#(( sorry that i left so much responding to you but

[catchastarorten]

—Babysit.

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho x lover!fem!reader

Summary: your sister and her husband wanted a romantic night out, so they left their baby girl for you and Dae-ho to babysit.

Content: fluff, your niece is a sweetheart, comfort, cuddles, he would be such a good dad, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 0.9k

You hadn’t planned on spending the evening babysitting, but when your sister called, practically glowing through the phone about her “much-needed” romantic night out, you couldn’t say no. She sounded so happy, and besides, it wasn’t like you and Dae-ho had anything else to do.

Now, here you were, standing in the middle of your small but cozy apartment, watching your niece barely wobbling on her feet, a ball of curiosity.

She explored every inch of your apartment, cooing at the strangest things—like the edge of the coffee table, the fabric of the couch, even the hem of Dae-ho’s sleeve. You had expected to feel exhausted keeping up with her, but instead, a warmth bloomed in your chest.

She nearly fell once, her tiny legs unable to balance after an attempt at climbing onto the couch. Your heart leapt into your throat, but before you could reach for her, Dae-ho had already caught her, his strong arms circling her tiny frame with effortless ease.

The baby blinked up at him in surprise before breaking into a delighted giggle.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” Dae-ho chuckled, his deep voice gentle in a way you knew too well. He set her down carefully on the carpet, then crouched beside her. “Alright, let’s take this one step at a time, okay?”

She cooed, bouncing on her feet, and grabbed onto his outstretched hands as he guided her. She stumbled, but he never let her fall.

You smiled from where you sat on the couch, watching the two of them. The sight was unexpectedly heartwarming. Dae-ho was so patient with her in a way that made something deep inside your chest ache.

You had never really thought about him as a father before, but now, watching him crouch beside the baby, murmuring softly as he guided her across the room, the thought lingered in your mind.

Every time Dae-ho shifted, your niece's dark eyes followed him, wide and filled with trust. She clung to his fingers when she walked, her tiny feet tapping against the floor as she took cautious steps forward.

“She likes you,” you commented, gaze softening.

Dae-ho glanced up at you with a smile. “Well, I did save her from an untimely fall.”

You let out a chuckle, settling beside them on the floor as your niece plopped down, kicking her feet happily. She babbled something incoherent before reaching for your sleeve, tugging it as if she had something important to say.

“Oh? What is it?” you asked, leaning in curiously.

She responded by patting your cheek with her chubby hand, giggling at her own actions. Dae-ho laughed quietly at the sight.

You and him spent the next hour like that, playing and entertaining the baby, who seemed to have an endless supply of energy.

At one point, she discovered the small bookshelf in the corner and decided it was her mission to pull out every book within reach. Dae-ho sat beside her, handing them back as she babbled nonsense, clearly delighted with her newfound game.

The night was peaceful—until the storm rolled in.

It started with a soft patter of rain against the window, then came the distant rumble of thunder. At first, your niece didn’t seem to notice, too busy playing with the different couch pillows. But when a loud clap of thunder shook the apartment, she startled, her tiny fingers clenched into fists, and her lip wobbled before she let out a tiny, fearful whimper.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you murmured, immediately scooping her into your arms.

She buried her face against your chest, curling into you as if trying to disappear. You rocked her gently, rubbing circles on her back while whispering soft reassurances.

Dae-ho, who had been watching quietly, joined you on the couch. He didn’t say anything, just leaned in and placed a hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles.

“She’s scared,” you said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Another roll of thunder crashed outside, and the baby let out a soft cry, burrowing even deeper into your embrace. Without hesitation, Dae-ho reached out and pulled both of you toward him, wrapping his arms around you in a loose but protective hold.

He shifted closer, pulling the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch around the three of you. “She’s safe,” he said, his voice low and steady.

Dae-ho rested his chin on the top of your head, one hand stroking the baby’s back soothingly. His other arm remained around you, his touch solid and steady.

“It’s okay,” he whispered to the baby. “We’ve got you.”

Your niece sniffled but didn’t cry again, just let out a long, shaky sigh as her tiny fingers loosened their grip.

The three of you curled together on the couch, a small huddle of warmth against the storm outside. You could hear the steady rhythm of her breathing as she finally began to drift off, her weight growing heavier as sleep took over.

You glanced at Dae-ho. He was watching her with something tender in his gaze. When he looked up and met your eyes, that same look softened into something deeper.

The rain continued its steady rhythm, and the thunder softened, growing distant. The apartment was quiet aside from the occasional rustle of the blanket and the soft, barely there snores of the baby girl nestled between the two of you.

Dae-ho was quiet for a moment, then pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I think we did pretty well,” he mumbled.

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “Yeah. I think so too.”

[kaisentine]

is the mikage corp’s heir trying to steal your man? you know that he probably is.

purple is a unique color, purple is a noticeable hair color, purple is a striking eye color, purple is the color you can see from your peripheral vision when nagi is snuggling up against your side.

“sei . . . did you invite mikage?” you lean down to whisper in his ear—referring to reo as mikage because you aren’t at all close at him nor do you think he likes you. anyway, nagi didn’t mention anything about inviting his best friend today.

he’s too lazy to look at you to respond but you see the way his head just barely moves when he opens his mouth, “nope.” he matches the volume of your voice. so was this considered a break in or . . ?

you fight the urge to cling onto nagi like a koala because reo just keeps . . . staring. “sei, he’s literally in your apartment.” you deadpan as quietly as possible whilst trying to keep audible for him to hear because you know damn well he’s about to fall asleep right on you shoulder.

this time, he moves his head to look up at you. then his eyes start wandering off to the side—did he finally see him? you get the answer when he starts speaking. “reo? why’re you here?” he asks the purple haired male—not bothering to mention how he got in because nagi was the one who gave him the keys.

finally, he actually steps out of the shadows. he looks scary like this, giving you a deadly glare. “sorry, did i interrupt? i was just going to check in on you.” he quickly switches up when answering your boyfriend. obviously he interrupted something . . . but to your dismay, nagi only shakes his head.

the night ends with nagi sandwiched by two people: his very lovely amazing partner and reo.

it feels like you’re in a constant competition with mikage reo. the way you lowkey have to fight with him to snag the place beside nagi.

you and reo glare at each other as soon as you guys see the vacant spot on nagi’s left side. it’s gonna be a race that reo wins, you know that for sure—you’re not even gonna try to win against a freaking scary 6’1 soccer player.

so while he is fast walking to his best friend’s side, you’re taking slow strides to catch up. it’s only a matter of seconds before he sits his ass down triumphantly in victory—you roll your eyes at him. when you do get to the destination, you’re giving him the “i’m gonna win in the end anyway” type of glare.

nagi obviously doesn’t care,he probably doesn’t even know what just transpired because he’s still on his phone playing some video game.

“sei, you’re still on that game?” you ask, standing on the other side beside him. he hums as a little yes to your question, you let out a fake chuckle. “you’ve been playing for too long, i wanted to show you something.” you pout and almost direct an evil grin to reo but stop because nagi pauses his game to look at you, grey eyes lazily staring back at you. “what’d you wanna show me?” he’s interested now, he hates surprises because it’s too much of a hassle to think about what it could be. “it’s in your bedroom,” you put an innocent smile at the end and he’s already jumping out of his chair. when you’re both leaving reo to sulk on the counter, you turn back to flash him a devious smile—the one you intended to give him the first time.

“we’ll be right back,” said nagi.

you guys were in-fact not right back.

reo later found you guys sleeping on nagi’s bed, bodies all up against each other.

i don’t think nagi understands the phrase “bros before hoes” nor does he understand “hoes before bros”. . . he doesn’t really care—he’s too lazy to give a fuck.

sticky note. i feel like nagi is lowkey a red flag or probably a yellow ( beige??? ) flag . . .

[v6quewrlds]

need joe comforting doctor wifey after a rough day at the clinic ❤️

Her eyes were dry, squinting behind her blue light glasses as she typed away at her laptop, trying her best to wrap up her notes. The pink sticky note stuck to her laptop was an eyesore, an unwelcome reminder she needed to respond to a handful of patient messages. The sterile smell of her office seemed to cling to her skin despite her shower, a scent she'd become too familiar with. Her fingers danced over the keyboard, finishing off the last of the messages with a click. She looked up at the clock hanging over the sink, noticing it was later than she had anticipated.

The sound of the garage door echoed through the quiet house as Joe's car pulled in. She felt a flutter of relief in her chest, releasing an exhale through her parted lips. Her thoughts were interrupted by the thump of the door as Joe entered the kitchen, his eyes scanning the room before settling on her. His shoulders visibly relaxed upon seeing her, a small smile dancing in his eyes at the sight of her, cozy and home.

He approached the kitchen island with a soft step, placing his bag down before crossing the room. Her fingers paused mid-type as Joe leaned over, kissing her forehead lightly before lightly pecking her lips. "Hey, baby," he said, his voice a gentle rumble as he retreated towards the fridge. He pulled out a bottle of BodyArmor, cracked it open, and took a sip before walking over to her.

Joe studied her profile, noticing the tension in her jaw and the dark circles beneath her eyes. "You okay?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. She nodded, her eyes still on the screen. "You looked drained when you left this morning."

She took a deep breath, turning her attention towards him with a sigh. "It was a tough day. Had to break some bad news," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "Two patients with melanoma. They're both young too… it's so unfair."

Joe's heart sank. He knew how much her work meant to her, how much she bonded with her patients. He stepped closer, passing her the bottle of the sports drink. "That sucks. I'm sorry, babe."

She took it, sipping the sweet liquid before handing it back to him with a soft 'thanks'. He capped the bottle and set it aside, moving to stand behind her as she resumed her typing. His hands settled on her shoulders, giving them a firm but gentle squeeze before beginning to massage them. His thumbs worked into the knots that had formed, and she couldn't help but let out a small moan of relief.

"With the private equity buyout, the clinic's been pushing us to see more patients, and it's just… it's not right," she said, her voice carrying the weight of her frustration. Joe hummed in response, his thumbs moving in slow circles as he listened. "I feel like I can't give them the care they deserve. It's all about the numbers now. Might have to extend my work hours from four days to five just so I can spend more time with each one."

Joe suppressed a frown, his thumbs pausing for a brief moment before resuming their soothing dance. He knew how much she cared about her work, how much it meant to her to not just show up but to truly help people. "You're doing your best," he said, his voice steady. "You're one person, sweetheart. You can't save the whole world."

She leaned back into his touch, the tension in her shoulders gradually loosening. "I know," she murmured. "But it's just hard not to feel like I should be doing more."

Joe leaned over her, his hands coming to rest on the island on either side of her. His face gently nuzzled into her neck, his breath warm against her skin. "If you have to work five days, then we'll make it work," he murmured. They remained still for a moment as Joe's hand moved to shift her hair to allow him access to the curve of her neck, pressing soft kisses along the line of her jaw.

Her eyes fluttered shut, her shoulders dropping slightly as she leaned into his presence. The warmth of his body was comforting, a solid wall grounding her for just a minute. "I hate that I'm bringing this home with me," she whispered, her voice tight. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Joe said, his voice firm. "You care and that's what makes you so good at what you do." He kissed her again, his lips lingering longer this time. "Did you eat anything today?"

She thought back to the sliced apple, unpleasant protein bar, and the handful of almonds she'd scarfed down in between patients. "Barely," she admitted, her stomach giving a little grumble of protest.

Joe's eyes narrowed slightly. "Come on, let's get you fed," he said, his voice gentle but firm as he pulled away from her neck. He took her hand, tugging her out of the chair. She protested weakly, but the feeling of his strong hand in hers, the sight of him looking at her with such care, made it difficult to argue.

She feebly laughed when he bent to lift her by her thighs, carrying her to the couch without a second thought. "Is this what we're doing?" she teased, her smile betraying the weariness in her voice.

"Yeah," Joe said with a grin, settling her comfortably on the couch. "Chef's day off, so it's either me cooking, which would be a disaster, or we order in." He set her down, falling back against the couch before motioning to join him. She took her place, resting her head on his chest as he began to scroll through the delivery options on his phone.

The quiet in the room was comfortable, the low murmur of Joe's voice as he read out various menu items soothing her halfway to sleep. She listened to his suggestions, feeling the gentle throb of his heart against her cheek, a steady rhythm that she found incredibly calming. Her eyes felt heavy, and she could feel the tension in her lower back slowly dissipate under his slow touch.

author's note⠀⁎⠀i have a bunch of free time this weekend so i'll have two more blurbs, plus the superbowl fic <3

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ LITTLE LIGHT

tw. vampire!iwa, noncon, pain play, cannibalism, blood

iwaizumi x fem!reader, for the ‘here be monsters’ event

The figure is hunched over another body like a gargoyle. Statuesque shoulders sculpted against the dark walls of the alley almost look beautiful. In their horror.

His teeth are sunken deep into their throat as blood pumps out of the veins he’s sliced open. It’s not pretty, or clean. It is not gentle nor sexual like in books, and more than anything, it douses you in a fear unlike anything else. You can’t feel your fingers, drenched in blood. You don’t feel the glass shard that’s sliced open your palm, only a dull thumping.

Red paints his face much like a lion on prey. The pulsing vein sprays blood with a desperate gurgle — dead limbs falling to the floor. There’s more bodies left in a heap behind him, icy, cold things stained with maroon. Your stomach twists, and bile rises in your throat. Sour that you swallow down, along with your spit.

Fear makes your heart bang too loud, as he bites, gnashing meat between deathly sharp teeth. Your back is slicked, stuck to the damp wall, no way out. You could try to climb, but the walls are so high, and- His stony features seem like marble as his lashes flick up only to regard you.

You scramble. You claw at the wall, trying and failing so desperately to jump high enough to escape. All you do is get tears stuck in your throat, as pitched, pathetic, prey-like whines come out of your chest despite yourself. “Please, god, please, please, please. I won’t do it again, I won’t ever do it again. Please.” 

Before you have a chance to right your mistake, hands are on you. Cold nails that yank your head back as they tangle in your hair, as heavy puffs of air brush over your neck. Instead of screaming like you know you should, your whispers only continue. You don’t know why. You’re not particularly religious. “Please, please, please! Plea-” 

The touch makes you choke. Your heart beats like a little rabbit mid-flight, and pumps so much adrenaline to your extremities it’s making you tingle. It smells like blood, heavy and thick and everything feels so much louder between your ears than it is and — the pain you wait for doesn’t come.

Your eyes slowly flutter open. With your head turned like it is, you can catch his jawline beside you, chin and neck dripping blood, exposed collar and chest pressed against your back. He’s still- panting like an overexcited dog into your temple. “P-please. I-” When you try to budge, the fingers holding your skull still tighten, and his nose buries deeper into your crown.

“You’re sweet.”

The deep, gravelly tone washes over you. Makes your back break out in goosebumps. Your fingers burn hot. Before you can respond, his other hand slides down your front along your body until it settles between your legs. “So fucking sweet, little bun.” His breaths are cold against you, and again you try and fail to escape the hold he has on your hair. Your hand hurts. Stings bad, a soaring pain that travels up your arm. Suddenly, your daze clears enough to feel the glass you’re still clamping your fingers around. “I don’t like my lunch so sugary sweet but-”

You slash at him. Wildly jam the glass where you can reach, and turn. It’s enough to release his hold on you and let you run back the way you came. Your feet splat on the pool of blood, hands reaching out to push yourself forward.

But it’s no use. You land hard, clattering teeth, as an impossibly huge, heavy body presses you to the cold floor. Your cheek scrapes the pavement when he forces you to look back, nails digging deep into your cheeks. “So cute… did that feel good?” His face is right on yours as he smiles, teeth all bloody. His tongue is stained a deep red. “Did you like hurting something for once? You wanna play rough?” 

“No, no, please. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

He shushes you, presses his lips over your pulse point. “That’s okay, bunny. Shh, shh, it’s okay.” Hot hands glide down your body as he leaves small kisses all along your neck to the crook of your neck, before breathing out. “Keep pressure on it, m’kay?” Teeth break flesh. And immediately, a biting pain takes over you. It’s acidic, burning as you pant out against the pain— it’s all you can focus on even when his hands pull your pants over your ass.

“Hold it,” he grunts when he pulls back, revealing that devilish mouth with your blood. Your legs shake from the adrenaline, as you do as you’re told. Wet, hot blood pulses between your fingers as you hold the flesh together that’s been bitten open. Spilling down your chest, down your forearms, it coats everything maroon when you pull back. “Let me see that pretty, frightened face.”

You’re turned around like you’re a ragdoll, too easily tossed between his legs. Olive greens peer down at you, gleaming in the low light, as he breathes out a chuckle. You know you’re crying. You were crying for the second he was on you- but now you start to choke on it, constricting your throat- it doesn’t move him. It’s so much feeling that you go umb to it. “There she is.” He pulls your pants down your calves as he bites his bottom lip. “Doesn’t it feel good, baby? So full of fear, all that adrenaline?”

The pain fades, though you know it shouldn’t. You’re bleeding out. Yet all you can feel is the icy cold of his skin on yours, leaving hot trails in their wake. Your stomach turns, as you stare back at him. It doesn’t scare him. “It does, don’t it?” He licks his wet lips, before pushing your knees apart. “I’ll make you feel even better. Just gotta part these- uhuh, that’s a good girl.” You’re too weak to stop him from pushing you open entirely, as his nails hook on the wet crotch of your panties.

Almost mockingly, he pulls the fabric taught before leaning down. His eyebrow lifts, irises completely black now. “Sweet, with such a wet little hole. You must make all the boys crazy.” Your legs tremble, and your pussy slicks up under his patient, prodding fingers, raking the touches all over your bottom half until your vision goes blurry.

“I don’t- I- I-“

Only then does he push his only article of clothing down his meaty thighs, and wipes the back of his hand along his mouth. A loud pulse beats between your ears, and your hands are warm and sticky, but you don’t move. You’re frozen under him, extremities cold. Once he’s done undressing, he heaves himself above you so you’re face to face, and those soulless eyes glint amusingly. You’re staring.

His cock is big, and veiny, and almost mockingly, the only color left in his body is the red blood flowing under the skin. It’s cruel. The aching pain all over your body hasn’t faded, it’s just- less important when you meet his touch, allow him to cup your cheek. “Want it?” You want him to fill you up entirely, spill out into your body until you’re whole. He lifts one leg aside to wrap around his hips, before pushing into your unprepared pussy hard. It makes you squeak, head falling back.

“Oh, god. Oh my- fuck, agh-ah. No, no, please.” The push is too tight for only a few pumps before you start to melt, and his nose buries into your hair to breathe deep and overly loud. It’s gross, it is, but your body doesn’t comply. It only blurs the edges of pleasure and pain further, taking over your vision in wobbly black spots— and your body melts into his with each pump.

He’s so heavy. Heavier than any human has any right to be, crushing you into his touch and forming to his shape, as he takes your air and forces kisses onto your mouth. “Smell like fucking toffee apple, baby.” He presses another kiss to your lips as you’re mumbling pleas, then forces your hands away. “Let me see. You’ve made me all hungry.”

He licks his gums, before pushing your head further back. He tangles your fingers with his as he bites down, just enough to take you breath away as he fucks you open. The ache is soft as soon as his teeth pull back. The blood pools in his mouth, and spills over onto his chin. “Just a little more.”

[formula-ghost]

Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Even though you agreed to forgive Oscar, you realize quickly that nothing can go back to how it was before, and some old flames never die.

WORD COUNT: 10.1k

WARNINGS: Lando is very mean to reader behind her back, also reader is lowkey so dumb and frustrating but that's intentional.

TAGLIST: @at-a-rax-ia  @henna006 @linnygirl09 @cassielikereading @judelina @supertrashbread @fastandcurious16 @widow-cevans @czennieszn @irisesinthegarden @wierdflowerpower @sweetwh0re @reginalaufeyson-holmes @honethatty12 @suns3treading @obxstiles @mimiastroos @mrs-reeves-17 @milkysoop @amalialeclerc @starksztony @llando4norris @ginsengi @angxlzinthesky @makanirock05 @htpssgavi @lilypat @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @ameliaalvarez06

A/N: A few things: (1) This one is for Billie. The Grammys did her DIRTY. (2) I realized I have horrifically messed up the pacing since real F1 races are so close together so we’re gonna pretend like there are a few weeks in between Imola and Monaco because this is my fanfic and I make the rules. (3) If this is bad I’m sorry, my life is a mess right now and I’m so sorry it took me so long to get this out to you guys! (4) I went back and found a few people that accidently got left out of the taglist, my bad! I’ve linked the previous chapters below so you can catch up (5) As always, I hope you all enjoy :)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

From your balcony, you sighed in contentment as you heard the gentle lapping of waves from the endless expanse of water that stretched out before you. There were yachts teeming with giggling models, the chattering of French spoken on the streets below, the buzz of such a city of opulence. It was music to your ears. 

The view of Monaco was one you never thought you’d get tired of. The place, though so new, also felt so much like home to you. The streets were paved with hope and memory, the water brimming with joy yet to be.

All of it was yours. Because of Oscar.

Yet again, his name came to your mind to taunt you. 

Maybe taunt was too strong of a word. You weren’t quite sure. You weren’t sure of much of anything, anymore.

Your interactions with your friend had been…awkward, to say the least. You had made a vow to yourself to forgive him, but he seemed…a little too excited to be forgiven, if that made any sense. He wanted to go back to the way that things had been before all of this, but how was that possible?

You had explored every inch of each other’s bodies. You had held each other in the heat of passion. How are you supposed to act as if none of that ever happened?

His words echoed in your brain. I can’t be the boyfriend you deserve. Not right now, at least. 

You had never even asked Oscar to be official. The thought was too far-fetched. I just want my friend back in my life. Like all of that never happened.

Well, at least one of you got what you wanted.

But then again, you truly didn’t know what you wanted from him anymore. To Oscar’s credit, you weren’t exactly making it easy to get back in your good graces.  

The one thing you had been sure you wanted was more independence. No more living in an apartment that Oscar owned, or letting him jetset you across the world to his races and paying for all your expensive dinners.

No, it was time to be your own woman. That meant leaving Monaco.

So you took advantage of every morning you still had in this city that you’d grown to love, knowing that soon, you’d have to leave.

“You don’t have to go.”

Oscar’s voice floated into your ears. He had practically moved in; he was trying to sell his larger apartment, and the place was constantly swarming with real estate agents and potential buyers. Even if it wasn’t so hectic, he hated being there alone, and you refused to go back there with him. Not after the confrontation with Lily back in Imola.

“You don’t have to leave,” he repeated. “I know you’re thinking about it.”

Sometimes it felt like Oscar could read your mind.

“Yes I do,” you responded, sipping your tea, not shifting your gaze from the water. 

“I can just give you the apartment, if you’re worried about it being in your name. I can pay the gift tax too.”

“No,” you whispered. 

“I have more money that I’d ever know what to do with, YN—”

“I don’t,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “So I can’t stay here.”

Oscar knew his arguments were all in vain. You were nothing if not stubborn.

“I need you here,” he said.

“I’ll be just across the border.” It was more than likely; you could probably get a decent apartment in Nice within your budget.

“And what about at my races?”

“I’ll always come to Monaco.” You were also contemplating quitting your job; you hadn’t said it aloud yet, but Oscar knew. You were just waiting until you found something stable to quit. It was only a matter of time.

He was already pushing his luck. You walked past him back into the apartment and the Aussie sighed. 

He didn’t have long to fix all that he had fucked up. 

Especially considering your newfound friendship with Lando, although you had done your best to keep that hidden. Something about it felt…wrong. Like a betrayal. 

Morning pretty girl, read the message from the Brit on your phone. You smiled but rolled your eyes. Lando’s playful flirting and banter was comical to you. Of course, it meant nothing. Lando wasn’t your type, and you weren’t his. 

You shot him back a good morning text of your own, before setting your phone down in the living room to clean up your breakfast. Your phone buzzed again, and Oscar grabbed it.

“You got a message from…Lando?”

“Put my phone down, Oscar.”

“Why are you texting Lando?” 

“Am I not allowed to have friends?”

You walked back into the living room, where Oscar handed you your phone. You plopped down on the couch, opening the device to see what he had texted you. 

You up for a coffee later today? There’s a new cafe I’ve been wanting to try.

You texted back quickly, affirming that you’d be there. 

“What did he want?”

“Oscar, seriously? I’m grown.”

“I’m just curious.”

“He just wanted to get coffee later today.”   

“He asked you on a date?” His face was red with impending anger.

“It’s not a date. It’s coffee. Amongst friends and coworkers, which we are. You weren’t this worried when you all left me with him in Italy,” you said, staring into the stitches on the decorative pillows on your couch.

“Things were different then.” 

His words were dripping with some unrecognizable emotion—regret, maybe, or sadness. You couldn’t be sure. But it startled you.

So you ignored it, instead grabbing your laptop and headphones before sitting at your kitchen table. “I have to get this stuff done,” you said, and Oscar just nodded. 

He had his own work to take care of. 

Later that afternoon, as you wrapped up your work and got ready to meet Lando at the cafe, you were already feeling Oscar’s absence throughout your small apartment.

It was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place; you wanted to stay in Monaco, to stay by Oscar’s side, for everything to stay the way that they had always been. But you knew that you just couldn’t.

“Why?” Lando asked, sipping on some fancy tea ordered from the admittedly adorable cafe in a hidden corner of Monte Carlo. Despite your better judgements, you had confided in him about your anxieties regarding the future. “Why would you need to leave so badly? I don’t get it. Just let him pay for all your shit. It’s the least he can do.”

“No, I’ve relied on him for too long,” you answered. “I just need to be more of myself. We’ve always been so…intertwined.”

“I know you two are close.”

“No, it’s more than that. It’s like…our lives are just, I don’t know, connected? Like I didn’t know where my story ended and his began. It’s hard to explain.”

“You must be heartbroken.”

You raised a brow. That wasn’t quite the word you’d use. “What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, to have all of this happen. You must miss him a lot.” 

“Oh, well, he practically lives with me,” you laughed. “This all started because we got into it before Miami, but we’ve made up now. It’s just hard having to navigate all the logistics.” 

“Oh,” he replied, his voice tinged with a snark that you weren’t quite sure what to make of. He raised his eyebrows and took another sip of his tea.

“What?” you asked. 

“Well, it’s just…I mean, that was quick.” He wouldn’t meet your gaze. “Back in Imola, you seemed pretty pissed at him.” 

“I was. But,” you paused, swirling a small spoon around your own drink, “That crash was bad. Things like it just put everything in perspective, you know?”

“So everything’s fine between the two of you now, because he hit a wall?” Lando chuckled, sarcasm dripping from every word.

You looked up, your brows furrowed in confusion. “Really?”

“I just think you deserve better. You shouldn’t have to beg someone to love you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek before replying, “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but that’s not what’s happening at all.”

“It isn’t?”

“Who told you any of this?” you asked. 

You didn’t know that Oscar had told him everything, that drunken night after Miami. And what you didn’t know, Lando decided, couldn’t hurt you. He liked having the upper hand, dropping little hints that his knowledge was far beyond what anyone thought. “Why does that matter? It’s obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes.”

“Just like it was so obvious that Oscar was cheating on me with Lily?”  You looked back down to the now cold contents of your cup.

Lando was silent for a minute. “Things don’t have to be like this, YN.”

“It’s funny, cause that’s exactly what Oscar told me.”

“Why do you let him get away with all this shit?”

“Do you really think I just welcomed him back into my life like nothing happened? Forgiveness isn’t that simple. Just because we’re not screaming at each other doesn’t mean that everything is fine. It’s… complicated.”

“I’m sure it is. But can I ask you a question?”

You just tilted your head in response, mentally preparing for whatever curveball he’d throw you next. You liked the banter with Lando; it was challenging, like a back and forth dance, or a chess game.

Lando leaned in close, lowering his voice. “You said Oscar practically moved in with you. Where does he sleep at night?”

You laughed at the implication. “I’m not sleeping with him anymore.” 

“Anymore?” he asked.

You paused, your smile fading. Lando’s smile spread ear to ear. 

You had lost the game, finally revealing the truth without even intending to. 

“You’re good, Norris,” you said, swirling your spoon around the cup just to give your hands something to do. “Too good. You know, Oscar’s not too fond of me being here.”

“I’m sure he’s not,” Lando replied. “I’m sure he tells you all sorts of horrible things about me.”

“Are they true?” you asked, though Oscar had told you nothing of the sort. His hesitations came off more as paranoid ramblings rather than juicy gossip or evidence-based skepticism. 

Lando leaned in and smirked at you. “Why don’t you roll over in bed tonight and ask him?”

Your phone buzzed as you fumbled in your bag for your keys outside your front door. You spotted the lanyard, and held your phone in one hand as you closed your bag in the other.

It was really nice to see you today. I’d like to do it again. 

You let out a half laugh, half exhale. Lando was… fun. Dangerous, in a way. He had a mysterious air about him that surprised you, and it was intoxicating. 

You knew you needed to be more careful about what you let slip. He seemed to know every detail, all coming from some phantom source you couldn’t trace. Being a social media manager, you were acutely aware of how easily words could get misconstrued and livelihoods could be destroyed. 

But so was Lando, and after all, it wasn’t like he was a stranger to controversy.

You unlocked the door to your apartment and locked your phone. You’d get to that text later. For now, you had a seemingly endless mountain of work—domestic and professional—to tackle.

But as you set down your bag, you heard the familiar sound of your kitchen sink running.

Oscar was…doing dishes?

You made your way into the kitchen and stood in the entryway. “You didn’t have to do that,” you said. “I was just about to take care of it.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. 

“You should be, like, training or something, not doing my dishes.” You smiled. He didn’t.

“How’d your afternoon with Lando go?” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the sink, facing you. His expression was unreadable.

Truthfully? Odd. Exhilarating. Anxiety-inducing. But you couldn’t say that to Oscar now. 

And as you saw his imposing form, even sloped away from you, the words that the Brit had planted in your head echoed. 

The more time you spent with Lando, the more tense you were with Oscar. You recognized that. 

“It was fine,” you said. You guessed that was the right word to use, at least.

Oscar hung his head low, studying the floor. He was nervous. “Can I tell you something, friend to friend?”

“What?”

“I don’t really like you spending time with Lando.”

You just looked at him, stopped in your tracks by his audacity. “Are you serious?”

“You know he’s up to nothing good, right? Conveniently hitting you up when we’re fighting for the championship, and then he ran brake checked me into the fucking wall in Imola—”

“Oh my God, you are serious.”

“I don’t know what he’s told you, but you can’t trust him.”

“Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds coming from you?”

“YN, just hear me out—”

“Now now, Oscar,” you said, grabbing your headphones and laptop and walking out onto your balcony.  

You took a deep breath before slipping your headphones on and trudging through the work.

You closed the laptop as the sun began to set over Monaco. Oscar walked out onto the patio and sat next to you. 

“I’m going to say this once,” he said. “Please just listen to me, YN. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” 

“I know,” he said. “But I know a liar when I see one. He doesn’t love you, YN. He’s just using you.” 

You were digging your nails into your palm. 

“I don't know what his game is, but we’re all just pawns in it,” he said, his tone more frantic.

“I need to go to bed,” you said. ‘I have to be up early,” you walked past him into the apartment, but he grabbed you by the sleeve.

“YN, listen to me!”

You turned around to face him, your anger now fully unleashed. “Has it ever occurred to you that someone might just like me for me? Can you even imagine a man loving me for more than my body? He’s never even tried to get in my pants.”

“I see the way he looks at you.”

“And so what if he does?”

“He’s trying to drive a wedge between us.”

“You’re the only one driving a wedge between us, Oscar.”

“YN, I’m just saying this because I’m worried about you! You shouldn’t trust him.”

“And I should trust you instead?”

Oscar paused. “YN, I love you and—”

“Stop. Just…stop. I actually do have to go to bed.” You wiped your eyes, swatting away the faintest trace of tears that had come up. “I have to go look at an apartment tomorrow.”

Oscar bit his lip and huffed. “I thought you had forgiven me, YN.”

“I have.”

No. At the hospital, in Imola. I asked you to forgive me so we could be friends again and you said yes. Then you go and start flirting with my teammate and saying you're going to leave Monaco. I don't understand why you’re still so mad at me. I don’t know what to do.”

“Oscar, none of this is about you!” you exclaimed. “I mean, it is, but this isn’t some petty act of revenge. This is about the fact that I need my own life.”

“I used to be part of your life.”

“You used to be my entire life,” you said, and laughed. “Shit, you still are. You don’t get it.”

“I guess I don’t.”

You both paused, soaking in the tension of the scene.

“And you didn’t ask for my forgiveness,” you said. “You asked to act like none of this ever happened. I can’t do that. We…crossed a line. Things are different now.”

The tiniest part of you wanted to hop back on the other side of that line and drag Oscar into your bedroom right now. You craved the feeling of him stretching you, your hands clawing up his back or burying themselves in his hair as he buried his tongue— 

“You said never again,” he whispered. “But we both still feel the same, don’t we?” 

“I really need to go to bed.”

That night, Oscar took the couch. It didn’t matter. You couldn’t sleep. 

As you tossed and turned, you considered Oscar’s word against Lando’s, Lando’s against Oscar’s. 

Lando had said you shouldn’t forgive Oscar. And to his credit, Oscar was making that very difficult. But had you not given your best friend your word?

And what Oscar had said about Lando; he wasn’t trustworthy, he was just using you as a pawn. You hated to admit it, but it was probably true. Hell, Lando would never go for a girl like you. But the back and forth of your banter brought you a thrill you hadn’t felt in months. 

Shit, you had never texted him back. Did you really want to see him again?

You didn’t know how long this charade could go on, until Lando got whatever it is that he really wanted. But Oscar’s words still burned you with fury. 

I’d love to. 

You rode the train to Nice like a zombie, traversing the shitty apartment with lead feet, yawning the entire time. You weren’t missing much. 

Your phone buzzed with a text from Oscar, and you read it on the train ride back. 

I’m sorry for last night.

It’s fine, you replied.

Almost instantly, another message. No, it’s not. I should have just minded my own business. 

You were too exhausted to think of a reply, needing all your energy to make it from the train station back to your apartment in Monaco unscathed and collapse on the bed. 

“How was the apartment?” Oscar asked from the bathroom, preoccupied with his shaving. 

“Shitty,” you mumbled, face into the pillow. 

Oscar looked over. “Sleep badly last night?”

“You don’t even know,” you huffed. “Wait, where are you going?” 

“Buyer,” he said simply, sparing your exhausted brain the boring details of real estate management. 

You made some unintelligible noise in response. “Get some rest,” he said. “I’ll wake you up when I’m back, yeah?”

You handed him a thumbs up as you pulled the covers over you and fell asleep within minutes. 

Oscar would have given anything to be back in that bed, curled up next to you. Instead, he was inside his old, empty apartment, with Lily. 

It had been in her name too, after all. She had to be there for the sale, though neither were too happy to see each other. They looked over documents wordlessly, shuffling the papers back and forth between them, just anxious to get it over with. 

As the lawyers and real estate agents packed up their belongings, Lily sighed, clearly unamused. “It's a bit ridiculous that I had to fly all the way to Monaco for that, no?” 

“Yeah, sorry,” Oscar said, doing his best to make idle conversation. “So, how are things at work?”

“Fine,” she replied, her lips pursed. “How’s the season going?”

“You haven’t been watching?” he asked. 

“I’m busy on Sundays.”

“Ah.” The tension was thick. “It’s been okay.” 

Lily bit the inside of her cheek, determining how far she wanted to take her next move. “How’s YN?”

“Fine,” he replied, too quick and sharp to be genuine.

“That’s not what I heard,” she said. “I heard you made a move on her days after we broke up, and she dumped you because she felt so bad about it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Oscar said, a reflex more than a conscious choice to lie.

“Yes you do,” she replied. “And honestly, you all deserve each other.” Her words dripped with venom.

“Why do you care?” Oscar replied, his polite exterior broken by the confrontation. “Isn’t that exactly why you left? But now you’re mad because I actually did it.”

“I thought you were better than that. I wish you could have proven me wrong,” she said. “Oh my God, I was so stupid. Lando was right,” she said, bringing her palm to her forehead and fixing her gaze on the floor. 

“Wh— Lando?”

“Why do you think I finally got the nerve to tell you how I felt? Lando knew you were cheating. And I don’t care what you or her say, I don’t believe you anymore. There’s no way you just…crawled into her bed 4 days after I left you. You had to have been cheating.”

“Lily, I never cheated on you. Why would Lando tell you that?” 

“Because it was happening right in front of my eyes! And for so long I just ignored it and pushed it all down.” Her eyes were prickling up with tears, the effect of the emotion being so fresh in the presence of her now ex-lover. “I just told myself that you all were friends. It was normal for your boyfriend to look at his best friend like that. Oh, yes, it’s so normal for your boyfriend to bring his girl best friend on every vacation, every night out, every trip home! I can’t believe that your fucking teammate had to be the one to open my eyes.” 

“Lily,” Oscar repeated, “I never, never, cheated on you. Yes, I was a horrible boyfriend. And yes,” he paused and sighed before continuing, ‘YN and I… it’s complicated. But never before you left. I don’t know what the hell Lando is telling you but it’s a lie.”

“You’re the only liar. You and YN. She acts like she’s so honest, but I know. You had to have been cheating. You all wanted each other for years.”

“Lily—”

“Don’t, Oscar,” she said, wiping her eyes. “It doesn’t really matter anymore. What’s done is done. I just hope you two are happy.” Lily grabbed her purse off the kitchen counter and swiftly left the apartment, leaving behind only the soft clicking of her heels against the tile of the hallway, and the echo of what once was, reverberating around the apartment before slowly fading into the quiet of the afternoon. 

Back at your place, Oscar entered quietly, careful not to wake you. All he wanted was to sleep.

He slowly took off his shoes and jacket, sinking into the bed next to you. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep; his mind was racing, his nervous system wired. But he wanted to rest, to feel the warmth and weight of your sleeping body next to his own. For just a moment, the world could stop, and he would feel okay again. 

But it couldn’t be. You had always been a light sleeper. The mere sound of his opening and closing the front door had caused you to stir. The feeling of his weight down on the bed led you to rise, stretching your arms about your head before rubbing your eyes.

Oscar couldn’t help it; his eyes glanced to the exposed skin of your stomach from where your shirt rode up when he stretched. You had said no more sex, and he respected that. But it didn’t mean that he wanted you any less. 

“What time is it?” you mumbled. 

“Almost five,” he answered.

“Oh, shit,” you said. You hadn’t expected to sleep this long. You looked over to Oscar, who was hiding his face in his hands. “You can have the bed, I’ll go make food.”

You swung your legs over the bed, but Oscar reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Stay,” he said. “Please.”

That woke you up quick. Oscar could feel the blood pulse through your veins as he held your wrist, a whispered plea for comfort.

“Osc…”

“Lily was there. At the apartment.”

“I don’t think—”

“She said…God, YN, I feel like I’m going fucking crazy.”

“Let go of my arm, please.”

Oscar awkwardly let you go, not realizing that he had essentially kept you pinned to the spot. You wordless rose and left the room for the kitchen.

As you stirred the pot of food to a simmer, you watched the little bubbles rise to the top, like the little kernels of emotion that ran through you. If it were up to you, you’d close the lid on them and leave them forever. But then the house could burn down.

What an apt metaphor.

But truly, you knew you were trying to outrun something, a force so strong you couldn’t ignore it. 

Love, lust, desire? It couldn’t be named. Unfortunately, it followed you around the apartment. 

“How are we friends if we can’t even talk?” Oscar said, having followed you to the kitchen, now standing in the doorway. What he was doing was a bit unfair, cornering you here when you couldn’t really leave. But what else could he do?

“You can talk to me,” you said. “Just not in my bed.”

You refused to look at the Aussie, instead putting all your focus into chopping the vegetables, drowning out his words in the sharp sounds of the knife tearing through the onion and shallots.

“Lily was there. She told me that Lando told her that I cheated on her with you.”

You snorted. “What are we, back in middle school? He said, she said?”

“Well, considering she left me over it, I don’t find it very funny.”

“Oscar, you never cheated. Everyone knows that.” 

“Lando is—”

“Who cares what Lando says?” You used the flat blade of the knife to swipe the chopped vegetables off the cutting board and into the pot.  

“I care!”

“Do you blame him for thinking we were hooking up?”

“I blame him for putting thoughts in my girlfriend’s head that weren’t true.” 

You put the knife on the counter with a thud. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Oscar paused, mentally cursing himself for the slip of words. “I’m just saying, he’s going around saying things without any regard to what damage they may cause.”

“You sound paranoid,” you said, grinding salt and pepper into the mixture. 

“I just…” Oscar grasped for the right words, careful to not let his frustration take over, “I would just really appreciate it if you don’t tell him anything. Because he already took her from me.” 

You put the lid back on the pot and turned the heat down. “The male audacity never ceases to amaze me.”

“What?”

“Oscar, she didn’t leave you because Lando was poisoning her thoughts, or whatever. She left because she was unhappy.”

“She left because she felt threatened by you. Because of what Lando said.”

You finally turned around to face him, your cheeks now red with frustration. “It only took you four days to prove her right! This isn’t about Lando. This is about the fact that you still can’t accept what you did. With her or with me.”

“You wanted it, too,” he responded, his voice now low and husky. “And you still want it. Deep down, you know it.”

You swallowed, suddenly noticing how his arms filled out the sleeves of his shirt just right, and how the blood rushed to his cheeks while he was angry, painting his face a delightful shade of blush. 

“That’s irrelevant.” 

“If I’m guilty, then so are you. Because you imagined every second of it.”

“Not like this,” you whispered. “And you did too.”

He stepped forward, closing the gap between you two. “Stop talking to Lando.”

Your voice rose to a normal level, relieved by the changed tension. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

God, how badly you wanted him to push you up against the wall and take you right then and there. No, you couldn’t. But he was right.

You had wanted this. You were guilty.

It was eating you alive. 

The Monaco Grand Prix. The epitome of glitz and glamor, wealth and class, speed and history. It was everything that you and Oscar loved about the sport of Formula 1, right from the comfort of  your backyard.

Well, not for much longer. But that was a thought you were trying to avoid. 

You had looked at a couple more apartments in your budget, only to be disappointed by all of them. Of course, nothing could beat the picturesque view you had right outside your living room every morning. 

If it were up to you, you would have watched the race from your balcony, but duty called. You put on your best face of professionalism for the weekend.

It turns out, going back to being “just friends” was a paradox. You couldn’t; not after the unhealed wounds, the ghost of phantom touches and unforgettable nights that still haunted both of you. 

But even when you pretended, you couldn’t deny the sexual tension that underlied every interaction. 

You had almost forgotten that feeling; it lingered after your first encounter with Oscar, where you had taken each other’s virginity, but it had been different then. Only a few days and a handful of awkward texts before things just went back to normal. He went back to the UK, you went back to school, he met Lily, and the rest was history.

But now, it was inescapable, breaking into every crack and crevice of the apartment, in every breath between you two that held a second too long of eye contact.

It was torture. At least professionalism was somewhat of a reprieve. 

You raised your camera up to take a shot of Oscar walking out of the McLaren garage, thankful to be able to hide behind your lens. Through it, you could see the strained outline of his muscles underneath his fireproof shirt. His hair was glistening with sweat, and his chest heaved, letting out a frustrated sigh at the results of quali.

“Care to get a picture of the pole sitter, YN?” you heard behind you, and turned to see Lando’s cheeky grin as he shook his hair. His discarded balaclava was in one hand, and he ran his other through his loose curls, balancing his helmet on his hip.

You let out a small huff of a laugh and snapped a quick picture. 

“Let me see,” he said, walking next to you. You held up the small screen for him to see.

“Wow, you make me look good,” he teased.

“Oh no,” you bantered back, “that’s the magic of editing.”

“No way. The only Oscar can look that good on Instagram is because you’re behind the camera.”

You laughed out of reflex at the crude joke. “Actually,” you said, “most pics I take don’t make it to social media.” Lando raised an eyebrow. You continued, “Yeah, most of what we post is from the actual photographers. Leave the beautification to the professionals.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Well, I just like to take pictures, but I’m not very good at it. Most of my actual work is all the boring stuff with the merch.”

Lando’s grin returned. “So all those pictures you took of me at Imola, was that just because you wanted to look at my face, huh?”

“I’d need more than just photoshop to make you look pretty, Norris.” You both knew the joke was false. Lando was perfect—tanned skin, chiseled body, brown coils catching the sunlight and caused golden highlights to cascade through his locks. You couldn’t deny that Lando Norris was fucking hot.

“Ouch! And here I thought you liked me,” he joked. “Considering I’m taking you out to dinner, and all.”

You looked over your shoulder, checking for any other McLaren drivers who may be listening. But Oscar was far out of sight. 

“Just a little friendly meal between colleagues,” you said, a tense smile coming to your face.

“Keep telling yourself that, love,” he said, before being called over to the media tent. 

You gave him another smile as he walked off, but truthfully, you weren’t exactly excited. You weren’t quite sure what to make of Lando, especially given Oscar’s reservations. Getting this close to him, especially in public, was…dangerous. 

You felt that familiar knot of anxiety in your stomach. Maybe Oscar was right.

But Lando turned around and flashed you his award winning smile and a wink, and you giggled out of reflex. Maybe Oscar’s paranoia was wearing off on you. 

It didn’t matter now. You had a job to do. 

Which was very hard to do, considering that no one could find Oscar after he left the media pen. 

Unbeknownst to you, Oscar was back in his driver’s room, doing anything he could to avoid losing his mind.

Quali had gone horribly. At a track like Monaco, where overtaking was so scarce, he had essentially sighed away potential points. And to make it all worse, Lando had gotten pole, and to celebrate, he had stood in front of Oscar’s own garage, chatting you up without a care in the world.

Oscar couldn’t even bear to see it. He had trudged off to the media pen, quickly gave his statement, then booked it to the room to be alone for a while.

But it felt like he was going crazy. He couldn’t relax, his leg bouncing up and down at a fervent pace, his breaths strained. Was he having a panic attack? This must be close to it.

But no, it wasn’t panic. It was anger. He felt like a cringy teenager, wanting to punch a wall, ro drive a car way too fast (as if he didn’t already do that for a living), or… no. He couldn’t go there. He couldn’t indulge his most unhealthy coping mechanism. Not now.

But he felt all the blood rush down south at even the mere thought of the last time he had you in his driver’s room. 

No. No, no, he said to himself again and again. You had said no sex. He didn’t want you to feel used. But just the memory of your mouth on him, the curves of your body underneath his own, was enough to rile him up.

There were too many people outside. He could hear their voices outside the door. The whole damn country of Monaco was too small; there was nowhere to hide from his urges, or from you, for that matter.

Not that he usually wanted to. But he had a little problem to take care of.

His phone buzzed. A text from you. 

Where are you?

What was he supposed to say? Hiding from you, because I’m so stupidly aggravated and horny that I can’t even be around you for fear of ruining our friendship?

He let out an angry groan into a pillow to muffle his frustrations. It wasn’t just the physical aspect that he missed; he missed your warmth, the comforting weight of you beside him in the bed, the tentative way you were always just an arm length’s close, never more, never less.

He should have held you. He should have made you feel loved and not used. It haunted him every day. And yes, he was paying the price for it.

“Congrats on pole, man!” he heard, the voice clear enough to indicate that someone was outside his door.

“Thanks,” Lando’s voice replied, before he heard the familiar sound of the door around the corner opening and closing. 

Yeah, he was definitely paying the price.

Oscar contemplated not going back to your place tonight. 

He still had a few days where he could sleep in his old apartment before the sale fully went through. On one hand, the place was empty and quiet, devoid of life and love. He’d be alone with his thoughts—for better or worse.

On the other hand, he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep anywhere except your bed or couch. He had gotten too used to the familiarity of your apartment. And he wanted to savor every second of you living in Monaco, before your inevitable departure. 

He finally decided against a night of solitude. By the time he finally left the circuit, you were nearly ready to go to bed.  

“Jesus, Osc, where have you been?” you asked, and you tried to ignore how his eyes traced the bare skin of your thighs in your sleep shorts.

“At the track,” he said.

“Well, no shit,” you said, “but no one could find you. I texted you and you never responded.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Quali was just…shit.”

He seemed reluctant to answer where he had actually been, so you didn’t press the issue, but you couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room much longer. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. You sat on your couch next to him, where Oscar had his head buried in his hands. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just a headache.”

“I can get you—” 

“I’m fine,” he said again, this time quicker and more dismissive. 

“Osc…”

“I just wanna go to bed,” he whispered.

“Okay,” you said. “You can take the bed tonight.”

It broke your heart to see him so down. Things were nearly as bad as when Lily had first left him. It scared you—there was only one way that you were able to really help him in that scenario, and you couldn’t go there.

“Just let me grab my phone charger,” you said, getting up to go to the room. He followed you, walking like a zombie. When you turned to leave, he moved to let you walk past, then sat on the bed, hunched over. 

You stopped in the doorway, looking him up and down.  

He looked up at you, locking eyes, and it took everything in you not to scoop him up in your arms and kiss him. He looked so…pathetic, sad, something you couldn’t quite name.

You really needed to find a new apartment soon. Or kick him out. 

You couldn’t do either.

Amongst the many things you could not do was sleep. It was 3 in the morning. Against your better judgement, you slipped into your room, praying that Oscar was still asleep.

You just wanted to see him. To gaze upon his face, smoothed with rest, imbued with the peace of sleep despite the stress of the day. Maybe when he was asleep, you could really pretend that none of this had ever happened. 

As you softly slipped next to him under the covers, his eyelids fluttered open and met yours.

“You can’t sleep either?” he softly whispered, to which you shook your head. You adjusted, rolling over to your side to face him, curling up into the blankets as cozy as you could get. His eyes never left your form. 

Neither of you knew what to do. You felt like strangers.

You had been avoiding any real discussions like the plague. But seeing him now, so vulnerable, you finally broke. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?” you whispered.

“I don’t want to argue,” he replied.

“We won’t. I’ll listen, I promise.”

His eyes drafted down to your lips, then back up to your eyes to meet your gaze. You both knew what was going unsaid. But still he spoke, saying, “I’m lonely. I miss Lily and I miss you. I know that I did this, and that’s why it hurts even more. And I’m so scared of losing you forever.”

His eyes welled up with tears as he continued. “I don’t like this,” he said. “Feeling so far from you, feeling like strangers. I wish I could have shown you how I felt earlier. I wish I didn’t hurt you and drive you away. And I know it’s all my fault. But it hurts.”

“Oscar…” you began, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. But the words didn’t find you. 

“The championship is all I have left, and I can’t even focus because of fucking Lando. And I’m scared that he’s up to something and that he’s going to hurt you too, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

“There is something…odd about him,” you said. “I get what you mean.”

“Can I ask you something?” Oscar said, and you nodded. “Does he make you happy?”

“It’s not like that,” you replied. “It’s… I don’t know, like a back and forth. I don’t know what his aim is. It feels like a game. But it kind of scares me.”

“Then why do you keep talking to him?”

“I don’t know.” That was a lie. You did know. “I guess because I feel like I can’t talk to you.”

Oscar bit the inside of his cheek. He understood what you meant. That didn’t mean that it wasn’t like a knife to the chest.

“It’s not…like this. I know we can talk like this. But it’s…” you stopped, swallowing hard. You had to say it. Somebody had to say it. 

Maybe you’d regret it in the morning. But you couldn’t stop now. 

“It’s like…” you began, choosing your words carefully, “I wanted you for so long. And then I had you, but it…it wasn’t right.” Your eyes drifted downward, tracing the soft sliver of light that rested on Oscar’s exposed arms. “I don’t know how not to want. But I can’t want you anymore. Because now I can have you too easily.”

“I don’t understand,” he said. 

“Yes, you do,” you responded. “You said it the other day. We both want it. But we can’t do it right.”

You spoke around the issue, carefully tiptoeing around the discussion of…desire? Lust? Wanting, you had called it. Every word you had said was true. He had felt it earlier in the day. You were feeling it too. 

He could change everything. He could just reach out his hand and touch you. But he was frozen, and so were you. 

“What’s so wrong about it?” he asked. 

“You didn’t touch me like you loved me. You hurt me. And I loved the way it hurt. But…”

“I’ll make love to you right now if you’ll let me. I’d do it right, show you how I really feel.”

The air around you was electric with intensity, like the very first night that he touched you. In the same darkness, you had finally gotten what you so desperately wanted. And you could have it now, if not for one thing.

“I know you would,” you whispered, “and you don’t even know how badly I want it. But… what about her?”

“Her?” he asked, confused.

“Lily.”

The silence that filled the room was heavy, and it threatened to suffocate both of you.

“Lily left you. Because of me,” you said.

“Because Lando was putting thoughts in her head.”

“Thoughts that weren’t far off the truth.”

“So, what? You’re going to deny yourself what you always wanted, for years, because she was here first? Because I fucked up?”

Oscar’s wording made it sound so trivial. And truthfully, you had been there first. 

“How did you feel when you first saw Lando talk to me?” you asked. 

“Pissed. Like I wanted to run him off the track.”

“That’s how Lily felt for years. And she didn’t say anything, and we lied to her and to ourselves until the very end.”

“It’s not the same, though. You know that.”

“The details don’t matter. What matters is that the guilt is eating me alive. I feel like I’m drowning. Even if things between us were better…I don’t want to do that to her.”

“What if she never forgives us? Are you just going to let that ruin our friendship?”

You looked away from him, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze. You couldn’t answer his question.

“I feel like,” you said, “whatever Lando is up to, I know it’s not good, but I deserve it. I deserve him.”

“That’s the most stupid logic I’ve ever heard.” Oscar replied. You laughed. Oscar didn’t. 

He reached out and touched your cheek, causing your eyes to dart back to his. No matter how badly you wanted to avoid him, you couldn’t look away from his gaze that pierced right through you. He saw something deeper. He saw you, in a way no one else could or would. And it was terrifying. 

“YN,” he whispered. “Forget what everyone else said, forget all the messy feelings. What do you want?”

I want you.

That’s what you would have said, if you were not a coward, if you could truly let him in and even try to imagine a world in which your emotions and desires didn’t feel like an ocean that you were close to drowning in. 

“I don’t know,” you replied. That was a lie. You knew it. He knew it. He knew that you knew that he knew it. He just looked at you, biting the inside of his cheek. You wouldn’t admit it. Not after everything that had happened.

In that way, things had gone back to normal.

You turned over to stretch, seeing the first rays of sunlight tinge your window the slightest shade of pink.

“We should get some sleep. Goodnight, Oscar,” you said, pulling the blanket higher and closing your eyes for a brief sleep.

Come the next morning—really, only a few hours later—Oscar’s anger from the previous day had faded to a depression.  All he wanted was for you to hold him, or for him to hold you, but your words still hung heavy in the air. 

This was your punishment, for both of you. 

But by the time he finally dragged himself out of the warm comfort of your bed, you were already nearly ready to head out the door.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you joked, reaching your hand up to tousle his already messy hair, and he melted into the touch. “Are you ready to show them all the Piastri overtake masterclass?” 

“I feel dead,” he mumbled, and you sighed. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you up.”

“It’s okay,” he said, as he yawned into a cup of coffee. “I’m glad we talked.”

Oscar’s reference brought forth an awkward silence that didn’t dissipate until you eventually left for the track, ready again to dawn your thin veneer of professionalism. 

Unfortunately it was raining, and the race had to be delayed. That meant hunkering down in the McLaren garage with Oscar—and Lando.

If looks could kill, Lando would have died ten times over as the two drivers waited for the rain to pass. 

You hovered near Oscar’s side of the garage for the sake of appearances. At least, that’s what you told yourself. You were his social media manager, it made sense for you to hover around him, always ready to capture the next candid shot.

But truthfully, you couldn’t shake the pit in the feeling of your stomach every time you caught Lando looking at you from the corner of your eye. And while you pretended to be oblivious, Oscar didn’t. 

“Okay guys, clear out the garage,” you heard from across the room, as the booming voice of Zak Brown trudged his way inside. “FIA decided that right now was the perfect time for a surprise inspection!”

His voice dripped with sarcastic annoyance, even more than his clothes dripped with rainwater. All non essential personnel—including drivers—needed to leave the garage at once.

You walked along, on your way to find a random spot in the paddock to hunker down. That was, until you felt a hand on your shoulder. 

“YN!” Lando called, smiling when you turned to greet him. His cheeky grin brought butterflies and nausea to your stomach. “You can warm up in my driver’s room if you want.”

You looked over Lando’s shoulder and locked eyes with Oscar, who was close enough to hear every word. If he had been in his car at the time, Lando would have been roadkill.

“Oh, thanks, but I’ve got to get to the paddock and make sure the new guy hasn’t drowned our camera,” you said, a polite and professional smile across your face. 

“No wor—” He was cut off by Oscar’s shoulder bumping into the Brit as he passed. “Oh, hi Oscar, my bad.”

“I should go,” you said, swiftly continuing in the path towards the paddock. You didn’t want to be around for what you knew was happening next.

But if Lando also knew, it didn’t dissuade him from following Oscar back to his driver’s room. 

“Go away, Lando,” the Aussie warned as he stomped down the hallway.

“No, I don’t think I will. I think you’ve got something to say to me.” 

“I think you should shut your fucking mouth and leave YN and I alone.” 

Lando ran ahead of him, blocking the door to Oscar’s driver room. “Why? Why should I leave her alone when she keeps telling me yes, hm?”

“What?”

“I’m just saying, if she really wanted me to leave her alone, she wouldn’t have agreed to go to dinner with me tonight, would she?”

Oscar was dumbfounded by Lando’s claim, and his first instinct was to refute it. But after the conversation last night, he couldn’t put it past you to have accepted his offer of a date. Why you did this, he didn’t know. He couldn’t understand how you let your guilt lead you to such self-sabotaging decisions.

Actually, he could. It wasn’t like he was any better.

“You’re taking advantage of her,” Oscar said, his voice stern. “You don’t love her.”

Lando laughed. “Of course I don’t. She knows it, though. Do you really think she’s that stupid? Well, I guess she kind of is, ‘cause she’s playing right into my hands even though I know she doesn’t trust me. ”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I know it fucks with your head and drives you insane. No matter what you tell her, she won't listen to you. That’s the funniest part. She knows you’re right and she’s going to do the worst possible thing anyway, because she thinks she’s so self-righteous. It’s hilarious. You can tell her every word I say and that won’t stop her from being right where I want her. So you'll just get to watch me use her until she's got nothing else to give me.”

Oscar crossed the short distance between them and grabbed Lando by the shirt. “I swear to God, if you hurt her, I will run you off the track until you're nothing but a spare car part.”

Lando laughed again at his teammate’s warning. “Why are you so mad? I'm not doing anything worse than what you did.”

Oscar released him. “That is not what happened between us,” he sneered.

Lando continued, "You’re right. I guess I'm actually better than you, because I'm not fucking her. Well, not yet at least. I get it, though. I mean, she's not really good enough to bring home to mum, no? But I bet she's a good lay. Guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

“Get the fuck away from me, Lando. And leave her the fuck alone.” 

“Oh don't worry, I'm leaving,” the Brit said, putting his hands in the air in mock surrender. “Just tell YN to wear something nice tonight for me, will you?”

Lando finally turned to leave, but couldn’t resist one last quip at Oscar. “You know, last season, Max taught me something really smart. To win, you can't just outdrive someone. You have to get in their head. Works pretty well, don't you think?”

“Get the fuck out, Lando, before I hurt you,” Oscar threatened, truly at the end of his rope.

Lando just laughed as he finally walked away, turning the corner and going into his own driver’s room. 

Oscar did the same, taking a deep breath when he finally closed the door. He needed to punch something. He needed to scream. He could do neither.

But that wasn’t the worst problem at hand. He knew Lando was right, about everything. And it terrified him.

He had to find some way to prevent you from going on that date. But how? Was there anything he could say that could prevent what his own failures had set in motion so long ago?

There was a knock at his door. It was a McLaren engineer, telling him it was time to come back to the garage. He had wasted so much time bickering with Lando that he couldn't get his headspace right for the race.

God, he was good at this. 

Oscar made his way back to the garage and locked eyes with you. You had looked over your shoulder, still preoccupied with the new guy and his inability to work a camera. You held Oscar’s gaze for a second too long. 

He made his way over to you. “Hey, YN,” he said, “why don’t you get some rain shots before we have to go back out?”

Oscar was never the type to tell you how to do your job, unlike his teammate, who often jokingly ordered you around like his personal photographer. You recognized his attempt to get you away from the new guy.

You stepped away and brought your camera back up to your eye, taking a gorgeous picture of Oscar’s side profile looking at the rain outside. His hair was perfectly tousled, his jawline perfectly sharp, his cheeks shaded a perfect pink, still flustered from the conversation you knew nothing of. Even after being his friend for so many years, and admiring him for so long, it was moments like this when you were truly reminded how much you loved him.

Because just as Oscar saw you, you saw him. You saw through his carefully crafted exterior; truthfully, as his best friend and social media manager, you had been instrumental in making it. When others saw him as unemotional, you saw the small nuances in how he moved and spoke, the subtle changes in expression. You two had your own language in that way, and your devotion showed itself in moments like these, where you could capture the most beautiful photographs of your friend, letting the world have just a brief glimpse into the complex soul that you had become so enraptured by.

Yeah, you were fucked. 

Oscar finally put on his helmet and began to get ready to roll the car out to the grid. 

“Good luck,” you whispered. You reached out your hand and intertwined it with his, squeezing it as an act of comfort. Even through the rough material of his gloves, you hoped to send him a real message of love. 

Maybe that was too strong a word. You couldn’t tell anymore. 

Though you followed both cars out to the now dry grid, you kept your distance, knowing that now the focus was on the monumental race ahead of them. You let the camera be your shield against emotion, though you couldn’t help how it focused in on Oscar so easily. Even from afar, his eyes quickly glancing at your lens could tell you depths of information. 

At the front of the grid, Lando occasionally looked back on you. He was ready to go, determined to win this race; Oscar was no longer a threat, in the back of the grid and distracted beyond measure. 

But the Brit couldn’t help being distracted a bit himself. You weren’t looking at him. You were pulling away a bit too much for comfort. 

It doesn’t matter now, he thought to himself. He knew you. Not in the deep way that Oscar did, but still enough to know exactly what buttons to push, when to give and when to pressure. It was a skill that he’d come to refine in the past few years, fighting not only against world-class athletes, but also against master manipulators, for the Formula 1 World Driver’s Championship title.

He never thought he’d have to play this dirty to eliminate a teammate. But so far, it was working like a charm, and at this point, there wasn’t much he was above doing to get that title.

Unfortunately, Lando’s ambitions couldn’t keep up with his abilities. He bottled pole at the start and wasn’t able to recover. 

Oscar had a few overtakes, but not anything spectacular. Monaco would not be a race to remember for McLaren that year. 

After getting all your shots of Oscar in the garage after the race, you made your way back to your apartment. You had to get ready for your date with Lando that night.

You had never been the type to have a very strong intuition. You could never distinguish it from anxiety or paranoia. But you couldn’t ignore that pit in the bottom of your stomach that just grew and grew, devouring all your thoughts as you fixed your hair and applied your makeup. 

In the middle of your beauty routine, Oscar came home, exhausted from the race.

“You did great out there today,” you said, giving him a small smile as he flopped down on the bed.”

“I barely got points,” he said.

“Yeah, but it’s a track that’s awful for overtaking and you were going on, what, 2 or 3 hours of sleep? Take the small wins where you can.”

“How are you not exhausted?” he questioned, sitting up to watch you apply your skincare at your vanity.

I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest, that’s why, you thought. But for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to confide your anxieties to Oscar right now.

You knew why. Because you knew that he could change it. He could convince you to give in to your desires, to drown in him. And you couldn’t. You were too goddamned stubborn.

You didn’t answer Oscar’s question, and that familiar heavy feeling dawned in your room.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked. Neither of you really had the energy for talking, but you knew it was more a statement than a request. “I talked to Lando today.”

Ah, so he knew what you were doing. 

“He said some…really messed up stuff about you, YN. He doesn't care about you.”

“I know he doesn’t,” you said, your voice flat and quiet.

“It’s more than that. YN, the things he said disgusted me, and he laughed about it like it was the funniest thing. Please don’t do this.”

“Don’t, Oscar.”

“YN—”

You got up and walked into your closet to get dressed for the night, cutting him off. 

You heard him sigh, and the sound of ruffling clothing filled the room as you both changed out of eye shot of each other. The thought of Oscar undressed in your bed again made your head spin.

You snaked the fabric of the dress over your skin, smoothing it out. You put on your shoes and grabbed your purse before taking a deep breath and stepping out.

“How do I look?” you asked. But you were distracted by a shirtless Oscar sitting on your bed, muscles still taunt from the race hours before.

“Beautiful,” he said. “You’re perfect.”

His voice was too tender, his words too strong. You couldn’t bear it for much longer. You shuffled around your room, organizing your makeup and applying your perfume, trying to distract yourself from the elephant—or rather, shirtless F1 driver that you were in love with—in the room.

“I’m not sure what time I’ll be—”

“YN,” Oscar said, standing up to place himself in front of you, between you and the door. “Don’t do this.”

“Oscar…” you began.

“You don’t have to do this. Stay here with me.” he advanced towards you, closing the gap by placing his hands on your waist.

Your heart skipped a beat. The thin line that had so carefully been drawn after his apology was gone now with his sensual touch.

You looked away from him. He reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes to look up at his.

“You don’t have to go to him. You don’t have to leave Monaco or find another job. You don’t have to do any of this. YN, let me take care of you.”

Instinctively, you reached your hand out to rest against his bare chest, and you felt his breath hitch. You were going to give in, right here and now.

And God, you wanted to. You missed the warmth of Oscar’s body against yours, the liminal space he occupied in your bed after a night of collision and pleasure. And in that moment, with his soft heart beat and the steady rhythm of his breaths right under your fingertips, you felt…safe. At home. Seen.

Your phone buzzed in your purse. 

“I’m going to be late,” you muttered, stepping back and walking around him.  He let you go easily.

“Get some rest, Oscar,” you told him, a final goodbye, or at least that’s how it felt, as you closed the door behind you and left to go meet Lando. 

[nakylvr]

— ALL THE THINGS I NEVER SAID

sophia laforteza x fem!reader

summary જ⁀➴ you've had a crush on sophia for a while now. on the week before valentine's day you write a letter confessing your love to her, but hide it away. until one of your friends finds it and gives it to her on valentine's day without you knowing.

warnings/tags જ⁀➴ fluff, college!au, mild language

wc જ⁀➴ 2,4 k

you were a person with a lot of thoughts. a lot of words left unsaid because they weren't important or you didn't have the confidence to say it out loud. you were quiet, you didn't have a big group of friends, but you had the ones that counted. you weren't exactly seen in classes unless you answered a question and then the moment would pass and you would be forgotten again. but, you didn't mind it a whole lot.

valentines day was one of the most obnoxious days in the year. at school, at least. you thought once high school was over that it would tone down but no, it got worse if anything. you’d have to sit through multiple classes of boyfriends coming in and asking their girlfriends out on dates, you’d have to deal with girls giggling about what their boyfriends did for them for the holiday, shit, you even had to sit through your roommate being serenaded by her girlfriend first thing this morning. you weren't big on the holiday. what was the point if you didn't have someone to celebrate it with?

and as much as you would hate to admit it, you hated missing out.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

you didn’t have crushes on a lot of people. a few here and there throughout the years, but none of them went farther than admiring from afar. you never confessed, too afraid of it backfiring and ending in a mess. and it was the same this year.

sophia laforteza, aka the girl so far out of your league that you would rather die than admit your feelings for the girl. you had spoken to her a few times with you being in technical theatre and her being the star of all the musicals and plays alike, and you ended up falling for her. her warm smile, her sweet voice, her beautiful eyes. it was hard not to. especially once you saw just how many people were pining for her.

you walked into the theatre with your binder in your arms filled with all the things you needed to get finished before rehearsal for “romeo and juliet”. could you guess who juliet was? pretty easy. but it still surprised you when you saw sophia sitting on the edge of the stage looking at papers in her hands as the door shut loudly behind you.

sophia’s head perks up upon hearing the door close, and a smile grows on her face at the sight of you. “sorry, i didn't think anyone would be coming in this period,” she says apologetically.

you could feel your heart skip a beat just at the sight of her smile towards you, feeling your anxiety creeping up the closer you approached the stage clutching the binder in your hands like a lifeline. “oh, it's okay!” you assure quickly, shaking your head. “i’m usually in here during free periods when a show is coming up. there's a lot to get situated.”

“i’m sure.” sophia nods, setting the papers down next to her and crossing her leg over the other. “you do a lot of work in tech, don't you?” she asks, tilting her head to the side.

“uh, well, i guess you could say that,” you respond shyly with a short nod. this was the longest you've held a conversation with sophia without one of you being dragged off, and you didn't know what to do. “but, i mean, you do a lot too. i’m sure memorizing all the lines and stuff is hard.”

sophia just shrugs her shoulders lightly. “i guess, but it's nothing technical, literally, like you do. i may be the one on stage, but you're the one who lights me up.” she smiles at you, not a hint of hesitation in her voice as she talks.

“well when you put it that way…” you mumble, glancing down at the ground. your face is heating up the longer you feel her gaze on you, your heart practically beating out of your chest. when you finally meet her eyes again, you quickly look away again. “i uh i need to get some things done before rehearsal today so uhm, yeah,” you manage to say. “you can stay though! or do whatever it was you were doing! i don't mind!” you quickly add, not wanting her to think you were kicking her out.

the giggle that comes from sophia makes your face turn redder than it already was as she smiles at you. “if you don't mind me talking to myself repeating the same lines over and over again, i’ll stay.”

“i don't.” you shake your head, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

a moment of silence fills the large theatre before you clear your throat and make your way to behind the stage, scurrying off like a scared cat having a showdown with another. once you were behind the stage and sophia was out of your line of sight, you let out a sigh of relief as you set your binder down on the table with a thud. running a hand through your hair, you started to get things ready.

you heard a few people talking about thirty minutes into you doing your work, leaving you confused as you overheard a few things. but, you tried not to think of it too much. that was, until a ginger-haired girl crashed into the back room, literally.

“megan! jesus christ!”

you stare at the scene in front of you, wires in your hands that you were trying to set up for the lighting as sophia rushes in after the ginger.

“holy crap! there's all this shit back here?”

“megan!” sophia grabs megan by her arm, yanking her up off the ground before her eyes land on you. “i’m sorry! my friends wanted to help with my lines. i told them not to come back here.” she shoots a look at megan who puts her palms together.

“i’m sorry! please don't kill me, pretty theatre tech lady!” megan apologizes immediately.

“what?” you let out in surprise, your face turning red.

“it's her words, not mine!” megan continues.

“and we're leaving!” sophia smiles, but her eyes are wide with an emotion you couldn't recognize as she then drags megan back out onto the stage.

what the fuck was that. you stand there frozen for a few minutes trying to process what just happened, hearing the faint voices assumingly yelling from you being able to distinguish a few of the voices. shaking your head, you quickly finish what you were doing before going to your bag.

searching through your bag, your eyes widen when you realize something is missing.

every time you had a crush, you wrote a letter. it was the easiest way to express everything you were feeling rather than mess it up by not knowing what to say at the moment. you poured your heart out into every one you wrote, and it was only a few.

so when the letter you had in your bag is now gone, you obviously were going to freak out.

“shit, shit, shit,” you curse, pulling items out of your bag to see if it was at the bottom or in another part of it only to find it nowhere. “oh my god…” you mumble quietly.

and then, you remembered something. your best friend, danielle, had asked to look in your bag for a spare piece of paper, and you were too busy doing something else that you didn't even notice she never took paper. she probably took the letter.

grabbing your phone you call her, waiting a minute until she picks up.

“yn? what's up?”

“did you take the fucking letter?” you angrily ask quietly.

“what letter?”

“don't even right now!” you try to keep yourself from yelling, knowing that sophia and her friends were still out there. “did you take it?”

“maybe. you needed a push! i’m that push! i’ll give it to her after rehearsal. i know you signed it so it won't be weird.”

“oh my god, danielle, what the fuck?” you sigh dramatically. “this is insane!”

“no, it's me being an amazing friend and getting you a girlfriend!”

“it's not going to work! it never does!” you say, your voice getting louder without noticing.

“because you don't try! trust me, this will work.”

you didn't even respond, just hanging up instead and setting your phone down. letting out a loud sigh, you put your face in your hands.

“i’m doomed.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

rehearsal went well. or, you assumed it did, seeing as no one texted you saying things were going wrong. you couldn't even show up. not when you knew danielle would give sophia your note at the end of the day.

you sat at the bleachers of the field, looking at your phone with your headphones on, not paying attention to anything else around you. you tried to keep your mind off what was probably going to go down tomorrow. word will probably go around, you’ll end up rejected, and you’ll move schools as a result. you knew it was a dumb idea to write the letter in the first place, but to be fair, you were never going to give it to her! it just had to be danielle to take matters into her own hands. for your sake. little did you know just what had happened after the rehearsal, or how the day would finish.

feeling a light tap on your shoulder, you jump, turning your head and sliding your headphones off to see sophia standing there, making your heart drop to your stomach.

“oh, h-hey!” you mentally curse at yourself for stuttering right off the bat.

“you weren't at rehearsal today,” sophia says, sitting down next to you.

“yeah, i got caught up in some stuff,” you lie, looking away from her.

“not because of the letter?” she asks.

your heart is beating so fast you think you're going to pass out in a minute or the next at her question. you don't even know if you're breathing at this point. you can't even think of how to respond.

sophia hesitantly reaches her hand towards yours, gently grabbing ahold of it, causing you to slowly look at her and see the small smile on her face.

“you didn't want danielle to give it to me, did you?”

“no,” you whisper, shaking your head. “i-i didn't want you to have it anyway.”

“why?” her expression turns confused, eyebrows furrowed together.

“because i knew you wouldn't like me too,” you mumble quietly.

“you thought i don't?” sophia asks you, her eyes softening once realizing you were serious.

“i mean, yeah.” your voice gets quieter. “i thought you didn't even know i existed until this play.”

sophia hums and nods her head. “i guess i was pretty bad about it at first. but i saw how much work you put into phantom that i kept trying to get a part even if i didn't really want it. i just wanted to see you, even if i was just awkwardly staring from afar and messing up my lines multiple times,” she admits, letting out a short laugh. “i read your letter, and i thought it was really sweet. you have a way with words, y’know. and i’m glad danielle gave it to me, because it made this whole thing a lot easier. i really like you, yn.”

“what?” you accidentally say. to say you're shocked would be an understatement, because you weren't even believing the words that left sophia’s mouth. “are you serious?” you question.

“yeah,” she answers with a nod.

there's a short silence then, as you try to come up with what to say. you couldn't find any words. thankfully for you, sophia speaks up.

“can i kiss you?”

your eyes widen subtly in surprise, and you ultimately nod your head, not trusting your voice. sophia’s other hand cups your jaw as she slowly leans in before softly pressing her lips against yours. the kiss is slow, almost hesitant with both of you not wanting to push it too much, and when she pulls back, her smile is wide and she giggles at the dazed expression on your face.

“you're so cute,” she says fondly, her thumb wiping off a bit of the lip gloss that transferred from her lips to yours. “are you doing anything tonight?”

“no.” you shake your head.

“then be ready by six, and wear something nice,” she tells you, her smile widening. “i’ll be waiting outside your dorm.”

“how do you know where my dorm is?” you ask, looking at her confused.

“your roommate kazuha is my friend daniela’s girlfriend. i was told how irritated you looked when she and megan showed up this morning," sophia answers.

“oh my god.” you shake your head. “okay well, i’ll make sure to be ready.” you smile at her.

“good, cause i don't want to be waiting outside in the hallway all night.” sophia stands up, still holding onto your hand. “you don't mind if i keep the letter, do you?”

“huh?” you look up at her. “uh, no. why would you want to keep it, though?” you ask.

“like i said, it was really sweet. i want to remember it,” she answers like it was nothing. “promise you’ll meet me at six?”

“yeah, i promise.” you nod, trying to ignore her answer to your question. “as long as you don't kidnap me.”

“you think that low of me?” sophia gasps dramatically, acting hurt. “all i’m doing is taking you to a nice dinner, nothing more! unless you want to–”

“okay!” you cut her off, laughing. “i’ll be ready, i swear.”

“you better.” sophia leans down, kissing your cheek. “i’m really glad today turned out this way.”

“me too,” you respond quietly.

“i’ll see you later, pretty.” sophia smiles, pecking your lips before walking away.

watching her walk away, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, missing the warmth from her lips on yours and her hand holding yours. your phone buzzes in your pocket, and when you take it out you shake your head. “loser,” you mumble under your breath reading what danielle sent you.

you hated to admit it, but you were happy with how things went today, even if it wasn't how you originally planned it to be. it went better than you expected, and you were thankful for that. even if it was because your best friend stole your letter and gave it out. but you would never say that out loud.

[reomikagekin]

Hiii! I’m so sorry but do you do family stuff? I know a lot of people aren’t comfortable with it so I totally understand if not!! Ignore this question I’d not.

(If you are comfortable is it okay if I request luka from alien stage and little sibling reader he barely gets to see due to them being in Anakt garden?? platonic obviously :) I hope you’re doing well!!)

yes of course I'm comfortable writing it!!

Paper Wings

(Luka & Little Sibling Reader)

(Platonic)

Luka didn’t sleep much anymore.

Between securing his place in the competition and keeping his influence from slipping, rest had become a luxury he couldn’t afford. But even on the rare nights he found time to close his eyes, his mind always circled back to one thing.

You.

And how little time you had left.

Tonight was no different. When the transmission connected, he saw you sitting on your bed, cross-legged, folding a piece of paper.

"Origami?" Luka asked, raising an eyebrow. "Didn’t know you had time for hobbies."

"I don’t," you said, folding another crease. "But it helps."

"With?"

You hesitated before shrugging. "Everything."

Luka didn’t press. He watched as you unfolded the paper, smoothed it out, then started again.

"You're stalling," he noted.

You sighed. "I don’t want to talk about tomorrow."

Tomorrow.

Your next performance.

Your next chance to survive—or fail trying.

Luka tapped his fingers against the table. "Then let’s talk about something else."

You glanced at him, surprised. "...Like what?"

"Anything."

For a second, you didn’t answer. Then, quietly, you asked:

"Do you ever think about leaving?"

Luka’s fingers stilled.

"Leaving?" he repeated.

"Yeah." You smoothed out another fold, gaze dropping. "Getting out of here. Running away."

Luka laughed softly. "You think there's anywhere left to run?"You swallowed. "I don’t know. Maybe."

He tilted his head, considering you. He had thought about it before, of course. A world outside the stage. A life without constant performances, without strings being pulled in the dark.

But Luka didn’t believe in fairytales.

"You wouldn’t make it," he said finally.

You flinched. Just barely.

"...I know," you murmured.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the faint rustling of paper in your hands.

Luka exhaled, slow and measured. "If you do well tomorrow, I'll find a way to visit."

You blinked. "You promise?"

Luka smiled. "Have I ever lied to you?"

You gave him a look. "Yes."

He laughed. "Then you'll just have to trust me this time."

The screen flickered, warning of disconnection.

"Hey, Luka?"

"Hm?"

You lifted the finished origami in front of the camera. A paper crane.

"If I win, I want to see the sky."

The transmission cut off before Luka could respond.

He stared at the dark screen, the ghost of your words lingering in his head.

A paper crane.

And a wish that had no place in a world like this.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Current James seducing a younger+naive reader? Lying to her that he’ll pull out but instead filling her up? Of course after a few months she ends up pregnant and she’s scared but that was his plan all along?

A/n: I wrote a good chunk of this story and then my computer glitched and I FUCKING LOST IT I'm losing my mind :D

Warnings: smut, daddy kink, size kink, belly bulge, age gap, breeding kink, mirror sex, dubious consent, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You were part of the crew for the 72 Seasons tour, mostly just running errands for the rest of the crew but occasionally you'd get jobs straight from the band.

James saw you around and thought you were cute, young and innocent, perfect for him, so he made it his mission to talk to you as much as possible; at the airport, on bus rides, backstage, wherever he could find you.

This continued after the tour, he got your number and used it regularly to see how you were doing, inviting you over for dinners, cooking and cleaning while he was on call with you.

It was on one of your dinners that he planned to finish what he'd started.

"Sorry for the late notice, I wasn't planning on dinner." He said to you over the phone, leaning back into the seat of his car as he drove up the highway on one of his drives. "I just had a bad day, you know? Dealing with Lars... I just want to see you, sweetheart." He said, knowing the petname made your knees weak.

"I'll be there soon, Jamie, just let me get ready." You responded, already closing the app you were ordering dinner from.

"I'm sure you'll look pretty no matter what you've got on." He said, grin widening. "Especially if you've got nothing on." Your brain short-circuited at that and he laughed at your silence. "I'll get dinner started before you get here." He ended the call with a dorky kiss, something you were used to from him.

It was late, which was exactly what he wanted. There wasn't a practice, no plans for a new album, there was nothing. James spent all day at home just waiting for the perfect chance to talk to you.

Everything went as usual, you talked and laughed and ate and when it was time to clean the dishes James acted like he hadn't even considered how late it would be when it was time for you to head home.

"Why don't you just stay here?" He offered. "It's too late to drive, just stay the night."

You thought it over in your head, it was late, you didn't feel like driving. You took James up on his offer and let him lead you through the maze of a house he had to a room once you were done with the dishes.

He'd given you a tour of his house before but it was huge and you always got lost, the only rooms you knew were the kitchen, the bathroom nearest to it, and the living room, though you didn't spend much time there. You didn't think twice when James showed you to his room, you didn't know it was his.

The door closed behind him and his lips were on yours in an instant, hands roaming your body, mentally mapping out every curve of your figure while pulling you out of your clothes until you were left in just your underwear in front of him.

He tugged at the lacey band of your panties. "Who were you wearing these for, sweetheart?" He let go of the strap and it snapped back to your skin, making you jump. "Just wanted to feel pretty under your clothes?"

You bit your lip as he spoke to you, looking down at you with a dark lust swirling in his eyes.

Without a response he led you further into the room. You stood in front of the mirrored closet doors, saw how James towered over you, how his hands held your hips. "I'm gonna ruin you, sweetheart." He leaned down, lips caressing the shell of your ear as he whispered. "And you're gonna watch, and you're gonna love every fucking second of it, isn't that right?"

You nodded, thighs pressing together. "Yes, Jamie, of-of course." He chuckled at your eagerness, the shine in your eyes evident.

"Keep that energy, sweetheart, and I'll give you anything you want." He said as he pulled his shirt over his head. You'd seen him shirtless before, he often showed you his tattoos and muscles, he liked showing off and you indulged his habits.

His jeans followed shortly afterwards and his boxers didn't stay for long. He was eager to be inside you.

He pushed his hard cock against your ass, calloused hands on your waist. "Take them off for me." He said, looking over you in the mirror.

You reached behind your back and unclipped your bra, letting the straps fall limply off your shoulders and to the ground before pushing your panties down to your ankles and kicking them off, leaving you just as naked as he was.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight to him. One arm went over your chest while the other went to your stomach, hand moving lower and his fingers slipped between your folds.

James groaned, feeling how wet you were already. He slipped a finger into you with ease. You gasped as he did so, back arching. "Oh, you're naughty." He said, danger in his voice. "Already played with yourself earlier, didn't you?" You swallowed thickly and gave a small nod. "Just couldn't wait, could you?"

You shook your head. "I-I'm sorry, Jamie, every-every time I come over I have to." You looked at him through the mirror, a pout tugging at your lips as you did. "I just think about you and I-I can't help myself." You rambled, thighs pressing together again around his hand.

"Got yourself all prepped for daddy." He mused, kissing your cheek and moving down to your neck. "Such a good little thing." He pulled his finger out of you and brought his hand to his cock, giving it a few good pumps. "Just stay pretty for daddy while he fucks you, yeah?" You nodded eagerly, pushing your hips back on him.

James pushed his tip through your folds, gathering your wetness before pushing into you and bottoming out with one thrust. You moaned loudly, knees buckling at the stretch but James held you up right.

He brought his hand back to your hip, holding you in place while he gave you time to adjust. "Fuck, you're so tight." He groaned, looking over you in the mirror again, the slight bulge that formed in your stomach from his cock.

He pulled back only to slam back into you, drawing another moan from you. His eyes never left the bump in your gut, watching it come and go with every thrust. His hold on your hips tightened as his thrusts got faster and harsher, all to see you come undone at his hands.

"That's it, sweetheart, don't take your eyes off the mirror." He cooed, resting his chin on your shoulder, guiding your gaze to the mirror in front of you so you could see the way your body jolted with every buck of his hips, the way your face morphed in pleasure. "Such a perfect little thing for daddy." He mused.

You were clenching around his pulsing cock, aching for release. A realization dawned on you and your eyes widened. "Condom!" You said, grabbing at his arm over your chest. "We-we need a-agh, oh god, a-a condom."

James huffed, irritation slipping into his mind at your worry. "Don't worry about that, just relax." He said, lips going back to your neck.

"Jamie, we-we need a condom, what if-!"

"I'll pull out, alright?" He bit, turning your head with his hand so he could shut you up with a kiss. His other hand, the one on your hip, went back to your cunt, this time to rub your clit and snap the knot building in your gut.

You'd been waiting for James since the start of the tour, when he first talked to you. He was much older, you figured it would never happen, he saw you as a daughter that's why he called you sweetheart, why he always tried to cook for you and take care of you, why he wanted you close. That's what you told yourself, there was no way he was into you, it was all in your head.

He was buried deep inside you, groans becoming more frequent as he neared his own high while you rode out your own around his cock. Your eyes were glazed over, lips parted in a soft 'oh', you'd have no idea if he came inside you now.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he came, abdomen tightening with the last few thrusts to push his seed deep in you.

He turned you around, pushing right back into you the second he could to keep his cum in you to marinate. James carried you to the bathroom and set you down on the counter, your legs wrapped around his hips as he used a cloth to wipe you down, using warm water to clean the thin layer of sweat off your body.

It was late, you were tired, your body was tired, you fell asleep in his arms with his cock in you before he even finished cleaning up. It was perfect in his mind, he could carry you to bed and let you fall asleep on of him without worrying about you trying to get off him.

You stuck with him for a while after that, finally getting the relationship you wanted. James let you keep some things at his place, you weren't spending much time at your apartment anymore anyway so most of your clothes ended up there, not that you wore them in the house, usually opting for James's clothes.

James was sitting in bed, going through something on his phone when you hesitantly came out of the bathroom and crawled in next to him.

He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you tighter to his side. "What is it?" He asked, a smile already forming on his face. He knew what you were going to tell him.

Your hand trembled as you handed him a positive pregnancy test.

[th3mrskory]

Chapter 9: Across the Divide

Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Origins!Logan Warning: angst, fluff, 18+ MDNI, SMUT, explicit language, loss of virginity, handjob, fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected p in v, missionary, creampie.

A/N: If Chapter 8 was a punch to the gut, this one is… well, let’s call it an attempt at first aid. Sort of. Have you ever watched two people try to fix something in the worst possible way, only for it to somehow work because they don’t know any other language but this? Yeah. That.

Consider this a little Valentine’s Day treat. Twisted, messy, and completely them. Read when you’re ready. And yes, my inbox is still open for any and all reactions.

Word count: 7 k

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

The yard had grown quiet as the other workers moved further into the forest, leaving Logan to finish stacking the last of the wood alone. The sharp bite of winter hung in the air, his breath clouding in front of him with every exhale. The solitude was welcome—at least, that’s what he told himself.

But the silence didn’t stop the memories.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

Logan clenched his fists, the words circling in his mind like a relentless echo. He grabbed a log from the pile and slammed it onto the stump, the impact reverberating through his arms. The ax swung down, splitting the wood clean in two.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced.”

He knew better than to hope for steady ground, better than to let himself believe he could hold onto something good. With Evelyn, it had felt different—like maybe, just maybe, he could carve out a life that didn’t feel like running or regret.

Now, it felt like a mistake.

The kiss he’d seen replayed over and over in his head, each time cutting deeper. It wasn’t just her ex he was angry at, though the smugness on the bastard’s face made Logan’s blood boil. No, most of the anger was for himself—for being stupid enough to think he could be enough for her.

The crunch of boots on gravel pulled him from his thoughts. Pete and Rick approached from the truck, their faces drawn with concern.

“You alright, Howlett?” Pete asked, his voice cautious but probing.

Logan didn’t look up, hefting another log onto the stump. “I’m fine.”

Pete and Rick exchanged a glance, the kind that said he’s definitely not fine.

“Look,” Pete began, leaning on the tailgate. “You don’t want to talk about it. But you’ve been going at this woodpile like it owes you money. Maybe take a second to breathe?”

“I don’t need a breather,” Logan said flatly, his tone daring them to push further.

Rick, quieter but no less perceptive, stepped up beside Pete. “You don’t have to talk,” he said after a pause, his voice measured. “But if you keep bottling it up, it’s gonna come out sideways.”

Logan didn’t respond, his focus locked on the ax as he brought it down with enough force to split the log cleanly.

Pete let out a low whistle. “Man, whatever’s eating at you must be big. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Logan finally stopped, leaning on the ax handle and leveling Pete with a glare. “I said I’m fine.”

“Sure, sure,” Pete said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But if you keep this up, there won’t be any wood left in the yard for the rest of us.”

Rick sighed, folding his arms across his chest. “Look, Logan. I don’t know what happened with Evelyn, but if she’s got you this twisted up, maybe she’s worth hearing out.”

Logan’s grip on the ax tightened, his jaw clenching as he stared at the ground. The truth in Rick’s words cut deeper than he cared to admit.

“Not my place to butt in,” Pete added, though his grin said otherwise. “But if you’re spending this much time stewing over it, she’s probably thinking about you, too.”

Logan shot them both a sharp look, then yanked the ax from the stump and turned toward the forest. “Leave it alone,” he muttered, stalking off into the trees without another word.

Pete waited until Logan was out of earshot before muttering, “Yeah, that went well.”

Rick shrugged, grabbing the thermos from the truck bed. “He’ll figure it out. He always does.”

During the course of the next couple of days the rhythm of the yard was the same, but Logan’s presence felt heavier. He worked harder than usual, his focus razor-sharp, but the tension in his frame was impossible to ignore.

Pete and Rick kept their distance this time, their occasional glances filled with concern.

By midday, Logan had thrown himself into another project, replacing a broken tool rack near the shed. His movements were precise, his jaw set in determination. But even as he worked, his mind wandered—back to the driveway, to Evelyn’s face when she saw him, and to the kiss that had shattered something inside him.

The guys noticed, but they didn’t say a word. Pete started a fire near the edge of the clearing, his usual jokes subdued. Rick passed by with a nod but left Logan to his thoughts.

By the time dusk fell, Logan was still at it, the hammer in his hand swinging with a force that bordered on reckless.

Tension seemed to follow him wherever he went, and his coworkers gave him a wide berth, exchanging knowing glances but keeping their distance.

The others gave him a wide berth, the tension in the yard thick enough to cut with a blade. Midday, the office phone rang, its shrill tone breaking the monotony of the worksite. Rick wiped his hands on a rag as he stepped inside to answer.

“Yeah, this is Rick,” he said, leaning against the desk.

“Hey, it’s Mary,” his wife’s voice came through the line, light but concerned. “Thought you’d want to know—I saw Evelyn back in town. She was at the general store this morning.”

Rick raised an eyebrow, glancing out the window toward Logan. “That right?”

“She looked... well, not great. Like she’s been through it. Thought Logan might want to know.”

Rick thanked her and hung up, stepping back outside with a purposeful stride. Pete caught his eye as he walked toward Logan, who was hunched over another stack of wood.

“What’s the news?” Pete asked.

Rick ignored him, stopping a few feet from Logan. “Hey, Howlett,” he called out, his tone even.

Logan didn’t look up. “What?”

Rick hesitated, then said, “Mary saw Evelyn in town this morning. Thought you’d want to know.”

Logan froze, his hands stilling on the axe handle. For a moment, it looked like he might respond, but then he shook his head and resumed working.

“Good for her,” he muttered, his voice flat.

Pete stepped forward, frustration evident in his expression. “Don’t be an idiot. You’re hurting, and so is she. Go talk to her.”

Logan’s grip on the axe tightened, his knuckles white. “I said I don’t care,” he snapped.

Pete sighed, throwing up his hands. “Alright, fine. Be stubborn. But don’t come crying to us when it’s too late.”

Rick shot Pete a warning look, but Logan didn’t seem to hear them anymore. He swung the axe down with a force that sent the wood flying, the conversation over.

When the day finally ended, Logan climbed into his truck, his body aching from the nonstop work. The drive home was quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound to fill the cab.

As he pulled onto the dirt road leading to his cottage, his headlights illuminated a familiar vehicle parked in his driveway. Logan’s chest tightened, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he slowed to a stop.

It was Evelyn’s truck.

For a long moment, he sat there, staring at it, his mind racing. A part of him wanted to get out, to see her, to hear whatever explanation she had to offer. But the memory of that kiss, of her ex standing so close to her, was a wound that hadn’t stopped bleeding.

With a sharp exhale, Logan put the truck in reverse and backed down the road.

He didn’t look back.

The next day Logan was halfway to the kitchen when he noticed the Polaroid resting on the mantle—the one Evelyn had taken of herself.  

He stared at it for a long moment, his chest tightening as he reached out to pick it up. The sight of her smile—the carefree warmth in her eyes—brought a lump to his throat he couldn’t swallow.  

A sudden knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts. He hesitated, his grip on the Polaroid tightening as he listened.  

“I know you’re there, Logan,” Evelyn’s voice called softly from the other side. “Are you done running away from me? Please... let me explain.”  

Logan’s jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the photo in his hand. He didn’t move.  

“Logan,” she tried again, her voice trembling. “I’m not leaving until you hear me out.”  

Still, he didn’t answer.  

The minutes stretched on, the silence heavy and suffocating. Eventually, Evelyn exhaled shakily, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry. For everything. For not stopping him, for not calling you first. I never wanted to hurt you. Please believe me.”  

When the sound of her footsteps receded, Logan finally let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He sat down heavily, the Polaroid still in his hand as the weight of the past few days pressed down on him like a boulder.  

They didn’t speak for a week after Evelyn’s return. The silence between them was deafening, but neither seemed willing to bridge the gap.

The logging yard was alive with the rhythmic sound of axes striking wood, the hum of engines, and the occasional crack of a tree falling in the distance. Evelyn’s truck rolled into the gravel lot, its tires crunching softly against the frozen ground. Her heart pounded as she parked near the edge of the clearing, unsure if she had made the right decision by coming here.

As she stepped out, the cold air nipped at her cheeks, her breath visible in the chill. Her gaze scanned the bustling yard until it landed on two familiar figures standing near the truck bed—Rick and Pete. They noticed her almost instantly, exchanging a quick glance before Pete raised a hand in greeting.

“Miss Evelyn!” Pete called, his tone warm but tinged with curiosity. He closed the distance between them, wiping his hands on his flannel shirt. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Everything alright?”

She hesitated, shifting on her feet as Rick joined them, his expression more reserved but just as welcoming.

“Is Logan here?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

Pete and Rick exchanged another look, this one heavier.

“He’s around,” Rick said carefully, his arms folding across his chest. “But this probably isn’t the place for whatever conversation you’re looking to have.”

Evelyn’s shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of the last few days catching up to her. “I’ve been trying to talk to him,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I went to his cabin, but... he wouldn’t see me.”

Pete winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s been... well, let’s just say he’s not exactly himself lately.”

“He’s hurt,” Rick added bluntly, his gaze steady on her. “You can see it in the way he’s working—pushing himself harder than he should. Whatever happened between you two, it’s eating him alive.”

Evelyn swallowed hard, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t even—” She stopped, her breath hitching as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I never wanted to hurt him.”

Rick’s expression softened slightly, and he nodded. “I believe you. But he’s got his walls up right now. It’s going to take more than just words to get through to him.”

Pete stepped closer, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We’ll talk to him. Try to get him to see reason. But you’ve got to give him a little time, alright? Let us handle it.”

Evelyn nodded reluctantly, the knot in her stomach tightening. “I don’t want him to think I don’t care,” she said softly.

“He knows,” Pete assured her, his voice surprisingly gentle. “He’s just too damn stubborn to admit it right now.”

The drive back to the cottage felt longer than usual, the winter landscape passing by in a blur. Evelyn’s mind raced, replaying her conversation with Pete and Rick. Their words had given her a small measure of hope, but the weight of uncertainty hung heavy in her chest.

By the time she reached home, the familiar sight of the cozy cottage brought a semblance of comfort. She slipped inside, the warmth of the woodstove embracing her as she shed her coat and boots. Her gaze drifted to the basket of unfinished crochet pieces sitting by the couch.

With a deep breath, Evelyn settled herself down, picking up the half-finished sweater she had started weeks ago. Her hands moved methodically, the repetitive motion of the hook and yarn soothing her frayed nerves.

Hours turned into days, and the rhythm of her life resumed, though it felt emptier than before. She spent her mornings tending to small chores around the cottage, her afternoons lost in her crafts, and her evenings staring at the quiet phone, willing it to ring.

She wanted to give Logan space, to let him come to her when he was ready, but the silence was agonizing. The weight of waiting gnawed at her, and though she tried to keep herself busy, the ache of missing him lingered.

“He knows,” Pete assured her, his voice surprisingly gentle. “He’s just too damn stubborn to admit it right now.”

The drive back to the cottage felt longer than usual, the winter landscape passing by in a blur. Evelyn’s mind raced, replaying her conversation with Pete and Rick. Their words had given her a small measure of hope, but the weight of uncertainty hung heavy in her chest.

By the time she reached home, the familiar sight of the cozy cottage brought a semblance of comfort. She slipped inside, the warmth of the woodstove embracing her as she shed her coat and boots. Her gaze drifted to the basket of unfinished crochet pieces sitting by the couch.

With a deep breath, Evelyn settled herself down, picking up the half-finished sweater she had started weeks ago. Her hands moved methodically, the repetitive motion of the hook and yarn soothing her frayed nerves.

Hours turned into days, and the rhythm of her life resumed, though it felt emptier than before. She spent her mornings tending to small chores around the cottage, her afternoons lost in her crafts, and her evenings staring at the quiet phone, willing it to ring.

She wanted to give Logan space, to let him come to her when he was ready, but the silence was agonizing. The weight of waiting gnawed at her, and though she tried to keep herself busy, the ache of missing him lingered.

It wasn’t until a rainy evening, as Evelyn was driving home from a fair out of town, that their paths crossed again. Logan’s truck was idling at an intersection, his expression unreadable as their eyes met through the windshield. Without thinking, she pulled over, her tires skidding slightly in the mud. She threw her truck into park and jumped out, the cold rain immediately soaking through her coat as she ran toward him.

“Logan,” she called, her voice barely audible over the downpour. 

Logan slammed on the brakes, his truck skidding slightly before halting. He stepped out, his gaze finally meeting hers, his eyes shadowed with a mix of anger and hurt. Rain plastered his hair to his forehead, drops clinging to his lashes as he looked at her.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growled, his voice low and sharp.

“I’m trying to fix this,” she said, her voice trembling. “I can’t stand how things are between us right now.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his hands clenching at his sides. “Maybe things are better this way.”

“No,” she said firmly. “They’re not. I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be. I’m not letting you leave again. Not without hearing me out.”

“I’ve heard enough.”, he spits out.

Evelyn steps closer, her voice rising over the rain.“No, you haven’t! You think you know what happened, but you don’t! That kiss—it wasn’t me. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t want it.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing.“Didn’t look like you were pulling away, either.”

“I froze! I didn’t know how to react. But the second I saw you, it was over. I didn’t care about him—I care about you.”, she said looking at him.

He let out a harsh breath, looking away. “Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change what I saw.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she admitted, tears mixing with the rain. “But it doesn’t mean I didn’t care about how it would hurt you. I love you, Logan. Do you hear me? I love you. And I’m not letting you push me away because of one stupid mistake.”

Logan’s breath catches, his usual walls crumbling under the weight of her words. For a moment, he just stares at her, the rain streaming down his face, a flicker of something raw crossing his face. “Don’t say that,” he muttered. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it,” she said, her voice breaking as tears mixed with the rain streaming down her face. “I love you, and I’m sorry for everything. For not stopping him, for not calling you first. I never wanted to hurt you, Logan. Please believe me.”

For a long moment, they stood there in the rain, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. Finally, Logan closed the distance, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her—desperate, hungry, and filled with all the emotions he’d kept bottled up.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads resting together, Logan exhaled softly. “I love you tooI’ve been alone a long time,” he murmured. “I don’t know if I know how to do this... but I can’t lose you.”

Evelyn smiled through her tears, her hands still cradling his face. “You’re not going to lose me, Logan. We’ll figure it out together.”

The rain continued to pour around them, but in that moment, it felt like the storm had finally passed.

Logan’s eyes searched hers, and without another word, he leaned in again, capturing her lips in a kiss that was deeper, hotter, and filled with all the longing he had tried to suppress. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

Evelyn responded with equal fervor, her fingers threading through his rain-soaked hair, her lips parting to meet his urgency. The rain continued to pour around them, but neither seemed to care. Each kiss was hungrier than the last, the heat between them undeniable despite the cold storm.

Logan’s hands slid up her back, strong and steady, anchoring her as their kiss deepened. When she pressed against him, he let out a low, guttural sound, his restraint slipping. His lips left hers, trailing along her jaw and down her neck, his breath hot against her skin as her head tilted back, exposing more of her to him.

“Maybe we should—” Logan murmured against her neck, his voice rough and uneven.

“Get out of the rain?” she finished breathlessly, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the tension crackling between them. “Yeah. Before we end up with pneumonia.”

They broke apart reluctantly, the air charged as they hurried to his truck. Once inside, the doors slammed shut, the rain pounding against the roof providing a steady rhythm to the silence that followed.

But the moment was far from over. As soon as the doors were locked, Logan reached for her again, pulling her onto his lap. Their lips collided once more, this time with an unrestrained passion that made her shiver. Her hands roamed over his chest, the damp flannel clinging to his broad frame as he held her tightly, his fingers gripping her hips as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.

Their movements grew more heated, her hips grinding down against him instinctively as their breathing quickened. Logan groaned, his head falling back against the seat as she moved again, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through both of them.

“Evelyn,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire. “If we don’t stop now…”

She paused, her forehead pressing to his as they both struggled to catch their breath. The weight of his words hung between them, but neither made a move to pull away.

“Then let’s go,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the flush rising to her cheeks. 

Logan’s hands tightened on her waist, his amber eyes dark with emotion and something deeper. “You sure?”

She nodded, brushing her lips against his once more, softer this time but no less certain. “I’ve never been more sure.”

Without another word, Logan gently lifted her off his lap, his touch lingering as they adjusted themselves. He started the truck, his hand finding hers as they drove through the rain, the tension between them simmering and unresolved—but not for much longer.

The rain hadn’t let up by the time Logan pulled the truck into the clearing by his cabin. The headlights cut through the downpour, illuminating the weathered wood of the small structure nestled among the trees.

Logan killed the engine, turning to glance at Evelyn. Her cheeks were flushed, her damp hair sticking to her neck and temples, but she was staring at him with an intensity that sent a pang through his chest.

“Come on,” he muttered, stepping out of the truck. The cold rain hit him immediately, but he barely noticed as he rounded the vehicle to her side.

Evelyn climbed out, wrapping her arms around herself as the chill seeped through her already soaked clothes. Logan’s hand pressed gently against her back, guiding her toward the cabin. The touch was firm but protective, his warmth cutting through the cold.

Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of pine and faint smoke. Logan flicked on a single lamp, its amber glow softening the shadows in the small space.

“Go shower,” he said gruffly, already shrugging off his wet flannel and hanging it on a hook near the door. His voice softened as he added, “Don’t want you catching a cold.”

Evelyn hesitated, watching as he bent to stoke the fireplace. The orange flames roared to life under his practiced touch, casting flickering light over his broad shoulders and damp hair.

“What about you?” she asked quietly.

“I’ll dry off,” he replied without looking at her. “Go on. Bathroom’s down the hall.”

She lingered for a moment longer, the warmth of his care sinking into her even if his tone was brusque. Then she nodded and disappeared down the hall.

By the time she returned, the cabin was bathed in a cozy glow. Logan had shed his wet clothes, now dressed in a clean pair of jeans and white t-shirt. He was seated on the couch, his head resting against the back, eyes half-closed as he warmed himself by the fire.

Evelyn paused in the doorway, her heart stuttering at the sight of him. He looked so unguarded, so human, a stark contrast to the stormy, gruff exterior he so often wore.

She was wearing one of his shirts—soft and slightly oversized, the sleeves pushed up over her elbows. Her hair was still damp, and her cheeks held a faint blush.

Logan’s eyes opened as she stepped into the room, and they darkened when they landed on her. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet between them carrying all the weight of what had happened that night.

She crossed the room and climbed onto his lap, straddling him without hesitation. Logan stiffened slightly, his hands instinctively resting on her thighs, but he didn’t pull away.

“Evelyn…” he began, his voice low, almost a warning.

“I just want to be close to you,” she whispered, her hands finding his shoulders. “Is that okay?”

Logan’s eyes softened, the tension in his body easing as he exhaled. “Yeah,” he murmured, his hands sliding up to rest on her waist. 

She leaned forward, her forehead pressing gently to his. They sat like that for a moment, the crackling fire filling the silence. Logan’s hands moved to the small of her back, pulling her closer, and she sighed softly, her fingers trailing along the curve of his jaw.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said, his voice rough but sincere.

“I know,” she replied, brushing her lips lightly against his. “But I want this. I want you.”

Logan’s breath hitched as her hands slid beneath his shirt, her fingers grazing his skin with the kind of deliberate, maddening slowness that made his muscles tighten. He caught her wrists, holding them still against his chest as his amber eyes locked onto hers, dark with a mixture of frustration and desire.

“Evelyn,” he rasped, his voice low, like gravel, as though her name alone was enough to unravel him. “Don’t push me unless you mean it.”

Her lips curved—not into a smile, but something softer, something steeped in the kind of certainty he wasn’t sure how to face. “I mean it,” she whispered, her words quiet but carrying the weight of all the times she hadn’t said them before.

Logan’s grip on her wrists loosened, his hands sliding up her arms and pulling her closer as if he couldn’t help himself. He lowered his head, his forehead pressing to hers, their breaths mingling in the stillness of the room. The only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the faint storm still raging outside.

“Do you know what you’re asking for?” he murmured, his voice raw, thick with the effort it took to hold himself back.

Her response was immediate, her fingers curling into his shoulders as she tugged him closer. “I’ve waited long enough,” she said, her voice steady despite the way her heart was racing. “Haven’t you?”

The question landed like a punch to his chest. Of course he had. Every glance, every touch, every moment she’d been close enough to feel but not touch—it had all been building to this, wearing him down piece by piece. And now, here she was, not just asking but demanding, her presence overwhelming in a way that left him powerless to resist.

“Damn it, Evelyn,” he growled, his voice barely a whisper as his hands slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him. His lips captured hers with a ferocity that surprised even him, the kiss deep and unrelenting, years of restraint and denial crumbling in an instant.

She responded in kind, her hands threading into his hair as if she couldn’t get him close enough. Her hips shifted instinctively against his, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest that sent a shiver racing through her.

When he pulled back, it was only far enough to press his forehead to hers, his breath ragged as his hands tightened on her waist. “If we keep going…” His voice was strained, his words a warning that came too late.

Her gaze locked onto his, unwavering. “Then we keep going,” she said simply, her voice soft but resolute. Her hands drifted down to the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward in one fluid motion.

Logan let her strip it away, his chest rising and falling heavily as he studied her. His hands hovered at her sides, hesitant, even now. “You sure?” he asked, the question a bare whisper, almost lost in the space between them.

Her answer was to close the gap, her lips brushing his with a gentleness that sent his control spiraling. “I’ve never been more sure,” she murmured, her voice steady even as her fingers traced the faint scars across his chest.

Logan groaned softly, his hands finally moving, sliding up her sides with a reverence that made her heart ache. When he kissed her again, it wasn’t hurried—it was slow, deliberate, as if he was trying to commit every second to memory.

Without a word, he shifted, lifting her effortlessly and carrying her the short distance to the bedroom. He set her down carefully, his hands lingering at her hips as he stood over her, his chest rising and falling with the effort of restraint.

Her hands reached for him again, pulling him down until he was hovering above her, the weight of him grounding her as much as it electrified her. His lips found hers, his kiss deepening as his hands explored her body with a mix of hunger and care.

When her hips rolled against him again, drawing another guttural sound from his throat, Logan pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. “If we’re doing this,” he said, his voice a growl softened by something deeper, “I’m not letting you go.”

Her lips curved, her fingers threading into his hair and tugging just enough to make him groan. “Good,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion and desire. “Because I don’t want you to.”

Logan’s eyes locked onto hers, the raw heat in his gaze making her pulse race. He crushed his lips to hers, the kiss no longer gentle but searing, desperate, as though he couldn’t get enough of her.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he pressed her back into the bed. The weight of him was intoxicating, his strength overwhelming yet controlled, as if he were holding himself back by sheer will alone. She wasn’t having it. Her fingers slid down his chest, nails skimming the taut muscles before finding the button of his jeans. With a flick of her wrist, she popped it open, dragging the zipper down with deliberate slowness, savoring the sharp inhale he couldn’t suppress.

Logan growled against her mouth, his breath hot and uneven as he broke the kiss to bury his face in her neck. His teeth scraped against the sensitive skin, a teasing bite that made her gasp and arch into him.

Logan’s hands, large and rough, gripped the hem of her shirt and yanked it upward, pulling it over her head in one fluid motion. The garment fluttered to the floor, forgotten, as his eyes roamed over her, dark with hunger.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice a low, gravelly murmur, tempered with a tenderness that made her chest tighten.

Her cheeks burned, her nerves tangling with her desire. “I… I want to,” she whispered, her fingers gripping the edge of his waistband, but her voice trembled despite her conviction. “I just—”

Logan silenced her with a kiss, this one slower, deliberate, as if he were savoring her. When he pulled away, his thumb brushed over her cheek, his expression a mixture of hunger and restraint. “You don’t have to rush anything,” he said softly, his forehead pressing against hers. 

Her heart thudded at his words, and she nodded, her fingers trailing up to his chest, where his heartbeat was steady and strong beneath her touch. 

Logan’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles, his hands moving to her waist, steady and sure. 

Her hands trembled as she reached for him, sliding over his chest and down to the waistband of his jeans. “I want to see you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan grinned, the expression almost feral, but there was a softness in his gaze as he stood to strip off his jeans and boxers in one smooth motion. When he returned to her, he moved slower, his body warm and solid as he pressed against her.

“Touch me,” he encouraged, his hand guiding hers to explore the ridges of his chest and the lines of his muscles. The heat in his voice was laced with reassurance, and the way he watched her, patient and unhurried, made her boldness grow.

Her fingers mapped his skin, her touch tentative at first, but when he groaned, low and deep, she felt a thrill she couldn’t ignore. “Like that,” he murmured, his hand sliding down her thigh to pull her closer, his touch igniting sparks along her skin.

She tentatively grabbed hold of his thick and veiny penis, wrapping her fingers around him. Logan inhaled sharply at her touch, his jaw tightening momentarily before his expression softened. He placed his hand gently over hers, guiding her movements with slow precision.

"Just like that," he murmured, his voice low and husky. 

Evelyn’s blush deepened, but she didn’t pull away, her curiosity outweighing her hesitation. She watched his face, captivated by the way his brows furrowed slightly, his lips parting as she followed his lead. Her movements were clumsy at first, uncertain, but Logan’s patience never wavered.

"Good," he whispered, his voice laced with encouragement. "You're perfect."

The praise sent a shiver through her, and she felt a growing confidence in her actions. Logan leaned down, kissing her deeply, his hand sliding from hers to cup her cheek once more, anchoring her in the moment.

“Logan,” she breathed, her voice shaky but filled with trust.

"May I?" he asked, his fingers toying with the delicate fabric of her panties.

Evelyn nodded, her breath catching as he began to slide the garment down her legs. His eyes never left hers, even as he rid her of the last barrier between them. Once she was bare beneath him, Logan took a moment to simply look at her, his gaze reverent.

Logan let his hands smooth over her thighs slowly opening them up, her arousal glistening in the low light of the room.

“Don’t be scared”, he whispered as he lowered himself coming face to face with her sex. “You smell so good.”, he said, nuzzling the skin of her inner thigh.

Logan peppered kisses over her mound and inner thigh’s, whie his hand snaked up to grab hold of her right breast and gave it a good squeeze.

Logan gave a kiss to her clit eliciting a moan to erupt from deep within. He took that as a sign to keep going, the hand that was on her breast trailed down her belly and stopped when it came in contact with her pussy. His index and pointer finger lowered down to her glistening hole collecting her arousal and spreading it around. Evelyn gasped and his tongue ran a single long line across her slit to her bud,making her shiver at the foreigner feeling.

“Logan…” she moaned.

“Tell me what you want.” he answered, his breath fanning over her hole.

“More of that, please.” 

He took her plea as an incentive to keep going. His tongue replaced his thumb, slowly circling her clit  and occasionally dipping it to her hole.

Evelyn's legs closed instinctively around his head as her moans became incrinsingly louder.

“Feel good?” he asked rhetorically.

She nodded looking down at him and biting her lip.

His index finger started to circle her hole as his tongue remained focused on her clit, carefully dipping it in, until his hand came in full contact with her pussy.

Evelyn moaned at the intrusion but welcomed it. Logan started to slowly pump it in and out, creating a steady rhythm.

Evelyn started to moan softly, and at that Logan decided to add another finger. 

“Oh God…”she moaned as his fingers pumped easily in and out of her. 

Her hand clasped around his arm as he began opening her hole “Logan…”

He positioned himself above her, continuing to pump his fingers. He licked her lips and gently bit her bottom lip pulling it slowly.

Evelyn, taken over by the overwhelming feeling, grabbed hold of his arm.”Logan…”, she moaned.

Logan could feel her walls tightening around his fingers and incresead the spead,making sure to stimulate her clit with his thumb.

A loud moan erupted from Evelyn as she came hard.

Content with this work, Logan retrieved his fingers from her hole and, staring at her eyes, sucked his fingers clean.

“So good,” he said as he laid between her legs.

Evelyn blushed at his words and pulled him in for a kiss. Logan laid his hips over hers, allowing for his manhood to come in direct contact with her pussy. As the kiss grew hungrier, their hips started to move, creating friction, allowing for moans to erupt on both ends.

Logan, without breaking the kiss, pulled his hips back, allowing for him to line himself with Evelyn's entry. He began to slowly push in, feeling the resistance slowly ease.

Evelyn gasped in his mouth, as she felt him bottom out.

Logan rested his forehead on hers and intertwined their fingers above her head.

“How are you feeling?”he asked, looking for any sign of discomfort.

“Full,” she said breathlessly.

He shifted his hips slightly, giving her time to adjust, his hand caressing the curve of her waist to steady her. Evelyn gasped again, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips as her body adjusted to the stretch and fullness.  

“Let me know if it’s too much,” Logan said softly, his voice carrying both reassurance and patience.  

“I just… I need a moment.”she replied breathlessly, her cheeks flushed.  

Logan nodded, leaning down to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering there. He stayed still, allowing her to acclimate to the new sensation. His fingers remained intertwined with hers, their grip grounding her in the moment.  

When Evelyn shifted her hips experimentally, a soft sigh escaping her lips, Logan took it as a sign to move. Slowly, he began to withdraw before easing back in, his movements controlled and deliberate. He watched her face closely, his sharp eyes scanning for any trace of discomfort, but all he found was awe and the growing haze of pleasure.  

Evelyn’s breaths came in short gasps, her lips parting as she met his thrusts tentatively at first, then with increasing confidence. The connection between them deepened with every movement, the air heavy with shared vulnerability and trust.  

“You’re doing so good,” Logan praised, his voice rough yet tender as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his lips brushing her skin.  

Her hands tightened around his, her head tilting back into the pillows as soft moans spilled from her lips. “Logan… oh, Logan…” she whispered, her voice carrying a mix of astonishment and need.  

He groaned at the sound of his name on her lips, his pace quickening slightly as he felt her relax around him. Their bodies moved together, finding a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing. The heat between them built steadily, the tension mounting as every thrust brought them closer to the edge.  

“You're so tight and wet- Fuck” he rasped, his voice thick as he pressed his forehead to hers once more.  

Logan's hand left hers to brush a strand of damp hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her flushed cheek. “I got you baby,” he whispered, his tone reverent.  

One of his hands made its way down, and Logan began circling her bundle of nerves.

“Yes! Oh, my God, yes!” Evelyn cried as her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders for stability, as she felt herself overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

He smiled looking at her. “Look… Look at how good we fit together - shit” he moaned.

Evelyn looked down, and was amazed at the sight, his thick and veiny member covered in her slick going in and out of her, the motion creacting a creamy white ring at the base of his manhood. 

“Logan,” she said moaned.

Logan speed up, the sound of slapping skin feeling the room.

“It's okay baby, let it happen.” He leaned down and kissed her with a bruising force.

Evelyn moans filled the room.

She looked deep in his eyes and took hold of his hair. 

Oh

Oh

She tugged on his hair as she came hard around him, the bed beneath her shaking.

Logan growled as his tip bumped into her cervix, the extra lubrication helped him dive even deeper. 

“Sh-it!” He cursed as he felt her walls contracting around him urging his release.

Logan moaned deeply as his penis throbbed, spilling his seed deep inside of Evelyn’s velvety walls.

The new sensation made her eyes roll to the back of her head. It was something so deeply intimate and messy.

Logan collapsed on top of her. They were still both breathless as he lifted his head and looked at her.

“You okay?” He asked breathlessly as placed a soft kiss on her lips.

Evelyn smiled against his mouth, her arms still wrapped loosely around his shoulders. “More than okay,” she murmured, her voice carrying a mix of awe and teasing.

He smiled gently, lifting himself off her, to pull out his member from her.  He growled at the sight of their conjoined release coming out of her achy hole.

Logan laid beside her, his chest rising and falling in time with her soft breaths. Evelyn rested her head against him, her hand splayed over his heart as though it belonged there. The warmth of her body pressed into his, and he tightened his arm around her, pulling her impossibly closer.

Her eyes fluttered shut, her breathing evening out as sleep began to claim her. Logan let his fingers trail lightly along her back, his touch lingering, savoring the moment.

For a long while, he simply stayed there, listening to her breathe, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. 

Eventually, his own eyes began to grow heavy, his mind and body at ease in a way he’d never thought possible. With Evelyn tucked safely against him, he let himself give in, falling into the pull of sleep.

Together, they drifted into a deep, dreamless slumber, tangled in each other’s arms, exactly where they were meant to be.

Chapter 8

______________________________________________________________--tagging some amazing people that showed interest on my previous post (if you don't want to be tagged please let me know):

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© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.

[madamenaomi]

Do Brats Need More Softness?

I’m not a brat tamer, and I never will be. I find obedience deeply seductive—there’s a quiet power in the way surrender can be a gift freely given. That’s what I crave. That’s what fulfills me. But I also believe that not every brat needs to be ‘tamed’. Sometimes, they just need to be loved on a little more.

I recently had a client who showed brat tendencies our first week together. During his onboarding process, I searched for any indications that he might be a brat and made it very clear that I wasn’t the right Domme if what he needed was a tamer. He assured me that he was seeking guidance, structure—someone to hold him accountable while he pulled himself out of the cycle of procrastination and bed-rotting he’d fallen into after losing a close friend. Our initial conversation flowed naturally, and I was drawn to him, so, even though I had my suspicions, I reserved them.

He only booked me for two weeks, and by the end of week one, he had his first bratty fit. It was slight, almost unnoticeable, but I recognized it for what it was and decided on an appropriate punishment. This left us with a disconnect, because I over punished for what should have been a funishment.

In turn, it created a whirlpool of shame within him that hurt our dynamic. The shame stirred from his inability to appease me as someone who prided himself on being obedient and devoted. My response made him feel anything but that, which made his confidence diminish.

This is something I never want to see in a submissive ever again.

When the second fit occurred, I didn’t lean into punishment or respond with the disciplinary steps I normally would. Instead, I found myself reaching for the softest part of me.

“Princess,” I called him softly. “Do you want to tell Mommy why you haven’t finished your task today?”

There was silence on the other end. I could hear his breathing, uneven and shallow, as if he were bracing himself for a reprimand. But I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t scold. I just waited.

When he finally spoke, his voice was small. “I don’t know… I was going to, and then I just didn’t feel like it. I’m sorry.”

I hummed softly. “Did you not feel like it, or did it feel too heavy to start?”

Another pause. Then, finally, a whisper. “Too heavy.” His voice was so sweet and soft.

I could have corrected him then. Reminded him of the commitment he made to himself, to me. I could have reinforced discipline. But I didn’t. Instead, I chose a different path.

“Come here, baby,” I murmured, knowing fully well he couldn’t physically be near me. But the words did something—I heard his breath hitch. “You’re holding so much, aren’t you?”

He exhaled shakily. “Yeah…”

“Let Mommy help, then,” I cooed. “We’ll take this slow, together. Tell me everything. You’re feeling right now.”

What started as an extra vulnerable conversation led to Hypnosis play session that left him extra obedient for the rest of the week I was his Domme.

Eventually, I had to let him go so he could find a more appropriate Domme, someone with more experience in taming, as I believed he needed that more. But my experience with him showed me that bratting can be a plea for more nurturing. A subtle, subconscious way of asking, Do you see me? Do you care enough to hold me through this? And sometimes, the answer isn’t discipline, force, correction or even funishments. Sometimes, it’s a little more love.

[mongoosingisme]

Title: Game Day

Rating: Explicit (MDNI)

Relationship: Shane/fem!Reader

Word Count: 3913

Summary: Gridball wasn't usually your thing, but maybe just for this once you'll make an exception.

Read on AO3 or below

There was a reason you left the city to go live in the middle of nowhere. Crowds? Noise? Confusion? Fucking people? Absolutely not your thing.

Yet there you were, in the middle of a crowd, dodging sloshed drinks and bits of popcorn, trying not to cover your ears as the mass of bodies around you roared. Something had happened out on the field, you surmised, but what that thing was you hadn’t the foggiest.

Here’s what you did know, though: you’d never seen Shane look so happy.

He was why you were there, of course. You wouldn’t hop on a bus to a gridball game on your own. But he’d been so excited when he asked you, and to be honest you were thrilled to be spending time with him, so all in all it was an easy yes.

“What just happened?” You had to yell for Shane to hear you over the crowd. 

“The Tunnelers just dominated that maul! They’ve got possession and-“ he broke off his explanation in a roar of delight, surging with the crowd as something happened out on the field. 

You assumed it was something good.

You didn’t know the first thing about gridball, but that was alright - you’d rather spectate Shane. You knew he played when he was younger, was quite good, even, and you wondered if this was how he looked on the field: eyes bright, body loose and moving, quick and alert and reactive and so, so different from the man he was just a month ago.

It was dizzying, sometimes, the change in him. Overwhelming to consider what could have been, if things had gone differently. If you hadn’t been there that day on the cliff. If you’d kept buying him beers. If Jas hadn’t burst into tears. You knew that version of Shane was still there, just under the surface. You don’t shake off years (a lifetime?) of depression and self-loathing after one good month. But Yoba, watching him do the work, watching him change, grow, embrace the terrifying uncertainty of life?

Well. It didn’t help the crush that’d been stewing since the moment he’d first slouched by you on the street.

No slouching now, though. You could see the athlete coming out: feet wide, knees bent, chin up, grinning as he bounced from foot to foot. He looked so happy.

The crowd roared again. “What? What?” you asked, flapping your hand against Shane’s side in excitement.

“They’re getting aggressive, watch, watch!” Shane didn’t seem to notice that he’d grabbed your hand, but you sure did. He was warm, his palm slightly rough, fingers thick and strong as he used your hand to gesture out to the field.

You were about to interlace your fingers with his when he dropped away. He was jumping now, jumping with the crowd, hands on either side of his mouth, yelling something in time with the people around him. A chant, growing in volume and losing intelligibility as one of the teams (you thought it was the one you were cheering for, but you weren’t entirely sure) made a run towards one end of the pitch.

Seconds later, you wished you’d brought ear protection.

The Tunnelers had scored. You didn’t know much, but that you could tell. The crowd was erupting, and you found yourself caught up in the energy, laughing and shouting along with them, jumping, bumping into Shane as he lept beside you. You stumbled, but he caught you, a hand under your elbow, the other around your back, and then suddenly his lips were on yours.

The kiss was brief, rough, full of jubilant energy and the scrape of stubble. It was over before you could register it, before you could respond, and Shane was backing away looking horrified.

“Sorry, sorry, shit, I’m sorry. I got carried away there.” His hands were up in front of him, he was cringing back into himself a bit, and that was absolutely not what you wanted. 

“I like when you get carried away,” you shouted, then you grabbed him by the collar of his jersey, yanked him over, and kissed him back.

He froze for a second, but then he was returning the kiss with all the intensity of the stadium around you. Hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in towards his mouth, open, tongue working in, hot and wet and with just a hint of desperation. You could taste the cola he’d been drinking, sweet, and feel the rumble of his groan as he drew you closer. You imagined, for a moment, that the crowd was responding to the two of you, their cheers and chants an unstoppable reaction to the outpouring of joy and desire and tension and relief cascading between your mouths.

It was a very good kiss.

“Fuck,” Shane said as you both gasped and broke apart. Your hand was still clenched around his collar. “Really? Are you… really?”

“Really,” you said. “How long does the game have left?”

“Dunno, maybe an hour?” Shane looked confused for a moment, but then he grinned. “Why, you wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah, I think I do.” You were grinning too, standing close to him there in the crowd, bumping up against his chest, his hand spread on your back, keeping you there.

“Fuck,” he said again. “Okay. Okay. If you mean it, come with me.”

You absolutely meant it, so it was easy to let him grab your hand, pull you through the crowd, down into the stadium. Shane picked up his pace as the press of bodies thinned, and soon you both were almost running past the bathrooms, past the concession stands, past the merch shop, down the stairs, through a set of double doors. It was even quieter there, the roar of the crowd muted, and as his pace slowed you couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Where are we?” you said.

Shane grinned back at you and raised his eyebrows. “Below the stadium. Come on.”

You imagined he’d spent time here, at one point. He seemed familiar with the turns of the hallway, knew which door to push through to reach an even quieter hall, and then there was an innocuous brown door that opened to a storage room. Racks of gridballs, training equipment that seemed ragged and well-used, a pile of mats, and Shane, backing you up against the wall, smiling in disbelief as his hands found your hips.

“You sure knew where to go,” you said, a little breathless. “Do you bring all your girls here?”

Shane snorted. “You know me, drowning in pussy.”

“Is that a request?” 

Shane groaned, pressed his hips up against yours. You felt something twitch there, start to grow. “Fuck,” he breathed. “I can’t… are you sure you want…”

You could sense a spiral starting. Better nip that in the bud. “Kiss me,” you said, and he did. Soft and breathy at first, not insisting. You figured he was giving you a chance to change your mind, to align yourself to the part of his brain that made him feel unworthy of anything good in his life. You were going to smother that voice in him, deprive it of oxygen with your mouth and your body and your words, and so you kissed him back hard, opened your mouth, let your tongue brush against his lips.

Bingo.

The wall was flush against your back now, Shane’s hands cupping either side of your head as his tongue delved. You whimpered as it stroked in, felt him shudder, loved the way you could feel him hardening against your pelvis. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulled him in as close as you could, felt him leaning against you, pressing you back, until you were caught between the warmth of his heavy body and the cold concrete behind you.

You let your hands wander as you kissed, pressed them up under the back of his shirt, felt the soft skin of his lower back. He groaned as you very, very gently scratched your nails up his spine. His hands were moving now too, gripping at your hips as he kissed you, then running up your sides, thumbs spread out. He shuddered as they pressed into the sides of your breasts, shifted, and then he was cupping them fully. You didn’t even try to hold back the mewl the contact caused, broke the kiss to arch your back into him, letting your posture communicate “yes,” communicate “more.”

And it worked because Shane was squeezing you harder now, exhilaratingly rough, pressing your breasts together and up, dropping his face to where they mounded above your neckline, kissing and sucking and groaning as he squeezed. His stubble scratched at your skin, one of his hands shifted to roll a nipple between two fingers. You were caught up in it, an onslaught of sensation that had you gasping out his name.

“You are so fucking hot,” Shane gasped, drawing back and looking at the press of his hands on your chest. “How the fuck is this happening?”

“I know what you mean.” And you did. You’d always been drawn to his physique, soft around the middle, thighs thick and sturdy, an inch or two taller than you but so, so much stronger. You had no doubt he could hold you up against the wall if he had a mind to, couldn’t help but clench at the thought of how heavy and good his body would feel on top of you.

“Liar,” Shane murmured, one hand dropping to rest on your stomach, the other bracing above your head.

“No I’m not. I can prove it.”

“Yeah?” His forehead was pressing against yours, his inhales short and noisy. The hand on your stomach pressed into you, just a little.

“Yeah,” you said, and grabbed his wrist. You locked your gaze with his as you pushed his hand down. His eyes were even darker than usual, contrasting with his flushed skin. He kept them open as you guided him beneath your waistband, below your underwear, but they fell closed as the tip of his finger brushed against your folds.

“Yoba, you’re so wet,” he breathed. You gasped as his finger slid down, parting you gently, the skimming touch sending sparks flying through your core. “For me? Really?”

“Yes for you, you goose.” you said. 

“You’re the goose,” he replied, and then he was kissing you again, rough and bruising as he pressed his finger inside of you.

You groaned into his mouth at the feeling, the stretch of his thick finger. His mouth was moving fast and hot on you, but his finger was slow, pushing in inch by inch, filling you up until you were moaning and shaking and grasping at his shoulders. 

“Fuck,” he whispered as you squeezed around him. “This cannot be real.”

“Shane,” you said, as his finger stayed maddeningly still inside of you. “This is real. And I really, really need you to move.”

He smiled. “Like this?” he said, slowly drawing his finger out of you. 

You whined at the loss. “More,” you said. “I need more.”

Shane groaned, pressed his mouth into the side of your neck. “I’ve got more for you.” His voice was a little lower, a little raspier than you were used to hearing. He pressed back in, two fingers this time, broad and solid and moving, thank Yoba, they were moving, pressing up and down, gentle but filling, working against your walls with growing speed as you clung to his neck.

The room was quiet, the roar of the stadium muted enough that you could hear each other breathe, gasp. You could even hear the wet sound of Shane’s fingers in you, growing louder the faster he moved. He pressed kisses to you as he worked, to your neck, your shoulder, your jaw, your ear. He held the lobe gently between his teeth, breath loud, augmenting the cacophony of sensations running through you, drawing you up. He was getting even faster now, rougher, pressing the pads of his fingers into you perfectly. The sound of the stadium swelled as you did - they must have scored, you thought dimly. Shane’s fingers changed their angle, just a little, just enough to push you over the edge. You gasped his name as you came, the sound ragged and broken in the quiet room, and Shane groaned as he worked you through it.

“Yoba, you’re good at that,” you managed as your soul settled back into your body.

“Nice to know I’m good for something,” Shane said into your neck. You were about to chastise him for the self-deprecation, but his fingers were moving, finding your clit. “Got another one for me?”

For him? Always. And you would have told him that, but he wasn’t waiting for an answer. His fingertips moved on you, three together, rubbing soft and steady on the side of your nub, and all you could get out was a squeak. He made a satisfied sound as his lips found your neck again.

He shifted as his fingers worked, pressed his pelvis into the side of your hips. You could feel his cock against you, stiff, hot, and he groaned as you reached down to grasp it. The proof of his arousal, that he wanted this every bit as much as you wanted him, tightened something in your core, made you cry out as a second climax ripped through you.

You sagged. Shane caught you, pulling your side against his chest. His cock was still in your hand. You squeezed it gently. He made a choked little sound.

You wondered if he’d make the same sound if you squeezed when he was inside of you.

“I have a condom in my bag,” you said.

He made the sound again. “You’re not saying…”

And he was kissing you again, hand on the side of your face, pushing you back up against the wall with one of those big thighs between your legs. You rubbed against it, could feel his cock even harder now. His hands were frenetic, moving over you fast and random, each squeeze and stroke and touch a conduit for the anxious energy that seemed to be bottling up inside of him. 

“I am absolutely saying,” you gasped as you pulled back. Or at least tried to. His mouth wouldn’t leave yours, pressing, demanding, tongue stroking as he shuddered, and you worried he might fall apart completely. “Unless you don’t want to,” you added into his mouth.

“Of course I fucking want to.” He was pulling on the collar of your shirt now, baring your shoulder, leaving kisses and just a hint of teeth behind. “I’ve wanted to from the moment I first saw you.”

Now that was an interesting fact, but one that would have to be mulled over later, because he was still talking. “There’s just no way you could possibly be asking me to fuck you next to a pile of moldy tackle bags.”

”Shane, you could fuck me on top of the moldy tackle bags and I would still have the time of my life. Now stop stalling and let me grab my bag.”

You enjoyed the broken way he said “Yoba,” extricated yourself from atop his thigh, and bent to rummage in your bag. You’d grabbed it as Shane had hauled you from the stands, dropped it unceremoniously as he’d pushed you against the wall, and now its contents were somewhat strewn over the floor.

It took you a second to scoop everything back in, to find the square of foil. You made a triumphant sound, held it up to show Shane.

He was watching you with a stricken expression.

Well shit.

“Uh-uh,” you said. “Stay with me.”

“I am with you,” he said, letting you put your arms around him, “and it makes no fucking sense.” 

“Does it need to?” You heard him sigh, press his face into your shoulder. You pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Maybe it doesn’t.” His voice was quiet. You heard the soft, distant roar of the crowd somewhere above you. “Every time you’re around I feel like I’m in a dream. I keep expecting to wake up.”

“Want me to pinch you?” 

He snorted. “Depends on where.” 

That felt like a good sign. You cupped a hand over his ass, then gave him a playful pinch. ”Awake now?”

“I guess.” His voice was low. He kept his face to your shoulder. “You sure you want this?”

You knew what he meant. Did you want him, and all the baggage that came with it? He was giving you an out, still seemed to think you were looking for an excuse to leave gracefully. 

The only way you were going to leave him was kicking and screaming.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You hugged him around the middle, staggered just a little as he leaned into you. 

“You have terrible taste,” he said.

“Yet you continue to put up with me.” 

You could feel him smile. “It’s okay, I’m used to slumming it.” He dropped a kiss onto your shoulder, then turned the both of you so your back was against the wall again. His hands stayed on your waist as he kissed you, gentler this time, slow and soft. You let him set the pace, let him work himself back up, growing bolder as you responded with gasps and moans and nails digging though his shirt.

He seemed a little lost in it, caught up in the kiss, the contact, and you would have been just peachy with letting it go on as long as he wanted it to, but you had to be pragmatic. Shane was in fact not dreaming. The two of you were in a storage room in a very well-attended stadium, and if you wanted to achieve your goals here without being discovered you’d need to get moving.

“Shane,” you gasped, breaking away, “if we want to fulfil my lifelong dream of getting fucked next to a pile of moldy tackle bags, we should probably get a move-on.”

His response was one last slow, deep, shuddering kiss, then his hands were on the waistband of your leggings, pulling down, and you were pulling at his belt, his zipper, and you’d kicked off a shoe somewhere, one leg bare, one with a pile of fabric around the ankle, and then Shane’s cock was out. You made a note to take some time with it later, get to know it with your hands and your mouth, but for now Shane was too quick with getting the condom on to give you much of an impression outside of “deliciously thick.”

He still didn’t say anything as he hitched one of your legs up over his hip, braced it with a thigh, let his fingers dig into the side of your ass. You pressed yourself up on the ball of your other foot, and it was just the right height to rub yourself over his cock. 

That, finally, got him to say something, a long, gasping “fuck.” He hauled you up closer, and you put your arms around his neck, letting him support you as you ground against him. 

“Fuck,” he said again as you moved. He felt incredible against you, the base of his cock providing the perfect spot to rub your clit. You wondered if with a little more time you could make yourself come like this, all slick and heat and his body beneath you and the sounds he was making as you moved.

But no, time was short and you had a goal now. You slowed, grasped his shaft (Yoba, he was thick), and circled his tip around your entrance. You both gasped at that, Shane’s hips stuttering. He pressed his face back against your shoulder.

“All good?” you asked him. 

“It’s been a minute since I’ve done this, so don’t expect much of a performance. Keep your expectations low.” He was using that voice, the one he used to use when he’d ask you if you had work to do. The one that made you think of a porcupine bristling, sharp and spiked to protect the softness underneath.

“Says the man who already made me come twice,” you said, pleased with how coherent you sounded despite how distractingly incredible his cock was feeling all pressed up against your core. “You don’t have a damn thing to worry about.” 

“You’re… fuck, okay. Okay. Yoba. Okay.” He was shifting, and you were too, aligning him with your entrance, sighing as his hips pressed forward, as he slid inside you, slow and steady, just like his fingers but so, so much thicker, so much more overwhelming, stretching you and filling you in a way that had you groaning, clutching at his back, whispering his name.

“Fuck, baby,” he said in that low, wrecked voice. “You feel so fucking perfect.” You didn’t know if it was the tone, the praise, or the endearment, but you were starting to lose it a little. It was your turn to press your face into his shoulder, to whimper, to let your body shudder and squeeze around the delectable fullness in your core. “You good?” he asked. “Need me to stop?”

“I’m good,” you whispered. “Just needed a second. Go ahead and move.”

And move he did, pressing you back against the wall, bracing with his thigh, hips thrusting. He could only move an inch or two in this position, but that was all you needed. All you could take, most likely, with how full you felt and how fast he was moving, pistoning into you now, hands grasping hard at your ass, grunting soft near your ear with each thrust. 

The concrete wall was cold against your back, a little rough where your shirt had ridden up a bit, but the sensation was inconsequential compared to the feeling of Shane in you. Finally was the word that came to mind. Finally there, finally with you, finally touching you, finally letting his guard down, finally letting you reach him, finally inside of you, closer than close, quills plucked, sharp edges smoothed, armor gone, just pliant and moving and perfect and real. Just the person you knew he was, just the person you could see in him from the moment you’d first passed on the street. Just Shane. 

“You’re doing so good,” you whispered. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.”

Shane groaned, his thrusts losing rhythm. You wanted to keep talking, shower him with praise, keep feeding the part of his mind that let him enjoy the world as he should, but his mouth was over yours, the kiss wild and unrefined, and he was moaning into you, moaning as he moved, as he tensed up, hips making little jerks, until he froze, climaxing, making that choked sound again. He fell forward, plastering you to the wall, limbs heavy and relaxed. He still held your leg over his thigh.

“So is that how gridball games usually go?” you asked after a moment.

Shane let out a long, deep breath. And then he laughed. “Only the good ones.”  

You couldn’t fix him. You knew that. But as you rode home on the bus later that evening, Shane’s head resting on your shoulder, his fingers interlaced with yours, you wondered if that was besides the point. Whatever the days ahead brought, you knew who he could be.  

For now, that was more than enough.

[cursedfallingmoon]

Listen

Rory and reader dancing in the forest in the rising sun's light while they both him and the reader humming "Once Upon A Dream" softly as birds sing along all around them

Wfkysjiolc

I need it

- Anon💤

Who?: Rory

Type?: G/N Reader

Cw?: Possessiveness

A/n?: Sorry this was responded to so late! I got caught up in IRL stuff and my writer's block hit me so hard. Hope this is up to your expectations!!! Sorry for the weird ending, I wanted to fit the crows in from the first headcannons.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Rory was enchanted by the person in front of him. Their eyes were beautiful under the orange hue of the setting sun. The two were in the very forest they had first met. Where Rory found his true love. Rory followed every move, every gesture. He let you lead him. The rustling of the trees added to the serenity of the moment. You were alone with him. Him! It had been a couple moons since you saved him from the eternal sleep he was victim too. Rory couldn't imagine not being able to see you for a hundred years. Nor could he live with himself if you had died. But those worries are far behind. He's here with you now.

The sky covered you both in a magical light. The rustling of trees slowed as Rory caught your voice. You were singing! Your voice was so soothing. He could fall asleep with just listening to you. You could say everything was okay, and he'd believe you without question. Your singing was even better.

"Once upon a Dream..."

Your voice was so alluring that even the birds started to sing the same tune. Rory held you tighter as you guided him through the dance. It was a fluid harmony between you two. He had been working on his dancing. After your first waltz during Rory's birthday party, he had been inspired to improve. You inspire him to do more. Right now, though, all he can focus on is you.

The sun continued to set, the birds singing along with you got a bit louder, and your eyes shined. Rory fell in love with you even more. If that was even possible.

This moment was perfect. His dream come true.

Rory found himself humming along with your tune. He made sure he harmonized with you. Rory felt safe. Loved. Like nothing could ever harm him. Nothing would take him out of this moment. As long as he had you in his arms, then he could be happy. He could be safe.

This started out as a simple picnic date. That was what this was meant to be. That alone was perfect. But when you held out your hand to Rory, and pulled him against your chest, the date became perfect. He would do anything to make this moment last forever. To be in your arms forever. Your chest, and your arms, were where he was meant to be. No other space was ever warm enough for Rory.

When the sun finally set over its horizon, Rory felt saddened. The moment with you was over. Slowly, the birds dispersed, leaving you the only one singing. It was haunting how it echoed. Rory's body broke out in chills. His dream slowly seeped into a nightmare. He didn't like it.

"Dear… It's getting late."

Rory felt so meek. Small. He hated it. His hands tightened around your back. Rory found himself pressing his body tighter against yours.

"Oh. I hadn't noticed. Your smile distracted me from the sun. I swear it's just as if not more blinding."

Rory's anxieties slowly eased out of him. You always knew what to say. How to make him feel better. That's why he adored you so much.

As you pulled away to clean up the picnic, or what was left of it, this sinking feeling made its way to his stomach. The vibrant birds that sang along with you were all replaced with crows. Their eyes never left you.

Rory crept closer to you, his hand missing your arms a few times before he managed to grasp it. You noticed his tremble. You gathered everything up from your outing in one arm, using the other that Rory was holding onto to steady his hand.

"Come now. Let's get you back into the castle. You must be exhausted."

Your voice pulled him out of his worry. He nodded slowly and remained close to you as you both made your way out of the forest.

"You will cuddle me when we get back, won't you? I want to remain closer to you, even if our dance ended."

Rory asked softly, even the evening winds could blow them away. You heard him, however. You always did.

"Of course."

Leaving the crows, and the eeriness the night brought, Rory and you returned to the castle. Even with the eerie ending, that moment with you will forever live in Rory's heart. Nothing will ever take it away.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Property of @cursedfallingmoon! Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome! ₊ ⊹ . ݁

[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

Rose Tinted — Boo Seungkwan

✧ Take off those rose colored glasses ✧

Plot: Picture this… you find out that your so-called best friend has been playing you all along.

🎥 Starring: fem!reader x best friend!Boo Seungkwan 🎥 Genre: big time angst 🎥 Word count: 0.9k+ 🎥 Warnings: swearing, asshole vernon, asshole kwannie (sorry y’all), brief mention of blood but not graphic 🎥 Notes: I am baaaack (hopefully for a while). I know I haven’t been posting for forever but I hope to see you all more often again ^^  🎥 Shout out: thanks to my lovely bestie @nothoughtsjustfic for motivating me to write again 💜 love you Chee! Never change pls hehehe

♡ REBLOGGING AND/OR FEEDBACK WOULD BE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED — DON'T BE A STRANGER PLS ♡

Set The Scene Masterlist —  Masterlist

“How much longer are you going to keep this up, dude? She’s been glued to your side since that dumb bet. Weren’t you gonna ditch her like forever ago?”

Time froze as you heard Vernon utter those words to your best friend… or so you thought. 

“Shit, Vernon! Be quiet before she hears you!” Seungkwan hissed in return, which was followed by a dull sound and then a shriek from Vernon.

“Whatever. I just don’t get it. You don’t even like her. She could offer to buy me unlimited pizza and beers and I still wouldn’t be able to handle all that clinginess.”

“Fucking hell! Just get out and don’t come back until we leave. You’re going to fuck up everything,” Seungkwan snapped, his voice unlike anything you’d ever heard coming from his lips. 

“Fine.” Vernon sighed dramatically. “But don’t come crying to me when it all comes to bite you in the ass.” 

A second later, you heard the front door slam shut, the sound of which snapped you right back to the horrible reality you were now forced to face. 

You’d just been shown a completely different side of your supposed best friend and you didn’t quite know whether to cry or scream. What you did know was that you couldn’t stay hidden behind the wall for forever, even though that did seem awfully tempting. You’d never been very confrontational but this matter couldn’t be left unspoken, not if you wanted to keep your sanity. 

You needed to hear the truth from Seungkwan himself. 

With your heart nearly pounding out your chest and a million thoughts running through your mind, you forced your legs to move in the direction of the living room where Seungkwan was awaiting your return. 

His head immediately shot up when he noticed you approaching him, a smile that felt just a little too forced making its way on his face. It was almost as if you could see a sliver of disgust flash behind his eyes.

Had that always been there or were you just overanalyzing everything because of what Vernon said?

“There you are! Any longer and I would have gotten worried.” Seungkwan chuckled as he turned his head back towards the TV.

Right. The movie the two of you had been watching before that awful conversation. If only you could turn back time. 

“Y/N?” Seungkwan asked with a raised brow when you hadn’t moved at all. “Aren’t you going to sit down? We can finish the last thirty minutes before we have to leave.”

“No.” 

Your voice was barely audible but you knew that it had been loud enough judging by the way Seungkwan responded.

“No? You don’t want to watch any more? Well, we can put on something else if that’s what you wan-”

You were quick to interrupt him. “No. That’s not what I want.”

“Okay?” He got up from the couch, his brows furrowed in confusion. “You’re acting kinda strange, Y/N. What’s going on?”

Without realizing it, you’d been clenching your fists so hard this entire time that your nails had pierced through parts of your skin, drawing a little bit of blood which you could feel dripping down your fingers. But you honestly couldn’t give a fuck right now. 

“Do you hate me?” you blurted out, completely catching the man in front of you off guard.

“W-what? Hate you? Why would you ask me that?” Seungkwan chuckled nervously, his hand awkwardly coming up to scratch behind his neck. 

“Be honest with me, Seungkwan.” You looked him dead in the eyes, noticing the way his eyes grew wide at the fierceness behind your words.

As if suddenly coming back to himself, he shook his head furiously. “You’re being crazy, Y/N.”

You let out a loud snort. “Me? Crazy? Then are you saying Vernon was lying just now?”

At that revelation, Seungkwan’s mouth opened and closed a few times as if he was about to say something but backed out at the last second. There was no talking himself out of this. And you were not backing down until you’d heard everything, even if it was going to crush you. 

“Yeah… I heard everything. About a supposed bet, about you pretending this entire time and wanting to ditch me. Does that ring a bell?” 

“Y/N, l-listen,” the man pleaded as he took a step forward to reach for your arm. 

“Tell me the fucking truth, Seungkwan!” you nearly screamed, surprising both yourself and him at the anger laced in your voice.

You could see the hesitation in his eyes at first, but it wasn’t long before that disgust you swore you’d seen before flashed behind his eyes once again. 

“You really wanna know what I think of you? Fine!” He threw up his hands. “I don’t like you, I never have, not then and not now. I’m not your fucking best friend and I’m sick of pretending. You’re right. It started out as a stupid bet to see if I could befriend you, but with how fucking desperate you were, that wasn’t hard. And then you just wouldn’t fucking go away so I thought, I might as well use your clingy ass to my advantage. Because who in their right mind doesn’t like free meals and free rides? All I had to do was pretend.” He chuckled bitterly. “Happy now?”

You didn’t stick around to respond, already halfway through the door with tears streaming down your face by the time he finished his cruel rant. This wasn’t the sweet and caring Seungkwan you’d been sharing all your secrets and insecurities with. This was the real Seungkwan, a mean, heartless excuse of a human being who you didn’t recognize at all. 

He’d broken your heart in a million little pieces and you didn’t know if you were ever going to recover from this. 

So much for letting someone in.

So much for not wanting to be alone. 

Boo Seungkwan, I hope it was worth it. 

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[cherryvinyl-777]

I Like Me Better When I’m With You

Part 2

I Like You Better With Your Hair Down

Summary: After a week of fake dating Ellie Williams, unforeseen circumstances make you bend your own rules.

Warnings: none! enjoy cuties <3

It had been a little over a week since yours and Ellie’s ‘scam’ had begun to take place. It was a hard launch, to say the least. Giggling by eachothers lockers, sitting next to eachother in class, and Ellie even took it upon herself to write you notes every lunch, slipping them into your jeans’ back pocket before she’d kiss your cheek and lead you over to her and her friends’ lunch table. Obviously, your ‘absolutely no kissing rule’ hadn’t really stuck with Ellie.

You place your lunch tray on the steel table, taking your place beside Ellie. You could tell that her friends didn’t really like you, no matter how polite they pretended to be. After all, who could blame them? They’d probably endured years of Ellie’s rants focused on you, and now she was dating that very same girl? You really couldn’t judge them for their distaste, no matter how much it stung.

“Babe?” Ellie’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, your hand stopping its motions of absentmindedly playing with the food on your tray. Lots of…brown muck and squishy strawberry’s

“Sorry, what?” You ask, looking up at her. She just grinned a little and played with the rings on her fingers.

“Dina just asked if we’d like to go to this party she’s having tonight. 9 o’clock.” She says, gesturing towards her friend Dina. She was pretty, long dark hair and a soft smile that could make anyone’s head turn.

“I don’t know, I might be busy.” You say, avoiding Ellie’s sharp look.

You look over at Dina instead, seated to the left on the other side of the table. The girl looks at Ellie slightly apprehensively.

“You know, actually, maybe it wouldn’t be best if you came Ellie. I know that um…that Cat is gonna be there.” Dina says, barely sparing you a glance.

And there it was. Over this past week, mentions of Ellie’s ex-girlfriend had rarely occurred, other than in your own head to remind yourself why you were putting yourself through this. You glance over at Ellie and she looks back at you, tapping her first finger on the steel table. A nervous habit she has, you think.

Ellie lets out a sigh and her fingers run through her short hair. “Well, I wouldn’t be going with Cat, Dina. I’d be going with Y/N. My girlfriend.” Ellie states, taking a bite of her apple.

Dina and the rest of Ellie’s friends spare me an awkward glance before going back to eating. It wasn’t like it was hard to guess what they were thinking. Most of the time it felt like they forgot that me and Ellie were explicit. At least, we were pretending to be. It really shouldn’t have made any difference, because this wasn’t real. None of it.

𝜗𝜚

True to her promise, after school Ellie dropped you off at home. Despite what you originally thought, the moments when you didn’t have to pretend with Ellie there wasn’t as much bickering and awkward silence, but more lighthearted jokes and teasing. To the outside eye, people might think you two were flirting. But of course you weren’t.

You hop out of her pickup truck and sling your backpack over your shoulder. Before you could shut the door though, Ellie grabs your attention.

“What time am I picking you up?” She asks, looking at you expectantly.

You scoff a little before responding. “Pick me up? I am not going to that party, Ellie.”

“Of course we are. PDA-ing in front of Cat at school obviously isn’t enough, so we need to take things up a notch!” Ellie argues, talking with her hands.

You just shut the door and roll your eyes at her before turning to walk away.

“I’ll be here at 8:30! 8:30, don’t be late L/N!” Ellie calls through the open window.

You can’t help but smile at her insistence as you unlock your front door, slipping inside.

Once you’re up to your room, you pull the note Ellie slipped you at lunch out of your pocket, ready to throw it away. They always had random scribbles on them to make it look like writing to anyone’s passing eye in the hallways. Before the paper left your hand though, you notice some actual letters.

Unfolding the paper, you tuck some loose hair behind your ears, a little surprised as to what the note said.

you look cute with your hair down

There it was, scribbled in Ellie’s atrocious handwriting. You really couldn’t help but notice your heart flutter as your eyes scan the slip, re-reading for any signs that it could be insincere or some kind of joke. When you can’t find any, you placed the paper in your desk drawer and collapsed onto your bed.

𝜗𝜚

45 minutes later, your cheesy romance reading session is interrupted by a ding from your phone. Rolling over to pick it up, you see a message from Ellie.

Clicking on the notification, your phone unlocks and you reads Ellie’s message:

8:30, remember? decided what you’re wearing?

You can’t help but let out an eye roll even thought she wasn’t here to see it. God, how pretentious could one girl be?

You really can’t take a hint. I know you think Cat isn’t jealous or whatever, but it’s gonna take more than a week. She probably just thinks I’m some sort of rebound

You text back, rolling onto your stomach.

Ellie replies instantly.

which is exactly why we HAVE to go tonight. Cat knows id never show some fling off to half the grade

I’m flattered. Really.

u know what I mean.

A smile graces your lips and you think of a response.

Let’s say I do go to this party. You need to take it down with the PDA. I know you want to ‘take it up a notch’, but it’s in the contract

Ellie leaves you on read for a minute before texting back,

i’m gonna kiss a pretty girl if i have the opportunity, y/n.

Your face immediately feels hot and you stare at the phone. Of course Ellie had never actually kissed you kissed you, but there’d been too many cheek pecks for your liking. You couldn’t stand the idea of all your firsts being…well, fake.

I’m sorry. I can’t

You leave the messages at that for a minute, not caring to elaborate.

ok…just at least come to the party with me. i promise it won’t be awful, i wont leave your side

With a final sigh, you give in.

Fine. 8:30

8:30!

Shutting your phone off, you decide to at least lay out your outfit options for the night. Would it be a jeans and tank top occasion or more of a sparkly dress occasion? You settle for the in between, a casual but flattering blue dress with small straps.

To pass the time, you go downstairs and play a board game with your parents. To avoid awkward questioning about your supposed nemesis Ellie, you didn’t mention who your date was.

With an hour left before Ellie was supposed to be here, you start to get ready, slipping on the dress and spraying some light perfume. You put your hair in a ponytail like usual, applying minimal makeup.

Ten minutes later, you get a text from Ellie.

be there in 5

You reply with a thumbs up and wait downstairs with your purse.

Just like she said, Ellie knocks on your door a few minutes later.

“Hey, who’s tha-“ Your dad starts, but you’re already out the door, pushing Ellie as you stumble out.

“Hi, great to see you too. Yes, I know how good I look.” Ellie chuckles as you push past her and shut the door. You sigh a little and finally get a chance to look up at her.

And- holy crap.

Her hands were casually in her jean pockets that were help up by a stylish leather belt. A tight white tank top hugged her tone figure and an oversized black blazer covered most of the top side of her body.

She must’ve noticed your ogling, and a proud smirk graces her lips. Even Ellie knows that to make you awestruck means she must look hot.

“God, stop drooling. You’re embarassing yourself, really,” Ellie, teases. You finally snap out of it and hit her with your purse, shaking your head. “You look great though L/N. Really.”

You take a moment to respond before smiling a little.

“Thank you.” You say lightly, still standing in front of your door.

Ellie sighs a little and fidgets with her rings.

“Ready?” She asks, running a hand through her messy hair.

You breathe in sharply, nodding a little.

“As i’ll ever be.”

an: i’m so so sorry this took so long! i had it finished at the end of january, but tumblr was glitching so badly and wouldn’t let me post it! i hope you all had a wonderful valentine’s day, and lmk if you want more of this series! <3

tag list: @liasxeatt @vahnilla @smellovie

[blehblehbleh735]

Touch Starved

Summary: Chris has been away for weeks and when he finally returns, he can't keep his hands to himself. Warnings: suggestive material, use of y/n Word count: 700

It had been two weeks since Chris had left for tour, and the separation was starting to take its toll. The messages, the calls, the video chats—they were all sweet, but nothing compared to being in the same room as him, feeling his presence, his warmth, his touch. The absence of him was starting to gnaw at you.

When Chris finally came back home, you knew it wouldn't be long before he was at your door, his scent and warmth filling the room, replacing the emptiness he'd left behind.

The moment you opened the door, he was on you, arms pulling you into his chest with a sense of urgency that sent your heart racing.

His lips pressed against yours in a kiss so desperate, so full of need that it made you dizzy.

He stepped back, his eyes searching your face, but his hands didn’t leave your body, tracing the familiar curves like he was reacquainting himself with something he had been starved for. His voice was thick with longing when he spoke, "I need you," he rasped. "I need you right now."

You swallowed hard, caught in the intensity of his gaze. "I thought you’d be tired," you whispered, though your body betrayed you, leaning into him, craving the connection as much as he did.

Chris shook his head, a soft growl escaping his lips. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Not once.” His hands roamed down to your waist, his thumbs brushing the skin exposed by your shirt, leaving shivers in their wake. "I need to feel you."

The urgency in his voice and the way his hands tightened on you made it impossible to resist. You could feel his need, raw and undeniable. His lips found your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin, his hands pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

You let out a breath, trying to catch your bearings, but the moment he kissed you again, all coherent thoughts left your mind. Your body responded instinctively, pressing into him, hands running through his hair, pulling him closer.

"Missed you so much," he muttered between kisses, his voice was strained, as if saying the words was the only way to hold himself together.

You didn’t need words. You could feel the ache in his touch, the desperation in the way his hands gripped you. The space between you had been too wide for too long, and now he was closing it, pouring all his pent up frustration, longing, and love into every movement.

He pushed you gently against the wall, lips still capturing yours with intensity. His hands slid under your shirt, skimming over your skin, as if reacquainting himself with every inch of you.

"Let me love you Y/N," he whispered, voice trembling with need. "Let me remind you how much you mean to me."

With a soft sigh, you nodded, already moving to pull him closer, hands desprately undoing the buttons of his shirt. The moment was dizzying—like the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of you, craving the touch you had both been deprived of.

As the minutes passed, the urgency only grew. Clothes were discarded, and soon there was nothing but the heat of his body against yours, his hands everywhere, caressing, kneading, claiming.

Each touch was like a promise, each kiss a reminder of everything you had both missed.

Chris’s lips found your ear, his voice low and rough. "I'm going to make up for every second I’ve been gone," he murmured, as his hands guided you toward the bed. "I'm going to show you just how much I need you."

But now that he was back, he wasn’t going to let anything stop him.

guys im sorry I would go further but I am terrified to write smut because it would be so bad. I guess if anyone has tips you should share them🤠

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

petition to stop . this madness stop being so full of love and pretty words and warmth U ARE MAKING THE OZONE LAYER THICKEN!!!!!!!!!!……….

:(((((((((((((( making me cry on a saturday is actually so cruel and twisted but i Did cry and that’s on me and the love i have for you and him pdbdldbkdkkd . real tears on ur conscience ahhhhhhhh what do i even say to this ……. what did i do to deserve youuuuu and your words and your love

that quiz was right when it said i can’t respond to compliments but this is like the seventh layer of Hell compared to that what could i possibly sayyyyy to something like this ……. something u made with ur own hands and mind …… :’< do you want a house. or someone to paint your walls in your favorite colour. do you need food for armin or a little treat or a hand to hold ….. a kidney perhaps…….. anything i have is yours to keep STOP THIS MADNESSPJFDOBDDLFK U CANT MAKE ME FEEL SAPPY ON A DAY OFF THIS IS SO DEVASTATING . maybe i don’t need to say anything maybe u already know….. let me talk about the piece instead <3 so as to keep the flood gates at bay. don’t make ari think about mickey for an extended amount of time bc they willlll tear up

TAT ….. winters with suguru. ohhhhhhh winters with suguru………. soft snow and pure white and gray and flushed skin and warm hands holding yours. ough ough ough. u should be thrown in jail for making me think about this alone I WAS ALREADY GETTING A LITTLE EMOTIONAL JUST WATCHING THE SNOW… how at peace. it makes me feel T_T when i think about suguru + winters my mind does always stray to misu which makes me think of you. so in a roundabout way . winter = mickey ……. sorry i don’t know what i’m saying. my point is this image killeddd me there’s no way u actually care about my mental health i feel like a puddle on the floor 😭😭 cold air and frosted snowflakes but he alone stays warm.

also was reading this and being soooo self-indulgent and self-inserty surely …. that is okay …… just this once. i’m crying though bc pdjdkdkdk U KNOW ME TOO WELLLLL IM SICK …….. ’you won’t say it, but he knows you are.’ (…) ’he knows you’re squeezing your fists inside your pockets in a feeble attempt of keeping warm and he knows it’s not really working.’ <- clocked and deceased . pdbdkdndnn but MICKEYYYYY THE LONGING THIS MADE ME FEEL I’M GONNA CRY AGAIN …….. i’m being stubborn and not asking to be warmed up and he still knows……..

your descriptions are so . ethereal……….. i could see the painting soooooo clearly in my mind i could feel the cold air nipping at my skin and see all the silent snowflakes :’)))) the winter wonderland in ur brain …. aaaaaaaaaa . it’s sick of you to make me miss winter pdjdldkdk LIKE THIS SNOW WILL HAVE MELTED BY NEXT WEEK ……. i feel so fuzzy and full of longing sobsobsob i just want . a mickey on my left and a sugu on my right …… is that so much to ask …….

a puff of air disappearing into the sky …… swallowed by the vast ocean above ……… your writing gives me sooooo much comfort and joy and whimsy. i hope you know that :’3 i feel so at peace just reading this it’s like i’m standing outside and the world is silent and everything smells crisp and smokey. TOMORROW THE SUN WILL SHINE AND YOU’LL BE THE REASON BEHIND IT …………. aaaaaaahjhhhh tears in my eyessss tears in my eyes SUGURU KNOWS IT …………… something so steady and unbreakable about the way he loves you . :’) the cold will never rouse him because he knows the sun will shine again …… ahhhhhhhhh …………… i’m sorry to make it selfshippy sobsob but arisugu rlly is . a silly little combo where we both see the other as The Sun and think of ourselves as the moon….. lmao………

his hands itch to hold yours already, to watch you scrunch up your nose as he coos at the way you beam at him, to pull you into his chest. he wants to be a little selfish with you, he wants to tuck you inside his coat and under his sweater and behind his ribcage. his spring flower, his little dove.

^ Okay . PDJKDKDNDLDKDK THISSSSS WAS SO FUCKING EVIL YOU KNEWWWW I WOULD FALL OVER AND CRY YOU KNEW I WOULD LOSE MY MIND the sun just started shining outside my window btw . surely this was mickey’s doing YOU KNOW ME TOO WELL YOU HURT ME TOO WELLLL TAT ………… scrunch up your nose. sobs. coos at the way you beam at him. sobs. pulls you into his chest. sobs. HE WANTS TO BE A LITTLE SELFISH WITH YOU. TUCK YOU INSIDE HIS COAT AND UNDER HIS SWEATER AND BEHIND HIS RIBCAGE YOUUUU SICK FUCK (said lovingly, passionately) YOU KNOW WHAT YOURE DOING 😭😭😭😭😭😭……. i am so lucky to know youuuu i am so lucky to have you know me . reading this felt like being cannibalized. his spring flower …. his little dove ………. :’’’<

if it was possible i would peel all these letters off my screen and eat them one by one and then they would bloom on my tongue and stay there for the rest of my life. i would taste dandelions everytime i spoke and it would make me think of you. sob sob sob sob . sorry i know i keep getting sidetracked but mickeyyyyy this piece :((((((( means the galaxy to me ….. i wanna cry again ……….. hugged by layers and oil paint………….

’but this is your place, too. (…) it feels painfully right to watch you. to admire you from afar.’ <- i love . the way you write him … i love it so much …… his silent love that eats him alive from the inside. just watching you and waiting for you to turn around and face him. :’< ….. endlessly patient. might be my favorite thing about him…… how he will wait for you forever…….. content to just think of you and feel the love. my most special loverboy ever (next to u)…..

and he just stands there and thinks of you. sleeping and eating and just breathing and being alive <- cue suguru ’loverboy’ geto, with hearts in his eyes……… god god god god . u must want me dead. snow falls and his heart beats and all he feels and sees is you, you, you….. it’s always just been you……………

you know he's there, you know he'll always be there. unyielding in his adoration, in his love, he will wait for you forever. no matter how long you'll take, no matter how cold it'll get — he will warm you up and he will cradle your face and he will tuck you away for safekeeping.

(i have recently developed a fondness for exploding cat gifs can u tell) MICKEYYYYYYYYYYYYY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 another paragraph that felt like having my heart yanked out and eaten in front of me i cannot explaaaaaain .how mushy i feel. pdbdldndldkd. I LOVE YOUR WRITING……. I LOVE SUGURU GETO……… I LOVE THE WAY YOU BOTH LOVE ………….. he will wait for you forever. (:(((((() no matter how long, no matter how cold. he will warm you up and he will cradle your face and he will tuck you away from safekeeping <- it’s been such a good run on this website such a shame ari was just found dead in a ditch. clutching their phone. godddd you knew what this would do to me and you STILL posted it which leads me to believe u are either praying for my downfall or you love me very much…. surely it is the former……………………….

:’))))) i could probably go on and onnnnn it is so amazing to me how you make me feel so much and spiral so deeply with just a couple lines and paragraphs…… u are so dangerous for me………… iiiii love this piece so so deeply knowing you made it and thought of me and i am so honoured to know u……. sorry for being sappy but i do in fact love you terribly T^T …… this is my treasure and i’ll cry over it forever. in my mind’s eye i am kissing u in the snow and making one of these and saying ’look, it’s you <3’

he knows you're cold.

you won't say it but he knows you are.

he knows your fingers are freezing, that the brisk winter air is settling inside your bones. he can't see your face and yet, he knows your nose is red. your cheeks, the tips of your ears. he knows you're squeezing your fists inside your pockets in a feeble attempt of keeping warm and he knows it's not really working.

gently, small crystals fall, one right after the other — there's barely any wind but the air is cripsy, it's nipping at everything it possibly can and yet, you still stand before the white backdrop, the snowy trees and the quiet trail, like you belong there.

not stuck, not frozen. not lost in thought.

alive, and breathing.

slowly, you exhale, and he watches the small puff of air disappear into the sky. the vast ocean up above swallows it and lets it grow; tomorrow the sun will shine and you'll be the reason behind it. suguru knows it.

his hands itch to hold yours already, to watch you scrunch up your nose as he coos at the way you beam at him, to pull you into his chest. he wants to be a little selfish with you, he wants to tuck you inside his coat and under his sweater and behind his ribcage. his spring flower, his little dove.

but this is your place, too. right there in front of him, hugged by layers and layers of oil paint and devotion, the beautiful picture. it feels painfully right, to watch you.

to admire you from afar.

your name rests on the tip of his tongue, his toes curling in his winter boots as he waits, ever-so-patiently, for you to turn around.

(to come back to him.)

he thinks about how pretty you looked in bed, he thinks about how pretty you looked when you ate a piece of him in the morning. he thinks about how pretty you are now, with your back to him.

snow falls.

his heart beats in his ears. it's all he can hear; it's you, who he can only feel.

he watches your head move, barely an inch, and he knows there's a small, a faint little smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

you know he's there, you know he'll always be there. unyielding in his adoration, in his love, he will wait for you forever. no matter how long you'll take, no matter how cold it'll get — he will warm you up and he will cradle your face and he will tuck you away for safekeeping.

— for my beloved @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat ilove youuuu