chest fills with a warm, fuzzy feeling. You couldn’t deny that knowing he bought this and put it on you sent butterflies through your stomach, “Thank you...”

Buck’s smile warms at your response. He reaches out and gently fiddles with the necklace, his fingers brushing against your skin as he toys with the small sunshine charm, “I…I was hoping you’d like it. I wanted to get you something special for your birthday.”

You feel your stomach flutter as his fingers keep brushing against your skin, the sensations overwhelming you. You swallow down the lump in your throat, trying to compose yourself as you speak again. “It’s-it’s absolutely perfect, Buck. I’m so grateful you got it for me.”

Buck’s eyes meet yours as you speak, he seems to study you for a moment. He’s still standing incredibly close to you, so close that you can practically feel his body heat and breath on your face. The butterflies in your stomach are fluttering wildly, your heart pounding in your chest…you break your gaze away and look back towards the rooftop door.

“We…we should uh, get back to the party before—”

However, before you can finish, Buck slowly reaches his hand out and places it on your cheek; his touch sending another jolt through your body. He gently guides you to look back at him, his blue eyes locking with yours. You can see the fire in them, a hint of something in his gaze that you can’t quite decipher.

“I-I want to give you one more thing..” he says, his voice quieter than before.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the thought of another present from Buck sends even more anticipation through you. Your mind races, unable to even fathom what it could be…you nod at his words, your own voice now a whisper.

“Yeah?”

Buck nods in response, his thumb gently caressing your cheek in the process. He hesitates for a moment, almost as if he’s debating how to proceed, “Just- just close your eyes. I want this to be a surprise.”

Your mind is spinning as he speaks, your thoughts racing a mile a minute. You give him a tiny nod, the anticipation making your hands shake. You close your eyes like he asked, your mind racing with a million different questions.

Buck’s touch disappears from your face for a moment, your heart clenches at the loss of contact. You hear him shifting, his body moving and his feet shuffling against the roof. After a moment, you feel his touch on your cheek again, his hand moving back to its original place. He gently guides your head towards him.

As you keep your eyes closed, your heart is practically racing out of your chest as you wait for what’s about to happen. Then suddenly, you are completely overwhelmed with the scent of him, the intoxicating scent of his cologne filling your nose.

He lets out a shaky breath, “You-you mean the world to me…” His tone is slightly pleading as if he’s begging you to trust him.

You’re tempted to open your eyes, curiosity making you itch to see what he’s about to do..your mouth opens as you start to question what he’s doing—

But before you can speak, you’re interrupted by a feeling of his soft lips pressed against yours. Despite being told to keep your eyes closed, they immediately shoot open. All thought leaves your mind as he kisses you, your body instantly responding to his touch. He’s incredibly gentle, his lips softly moving against yours like he’s afraid to push you too far.

You feel his hand on your cheek drift up into your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands. he gently tilts your head back, the action pushing the kiss even deeper. Your mind is overwhelmed with sensations, the feeling of his body against yours, of his lips moving in unison with yours; your eyes flutter back shut.

You raise your hands instinctively, bringing them to his torso and clutching onto the soft fabric of his henley shirt. The need for air becomes too much, causing you two to break apart from one another.

Buck’s breath is shaky as he rests his forehead against yours. Your faces are still just centimeters away from each other. You slowly open your eyes, your vision still slightly blurred by the shock of what just happened. His eyes stare back at you, a mixture of emotions swirling behind them.

He looks completely flustered, his expression filled with a mixture of awe and slight worry. His hand is still on the side of your face, his other hand resting on the dip of your waist; he’s still holding you incredibly close.

You’re both quiet for a moment, neither of you wanting to be the first to say anything. As your heart pounds, your mind still struggling to process how this just happened. Buck finally breaks the silence, clearing his throat and loosening his grip on you.

“I-I’m sorry I…I couldn’t stop myself... I just…” he mutters, his voice shaky and filled with a hint of uncertainty, he looks like he’s scared you’re going to hate him for what he just did.

You’re frozen for a moment, still trying to recover from the shock of what just happened. However, you can’t ignore the fact that as shocked as you are, you absolutely loved every second of that kiss. Your heart flutters and you bring your hand up to his cheek, your fingers caressing his skin gently.

“Don’t…Don’t apologize..”

Buck’s eyes widen slightly at your words, shock, and relief appearing on his face as he realizes that you’re not mad. He gently leans his face into your hand as you touch his cheek, his body relaxing as he realizes that you’re not going to yell at him.

“You, uh, you’re not upset that I did that..?” he says, some of the shakiness still in his tone.

You almost scoff at how ridiculous that sounds. You’re the exact opposite of upset, and it shocks you that he doesn’t know that.

“Upset? No way.” you reply, your heart still fluttering at the idea of him doing that, of him kissing you so intensely, “Why would I be upset about something that I’ve wanted for so long..?”

Buck’s eyes widen even more at your words, his expression morphing from slight shock to disbelief.

“Y-you-you’ve-you want-” He seems momentarily stunned, like he’s not quite believing what you just said. He swallows the lump in his throat.

“You-you’ve wanted me to do that?” He asks, his voice a tad bit quiet.

You nod slightly at his words, heat rising back up to your cheeks. It’s almost comical how surprised he looks that you wanted him to kiss you, or that you like it. You smile slightly when you respond.

“Why else do you think my heart’s beating a mile a minute?” You tease. “Of course, I’ve wanted you to do that..”

Buck’s expression changes even more at your words, now shifting from slight shock to pure bewilderment. He’s looking at you as if he’s not quite sure he’s hearing everything right.

“B-but…you’ve never said anything to me..never gave me any kind of hint..” His tone is still slightly hesitant.

You sigh, leaning against the parapet and looking back out at the city, “I…I never thought that you felt the same.”

“You thought…you thought I didn’t feel that way?” he asks, his words filled with disbelief.

You sheepishly nod at his words.

“I…I mean...yeah. I didn’t think you were at all interested in me. Honestly, I thought you just saw me as a friend.” You reply, your heart clenching at the realization that you had both been pining for each other this whole time, both thinking the other didn’t want more.

Buck looks at you for a moment, completely stunned at that information. His eyes are wide, the look of surprise still etched on his face as he speaks again.

“So what you’re telling me is…we’ve been idiots this whole time..?”

You nearly laugh at the statement, realizing that he was completely right. You both thought the other didn’t feel that way when in reality, both of you wanted the same exact thing.

“Yeah…yeah I guess we have...” You gently respond.

Buck continues to stare at you for a moment longer before small, toothy grin forms on his face. He shakes his head slightly, he can’t stop himself from letting out a small chuckle at the ridiculousness of the situation. You can’t help but laugh along as you slide your other hand down and intertwine yours with Buck’s.

You two laugh for a moment; You have both been pining for each other this whole time and had really no idea. After a second you both manage to regain somewhat of your composure, Buck’s smirk still on his face.

“You ready to get back to your party?”

You let out a dramatic sigh before rolling your eyes. At the moment, the last thing you really wanted to do was go back to your party and pretend everything was normal. Hell, you’d just kissed your best friend who you’d had a major crush on for years.

“Ugh. Yeah... I guess we should.” You say, your words laced with a hint of playful sarcasm.

Buck chuckles under his breath at your sarcasm, clearly amused at your demeanor. He gives your hand a small squeeze as he responds, “C'mon. The faster we get back down there, the faster we can leave and go do something else..”

Your heart flutters at the way he emphasizes the words “Go do something else”. You know exactly what he’s referring to, he wanted to be alone with you as much as you wanted to be alone with him. You nod slightly at him, smiling as you respond.

“That sounds like an absolutely fantastic idea…”

[plethorawrites]

I'm back to my once in a blue moon Roy post. And again, I can't stop thinking about how any person he dated HAS to be approved by Lian.

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

It doesn't matter how much Roy Harper likes you or how perfect he thinks you are, if Lian doesn't like one of his partners, he'll break up with that person the next day.

He obviously waits a while to see if he even likes you enough to introduce you to her, but once he makes that decision, it's nerve wracking. He wants her to approve. He really does. And you want her too as well. He drones on about her constantly. Basically the entire first date was him relating every question you asked him back to her somehow.

Favorite place to go? The zoo, because Lian loves it. Favorite food? Grilled cheese, because he makes it for her so much he got hooked. Favorite color? It changes when hers does because everything she owns switches shades too. But he's partial to the color closest to her eyes.

And you're just as excited and nervous to meet her, knowing exactly how important she is to him. Lian is a good judge of character, she can know instantly if someone is wrong for her dad and she doesn't want them around him.

With you, it's the same as all the others. She's standoffish, curious but hesitant, asking you questions that only seem to have bad answers the way all kids somehow manage to do. And you're panicking, admittedly, not only at the questions, but at seeing Roy slowly deflate when he realizes how judgmental his daughter is.

At some point he excuses himself from the room for a moment, either to take a call, or try to take a breath because he's suddenly thinking about ending the relationship. But the second he walks away and both you and Lian can see the disappointment in posture, you both soften. Mostly her.

"...He works a lot," she told you, almost like a deterrent.

You nodded softly. "I know."

There was a pause, her princess crown falling a little bit. "Things with mom didn't end well," she mumbled.

You fixed her crown. "I know that, too." Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear you scooted closer to her on the couch. "I don't want to replace your mom, Lian. I just...want to love your dad."

She looked up at you. No one he brought home ever said the L word before. Not unless it was in some patronizing way as they talked about her while squishing her cheeks.

Her lips quirked, fighting a pout. "He's always busy," she repeated with emphasis. "I don't even see him for a week or two." She knew why, of course, and never blamed him. It still hurt.

Things suddenly clicked for you, realizing Lian was less worried about you, and more worried about you stealing her time with him.

"Well...maybe when he's gone, you and I could go somewhere? Do you like the aquarium?" You suggested hesitantly, watching her furrow her brows in skepticism as she nodded. "And maybe when he's back, we could all do something too, like a movie..." She seemed to relax a little, still pouting. "I'm not trying to steal him from you. You're the most important thing in his life, you know? You'll always come first."

...

A while later, Roy had all but prepared his typical break up speech, planning to tell you he liked you a lot but needed to take care of Lian and her needs first before focusing on himself. It hurt more this time, though, rehearsing it, than it usually did.

He walked back into the living room, freezing when he saw you braiding Lian's hair, a blanket pulled over her lap as she clicked the buttons on a remote.

"Oh, there you are," you said, glancing up. "We were going to watch 'Brave', do you want to join us?"

He blinked a few times, glancing at his daughter to ensure she wasn't just pretending. Then again, she never went along with anything she didn't actually want to do.

Roy nodded slightly, sitting next to Lian, squishing her in-between you two as she found the movie on the TV.

"You should make us popcorn," she practically demanded, starting the movie and glancing back at you as you finished her hair. "He makes really good popcorn."

You nodded curiously, giving her a small smile. "You ever tried it with M&M's in it before?"

Her eyes widened, head snapping towards her dad as if already asking for it. "O-okay, yeah, I'll check if we have any," he muttered, standing up, sparing a glance over his shoulder as he saw you pulling a blanket over Lian's lap while she passed her favorite princess crown to you.

It seemed she did approve, this time.

[queenofwands89]

The Storm Within (Part Two)  Tyler Owens x fem!reader

Part 1

Summary: Following the events of the first part, a severely injured Y/N lies in a coma while a heartbroken Tyler waits by her side, wondering if she will ever wake up.

Warnings: Hospital, Reader is in a coma, Fluff, Sad Tyler, Slightly angsty.                                              

Notes: I didn't expect so many people to read the first part, let alone want a second, so thank you—it means a lot. I rushed to write this to avoid making you wait any longer, lol. I'm currently accepting writing prompts for Jake Seresin, Tyler Owens, and Glen Powell.

Enjoy byeeee!

Two weeks have slipped by in a blur of sterile hospital corridors and the endless hum of medical machines. Each passing day is a battle against time, unrelenting in its indifference, and Tyler's world has shrunk to the confines of your hospital room.

Tyler sits by your side, his eyes heavy with exhaustion but refusing to close. He's lost count of the hours he's spent watching the rise and fall of your chest, willing you to wake up. The constant beeping of the heart monitor and the rhythmic hiss of the ventilator are his only companions.

The rest of the storm-chasing team visits regularly, each holding onto hope in their own way. Boone leaves a fresh bouquet of wildflowers on the bedside table every other day, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the clinical white of the room. Dani brings her laptop, working quietly in the corner, refusing to leave until Tyler is forced to rest. Dexter makes sure Tyler eats, even if it means feeding him himself. And Lilly, with her unwavering optimism, often slips into the chair opposite Tyler, regaling him with stories and laughs to keep the darkness at bay.

One evening, as the crimson hues of the setting sun penetrate the blinds, Tyler is gently persuaded by Lilly to step outside the room, if only for a few minutes. The fresh air at the hospital's small garden is a reprieve he didn’t know he needed. He takes deep breaths, trying to shake off the weight that's settled on his shoulders.

As he walks back towards your room, he overhears a hushed conversation between two nurses. "It's been two weeks, and she's still fighting. It's remarkable," he hears one of them say. A glimmer of hope ignites in his chest. You're a fighter; you always have been.

Pushing open the door to your room, Tyler's heart skips a beat. One of the doctors, Dr. Emerson, is standing by your bed, reviewing the latest results. Tyler rushes in, anxiety and hope warring on his face.

"Any changes, Doc?" Tyler asks, his voice barely a whisper.

Dr. Emerson turns to him, a small, comforting smile on her face. "Her vitals are steadily improving. The brain activity shows promising signs. She's still in a coma, but these are good indicators. It’s just a matter of time."

With those reassuring words, Dr. Emerson gives Tyler a gentle nod before turning to leave the room, the other doctor following closely behind. The soft click of the closing door lingers in the air, marking the transition from clinical observation to personal vigil.

Tyler takes his seat beside you, gently holding your hand. "Hey, beautiful," he begins, his voice soft but steady. "I know you can hear me. I thought I'd share some stories, like old times."

He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Remember the first storm we chased together? God, we were terrified but so exhilarated," he chuckles. "The sky was this angry shade of gray, and the wind was howling like it was possessed. We had no idea what we were doing, but we felt invincible."

Tyler's eyes glisten with unshed tears as he continues. "You kept yelling at me to keep the camera steady while you took notes. I think I was too busy being amazed by how fearless you were. The tornado touched down so close, and we got caught in the downdraft. But you... you never lost your cool. You guided us out of there like it was just another day at the office."

He squeezes your hand gently, hoping for any sign of acknowledgment. "Then there was that time in Kansas. Do you remember? We were staying at that run-down motel, and the power went out during the middle of the night. We ended up sitting in the car, wrapped in blankets, watching the lightning storm. You said it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. I couldn't take my eyes off you."

The corners of Tyler's lips lift into a sad smile as he recounts more memories. "You were always the brave one, Y/N. Like that time we drove into the eye of the storm. Literally. Everyone told us it was too dangerous, but you convinced us, and we did it. And I'll never forget the look on your face when we made it out in one piece."

A silence hangs in the air for a moment, the only sounds coming from the steady beeps and hums of the medical equipment.

"I'm not gonna lie, Y/N. These past two weeks have been the hardest of my life. Seeing you like this... it's killing me. But I know you're fighting. You always do," Tyler says, voice cracking with emotion.

Tyler leans closer, his head resting on the side of your bed. He speaks softly, almost to himself. "You know, Dani was telling me about how you kept her sane during her first storm chase. She said she wouldn't have made it if it weren't for you. And Boone, he's a mess without you bossing him around. Dexter too. None of us are the same without you."

He looks at your serene face, a fresh wave of determination washing over him. "But we all believe in you. We know you're coming back to us. And when you do, we'll be ready with stories and laughs and everything that's been missing."

As the sun sets outside, casting a warm glow over the room, Tyler continues to talk. He recounts every little detail of your adventures together, from the funniest moments to the most heart-stopping ones, painting a vivid picture with his words.

The world is a foggy blur as consciousness slowly begins to seep back into your mind. The silence in the room is broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the medical machines. Your eyelids feel heavy as you struggle to open them, a sense of disorientation clouding your thoughts.

As your eyes finally flutter open, the dim light of the room gradually sharpens into focus. The first thing you see is Tyler, slumped in the chair beside your hospital bed. His hand grips yours tightly, as if even in sleep, he cannot let go. His face is etched with lines of stress and fatigue, evidence of the nights he has spent by your side.

For a few moments, you simply watch him. Even in his exhausted state, there’s an undeniable tenderness in the way he holds your hand. You notice the dark circles under his eyes, the stubble that has grown from days of neglecting himself. Deep down, an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love wells up within you. You realize now more than ever just how much he means to you.

Gradually, you muster the strength to give his hand a weak squeeze, something to pull him from the depths of his weariness. His eyes flutter open slowly, confusion briefly crossing his features before they lock onto yours. Instantly, his face transforms—a mix of shock, awe, and profound relief.

"Y/N..." he breathes, his voice shaky and filled with emotion. Tears pool in his eyes, and you can see him fighting to hold them back, but it’s a losing battle. As the realization washes over him, that you’re finally awake, his tears begin to fall freely. "You’re... you’re awake. Thank God, you’re awake."

A lump forms in your throat, making it hard to speak, but you manage a small smile. "Tyler," you rasp, the single word carrying all the emotions you can't yet express.

He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing fervent kisses to your knuckles. "I love you, Y/N. I love you so much," he chokes out, his voice breaking with raw emotion. "I thought... I thought I’d lost you. I’m so sorry, Y/N. For everything. For the things I said. I was scared and I handled it all wrong."

You can feel the wetness of his tears on your hand, and it breaks your heart to see him in such pain. Gathering what strength you can, you shake your head slightly. "No, Tyler. We both did things we regret. I pushed you away when I should have let you in. But we can’t change the past. We can only move forward."

He nods, his teary eyes never leaving yours. "We’ll fix this. Together," he vows, his voice filled with a newfound determination.

Your smile grows a bit stronger, as you grip his hand with a bit more strength. "Together," you echo, the word binding the two of you in a promise of unity and hope.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Tyler repeats fervently, his tears now mingling with a relieved laugh.

You can't help but let out a light giggle, the sound so sweet to Tyler’s ears. "I love you, I love you, I love you," you reply, your heart feeling lighter for the first time in a long while.

Tyler chuckles softly, his expression softening as he looks at you. "I think the doctors are going to start charging me rent for how long I've been here."

You laugh weakly, the sound like music to his ears. "Well, as long as you don't start claiming squatter's rights. We might have to evict you."

His laughter mingles with yours, the room now filled with a warmth and happiness that seemed impossible just moments ago. "Deal. I'll leave when you do," he declares, his voice brimming with love and commitment.

The path to recovery will undoubtedly be long and arduous, but for now, the hardest part is over. The heavy cloud of uncertainty has lifted, replaced by a glimmering beacon of hope. The room, once cold and sterile, now feels warm, filled with the palpable power of your mutual love and commitment.

As the rhythmic beeping of the machines continues to fill the background, you and Tyler share a moment of silent understanding, knowing that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them hand in hand. "I love you," he whispers once more, the promise of these words a soothing balm to your soul.

"I love you," you whisper back, sealing the bond that will carry you through the days to come.

[w1w2]

Over the Handlebars

Jennie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 6k

Synopsis: Y/N has always been the type to fall hard and fast, diving headfirst into love without hesitation. Jennie, on the other hand, is more guarded, careful, precise, the kind of person who weighs every decision.

JENNIE - Handlebars (Feat. DUA LIPA) "Why is it love is never kind to me? I heard that fools rush in and, yeah, that's me"

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The bass thrummed against Y/N’s skin, the kind of deep, pulsing rhythm that settled in her bones and made her feel weightless. The club was alive with energy, flashing neon lights casting streaks of pink and blue across the sea of moving bodies, the scent of liquor and expensive perfume mixing in the humid air. Laughter and conversations blended into a messy, intoxicating symphony, but none of it mattered.

She wasn’t drunk, not completely, but there was a pleasant buzz in her veins, turning everything sharper, more vivid. Every sound, every color.

And especially her.

Jennie Kim stood near the bar, effortlessly composed in a way that made her seem untouchable. While the rest of the world blurred and swayed under the weight of music and alcohol, Jennie remained still, a contrast so striking it made Y/N’s chest tighten. Dark, silky hair framed her face perfectly, her lips painted a deep shade of red that was almost too inviting. A half-empty glass of champagne dangled loosely between her fingers, the golden liquid catching the light as she lazily swirled it. She wasn’t trying to stand out, but somehow, in a room full of chaos, she was the only thing Y/N could focus on.

Their eyes met, and something flickered in Jennie’s gaze. Curiosity, amusement. An unspoken challenge.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She never did.

She weaved her way through the crowd, her heart thrumming in time with the bass, every step fueled by adrenaline and that reckless, insatiable pull toward the girl who looked like trouble wrapped in silk.

Jennie watched her approach, one perfectly shaped brow arching slightly, her expression unreadable yet completely consuming.

“Are you always this mysterious,” Y/N drawled as she reached Jennie’s side, her fingers grazing the edge of the bar. “Or is it just for show?”

Jennie’s lips quirked upward, the ghost of a smirk playing at the corners. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Up close, she smelled like vanilla and something expensive, something dangerously alluring. Y/N leaned in, her lips curling into a smirk. “Oh, I’m an open book, baby. You just have to turn the right page.”

Jennie hummed, lifting her glass to her lips. She took a slow, deliberate sip, her dark eyes never leaving Y/N’s. “And what page are we on now?”

Y/N tilted her head, pretending to think. “Somewhere between curious glances and flirtatious banter.” She lowered her voice, just enough to make Jennie lean in slightly. “But I think we can skip ahead.”

The tension between them was electric, crackling like static in the air.

Jennie studied her, like she was weighing the consequences, like she was trying to decide if she should let herself fall.

Y/N didn’t wait for permission.

She moved forward, closing the space between them in one fluid motion, her lips capturing Jennie’s before she had time to think.

The kiss tasted like champagne and recklessness, like bad decisions and the kind of adrenaline Y/N never knew how to resist.

Jennie froze for a split second. Y/N felt it. The hesitation, the war happening behind those dark eyes. But then Jennie exhaled softly, and her lips parted just enough for Y/N to take it as an invitation.

Jennie kissed her back.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was heat and tension and all the things left unsaid.

Jennie’s fingers brushed against Y/N’s wrist, featherlight, but the touch sent a sharp jolt through her body. She deepened the kiss, just for a moment, just enough to taste the way Y/N sighed into her mouth, before pulling away.

By the time they separated, Y/N’s heart was a riot in her chest. Jennie’s eyes were darker now, unreadable, her breath just a little unsteady.

“Impulsive,” Jennie murmured, her voice like velvet.

Y/N smirked, licking her lips. “You liked it.”

Jennie didn’t deny it. But she didn’t confirm it either. Instead, she took another sip of champagne, gaze never leaving Y/N’s.

For the first time that night, Jennie looked a little bit undone.

Y/N leaned in, close enough that their noses almost brushed. “Come dance with me.” It wasn’t a question.

Jennie hesitated for a fraction of a second. Y/N thought she might say no.

But then Jennie placed her glass down, and without another word, she reached for Y/N’s hand.

Her fingers were warm, steady. Dangerous.

Y/N felt it instantly, that rush, that unmistakable pull in her chest. It wasn’t just about the way Jennie’s hand fit into hers or the way the air around them seemed to hum with something electric. It was the way Jennie looked at her then, eyes dark and unreadable, like she knew exactly what she was doing. Like she knew exactly what Y/N was about to do.

And just like that, Y/N knew.

She was already falling.

Falling the way she always did, fast, without hesitation, without caution.

Because Y/N loved the feeling of free-falling.

The rush of it, the thrill, the way the world blurred around her when she let go and let gravity take control. It didn’t scare her, to lose herself in something reckless, something consuming. It made her feel alive.

She was the type to run headfirst into things, to dive in without checking how deep the water was. And Jennie? Jennie was like an ocean. Beautiful, vast, and completely unpredictable.

And Y/N had never been good at resisting the pull of the tide.

Their nights blurred into something hazy and golden, a collection of stolen kisses under city lights and whispered secrets between tangled sheets. It wasn’t just about the physical, the way Jennie’s lips felt against hers, the warmth of her hands on Y/N’s skin, it was everything in between. The way Jennie looked at her when she thought Y/N wasn’t watching, the way her laughter melted into the air when Y/N said something ridiculous, the way she always pulled Y/N closer when she thought she might slip away.

Like now.

They were driving with the windows down, the wind whipping through Y/N’s hair as the car sped down empty streets. The city stretched out around them, glowing in the soft haze of midnight neon. Streetlights flickered as they passed, casting moving shadows across Jennie’s face.

It had rained earlier, just enough to leave the scent of it lingering in the air, fresh and clean, mixing with the faint traces of Jennie’s vanilla perfume.

Y/N turned her head, taking Jennie in.

She wasn’t doing anything particularly remarkable, just driving, fingers wrapped loosely around the steering wheel, her other hand resting lazily on the gear shift. But there was something about her in this moment, the way the light caught in her dark eyes, the easy way she moved, the quiet focus she always had when she was lost in thought.

She was mesmerizing. And she didn’t even realize it.

"You look good like this," Y/N murmured, voice lazy from the warmth of the night and the way Jennie made everything feel infinite.

Jennie’s lips curled at the edges, a barely-there smile, but she kept her gaze on the road. "Like what?"

"Like you belong here," Y/N said, softer than she meant for it to be. "With me."

Jennie didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she reached over, fingers ghosting over Y/N’s thigh before settling there, warm and grounding. The touch was light, barely there, but enough.

Y/N’s breath caught, just a little. She swore Jennie could feel it, could sense the way her heartbeat stumbled under her palm.

"Where are we going?" Y/N asked, her voice quieter now.

Jennie finally glanced at her, just for a moment. And in that moment, she looked almost reckless, like she was on the verge of throwing caution to the wind.

"I don’t know," Jennie admitted. "I just like driving with you."

Something about the way she said it made Y/N’s chest tighten.

There was a tenderness to it, a raw honesty that Jennie didn’t usually give away so easily. Y/N let the words settle between them, turning them over in her mind, wondering if Jennie even realized what they meant.

She smiled, tilting her head back against the seat, letting the cool night air kiss her face. "You make everything feel different," she said after a beat.

Jennie hummed, fingers tracing slow circles against Y/N’s skin. "Different how?"

"Like..." Y/N hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "Real."

It was true. Everything about this, about Jennie, felt real in a way nothing else ever had. It was intoxicating. Terrifying.

Jennie didn’t respond, but Y/N felt the way her fingers twitched slightly against her thigh, the way her grip tightened just for a second before relaxing again.

And that was the thing about Jennie.

She was here, right now, driving through the city with Y/N at her side, touching her like she never wanted to let go.

But there was always something else, something lingering behind her eyes, something that made Y/N wonder if she was holding on just tight enough to keep Y/N close, but not tight enough to stay.

The thought should have scared Y/N.

But instead, she leaned into the feeling, let herself drown in the warmth of the moment, in the way Jennie’s thumb brushed against her skin absentmindedly.

Maybe she was falling too fast.

But for now, she didn’t care.

They spent nights like this, chasing time as if they could outrun reality.

There was something about being with Jennie that made everything feel like a dream, like the world outside of them didn’t exist. Maybe that’s why Y/N kept falling, faster and faster, clinging to every stolen second like it might slip through her fingers.

They danced in dimly lit rooms, music thrumming beneath their feet, bodies pressed together in ways that blurred the line between comfort and desire. Jennie’s laughter against Y/N’s ear was a melody all on its own, low and breathless, the kind that made Y/N’s stomach flip.

Some nights, they stayed out too late, drinking expensive wine that left them giddy and warm, fingers intertwined beneath tables in candle-lit corners. Other nights, they didn’t bother with the world at all, wrapped in sheets and whispered confessions, tangled limbs and soft sighs.

Jennie tasted like late-night wine and stolen moments, like something Y/N wanted to keep forever.

And for a while, Y/N let herself believe she could.

But there was always something, something just beneath the surface. A hesitation in the way Jennie kissed her sometimes, like she was holding back, like she was afraid to let herself want too much.

The first time Y/N noticed it, she brushed it off.

The way Jennie would pull away first, even when Y/N wanted more. The way her fingers would hover for a second too long before touching Y/N, like she was caught between staying and running.

It was small, barely noticeable.

But Y/N felt it.

And once she noticed it, she couldn’t stop noticing it.

Like the way Jennie went quiet whenever Y/N whispered, “I think about you all the time.” The way she would smile, but never say it back.

Or the way Jennie’s fingers would tighten in Y/N’s grip when they walked side by side, but she never held on too tightly, as if she needed to be able to let go.

Y/N ignored it. At first.

Because maybe, if she pretended not to see the cracks forming beneath the surface, they wouldn’t be real. Maybe, if she kissed Jennie hard enough, held her close enough, she could fix whatever was keeping Jennie from falling all the way.

Because love, for Y/N, had never been something she could do in half-measures.

And Jennie? Jennie had never been the kind of person to crash.

One night, they lay in bed, the city humming outside the window. The air was thick with the scent of rain and something unmistakably them, faint traces of perfume on Jennie’s skin, the lingering warmth of wine on Y/N’s breath, the shared heat between them beneath the sheets.

Jennie’s fingers traced lazy circles over Y/N’s hip, her touch featherlight, absentminded. It was the kind of touch that made Y/N feel cherished, but also the kind that made her wonder if Jennie was afraid of holding on too tight.

Y/N closed her eyes, pressing a soft kiss to Jennie’s collarbone, letting herself sink into the quiet of the moment. But there was something restless in her chest, a question she couldn’t quite shake.

"Tell me something real," Y/N murmured, her lips barely brushing against Jennie’s skin.

Jennie’s fingers paused.

The silence stretched between them, just long enough for Y/N to wonder if Jennie had heard her or if she was choosing not to answer.

Then, finally, a whisper.

"I hate goodbyes."

It was so quiet Y/N almost didn’t catch it, but when she did, something in her chest tightened.

She lifted her head, blinking sleepily. "What do you mean?"

Jennie didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned her gaze toward the ceiling, her dark eyes distant, unreadable.

Y/N watched the way Jennie’s chest rose and fell, slow, measured, as if she were weighing the words before she let them slip.

"I don’t like things that don’t last," Jennie said finally, her voice steady but soft. "That’s why I don’t…" She stopped abruptly, exhaling sharply, as if catching herself before saying too much. "Never mind."

Y/N frowned. Propping herself up on her elbow, she studied Jennie’s face, searching for something, anything, that might tell her what Jennie was too afraid to say.

"That’s why you don’t what?" she pressed gently.

Jennie sighed, shifting slightly beneath the sheets. Her fingers resumed their soft, absentminded tracing along Y/N’s arm, like she needed something to keep her grounded.

"That’s why I don’t let myself fall too easily."

The words were a whisper, but they struck something deep in Y/N’s chest.

Because she knew.

She knew Jennie felt something, something big, something dangerous. She knew it in the way Jennie looked at her when she thought Y/N wasn’t watching. In the way she lingered just a second longer after every kiss. In the way she reached for Y/N’s hand but never quite held it as tightly as Y/N wished she would.

It was there. Real.

But Jennie was still holding back.

Y/N swallowed, her throat suddenly tight.

"But you have fallen," she whispered, her fingers tracing over the delicate skin of Jennie’s wrist. "Haven’t you?"

Jennie’s breath hitched.

For a moment, just a moment, Y/N thought she might finally get the answer she was waiting for.

The one that would make everything feel safe. Certain.

But Jennie only closed her eyes, tilting her head back against the pillow.

"Go to sleep, Y/N," she murmured.

Y/N should have pushed. Should have made her say the words, should have asked why Jennie was so scared of something that already had them both in its grasp.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she curled closer, pressing her forehead against Jennie’s shoulder, trying to pretend that Jennie’s silence didn’t say everything she already knew.

That night, she dreamt of falling.

And when she woke up, she wasn’t sure Jennie would be there to catch her.

The beginning of the end wasn’t loud.

It wasn’t screaming or slamming doors. There were no shattered glasses, no accusations hurled like weapons.

It was quiet. Soft in a way that made it worse, like the slow unraveling of a thread, like an ember burning out in the palm of her hand.

Like drowning in an ocean so gently, she hadn’t realized she was sinking until it was too late.

And it started at a party.

A rooftop stretched high above the city, the air thick with summer heat and the faint scent of rain lingering from earlier in the evening. Golden fairy lights were strung overhead, flickering against the inky sky, casting warm halos against the glasses in people’s hands. Music hummed low beneath the chatter, background noise, almost distant, like a heartbeat fading away.

Y/N had been standing at the edge of the crowd, Jennie beside her, the two of them tucked away from the center of attention but never fully unnoticed.

Jennie looked stunning, in that effortless way she always did, dark hair cascading in soft waves, red lips curled in a knowing, unreadable smile. She wasn’t even trying, but Y/N couldn’t stop looking at her. Couldn’t stop reaching for her.

Fingers brushing. A touch against the small of her back. Their laughter tangling in the thick air between them, warm and easy.

Y/N had felt light that night. Weightless in the way you feel when you know someone is yours.

She could still taste the remnants of wine on her tongue, could still feel the ghost of Jennie’s lips against her cheek from earlier, just a whisper of a kiss, fleeting but felt.

She had been happy.

And then it happened.

A casual conversation, the kind you don’t expect to change anything, the kind that should’ve been nothing more than passing words.

But sometimes, words were enough to ruin everything.

"So, are you two together?"

The question had been lighthearted, teasing. The kind of thing people asked when they already knew the answer.

Y/N had smiled without hesitation, already feeling the response settle into her bones, already hearing Jennie’s voice in her head, saying, Yeah, she’s mine. We’re together.

But Jennie hesitated.

It was barely a second. But Y/N felt it.

Like a shift in gravity, like the ground slipping out from under her feet.

Then, Jennie laughed, smooth, effortless, but the answer came too late.

"We’re just… having fun."

Just. Having. Fun.

The words lodged in Y/N’s chest like a stone, heavy and unmoving.

She didn’t know what hurt more, that Jennie had said it, or that she hadn’t even looked at Y/N when she did.

Her stomach twisted. She forced out a small laugh, nodding along, pretending like it didn’t feel like the floor had disappeared beneath her.

Jennie must have noticed something in the way Y/N tensed beside her, but she didn’t say anything. Just kept sipping her drink, like nothing had changed.

But for Y/N, everything had.

The rest of the night passed in a blur.

Laughter, conversation, the steady hum of music, none of it registered. The fairy lights were too bright, the room too loud, the air too thick, pressing against her chest.

Jennie stayed by her side, fingers grazing hers, lips brushing the shell of her ear when she whispered something Y/N didn’t quite catch. But it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered after those words.

"We’re just having fun."

The words replayed in her head, over and over, like a cruel joke.

Maybe she had been stupid, maybe she had assumed too much, maybe, somewhere deep down, she had known all along.

Because Jennie had never given her the words she wanted. Had never said them first. Had never held on as tightly as Y/N had.

She had felt it.

She had known.

And still, she had let herself fall.

Later, when the party had faded into nothing but a lingering scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke clinging to her clothes, when the city was quieter, emptier, Y/N sat on Jennie’s bed, watching the other girl move around the room.

Jennie was quiet, her back to Y/N as she undid the clasp of her necklace, letting it fall onto the nightstand with a faint clink.

The air between them felt fragile, like one wrong move would shatter it completely.

Jennie must have felt it too, because she turned, stepping closer, reaching for Y/N’s hand.

"Hey," Jennie murmured, voice softer now, thumb tracing circles against Y/N’s skin. "Are you okay?"

Y/N let out a small laugh, but it was hollow. Empty.

"Am I okay?"

Jennie frowned, brows knitting together in concern. "Y/N…"

"We’re just having fun."

The words came out quieter than Y/N expected, but they still carried weight. She lifted her gaze, searching Jennie’s face, trying to see something, anything, that would tell her that Jennie hadn’t meant it.

That maybe, just maybe, it had been a lie.

But Jennie’s face was unreadable, and that hurt the most.

"That’s what this is to you?" Y/N whispered.

Jennie exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "You’re twisting my words."

Y/N’s jaw clenched. "No, I’m hearing your words. For the first time, maybe."

Jennie’s gaze flickered away.

Y/N felt something sharp dig into her ribs. That same feeling, that same hesitation that had been there all along, lingering in Jennie’s kisses, in her touches, in the way she always almost held on.

She had ignored it before. Had convinced herself it wasn’t real.

But it was.

"Do you even love me?"

The question escaped before she could stop it.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Jennie’s breath hitched.

And for a moment, just a moment, Y/N swore she saw it. The answer, trembling behind Jennie’s lips.

But Jennie didn’t say it. Didn’t move. Didn’t fight.

And suddenly, Y/N knew.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. She shook her head, standing, grabbing her jacket.

"Wait,"

"No." Y/N turned, her voice breaking. "I can’t do this anymore."

Jennie’s brows furrowed, something desperate flickering in her gaze. "Y/N, please,"

"Please what?" Y/N’s voice cracked. "Please stay and pretend like this is enough for me? Like I can just be someone you kiss in the dark, someone you almost love?"

Jennie sucked in a breath, but she still didn’t say the words Y/N needed to hear.

And Y/N? She was so tired of waiting.

She stepped back, the distance between them stretching wider than the room itself.

"I’ve been falling for you since the moment I met you." Her voice was quieter now, exhausted. Defeated. "And you’ve been standing still."

Jennie flinched.

But she still didn’t move.

She didn’t reach for her, didn’t close the distance between them, didn’t even try to fix what was already unraveling between her fingers. She just stood there, silent and still, like a statue carved from hesitation and fear. And Y/N could feel her heart breaking in real time, cracking open under the weight of all the words Jennie refused to say.

She took a slow, shaky breath, blinking hard against the sting behind her eyes, and turned toward the door. Her footsteps felt heavy, like her body was protesting, like some desperate part of her still wanted to stay, to wait just a little longer, to hope.

But hope had never been kind to fools like her.

Behind her, Jennie inhaled sharply, the kind of breath that sounded like the beginning of a confession or maybe a plea, but Y/N had learned better than to hold on to things that never came.

So she waited.

One last time.

She waited for Jennie to stop her, to reach for her, to fight for something, anything.

She wanted to hear her name spoken like it mattered. She wanted Jennie to say stay, to give her a reason not to walk away, to choose her in the way Y/N had always, always chosen Jennie.

But the silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating, until it became the only answer she would ever get.

Jennie hesitated.

And in that hesitation, Y/N slipped through her fingers, one step, then another, until the door clicked shut behind her.

She didn’t look back.

And Jennie let her go.

The first few days passed in a blur.

Y/N had always thought heartbreak would feel like something sharp, something immediate, like ripping off a bandage or stepping on shattered glass. But this… this was different.

It was slow, creeping, the kind of pain that settled into the spaces between her ribs and refused to leave.

She went through the motions of living, pretending she was fine, pretending she wasn’t waiting for something. A knock at the door, a name flashing across her screen, a reason to turn around and fix what had been broken between them.

But there was nothing.

Only silence.

The city hadn’t changed.

It still pulsed with life, still hummed with the same restless energy that had once made Y/N feel alive. The streets still buzzed with movement, neon lights flickering against the wet pavement, a kaleidoscope of colors stretching into the night. Taxis honked, music spilled from open windows, laughter drifted from bars where people gathered, unaware that the world, her world, felt unbearably still.

Everything looked the same.

But somehow, nothing felt the same.

Everywhere she turned, there was a ghost of something she wasn’t ready to face.

The small café on the corner, the one with the lopsided chairs and terrible coffee, she used to love it, used to claim it was so bad it was good. That was where Jennie had first reached across the table, absentmindedly tracing lazy patterns against Y/N’s wrist while talking about nothing and everything. She had done it so often that Y/N had started expecting it, had started needing it, the warmth of Jennie’s fingertips on her skin, the unspoken comfort of it.

Now, she couldn’t bring herself to go back.

Then there was the bookstore by the subway, the one that always smelled like old paper and fresh rain, where the aisles were too narrow and the owner always played soft jazz from an old record player. That was where Jennie had once pulled her between the shelves, away from prying eyes, pressing a kiss to the hinge of Y/N’s jaw before murmuring, “Shhh, we’re gonna get caught.” Y/N had laughed, breathless, pushing at Jennie’s shoulder even as she tilted her head to give her better access.

They never did get caught.

Now, Y/N couldn’t step onto that platform without hearing the echo of Jennie’s laughter, without feeling the ghost of her lips brushing against her skin.

Even her own apartment felt wrong.

The sheets had been washed, twice, maybe three times, but they still carried traces of Jennie’s perfume, that soft, expensive scent that clung to the air like a whisper. Her presence lingered in every room, in the half-empty bottle of wine on the counter from the last night Jennie had stayed over, in the sweatshirt she had borrowed and forgotten to take back.

Y/N had thought about throwing it away, about erasing every last remnant of her.

But she couldn’t.

Not yet.

And maybe that was the worst part, because the memories weren’t bad.

They weren’t sharp-edged or painful, weren’t laced with regret or anger. They were warm, golden, flashes of happiness that should have been comforting.

But instead, they felt like tiny betrayals.

How could something that had once felt so safe now feel so distant?

How could Jennie have loved her in every way except the one that mattered most?

Y/N exhaled slowly, pressing her fingertips to her temple, willing the ache away.

She should stop thinking about her. She should let it go. She should move on.

But her heart was still somewhere else.

Still standing in that room, waiting for Jennie to say something. Still hoping.

And god, wasn’t that the cruelest part of it all?

Jennie hadn’t slept much. Not since that night.

Not since she had watched Y/N walk away without looking back, disappearing through the door like she had never been there at all.

The hours blurred together, long and sleepless, stretching endlessly between dusk and dawn. Night after night, Jennie lay awake, staring at the ceiling, tracing invisible shapes against the sheets that still smelled like Y/N. It was a cruel trick of the senses, the way scent could linger long after someone was gone. No matter how many times she buried her face into her pillow, no matter how many times she told herself to forget, it was always there.

She told herself this was for the best. That it had always been inevitable. That Y/N was better off without someone who hesitated when it mattered most.

But the lie unraveled at the edges, thin and fragile, unable to hold under the weight of her thoughts.

Because Jennie couldn’t stop thinking.

Couldn’t stop replaying the moment Y/N had stood in front of her, eyes searching, heart wide open, waiting for Jennie to meet her halfway. Couldn’t stop hearing the way her voice had cracked, the way her breath had hitched just before she had stepped back, just before she had given up.

Please, just say something.

She had said nothing. She had let her go.

Jennie had never been good at falling.

Not the way Y/N was.

Y/N had always loved like it was second nature, like she didn’t know how to hold back. She threw herself into things completely, fearlessly, unafraid of the impact waiting at the bottom. Jennie had always admired that about her, had envied it, even.

But she couldn’t match it.

She had spent so much time guarding herself, convincing herself that love like that, love so reckless, so all-consuming, was dangerous. That it was safer to keep her distance, safer to stand on the edge rather than risk the fall.

But now? Now, she was paying the price for it.

The apartment was too quiet.

She still reached for Y/N in the middle of the night, only to be met with nothing but cold sheets. She still expected to hear her voice in the kitchen in the morning, still thought she’d turn a corner and find Y/N standing there, wrapped in one of Jennie’s hoodies, flashing her that easy, radiant smile.

But the space beside her remained empty. The apartment stayed silent. The walls no longer echoed with laughter, only the weight of everything Jennie hadn’t said.

And maybe Y/N was never coming back.

Jennie clenched her jaw, running a hand through her hair, frustration curling tight in her chest.

She had thought about calling. About texting. About something.

She had picked up her phone a hundred times, fingers hovering over the screen, trying to find the right words.

“I’m sorry.” “Come back.” “I should have said it when you needed me to.”

But none of it felt like enough.

Because what did apologies matter when they came too late?

So she did nothing, and the silence stretched, suffocating and endless.

Y/N sat by the window, knees pulled up to her chest, watching the city move without her.

Beyond the glass, the streets pulsed with life, headlights slicing through the darkness, neon signs flickering in a language she no longer felt fluent in. People wandered in and out of bars, laughter spilling into the night, taxi doors slamming shut, conversations buzzing through the air like static. The world was still spinning, untouched by the ache sitting heavy in her chest.

She should be fine by now.

She should be over it.

That’s what everyone kept telling her. That she would wake up one morning and the weight of Jennie would feel a little lighter, that her name wouldn’t taste quite so bitter, that the memories would start fading like ink washed away by time.

But heartbreak had its own timeline, its own cruel way of making you think you were okay, only to hit you like a wave when you least expected it.

And god, did it hit her now.

It crashed over her in the quiet moments, in the spaces Jennie used to fill. It settled into her bones, curled up inside her chest like something waiting to be felt, refusing to be ignored.

The worst part? She didn’t even want to let it go.

Her phone buzzed against the wooden table beside her.

She ignored it at first, assuming it was another well-meaning message from a friend checking in, asking if she wanted to talk about it, if she had been sleeping, eating, breathing properly.

Y/N didn’t have the heart to tell them that breathing wasn’t the problem. It was that every inhale still carried traces of Jennie, and every exhale felt like she was losing her all over again.

But then she felt a shift in the air, an instinct she couldn’t name.

She reached for her phone, fingers curling around it before flipping it over.

And suddenly, she couldn’t breathe at all.

Jennie [2:14 AM]: “Can we talk?”

Y/N’s heart stopped.

The city outside blurred at the edges, the neon lights smearing into streaks of color, the sounds fading into nothing but white noise. Everything else disappeared, because in this moment, it was just her and that message.

She stared at the screen, fingers trembling slightly, waiting, hoping, for more.

But nothing came.

No follow-up. No explanation.

Just those three words, sitting there like a half-finished sentence, like Jennie had almost said something before stopping herself.

And wasn’t that the story of them?

Jennie, almost loving her. Jennie, almost choosing her. Jennie, almost saying the words.

Her breath came in uneven pulls, her chest tight, her thumb hovering over the keyboard as a thousand thoughts collided all at once.

She could respond or she could ignore it. She could call Jennie right now, demand to know what she was trying to say, demand to know why it had taken this long for her to finally reach out.

Part of her wanted to. God, did she want to.

But another part, one that was still nursing the wounds Jennie had left behind, was afraid.

Because what if this was just another hesitation? What if Jennie had typed it out with every intention of fixing what had broken between them, only to realize, at the last second, that she still didn’t know how? What if this wasn’t hope at all? What if it was just another goodbye, disguised as something else?

Y/N swallowed hard, her grip tightening around the phone.

Her mind screamed at her to do something, to make a choice, to stop lingering in this purgatory of almosts.

And then another buzz came.

Jennie [2:26 AM]: “Please.”

Y/N inhaled sharply, the single word settling heavy in her chest.

Jennie had hesitated before.

But maybe this time, she wasn’t pulling away, and for the first time in weeks, Y/N truly didn’t know what to do.

[eclipixels]

Signature Dish

Kakashi Hatake x Reader

Content: History seems to repeat itself…

[1,086 words]

      You had no missions for the next two weeks, thank lord fourth for that. With nothing major on your plate, you spent the day running simple errands. After returning from the grocery store, an idea struck you—why not surprise the kids with a homemade lunch?

      Well, not your kids, obviously. But you treated them like they were. Especially Sasuke. Out of all the adults in Sasuke’s life, he just seemed to click with you. And also because he needed all the emotional support he could get. The last thing you wanted was for him to end up like Orochimaru, Nagato, or Madara. The Uchiha clan really had a history of issues… yikes.

      You couldn’t help but chuckle, remembering the time Naruto broke into your house, with Sasuke and Sakura trailing behind, desperately trying to stop him. Of course, he didn’t listen. He somehow found this dish you had been perfecting, and before you knew it, all three of them were on the kitchen floor, faces stuffed. The noises they made were so chaotic that you and Kakashi had genuinely thought a tailed beast had invaded.

      For lunch today, you decided to make that same dish. You packed everything neatly into a golden woven basket, along with some cups, a teapot, and green tea leaves.

      As you left the house and made your way toward the training field, you recalled Kakashi mentioning that today’s session was in the forest nearby. Great. More walking. Why did your husband have to drag these kids out to the middle of nowhere for training?

      Once inside the forest, you spotted their distinct hair colors from afar. As you got closer, you could see they were still training. Kakashi noticed you first, offering a subtle smile before calling for a break.

      “Finally! I thought we were never gonna stop," Naruto groaned, plopping onto a rock under the shade.

      ”Sensei!" Sakura was the first to call out as soon as she spotted you.

      "Huh? Y/n Sensei? What’re you doing here?" Naruto ran toward you while Sakura threw herself into a tight hug.

      "I made you guys lunch! It’s Y/n’s special. You know, the one you broke into our house for," you teased, placing the basket on a nearby log.

      "Yes! I love the food you make, it’s always the best!" Naruto cheered.

      "Way better than anything from a restaurant!" Sakura added, practically glowing with excitement.

      "Tch." Sasuke, as expected, sat a little farther away from the group, arms crossed.

      Leaning in close, you whispered to Kakashi, "Hey, why don’t you set up the food? I’ll be right back."

      You made your way over to Sasuke, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I made lunch for everyone. Come eat with us?"

      "I’m gonna keep practicing. You guys go ahead. I’m not even that hungry," he muttered.

      "Really? I made my signature dish. I thought that was your favorite," you said, frowning slightly.

      "Whatever. I don’t even like it that much—" His words were cut off by the loud growl of his stomach.

      You raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

      Sasuke scowled but said nothing as you grabbed his wrist and dragged him toward the others.

      Lunch was lively. Naruto and Sakura showered you with praise, while Kakashi casually enjoyed his food, lost in thought. You noticed the team had gotten stronger, and you couldn’t wait to see them take on higher-ranked missions.

      "Oh, by the way," Kakashi chimed in between bites, "your advice about Naruto and Sasuke combining their jutsus actually worked."

      "Wait, seriously? What did you guys create?" You perked up, feeling a rush of pride.

      "Rasengan Chidori!" Naruto blurted out, his mouth still full.

      "It’s Chidori Rasengan, you idiot," Sasuke huffed.

      "I think Rasengan Chidori rolls off the tongue better, don’t ya think?" Naruto argued.

      You laughed. "Are you two really fighting over whose jutsu name comes first? Why not come up with a completely new one together?"

      "The lightning thunderball of doom…gan!" Naruto exclaimed, thrusting his fist into the air, looking way too proud of himself.

      Everyone just stared.

      "What? Whatever, we’ll figure it out later," Sasuke grumbled, sipping his tea.

      “It’s a work in progress.” Naruto shrugged.

      Kakashi, meanwhile, remained deep in thought, his gaze distant. You wondered what was on his mind.

      That evening, far from the training grounds, Minato and Kushina sat together after a long day.

      "Why hasn’t Naruto come home yet?" Kushina asked, settling beside her husband.

      "Oh, there he is." Minato nodded toward the door as Naruto walked in. Speak of the devil.

      "Hey, what took you so long?" Kushina asked.

      "Sorry! Y/N-sensei brought us lunch and then stuck around to watch us train. We got carried away," Naruto explained, rubbing the back of his head.

      Minato’s nose twitched. "You smell like… wait. Did you eat Y/n’s signature dish?"

      Naruto blinked. "Yeah? How’d you know?"

      Kushina chuckled. "Everyone knows about it, it’s delicious."

      Minato shook his head with a small laugh. "I remember when you used to bring lunch for my team, Kushina. You always brought ‘Kushina’s Special.’"

      "Well, well, history repeats itself. But I think Y/N’s might be my new competition," Kushina teased.

      —

      Later that night, as the cool summer breeze drifted through the open windows, Kakashi lay on your lap, his head resting against your thigh while the glow of the TV flickered across the room.

      "Y’know," he murmured, "you bringing lunch today felt really nostalgic."

      You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his silver hair. "Really? How so?"

      "Kushina used to do the same for us—me, Obito, and Rin. Watching you with Sasuke today reminded me a lot of how she was with Obito. Almost exactly the same."

      Your eyes widened. "Wait. There was a Kushina’s Special?!" You gasped, suddenly panicking. "Oh my God, what’s wrong with me?! I have to change the name of my recipe! No—no, I have to erase it from existence! Ah—"

      Kakashi grabbed your face, cutting off your meltdown. "Calm down, Y/N. You’re going to wake the entire village."

      "B-but—"

      "She wouldn’t even care that much," he assured you, rolling his eyes.

      You squinted. "You sure?"

      "Positive."

      Letting out a deep sigh, you finally relaxed. "Phew! Almost lost my mind there." You laughed.

      Kakashi just stared at you.

      "Why are you looking at me like that?" you deadpanned before casually shoving him off the couch.

      "H-hey!" He tried to grab onto something—anything—but ultimately failed, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

      He really just tried to grab air. You couldn’t stop laughing.