#I also only read more because I was waiting in line alone for a long time and this was the only thing I thought my phone could handle

[opbackgrounds]

The Romanticism of One Piece VI: Nature and the Sublime

AO3 Part I Part V

“Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils”

—William Wordsworth

Anyone making even a cursory reading of the Romantics, particularly the English Romantic poets, will soon find an obsession with nature. Even in the early 1800s, the scars of the Industrial Revolution were starting to be felt in the environment. Increased urbanization, a technological boom, and the capitalistic glut for increased output which in turn demanded the consummation of increased natural resources was destroying old orders one after the other in order to make room for the coming modern age. 

The advent of trains, steamboats, and the telegraph changed the way people traveled and communicated forever. The allure of the city drove people from the countryside to work long, dangerous hours in factories. It seemed like the traditional way of things was being lost, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Poets and artists looked back fondly on the simplicity of their youths, and went in search of the beautiful and the sublime. 

When reading these poems and looking at these pieces of art, you’ll also find that solitude was an important aspect of this search, the ability to get away from the neverending wheel of the rat race to be alone with one’s thoughts. Quoting from Walden, Thoreau said it best, “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” There was so much about modern society and civilization that rang false to these men, and it was only when communing with the primordial forces of nature that these falsities could be stripped away to reveal something pure and true.

One Piece is a manga that delights in its environments. Oda has clearly done his research while lovingly rendering each location, particularly once the series hits the Grand Line. I’ve always been amazed about how even minor islands with little page time feel fully realized, and how even similar environments can be easily distinguished from one another at a glance. The jungle of Little Garden looks nothing like the jungle of Skypiea, which in turn is completely distinct from Green Bit. 

Similarly, Robin’s desire to preserve and protect ancient relics of the past is something the Romantics would have approved of, and with Luffy at the helm, the Straw Hat Pirates don’t just travel the wonders of the Grand Line, but embrace each and every island they come across, no matter what insanity lies in wait. While it’s not a central focus of the series, arcs like Wano and Egghead explore environmental themes and the dangers of pursuing technological advance at the cost of careful ethics.

Poet William Wordsworth famously fought against building a railway through the Lake District of England, where he lived and wrote much of his best-regarded work, so much so that he wrote a sonnet voicing his displeasure with the proposed project, as well as the thought of hundreds of unappreciative tourists destroying the peace and beauty of the area. 

So while nature was to be appreciated, it was to be appreciated in the right way. It wasn’t enough to take in the sights for the sight’s sake, but an experience to be savored. Nature was an essential part of these writers and artist’s creative muses, and while many Romantics weren’t orthodox in their religion, there was a spiritual aspect in their veneration of the created world, particularly in their search for the sublime.

One Piece and the Sublime

“I have felt a presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thoughts; a sense of sublime, of something far more deeply interfused, whose dwelling is the light of setting sun, and the round ocean, and the living air, and the blue sky, and in the mind of man” —William Wordsworth

While the concept of the sublime existed long before the Romantic period, it was the Romantics who really took the idea and ran with it. It must be said that the sublime as talked about here is quite different from how the word is typically thought of in the modern day. The sublime’s roots are found in philosophy, as a sub-branch of the study of aesthetics. In his essay A Philosophical Enquiry into the Ideas of the Sublime and the Beautiful, late Enlightenment/early Romantic writer Edmund Burke for the first time divided the ideas of the sublime and the beautiful into two distinct and separate categories. This essay was hugely influential to the Romantic movement going forward, particularly in England. 

According to Burke, “Whatever is fitted in any sort to excite the ideas of pain and danger, that is to say, whatever is in any sort terrible, or is conversant about terrible objects, or operates in a manner analogous to terror, is a source of the sublime; that is, it is productive of the strongest emotion which the mind is capable of feeling.” 

So, in short, the sublime is a powerful emotion. The most powerful emotion a person is capable of feeling. In typical English fashion, Burke thought the strongest negative emotions were more powerful than the strongest positive emotions, so it stood to reason that the sublime must in turn come from the negative. While this might initially read as a rather unpleasant experience, the sublime was something actively sought out by the Romantics, and according to Burke was a pain that caused delight. 

Attempting to define something as ineffable as the sublime is like trying to define love. No matter how many lines a poet inks or how many portraits an artist completes attempting to capture the feeling of lightning striking the soul, they will always be incomplete. It’s the feeling of going out to an open prairie and being crushed by the weight of the sky, or walking in the shadow of a mountain and feeling your own smallness. It’s looking up at the bright night sky and recognizing that you are one amongst billions, a speck of cosmic dust drifting aimlessly on an insignificant planet in the corner of an insignificant galaxy in a universe whose vastness you can’t begin to comprehend. 

It’s the finite’s attempt at grasping the infinite, a complete breakdown of the rigid walls of the Enlightenment thinkers, the embrace of irrationality and emotion over cold, calculated reason. To use one of Burke’s own examples, it's the peasant kneeling before the dread majesty of their king. For some it was a way to commune with God. For others it replaced God altogether.  

Take for example a painting like The Monk by the Sea by Caspar David Friedrich. The titular monk is tiny compared to the broad vastness of the sky and ocean, which seems about to swallow him whole. Whether the figure in the painting is contemplating the divine, or whether the sublimity of the moment is itself divine is open to interpretation, and like many figures in Friedrich’s works, the monk is turned away from the viewer so his face, his identity, is not visible, because who any individual person is when compared to this overwhelming force is insignificant. 

While terror was important to Burke in searching out the sublime, it was equally important that there be a layer of distance between the perceived danger and the subject searching for it. After all, the sublime was something to be contemplated just much as it was experienced. A sailor caught in a storm is just fighting for their life. There’s no ability to allow themselves to reflect on the nature of eternity on a mortal soul when they’re trying not to drown. But a person contemplating a painting of a ship caught in a storm, or better yet watching a stormy sea from a high cliff, has that element of terror without actually placing a person in immediate danger. That distance allows the person to be subsumed in the moment, in the feeling, of the sublime.

As a manga, there is a natural distance between the reader and what goes on in One Piece. The wild, cartoonish, fantasy further separates it from the real world. This gap is perhaps too great for some to find the sublime within its pages. At the same time, it ticks many of Burke’s boxes: the vastness of its world, the displays of power from the characters within, the call to imagination, awe, wonder, and, yes, terror. While I very much doubt Oda had the idea of the sublime in mind when he came up with the idea with Conqueror’s Haki, overwhelming power causing the weak-willed to faint while foaming at the mouth very much fits the vibe Burke was going for in his essay.

If given a choice in the matter, Luffy will always take the more dangerous path forward. While he’s not nearly contemplative enough for the traditional Romantic mindset, the narrative rewards his desire to seek out experiences and adventure. The series’ focus on emotional truth over realism invokes powerful feelings in the reader. The wonder of the White White Sea is all the stronger because of the danger of the Knock-Up Stream. The descent to Fishman Island is made all the more grand by the fragility of the bubble that protects the crew. The vast majority of the East Blue Saga is spent hyping up the danger of the Grand Line, and wouldn’t you know it, the Straw Hats barely sail into its waters for five minutes and there’s already a dozen things trying to kill them.

Even places like Water 7, which the Romantic’s push against urbanization would not have seen as sublime, is elevated by the whimsy of the sea train and the danger of Agua Laguna. Oda takes inspiration from all over the world and elevates those inspirations into something greater than reality, injecting so much high fantasy creativity and verve into every location that the reader cannot help but be moved. And nowhere can this be better seen by how Oda portrays the sea.

To quote Burke one last time, “A level plain of a vast extent on land, is certainly no mean idea; the prospect of such a plain may be as extensive as a prospect of the ocean; but can it ever fill the mind with anything so great as the ocean itself? This is owing to several causes; but it is owing to none more than this, that the ocean is an object of no small terror.” 

[hyacinth42-blog]

“You know, if you break up with Sveta, meet a gorgeous girl and break Sveta’s heart again, I’m obligated to throw you into the center of the Atlantic Ocean.”

....What does this mean Vicky? He's not allowed to date anyone pretty ever again???

[slutofpsh]

strip for me.

part five | lhs.

pairings: hyungline x reader

synopsis: hyung line got you trapped in a situation that you can’t get away from.

wc: 8k

warnings: smut, minors dni, fivesome, bullying (not promoting violence or bullying), degrading, raw sex (please use protection), dirty talks, curses, masturbation, hyung line being mean. this is not proof read.

note: lee heeseung’s solo part. next one will be jay’s. thank you so much for supporting my works and loving strip for me series. also, this doesn’t have heavy smut since i want to show the boy’s affection with reader outside the bed even more. anyway, reblogs and replies are highly encouraged.

part one; two; three; four

slutofpsh 2024 © all rights reserved.

you got sick the day after. maybe because your body got overwhelmed and didn’t expect that kind of activity. they let you rest for as long as you like until you finally regained your senses.

it was almost 10 pm when heeseung drove you home. both of you silent throughout the drive. heeseung’s glancing at you from time to time, but you refused looking at him.

your mom isn’t really skeptical about it. its also a good thing that she didn’t wonder why the hell did you get sick the day after because you have no idea what will you tell her.

today’s saturday. you skipped school yesterday and just laid on your bed the whole time.

your mind is still occupied by the big question: ‘what are you for those boys?’

they did took care of you that definitely ruin the whole concept of you being their toy and made you confused. the switch up is totally odd as well. they’re always so rude and harsh towards you, then suddenly they went soft and gentle.

that tho, didn’t change the fact that you felt used. (name)’s words kept repeating inside your mind like a broken radio.

a faint knock on your bedroom door snaps you out of you thoughts.

“y/n?” its your mom. “you have visitors. your friends are here.” she announced that draws your brows together.

“friends?” you’re beyond confuse.

nobody ever visited you, and more importantly, what friends? while feeling a little disoriented, you forced yourself out of the bed then faced the mirror once.

the smile on your mother’s face is bright, looking so delighted. she feels excited by this visit she’s referring to, you can tell by how she ushered you down the staircase.

“mom, wait.” you tried calming her down because you can’t think properly on who those friends she’s talking about.

“come on! they’re waiting.” and finally, you made it to the last step then she almost drag you to the spacious living room.

your lips gapped when you saw them dominates the sofa set by the middle. its just the four of them but it seem too crowded. maybe because they’re all so tall and now the average looking sofa looks a bit small for them.

they all whipped their heads on your direction the moment you stepped inside. you cannot exactly tell the look on their faces. your mom smiles and tugs your arm lightly.

“they said they’ve been worried, sweetie. why didn’t you told them that you’re sick?” she pouts.

you blinked, pushing the tears back inside your eyes. its a bit annoying. how you planned to ignore them after what happened and now you can feel your heart warms up just by seeing them here. how all the courage to finally end it dissipates along with your anger for the four fine men in front of you.

its kind of sickening. you find yourself pathetic for actually letting them affect you this way. they make you feel worthless, but at the same time they’re the only ones who can make you feel special.

“i’m s-sorry, it slipped off my mind.” you sniffed and tried to hide the real emotion through a half-smile.

your mom totally bought that reason. she hums and then she can hear a faint ringing from the other side of the house.

“oh! that must be my workmate. i’ll leave you guys here, okay? i will order food for you guys.” she coos and then exits the living room, leaving you alone with them.

their eyes settles at you, flashing with an foreign look on it. that made you feel uneasy so you glanced away.

“sweets,” jake was the first one to approach you closer, reaching for your arm.

his heart sank when you yank it back, declining his affection. he looks surprised and he wanted to try again, but he doesn’t want to push it.

“why are y-you here?” your voice cracks and looked at them one by one.

jay looks concerned, heeseung have his usual calm composure and sunghoon’s brows are furrowed. you can’t tell if he’s mad or worried. he stood up, stopping himself to advance towards you. he doesn’t want to scare you.

“we just want to check on you...” sunghoon says in his softest tone. he licked his lips, blinking multiple times to try and calm himself.

your view of sunghoon got covered when jake steps closer, his brows furrowed hardly and eyes glistening with sadness. his hand hangs mid way, attempting to get in touch of you, craving it.

“we got worried when you skipped class yesterday. we tried to call you, sweetheart.” jake looks desperate. it slightly broke your heart seeing him this way. his mischievous smile long gone.

“but you ignored all of us...” it was jay who talked this time.

you gave him a short glance. the stare stays for a while before you pursed your lips to sigh heavily. chest tightens and mind all messed up.

“what happened, sweets?” jake steps closer.

out of all of them, he’s the most touch deprived. one day without you and he’s all over the place. not to mention that you’ve been ignoring all of them. none of their attempts to contact you became successful and its sending him in distress.

you glanced at him then took a step backward. it pinned him on his position, eyes blank. jake looks in pain, but you looked much worst.

heeseung may seem calm, but behind this composed demeanour is his mind being a mess. he’s in panic. he never seen you this way and honestly he’s not prepared. he gulps and tries to gather himself.

“jake...” he calls his friend to stop him from advancing more.

as expected, he didn’t listen and attempts to take another step but a tear escaping your eye is what halts him from doing so. they never seen you this bothered and terrified before.

“sweets...” jake almost chokes on air when he softly tries to call you.

“p-please leave.” your breaths heavy, and chest painful from thinking that you’ll be ending what you have with them

its messed up. its very wrong. the set up is fucked up, but you can’t deny that you’ve gained more than you lost from this—whatever you call this.

it may sound exaggerated, but you think you saw all of their faces lose color. their eyes flickers fear and shoulders hangs low after hearing what you said.

“s-sweets...” jake’s voice cracks, trying to earn some sympathy. he never done that. he isn’t someone so weak. he always know where he stand and his power he holds over people. but not at the moment, specially not in front of you.

heeseung clenches his jaw to hide his trembling lips. he unclasped his fist, realizing he’s been doing that ever since you’ve walked inside the room.

jay’s in shambles. he doesn’t know what to feel at the moment. he’s always been the nonchalant one. never shown that there’s a weak spot in him. but now that you seem to be slipping away from him, he’s lost. he can feel his heart aching, hands shaking and breaths shorten.

sunghoon’s silent. his eyes never left you, fists balled tightly. he’s cursing himself. for being so ruthless and aggressive. he’s blaming it all to him and his friends. they’re so selfish. and you’re just too perfect. you did nothing wrong. it was all on them.

“y/n,” heeseung licks his lips and this time he trudges closer. jake glances at him, eyes full of hope. maybe his heeseung hyung can fix this mess. he can, right? that’s what echoes inside his mind.

“angel...” he gulps and you noticed how he’s a little off right now. he’s far from the reserve and calm, heeseung you’re used to.

he looks... anxious. the fear and trepidation flashes clearly through his eyes. something you’ve never seen before.

“tell me what’s wrong, hmm? we’ll talk about it.” he says using his calmest tone. “we’ll figure things out.”

that caught you off-guard. if there’s something about these four men have in common is that they love being in control of you. they get off seeing fear and watching you submit to them.

so to hear him saying those words are new for you. talk? will they really listen? what if they just laugh at you if you opened it up to them.

those questions clouded your mind to the point that you didn’t notice jake approaching closer. heeseung wanted to stop him, but he knew there’s no preventing jake from getting close. its either he lets him or he’ll completely lose it.

jake’s warm hands wraps over your wrist is what snaps you back in to your senses.

“sweets...” he calls you. his eyes scanned your face and wait if you’ll resist his affection once again.

he gulps, hope igniting when you didn’t shove his hold off. he took a step closer and this time cups your face. your cheeks warm that sent comfort to jake.

“tell us what’s wrong...” he whispers, pleading. he rest his forehead on top of yours and shut his eyes. “please.” he added.

that made you cry. because you got scared. you’re afraid to confront them because it may end everything.

“what a-am i to you, really?” you started that caught them off-guard.

“y-you guys...” they kept their stares right at your face, waiting attentively to what you’re about to say.

“you treat me like a toy. you’re playing with me like as if i d-don’t have feelings.”

if the scene moments ago hurts them, then this surely broke everything in them. they were silent for a while. reflecting to all the things they’ve done so far to you. yes, they were a little less insolent the other day, but what they did to you probably made you misunderstand it.

jake was the first one to retract, “what? no, sweetheart.” he licks his lips and cares your cheeks gently. he shakes his head continuously.

“we...” he gulps, nervous. he locks his gaze at you and softens, tears brimming his eyes. “i love you.” he blurted out that made you hitch your breath.

that obviously is not what you expected to get from him. specially from jake. he’s the player, always have girls around him. you’ve never heard him say those words to anyone.

your eyes stares right at his desperate ones, trying to search for any traces of mischief over them. but none. sincerity and desperation is all you can see through them.

a warm hand rests at the small of your back then someone rests his forehead at the side of your head. his familiar manly scent invades your nose.

jay’s eyes are tightly closed when you try to glance at him. his jaw clenched hard as his hand bore onto your back.

“i’m sorry if you misunderstood us, baby. that’s not how we want things to escalate.” he mumbles so softly. nuzzling close to you, like as if it will help ease those pain away.

it made you sob. heeseung approaches and his friends gave space for him. he grabs one of your hand and caress it. while staring at your eyes, he placed a gentle kiss on it while the other two boys tries to hugs you. jake’s got his face buries on the crook of your neck, jay remains standing beside you.

“i’m sorry, angel. we...” he couldn’t continue right away. he gulps. “we didn’t know this is how you feel.”

tears streams down your face. continuously. and your chest aches, but this time its for a different reason. you didn’t expect any of these. you imagined them scoffing and laughing at you for actually catching feelings for them. they basically mistreated you.

jake tightens his hug on you, refusing to let go. his warmth envelopes you. jay has his hand placed at the small of your back, caressing it up and down. heeseung has your hand, kissing it from time to time.

the three of them whispered their sorries. they totally feel bad. as your eyes roams around, it caught sunghoon’s.

he’s still standing at his place. didn’t move a step. he’s just there, watching all of this unfold. his heart aches, that’s for sure. he wanted to come close to you too just like how his friends are trying to console you, but his feet are stoned.

he cannot do it. he’s afraid.

out of all of them, he’s the meanest. he says the most hurtful and degrading words towards you. of course, he meant none of them. he’s just caught up in the moment and to the thought of dominating you.

his heart drops at the sight of your tear stained eyes. all those times he’s been rough on you flashes back through his mind like a montage. he hates it. he hates himself.

heeseung whips his head back to look over his shoulder. he can see how sunghoon has his fists balled. how he looked scared. he’s never seen him this way.

“dude.” he calls.

jake lifts his head to look at his friend, jay’s watching too. sunghoon kept silent, his lips shaken.

“h-hoon?” you called him out, now starting to feel worried by how he’s acting.

sunghoon’s eyes stings as it heats up. he knew he’s tearing up, but he won’t let you see him shed tears. not because he’s trying to mask it ouy, but 'cause he knew it will make you even sadder. he’s scared that he will cause more damage.

his eyes met his heeseung hyung and he nods with a small encouraging smile. the four of them grew up together. they’ve known each other their whole life, so he knew why sunghoon’s not approaching.

its not because he’s mad. he’s being careful. and sunghoon’s never been like this towards someone.

sunghoon gulps then take small courageous steps. your eyes watch him carefully, waiting patiently.

when he’s steps away from you, his eyes softens and you saw how his hand trembles when he lifts it to touch you. he backs out, hesitating to lay his hand on you.

“i’m sorry.” he says in a low voice.

it was such a short sentence but the amount of emotion his eyes shows is enought to let you know that he has so many more that he wants to say.

your eyes scanned his face. slowly, you laid your hand out for him. its a way to let him know that its fine and that you allow him to touch you.

his eyes darts at it. he contemplates, but eventually reaches out. your warm hands sent comfort to sunghoon’s cold ones. it gave him life.

“i’m sorry, pretty. w-we’re really sorry.” he mumbles as he buries his face on your neck. his big figure almost covers you up from heeseung’s perspective.

they watch silently. thankful that you’re just too nice to even let them be this close to you. they exchange look to each other and knew they had to do something to make it up to you.

“forgive us, angel. we’ll do better from now on.” heeseung says and rest his big hands on your hip.

you looked at him and kept silent.

honestly, you’ve been thinking of ending it between them. the amount of stress and overthinking you’ve been going through because of them was unhealthy. you promised that after confronting them and if they confirmed that they’re just here for the fun, you’ll bolt out.

but... this is totally a big turn of events.

your lips stretched a little. a subtle gentle smile, but still visible to their eyes are what relieved them.

“okay.”

jake rushes closer and kisses your cheeks multiple times. “really, sweets? thank you! i love you!” he excitedly mumbled between his kisses.

you felt sunghoon’s big strong arms wrapping tightly around your waist.

“thanks, baby. we will try our best.” jay caught your attention when he rest his hand on top of your head, giving it light taps.

the corner of his lips lifts before leaning to kiss you on the lips. “i love you.” he whispers, like he doesn’t want the other boys to hear. like it was only meant for you.

jake steps in, the sulky boy in him coming out. “kiss me on the lips too!” he argues and pouts his plump lips.

jay snorted and swat his arms. you chuckles and lets him lean in for a swift kiss. his eyes sparkling after that smooch.

heeseung’s hands digs on your hip as he leans silently to drop a kiss on your lips. it was soft and lasts for a few seconds. when he pulls away, he remains close and smiles.

“thank you, angel. we’ll be good boyfriends. right?” he says and looks at his friends which they responded with nods.

you blushed, “b-boyfriends?” surprised.

heeseung smirks then nods, “you’re our girl.” he pinches your cheeks lightly. “not some toy.”

sunghoon places a kiss on your neck then pulls away. his eyes bores to you. they glisten affection and relief.

“our pretty girl.” he whispers and dips his head to give you a feathery hot kiss on the lips.

your eyes opens when he pulls away.

“we need to work on our issues in order for this to work. we don’t want another misunderstanding like this.” heeseung announces.

“do you have anything else you don’t like, angel? except from us being total assholes...” he cleared his throat.

your mind wonders. “i d-didn’t like what we did the last time. its o-overwhelming...”

they all looked at you with cute eyes then jay chuckles. “i mean she did passed out that time. her stamina couldn’t handle it.” he says.

heeseung nods, “at least we get to try it once, right?” he smirks, the memories of the night still lingers to his mind.

you blushed and glanced away.

“is that all, angel?”

you look back at heeseung and nodded.

“please stop being aggressive.” you reminded, ears turning red.

they almost cooed at how adorable you looked.

“we promise.” they say almost in unison then approaches for a group hug with you in the middle, making sure they aren’t squishing you too much.

“but we can still do threesome, right?” jake asks innocently that made all of you whip your heads at his direction.

“jake!” they all hissed at him for still being horny despite the wholesome situation that only made you chuckle.

“hi!” you shyly greets when you saw heeseung outside of your house, leaning over his black audi.

its monday morning and you’re beyond surprise to receive a text message from him saying he’ll be picking you up for school. of course you got excited. this will be the first time.

“good morning, beautiful.” he smirks and snakes his arms around your waist to pull you closer.

your cheeks blushed at his words then stomach churns when he leans in for a kiss. it seems so natural. like this is your usual morning routine.

“get in.” he instruct and even open the door for you.

once inside, he swiftly walks around to ride the driver’s seat. then off you go. it was a short drive, but it isn’t awkward. heeseung’s asking questions from time to time to start a conversation while a low music plays on his radio.

the moment his car enters the parking area designated for the students, you saw familiar boys. jay’s leaning over his car while jake and sunghoon bickers about something.

“oh they’re early.” you mumble because usually you arrive first.

heeseung’s always on time since he’s the school’s president. jay and jake arrives at school just on time. sunghoon’s the one always late, unless he have his morning practices.

their heads whips at your direction once they heard the familiar blaring of heeseung’s car. jake turns his back over hoon then waves like an excited puppy. he for sure cannot see you yet as the car is heavily tinted, but it made you smile. he’s so cute.

he’s on your side of the door once heeseung’s done parking it. he waits until the car’s unlocked and then open it for you.

“sweetheart!” he greets happily then hugs you.

heeseung shakes his head while smirking then unclasped your seatbelt for you as you’re busy greeting jake, returning his hug.

jay and sunghoon walks closer as well then hoon went to grab your things from the backseat. he naturally carries it, letting one strap hangs on his arm.

“hey, baby.” jay greets and placed a kiss on your cheek.

“hi jay.”

“i arrived earlier than both of them!” jake interrupts, proudly letting you know how he’s very punctual today.

“wow, that’s great jakey.” you complimented him and his eyes sparkles.

“yeah, right. you’re so childish.” sunghoon commented before leaning towards you for his kiss.

all of you walks on the hallways together. sunghoon and heeseung’s is a few steps ahead while jake’s beside you telling you about his dog. even showing you her cute pictures and bragging how she’s the smartest dog ever. which sunghoon quickly argues that his dog is much better.

jay’s on your other side, silently listening to his friend’s playful banters. he’s very used to it already and slowly, you too.

curious eyes follows the five of you. there’s a hint of surprise and judgment through them. some are whispering, some just stares with mouth slightly gapped and others just don’t care.

honestly, it bothers you. their eyes carefully watching you is making you uneasy. it felt so weird being watched that it makes you wonder how these boys got used to this.

jake’s warm hand envelops yours that caught your attention. he smiles, his red plump lips distracting you.

“don’t mind them, sweets. they’re just jealous.” he whispers, eyes staring straight at yours.

with blushing cheeks, you blinked twice. “w-why? because i’m with you guys?”

he shakes his head and leans closer, his lips grazing your ears that made your stomach drop. “because you’re ours.”

to say that your face turns red is an understatement. your heart races and he just winks then continues talking about other things.

when you arrived at the classroom, they’re all looking curiously. wondering why these boys are acting this way around you. as far as they remember, they used to bully you around. basically why you end up becoming a loner.

“here, pretty.” sunghoon says and placed your things at the side of the chair. you thanked him and he just smiled before walking to his seat.

jay and heeseung did the same but jake remains near you, pouting hardly.

“can’t i move seats?” he complains.

you chuckle and cares his arm, “go to your seat now, jakey.”

he sighs and wants to lean to give a kiss but stops himself. you did talked about them not to do pda in public or at least when around a lot of people. not everyone is open for this kind of relationship, you just don’t want any issues.

“jake, stop being sulky and sit down.” jay calls him then rolls his eyes.

the said boy just raises his fist and showed his middle finger to his friend. you chuckled and just sat down so jake can go to his chair.

eventually, the homeroom teacher walks inside for morning reminders. she mentioned the upcoming fieldtrip which slightly riles you up. you’re excited to go at the museums and such.

during the breaktime, the boys accompanied you. sunghoon and jake to be specific. the other two are busy on student council so its just the three of you.

“what do you want to eat, doll?” sunghoon asks while pulling a chair for you.

jake’s playing with the edge of your hair while watching you carefully.

“anything is fine.”

hoon nods once, “i’ll order for you.”

“thank you, hoon.” with a smile.

he smirks then squeezed your hand before walking off. jake and you sat down at the table.

“did heeseung hyung told you already?” he starts.

“about?”

“he’s taking you out on a date later.” he says casually while doing something to his phone. his forehead narrows, very focus.

“a d-date?”

he hums, answering your question with a short nod. he’s not looking at you, still hooked to his phone. “where?”

he shrugs, “have no idea.”

your heart hammered just by the thought of going on a date with thee lee heeseung. yes, they did said that they’ll make it up to you and that confirmed your relationship with them, but sometimes it still don’t sink in.

they’re your boyfriends...

your eyes caught the glimpse of what jake’s doing and you got distracted. its a picture of you. that was the first time you saw it.

“is that me?”

jake whips his head at you then smiled, “yes! i’m putting you as my wallpaper.” then he clicked something before locking it and opening the screen to show you.

its a candid picture of you. you forgot when it was, but it was obvious that you’re unaware of him taking that photo. you’re focused on something.

“beautiful, isn’t it?” his smug smirk looked adorable. he cocked his eyebrow once, smirking wider. “that’s my girlfriend.”

you blushed even harder. “stop it.”

he chuckled, finding you adorable. instead of stopping, he stared more intensely making you even more flustered.

“j-jake..” and you glance away.

“fine, i’ll stop.” finally, he glances away, his big grin not wiping off.

sunghoon arrives afterwards and the three of you enjoys the time together before going back to your class.

during your vacant, some of your classmates are doing random things inside the room. you find it a waste to just do nothing and remembered about the history assignment.

you stood up and instantly, four heads whips at your direction. when the bell rang and one of the students announced that it was your vacant, they all naturally gathered around you.

“where are you going?” they almost ask at the same time.

“a-at the library.” you answered, shy that all of their attention is now directed at you. its slowly becoming a habit, but that’s something you will never get used to.

“i’ll go with you.” heeseung was quick to stand up and fix his uniform slightly before carding his soft black hair once.

you gulped, “o-okay...” and your eyes dropped at the three boys who remains sitting down.

sunghoon smiles, “see you later, doll. i’m sleepy.” he reasons then leans over his table.

jay just smiled. jake have this pout on his lips. “i really want to co—��� his words got interrupted when jay covered his mouth.

“shut up.”

heeseung covers your line of sight from them then flashes this soft smile. “let’s go?” he says and just like being hypnotized by his gaze, you nod your head.

heeseung ushered you to the library, asking what you’re going there for. once informed about the assignment, he said that he’s already finished with his so he’ll just help you.

you can’t help but to be at awe for this man. can he be more perfect? he’s good in everything.

he find you guys a vacant table and asked you to sit down. he said he will look for the book he used and you thanked him. it didn’t took long before you saw him walking back with a handful of books. strangely, he fits this image well.

you’re in complete trance when he walked closer then placed it on the table. he then started pointing the references he used and told you that you can gather information from those articles then summarize it to your own words.

that was plenty for you. considering it will save you time doing this assignment. with a small smile you thank him then proceed on focusing on the task. heeseung sat beside you and watch how your brows draws closer.

his grin grew wider and fingers starting playing through his lower lip. his stares never left you then it slowly trailed down from your brows to your nose and then lips. those damn lips...

he inhaled and licked his lip, cleared his throat in the most silent way.

now, he went here with you with the most genuine intention of helping you. but then his thoughts are starting to wonder into something... inappropriate.

you did said that you only disapprove of them being mean and aggressive, right? being horny is not mentioned. so you probably won’t mind if he fingers you knuckle deep right now.

god, just by thinking of it, heeseung’s already salivating.

besides, its not his fault that you look so innocent and very pretty looking all serious.

he rests his hand on your thigh that made you jolt in surprise. you blinked twice then turns your head at his direction. he’s giving you this lazy look while biting over his lips.

your chest hammered and stomach churns when he started caressing your thighs gently. making sure you can feel his rough palms rubbing against your exposed skin.

“h-heeseung...”

he raised an eyebrow, “yes, angel?” he asks innocently like as if he’s not doing trailing his hands upwards into your inner skirt.

“w-we’re in the library...” and you roam your eyes trying to check if there’s people near enough to get suspicious of what’s going on under the table.

“exactly. go study.” he says with a grin.

“w-what are you doing? they might see—”

“shh, don’t worry. just be a good girl and do your assignment, okay?” and he leans to drop a kiss on the side of your head, ushering you to continue doing your work.

after staring at him for a while and realizing he ain’t going to stop, you decided to just go with it. besides, you can’t hide the arousing feeling that slowly poisoning your whole system. your head starting to get fuzzy, core getting wet as he started to trace the line of your pussy.

you hummed, teeth sunk onto your lower lip in attempt to stop any moans that wants to come out. “ungh,”

he chuckles sexily, “try to be quiet. we’re at the library after-all.” he whispered.

he pulls his hand out then gave it a lick before dipping it back in. “open your legs for me, please.” he demanded in a very soft tone.

you’re already in deep thoughts, unable to even respond properly and just obliged his dirty desires. once he have a better access, heeseung pushes your underwear to touch you bare.

his fingers are hot and rough. feels so good. he started on your clit, rubbing it in a very delicious way.

“fuck, you’re so wet.” he curses, enjoying how your face contorts out of pleasure. pleasure that he’s currently giving you.

“h-hee..” you calls him.

he smirks, loving the way you’re so needy for his fingers.

“all right, i'm going in angel. focus on your assignment.” he stated like as if its even possible to do that. but you tried to pull yourself together. heaved a sigh then looked at the books in front of you. none of the words made sense, but that’s not important.

your mouth slightly gaps as he inserted one finger inside you. the stretch felt so good it makes you want to moan loudly.

“shh.” he reminded, chuckling.

he’s enjoying it. he’s loving it as much as you’re loving being finger fucked.

he didn’t stopped and put another finger. he let it rest inside, trying to take time feeling your tightness around his long fingers. he wants to imagine it to be his dick and he bet it will feel heaven. he shove that thought right away, he needs to focus on you.

“you’re so tight around me, angel.” he whispered huskily. “even after being fucked by all of us, you’re still so fucking tight.” he started talking in nasty way.

the way he say it in a calm tone just hits in a different way. you gulped and breath out, calming yourself.

“p-please.”

he smirks and gave you another kiss on the side of your head. he started moving his fingers that almost sent your soul out of your body. the way his fingers moved in and out in your tight hole just feels perfect.

he continues, slowly catching his pace that just added to your pleasure. one of your hand grips over his thighs, squishing it that he quickly find adorable.

“how i wish its my tongue inside that hole, angel.” he says that he truly means.

you whimpered lowly and tried to keep your eyes open. the words on the book starting to became blurry. it went on for a while until you feel a knot forming on your stomach. a sign that you’re already close.

“heeseung...” you calls out.

he chuckles then rutt his fingers even faster making you whimper softly. you glance at him and he already knew that you’re close. from the way your eyes are half-lidded and teeth digging unto your lips, you are definitely about to release.

he fucks deeper and just a few moments after you came to his fingers, head hanging low and grip over his thighs tightening. you shake lightly that made him chuckle, leaning his head closer to kiss you by the head.

“you did so well.” he complimented then kept on thrusting in and out in a slow pace, helping you ride your high.

once you calmed down, he pulls it out making you wine. he stares at you then shamelessly took his fingers over his lips to suck it. your eyes grew and cheeks blushed hardly.

“heeseung!”

he smirks, “i deserve a reward, don’t you think?” then he winks at you making you lose your mind. he’s going to be the death of you.

“bye baby.” jay smiles and kisses you gently before moving away to give way for sunghoon. he’s already holding his helmet by one of his hand.

“bye, pretty.” he says with a playful grin over you.

you smiled before pouting, “please drive safely.”

his eyes soften after what you said and leans in again for another kiss. “i will, i promise.”

you nodded and a sulking jake came into your view.

“bye sweets.” he says half-heartedly that made you chuckle then insisted for a kiss just to ease his bad mood.

sunghoon rolls his eyes then grabbed his sulking friend by his uniform and drag him out of there. jake complains and started to argue, but jay helped to drag him away.

heeseung sighs and snaked his arm over your waist, “let’s go?”

you glance at him then nod your head once before going to his car. he opened the door like always and guides your inside.

“where are we going?”

he glances, “i’m taking you to our small vacation house by the lake.” he smiles.

you smiled back, “hmm. okay.”

“i called your mom and told her i’ll get you home a little late.”

“you called her?” you’re surprised he even remembered telling it to her.

“yes. i don’t want her to be worried or get you in trouble.” he says while eyes fixed at the road.

you pout your lips and looked at more with so much adoration. that was so sweet of him. you can feel your heart races and butterflies going crazy inside your stomach.

heesueng notices your stares and chuckles, “why?”

you shake your head, “its just you’re so sweet. it makes my heart melt.”

his smile grew wider, totally proud that he made you feel more special.

“anything for you.”

he said it will took a bit time to get there so you guys went to drive thru so he can buy some food you can eat while on the way. while on the way, you naturally fall into conversations, giggling and teasing each other.

it feels so good. heeseung used to be very intimidating for you. his serious demeanor and the way he seems so calm about everything just makes you feel agitated around him. but eventually, he starts to feel warm. like someone you can entrust yourself fully. they all feel that way, honestly. but heeseung’s the most reliable one, you must admit.

when he noticed your eyelids looking heavier, he chuckles and told you that you can sleep for a while.

“but how about you?” feeling a little bad that you’ll leave him driving.

he smiles assuringly, “i’ll be fine, angel.”

and with that you slowly dozed off. he lets you sleep until you’re already pulling over the driveway of their small vacation house. its not particularly small. its actually above average, but maybe for people like him who probably have many vacation houses, this is small for him.

“careful.” he mumbled and quickly reaches for your hand when the rocky path greets you.

the house is very cozy and simple. the clear view of the lake can be seen from the big glass windows. it was beautiful.

“you can go roam around while i set our food inside the fridge.” heeseung says then kisses you at the head before heading to the kitchen.

your eyes wanders around with curiosity and admiration. everything looks expensive. your eyes darted at the table filled with picture frames. with full curiosity, your feet trudges closer.

“wow...” was the first word that came out from your mouth. you can see pictures of their family. his dad and mom. him and his older brother.

“cutie!” you exclaimed when you saw heeseung’s baby picture. he does resembles him that you can tell right away that it was him.

your smiling ear to ear then fished your phone to take a snap of that pic. after getting satisfied with your shots, you slowly head over the small balcony where you can see the lake.

“wow, its so refreshing.” you mumble under your breath then leaned over the railings, letting the wind blow onto you.

you jolted when a pair of arms wrapped over your waist. “enjoying the view?”

“y-yes.”

heeseung kisses your cheeks then place his chin on your shoulder. the two of you admired the view while holding that position. the breeze is kind of cold, but heeseung’s hug kept you warm.

“do you want to walk around for a bit before we start dinner?” he asks then finally pulls away.

your eyes sparkles, “yes!”

he chuckles, finding you adorable then leans down. “give me a kiss first.”

your cheeks blushed then blinked twice. the two of your stares at each other for a while until you decided to give in to his request. a big satisfied smile spread across his handsome face then stand back up.

“let’s go.” and he intertwined your fingers.

looking at the lake in a much nearer distance gave you comfort and peace. you never thought watching the soft currence while holding heeseung’s warm hands can make your heart race.

“do you know when i started liking you?” heeseung breaks the silence.

you craned your neck to glance at him, eyes flashing curiosity. “when?”

he stares at your for a while before chuckling lightly then pinching your cheeks.

“you look adorable, but i have to resist. come on, try to guess.”

his compliment and how he said that using his softest tone soothes something in your heart. it made you blush instantly. despite all of it, you tried to guess like how he requested.

“when you started this thing with me?” that was the first one that came in your mind.

you barely remember any interaction with lee heeseung before all of this.

his brows narrowed, “this thing?” he sighs. “relationship, angel. that’s how you call it properly.” he says using a salty tone.

you chuckled and just nods as acknowledgement. he kept his stares, his eyes returning to being gentle and full of affection. a small genuine smile then appears over his lips.

heeseung’s out of words to describe how precious you are for him. he’s usually good on saying the things he wanted to say, but with you his thoughts are starting to be messed up. there’s just so much he wanted to say yet he don’t know where to start.

“it was on seventh grade.” he stated that made your lips gap.

7th grade? but you’re already on eleventh grade. still surprised, you cannot say anything.

“during that time i experienced my first loss. it may be nothing for a normal high-school kid, but for someone who comes from a perfectionist family who doesn’t accept defeat, it is a pretty big deal.”

instantly, you feel slightly bad. of course, you’ve heard about his family. they are pretty strict when it comes to him. maybe that’s why he’s very reserved because he has no time for failure. they’ve put too much pressure on him.

your free hand extends and travels from his arm towards his neck, up to his face. slowly, he relaxes to your touch.

“i remember feeling so worthless while staring blankly at my silver medal.” he resumes telling you the story.

“while i stare with despair at it, already imagining the disappointed look from my father, someone approaches me.” he stops.

“guess who?” he smirks. “i'll give you a clue.” then smirk grew wider.

“she’s very pretty and currently holding me softly right now.”

“me?” you wonder.

he nods. “you were pretty amazed at my silver medal.” he states, a big smile on his face now.

just the emotion he was showing was enough to tell how delighted he is by reminiscing that moment.

“i was actually annoyed at first because i thought you were mocking me.” he chuckled and you pout jokingly.

“hey, you’re so judgemental.”

he shrugs his shoulders. “can’t blame me, angel. i was still very introverted that time.”

“you’re still a little introvert now.”

he cocked his eyebrow and you did the same thing, staring back. that made him chuckle.

“okay, maybe you’re right.” he surrenders then drop a kiss on your forehead.

“and then what happened?” you curiously asked.

he smiled. “then i told you harshly that what’s so great for second place?” he continued.

you grow silent then tries hard to recall the memory.

“and then you said,” you glanced at him, eyes starting to water a bit.

“that there’s nothing wrong with being second place. that it doesn’t mean that you failed or you didn’t won. that instead of being sad, you should take it as a chance to become better. that it only means you still have a room to grow.” you finished it that made him smile.

“right...”

“hee...” eyes brimming with tears already. “that was years ago.” you stated, couldn’t believe that he started to get interested that time.

his eyes dropped at your intertwined hand and he raised it to gently place a kiss on top of it.

“hee...” you mumbled again, this time voice cracking a little.

he smiles, “sorry if we approached you the wrong way. we just really don’t know what to do.” his eyes sparkles, getting a bit teary as well.

“i-it’s okay... i didn’t know.”

he chuckles, “obviously. you’re too dense to notice.”

“hey!” you playfully shoot him glares that he just laughed at before leaning in to give you a kiss.

the two of you stared at each other affectionately, enough to communicate what your hearts wants to tell one another.

“i know that with all the responsibilities and the expectation from your parents, it felt heavy. like you feel that you can’t be flawed.” you started.

“but for me you’re just perfect the way you are. with your achievements and failures.” those words tugs his heartstrings, a tear escaping his eye.

the moment you two steps inside the vacation house, heeseung’s lips are attached to you. his kisses are gentle yet passionate. his hands holds you closely to his hot body.

his kisses moves from your lips, down to your chin then neck making sure to suck on your skin making you moan, fingers tangled on his hair.

he slid his arm over your legs then carries you towards the bedroom. he went back to your lips and kisses you once again.

he gently placed you on the bed hovering above you, his hand starting to remove your clothes. and you let him.

when he pulls away, you try to even chase him that made him chuckle.

“wait, angel. i’ll just remove my clothes.”

your eyes trailed down his now erect member.

“d-do you want me to...?”

he smiles then shakes his head, “no. today, its just about you.”

then he kisses you again, resuming on discarding every clothing that you still have on you. once fully unclothed, he positions himself in front of you. he started rubbing his head on your now wet core.

your brows narrowed and whimpers sexily.

“i’ll go in now, okay?” he glanced at you and a nod is all you gave him.

and while your eyes staring back at each other, heeseung pushes his dick inside. the stretch feels so good, his thick cock making you moan his name. it made him satisfied, hearing you getting comfortable on letting out your moans.

“that’s right, let me hear you.” he whispered then pinned your hand on the sides, intertwining his fingers to yours.

he lets you get more comfortable with having him inside and connects his lips on yours again, couldn’t get enough of your lips. his tongue pushes in, wanting to taste every insides of your mouth.

when he started to move, your head starts to get blank. nothing inside but the man above you and making you feel this good.

he slides in and out. starting with a slow pace then going faster. he thrusts deep and fast sending so much pleasure.

“heeseung...” you moaned after his lips moves away.

“i love you, angel.” he suddenly said that made your heart jumped. you didn’t have the chance to say anything as he leans in for a peck.

“i love you so damn much.” and then start thrusting even faster.

“i...” you pursed your lips, eyes shuts as the pleasure from his dick takes away your ability to think and speak properly.

“i..” you attempted again, opening your eyes so you can look at his pretty face.

“love you too...” you finally finished it.

heeseung’s heart thumped faster and he fucked you even harder. he smiles and leans in for another heated kiss. he loves and adore you.

he continues drilling his cock inside until he felt you tightening around him, indicating the approaching release. he kisses your chin.

“cumming for me, angel?”

you open your mouth, “yes. feel so good.”

he smirks, “i know. pussy so good for me.” and then he rut his cock deeper.

“i’m cumming too..” he announces, feeling the knot on his stomach.

“cum with me.” he orders then attach his lips before going rapidly.

not long after you came around heeseung then he filled you with his hot cum. he pulls away to look at your fucked out face, brushing off some hair. he smiles.

“i love you.” he whispers, still going in and out but in a slower pace. riding both your highs.

you opened your eyes and reaches for his face. this time, you lift your head to give him a sweet kiss with a smile on your face. then you laid back down, staring lovingly at him.

his thrust starts to go faster again and a playful smirk spreads across his handsome face, some of his hairs sticks on his forehead due to sweat.

“round two, angel.” and then you let out a whimper from both pleasure and overstimulation.

the two of you spent the rest of the time just going for each other. heeseung making sure you felt how special you are for him.

lee heeseung is scared of failing. always aiming to be the best and to be perfect. he’s too obsessed on pleasing his parents to the point that he almost lose himself. but with you, he felt at ease. he felt safe and confident knowing that despite all his flaws and just being his true self, he’s still admirable.

tag-list

@shawnyle @baekxo07 @parksunghoonsgf @skzenhalove @shanb1n @kaykay11sworld @starfallia @blank-velvet @nctislifue @avaleyshin @kpopslays @jooniesbears-blog @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @d-dilemma @pinksweetlittlepiano @sweetjaemss @yangwonx1 @jenniepaii @jakeswsh @brii-sunwoos-version @luvsjwonn @arimiu @sleepingisweak @ninalove323

[diamonddaze01]

Full Throttle (ii)

pairing: ferrari driver!yoon jeonghan x journalist!reader chapter wc: 16.7K (dont look at me)genre: humor, fluff, angst, smut (?) au: f1 au (i am sorry i am a nerd abt this) rating: m (MINORS DNI)warnings: SLOW BURNNN. mentions of injuries, car crashes // unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), some nipple-play, vaguely (?) rough (?) sex, begging

PREQUELS: would highly recommend reading On the Record and Off the Record to gain some context into the relationship! This fic starts directly after the end of Off the Record 

a/n: ok pt 2 here we gooooo! to kae @ylangelegy , who hasn't read the ending of this because they wanted to be surprised. i love you, im sorry, i love you // to alta @haologram , who hyped me up so much and made me feel so much better about my writing // thank you to lola @monamipencil and haneul @chanranghaeys for beta-reading! // and finally, an ENORMOUS thank you to jupiter @cheolism for the banner!

read part 1 here.

FORMULA 1 PIRELLI GRAN PREMIO D’ITALIA 2024 Track: Autodromo Nazionale Monza

Monza, the Temple of Speed. The track that had seen countless legends, where every tire mark told a story of glory and heartache. The crowd—the tifosi—roared like a living entity, their chants filling the air, demanding greatness from Ferrari’s finest. It wasn’t just a race here, it was a pilgrimage. The heat of Italy in late summer mixed with the electric atmosphere of a home Grand Prix, and Jeonghan could feel it all—the energy, the expectation, the weight of a thousand eyes on him.

The Autodromo Nazionale Monza was a track built on speed, but more than that, it was a track built on history. The sweeping curves, the long straights, the iconic Parabolica that would make or break a driver—it was a place where only the brave thrived, and only the strongest survived. Jeonghan knew the stakes: it wasn’t enough to be fast, not when you were wearing Ferrari red. He had to win, not just for himself, but for the tifosi, who saw him as their golden boy. He had to deliver.

As the weekend progressed, he couldn’t escape the growing weight on his shoulders. His performance was scrutinized with every passing second. In the pits, the team’s eyes were on him, hoping for that perfect lap. The techs, the engineers, the strategists—all working in harmony, hoping that Jeonghan would be the one to pull them across the finish line, but in the back of his mind, Jeonghan kept hearing the unspoken truth: nothing less than pole would suffice. Anything less was a failure.

He felt his pulse quicken as the qualifying session wore on, his concentration laser-sharp, every move calculated. But the tire strategy wasn’t perfect, and as the final moments ticked down, the truth settled over him like a cloud of doom. He was not going to make Q3. Neither was Soonyoung. The agony of it slammed into him like a punch to the gut.

The Ferrari garage was quiet, save for the hum of the engines being powered down. Soonyoung clapped him on the shoulder, a small gesture, but Jeonghan could see the frustration in his eyes, the mirror of his own defeat. The disappointment felt like a heavy weight on Jeonghan’s chest, suffocating, and he couldn’t shake it off. He couldn’t even look at the team, let alone the tifosi waiting outside.

The mood around the paddock was tense as Jeonghan left the garage, still in his race suit. The world felt unreal, as though it were in slow motion. He couldn’t escape it. The tifosi would be waiting to cheer their heroes, but today, he hadn’t been the hero they wanted. He was just another failure in a sea of victories that had come before him. He needed to escape it, to clear his mind.

It was then, as he walked toward his motorhome, that he felt it—a small, electric connection. Your hand brushed against his.

He froze.

Your presence was like a balm, soothing the sharp sting of defeat, but it also distracted him. The familiar, intoxicating scent of your shampoo, something floral and faintly sweet, hit him like a memory, and his heart skipped a beat. That scent, mixed with the lingering tension of the day, flooded his senses. He couldn’t look at you, couldn’t form words. All he could think about was that fleeting moment—so close—and the ridiculous notion that he had never noticed how desperately he wanted to be closer to you.

You didn’t stop walking either, your movements fluid, confident. But he couldn’t help the way his eyes followed you, the way the tension built with every step.

Without a word, you both continued on, the space between you shrinking until you finally spoke. Your voice was soft, but there was an edge to it, something that told him you understood more than he let on.

“Tough luck out there,” you said, a hint of sympathy in your tone.

The words were simple, but they hit harder than he expected. His chest tightened as he swallowed. “It’s... whatever,” he muttered, trying to brush it off. He didn’t have the energy to care.

You glanced at his fist, clenched so tightly it was almost painful to watch. “Doesn’t seem like ‘whatever’ to me,” you countered, raising an eyebrow, your words cutting through the fog in his mind.

He let out a small, mirthless chuckle. “I’ll be fine,” he said, his voice more convincing than he felt. But even as he said it, he knew. He wouldn’t be fine—not until he had redeemed himself, not until he could prove to the world that he was still Ferrari’s shining star. He had to be.

But for now, there was a fleeting connection between the two of you, and it was the only thing that made his heart skip, even if just for a moment.

The race was an uphill battle from the start, as expected. Jeonghan’s starting position was far from ideal, and the track ahead was a maze of cars, each one blocking his path, each one a reminder of the high stakes. The pressure weighed on him heavily, like an invisible force that squeezed the air from his lungs. It wasn’t just about the race, it was about redemption. The tifosi—his tifosi—filled his mind with a deafening chant, a roar of expectation, as if they were willing victory into existence. The weight of their adoration and their demand for perfection followed him, a constant reminder of the legacy he carried.

But Jeonghan had never been one to back down. The track felt like an extension of himself, the tires gripping, the engine vibrating beneath him, urging him to push. Even with traffic clogging his way, he found openings. He fought for every inch of track, his movements sharp, instinctive, like a surgeon making precise cuts. Overtaking felt almost effortless—his car slipping through gaps with the grace of a dancer. He was fluid, controlled, never losing sight of the goal.

As the laps unfolded, his nerves sharpened, but so did his focus. The aggressive strategy that had been laid out for him was beginning to pay off. He was making up ground, inching forward, climbing the ladder of positions one battle at a time. The thought of the tifosi cheering, of their voices blending into one thunderous symphony, drove him. They believed in him. He had to deliver. His mind cleared. He no longer heard the roaring crowds, the whirling thoughts of doubt. All that mattered was the track, the tires, and the roar of the engine beneath him. The conditions became his advantage—he thrived in this chaos.

Through the speed-trap corners, Jeonghan carved his way through the field. The world outside the cockpit blurred into a haze, his focus narrowing into sharp precision. He saw every gap, every opportunity, and he seized them without hesitation. The rain had turned the race into a dance of risk and control, and Jeonghan was leading the waltz.

Crossing the finish line first, Jeonghan allowed himself a single moment of release. The victory wasn’t just for him—it was for Ferrari, for the tifosi, for everything that had been building in his chest since the first day he’d strapped into the car. He had done it. He had delivered.

The roar of the crowd felt like an affirmation of his own heart, beating in time with the cheers of thousands. In that moment, the weight lifted off him, replaced by an overwhelming surge of satisfaction and relief. He had proven himself once again, and it was more sweet than any victory lap could ever capture. The tifosi were wild, their cheers ringing through the air, a thunderous confirmation of what Jeonghan had already known in his heart: this was his race. This was his victory.

After the podium celebrations, the champagne-soaked cheers, and the endless barrage of media questions, Jeonghan finally managed to steal a moment of solitude. His body was spent, muscles aching, his throat raw from the adrenaline-fueled roar that had escaped him as he crossed the finish line. And yet, his mind wasn’t on the race anymore. Not on the points, not on the tifosi.

It was on you.

The fleeting brush of your hand earlier lingered like a phantom touch, a warmth that refused to fade even as the hours passed. The memory of your scent—the subtle floral notes of your shampoo—clung to him, more grounding than the overwhelming chaos of the Monza circuit.

He walked toward his motorhome, each step feeling heavier now that the adrenaline had begun to wane. The din of the paddock was fading, replaced by the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat in his ears. The glow of the overhead lights cast long shadows, and as he turned the corner, there you were. Waiting for him. Leaning casually against the side of his motorhome, your arms crossed and a knowing smirk dancing on your lips. His footsteps slowed as his eyes locked onto yours, the soft gleam of your smile both a challenge and an invitation.

“You’re late,” you teased, tilting your head in mock disapproval.

Jeonghan huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he approached. “Didn’t realize I was on a schedule.”

“You’re always on a schedule,” you shot back, your tone light but your gaze sharp. “Besides, I thought you’d be faster off track too.”

His smirk deepened as he stopped in front of you, close enough that the scent of champagne and adrenaline clung to him. “Big words for someone who’s hanging around my motorhome.”

“Big win for someone who barely made it out of Q2,” you quipped, the corner of your mouth twitching upward.

Jeonghan’s chuckle was low, almost indulgent. “Touché.”

There was a moment of silence, the din of the paddock fading into a distant hum. His eyes traced your face, noting the way your lashes cast faint shadows on your cheekbones, the way you seemed perfectly at ease under his scrutiny. That unnerved him more than he cared to admit. You’d always been too good at staying cool, keeping him on edge.

“So,” he finally said, leaning casually against the doorframe, “where’s your article? Shouldn’t it be out by now?”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Oh, you think I’m done? I’m holding out for an exclusive.”

Jeonghan’s grin widened, his ego soaking up your words. “An exclusive? From the tifosi’s god?”

Your laugh was soft, teasing, and it sent a warmth through his chest that rivaled the rush of the race. “Your words, not mine.”

“You want a headline that bad?” His voice dropped, his tone dipping into something darker, something that made the air between you shift.

“Maybe,” you replied, your voice steady despite the way he was looking at you now—like he was ready to devour you whole. “But you’d have to give me something worth writing about.”

It was playful, the banter you always shared, but there was something crackling beneath the surface tonight, an electricity neither of you could ignore. Jeonghan stepped closer, his presence swallowing the space between you. You shifted back instinctively, your spine meeting the cool surface of the motorhome door.

“You always have something to say, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low, intimate.

“Someone has to keep you grounded,” you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly as his hand braced against the door beside your head, caging you in. His other hand hovered near your hip, close enough to make you hyper-aware of the heat radiating off him.

“Grounded?” he repeated, his lips curling into a slow, predatory smile. “You’re doing a great job of that.”

Your heart was pounding now, the proximity, the tension—it was overwhelming. “Jeonghan,” you started, your voice quieter, more measured, “this… this isn’t professional.”

“Fuck being professional,” he said, the words slipping out like a confession. Before you could respond, his fingers tilted your jaw, firm but not rough, guiding you to look up at him.

And then his lips were on yours, capturing them in a kiss that was as fierce as it was unrelenting. It wasn’t sweet or tentative—it was raw, all the tension and frustration that had built up between you spilling over in a single, consuming moment. His hand slid to the nape of your neck, anchoring you to him as if he was afraid you might pull away.

But you didn’t. You kissed him back with equal fervor, your hands finding the front of his race suit, clutching the material as if to steady yourself. The world around you blurred into nothing; there was only the warmth of his mouth, the taste of him, the way he kissed like he was claiming something he’d wanted for far too long.

Jeonghan’s breath hitched as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours for something—confirmation, permission, anything. Whatever he found made him grin, wicked and hungry. Without a word, he reached for the door handle, pushing it open with a sharp motion. The door swung wide, and then his hands were on you again, pulling you inside. 

The door clicked shut behind you, plunging you both into the dim interior of the motorhome. Jeonghan's hands were everywhere at once, tracing the curve of your waist, sliding up your back, tangling in your hair. His lips found yours again, more urgent this time, as if he couldn't bear to be separated from you for even a moment.

You stumbled backward, your legs hitting the edge of the small couch. Jeonghan followed, never breaking contact, until you were lying beneath him, the leather cool against your heated skin. His weight pressed you down, a delicious pressure that made your head spin.

"God, I've wanted this for so long," he breathed against your neck, his words punctuated by hot, open-mouthed kisses that trailed down to your collarbone.

You arched into him, your hands fumbling with the zipper of his race suit. Your fingers trembled slightly as you tugged it down and yanked off his fireproofs, revealing more of his sweat-slicked skin. Jeonghan groaned against your throat as your hands slipped inside, exploring the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen.

"How long?" you managed to ask between ragged breaths, curiosity mingling with desire.

Jeonghan lifted his head, his eyes dark and intense as they locked onto yours. "Since the first time you interviewed me," he admitted, his voice low and husky. "The way you challenged me, saw right through my bullshit... I knew I was in trouble."

The confession sent a thrill through you, and you pulled him down for another searing kiss. Your tongues danced as his hands roamed your body, pushing up your shirt to caress the soft skin beneath. You gasped into his mouth as his thumb brushed the underside of your breast.

Your fingers curled into his hair, tugging gently as you deepened the kiss. Jeonghan groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. His hand slid lower, tracing the curve of your hip before gripping your thigh, hitching it up around his waist. 

“So what you’re saying,” you whispered, grinding your clothed cunt against him. “Is that you’ve been obsessed with me as long as I have with you.”

He drops his head and groans, hot and heavy, against your throat. “You’re telling me we could have been doing this for three years?”

You pull him back to your lips by his hair, relishing the way he hisses at your touch. “If only you’d put your money where your mouth is, pretty boy.”

At that, he props himself up above you, grinning like the cat that got the canary. “I knew you called me pretty in Japan!” 

You desperately claw at his shoulders in an attempt to bring his mouth back to yours. After three years of cat and mouse, you do believe you’re entitled to it. “Jeonghan, I swear to everything that is holy-”

“Say it.” His necklace hangs in front of you, glinting in the dim light of the motorhome. You have half a mind to crane your neck and take it with your teeth. But instead, you choose to stare up at him in mock confusion, fingers dancing at the nape of his neck. 

“Say what?”

His answering laugh mocks you a little, and he leans down to gently bite your earlobe. When he speaks, it’s low and deep. “Say I’m pretty. I know you think it when you’re drunk.”

You shiver at the sensation of his teeth grazing your ear, heat pooling in your core. His words make you flush, remembering all the times you'd drunkenly gushed about him to your friends. You'd always been careful to keep things professional in person, but apparently some of your true feelings had slipped out.

"And how would you know what I think when I'm drunk?" you challenge, trying to regain some control.

Jeonghan chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin. "You're not the only one with sources in the paddock, sweetheart."

The pet name sends another thrill through you. You decide to give him what he wants, if only to move things along. "Fine," you breathe, trailing your fingers down his chest. "You're pretty, Jeonghan. Gorgeous, actually. Happy now?"

His grin is triumphant as he captures your lips again, the kiss deep and consuming. "Ecstatic, darling," he murmurs against your mouth.

Your hands roam his body, tracing the lean muscles of his back, feeling them flex under your touch. Jeonghan's fingers dance along your sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He breaks the kiss to nip at your jaw, then your neck, drawing a soft moan from your lips.

"You know," he says between kisses, his voice low and husky, "I've imagined this so many times. On the couch in the media room, in the garage, during those long interviews..."

You gasp as he finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck. "Is that why you always fidget so much during our talks?"

He chuckles against your skin. "Guilty as charged."

Your hands find the waistband of his fireproofs, , but as one hand curls around your jaw, the other stops you. 

“You first,” he breathes, sitting back on his knees to gently urge you out of your shirt.

You lift your arms, allowing him to peel your shirt off slowly, his eyes drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin. The cool air of the motorhome raises goosebumps on your flesh, but Jeonghan's heated gaze makes you feel like you're burning up.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the lace edge of your bra. "Even better than I imagined."

You reach up to pull him back down to you, craving the warmth of his body against yours. As your lips meet again, his hands roam your sides, mapping out every curve and dip. You arch into his touch, desperate for more.

His hands brush over your clothed nipple, and you inhale sharply. The sound makes Jeonghan raise his head, a faint smirk dancing across his lips. “Sensitive, are we?” He coos, hands drawing shapes against the swell of your breasts until goosebumps erupt on your flesh.

Your breath hitches as his fingers tease you though the thin fabric of your bra. “Jeonghan,” you breathe, half-warning, half-plea.

His smirk widens as he lowers his head, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. "Yes, sweetheart?" He murmurs against your skin. His lips trail lower, ghosting over the lacework.

You arch your back, silently begging for more. Jeonghan obliges, his tongue darting out to trace the lace edge of your bra. Your hands find his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you hold him close.

With deft fingers, he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra. You lift slightly, allowing him to slide it off. His eyes darken as he takes you in. You moan wantonly, arching your back in an effort to touch you - somewhere, anywhere.

“Jeonghan, please-”

A singular finger traces the curve of your waist up to your collarbone. He hums as you squirm. “Look at you,” he murmurs. You shriek as he pinches your waist. “You act so big in the paddock, and here you are, begging for me to touch you.”

It enrages you a little, how easily he takes you apart. Hell, he’s barely even touched you and you’re already rubbing your thighs together, desperate for any amount of friction.

"Jeonghan, please," you gasp, not even sure what you're begging for. More? Less? Everything?

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours. The intensity in his gaze makes your breath catch. "Tell me what you want," he says, his voice low and commanding.

You swallow hard, and the heat pooling between your legs feels hot enough to burn. “Y-your-”

“My what, baby?” His words are punctuated by hot, open mouthed kisses against your collarbones. He pointedly ignores your nipples, a thought that makes you whine. “Speak up.”

“Your mouth, Jeonghan,” you finally get out, hissing when his teeth find purchase on the skin of your neck.

“Yeah? Where, baby?” His hands fit themselves against the curve of your waist. “Here?”

“N-no,” you hate it, the way Jeonghan turns you into a whimpering mess. You shiver as his hands trail up your body.

“Hm…how about…here?” His thumbs brush against the underside of your breast again, and you arch your back, desperate and aching for him.

“Higher,” you breathe, mesmerized by the way his fingers dance up your body, by the way his eyes never leave yours.

“Here, baby?” His fingers tweak an already-hard nipple, and you gasp.

“Yes, please-”

“Say I’m a good driver, sweetheart, and I’ll give you what you want.”

Your eyes snap open, narrowing at him in disbelief. Even now, with you half-naked and writhing beneath him, he can't help but tease. "You're kidding, right?"

Jeonghan's grin is wicked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Not at all. Come on, darling. Just a few little words."

You bite your lip, torn between your pride and your desperate need for his touch. His thumb circles your nipple lazily, sending jolts of pleasure through you. Finally, you cave. "Fine," you breathe. "You're a good driver, Jeonghan. The best, even. Now please—"

Before you can finish, his mouth is on your breast, hot and wet. You cry out, arching into him as his tongue swirls around your nipple. His hand kneads your other breast, fingers teasing your other nipple. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as he lavishes attention on your breasts. Jeonghan's tongue and teeth work in tandem, drawing gasps and moans from your lips. The sensations are overwhelming, each touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"God, Jeonghan," you breathe, your head falling back against the couch cushions.

He hums against your skin, the vibration sending another shiver through you. His free hand trails down your stomach, fingers dancing along the waistband of your pants. You lift your hips instinctively, silently begging for more.

Jeonghan lifts his head, his eyes dark with desire as they meet yours. "Tell me you want this," he says, his voice husky and low. "I need to hear you say it."

You nod frantically, your breath coming in short gasps. "Yes," you breathe, your voice filled with need. "I want this. I want you, Jeonghan."

His eyes darken further at your words, a low growl escaping his throat. In one swift motion, he unbuttons your pants and slides them down your legs, taking your underwear with them. You kick them off eagerly, now fully bare beneath him.

Jeonghan's gaze rakes over your body, hungry and appreciative. "Beautiful," he murmurs, his hands skimming up your thighs. "So fucking beautiful."

You reach for him, tugging at the fireproofs still clinging to his hips. "Your turn," you say, your voice breathy with anticipation.

He grins, standing to shuck off the rest of his clothes. Your eyes widen as he reveals himself fully, drinking in the sight of his toned body. Jeonghan's grin widened as he caught you staring. "Like what you see?" he teased, his voice low and husky.

You nod, unable to form words as your eyes roam his body. The lean muscles of his abdomen, the sharp cut of his hipbones, the impressive length of his cock standing proud against his stomach - it was all even better than you'd imagined.

He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?"

That snapped you out of your daze. "Shut up and get back here," you growl, reaching for him.

Jeonghan obliges, lowering himself back onto the couch and covering your body with his. You gasp at the feeling of skin on skin, the heat of his body against yours. His lips find yours in a searing kiss as his hands explore every curve and dip of your body. When his fingers finally brush against your core, you gasp into his mouth, your hips bucking involuntarily.

“So wet,” he murmurs against your lips. “All for me?”

"Yes," you breathe, your hips rolling against his hand. "All for you."

Jeonghan's fingers explore your folds, teasing and mapping out every sensitive spot. When he finally slides a finger inside you, you moan loudly, your back arching off the couch. He sets a slow, torturous pace, curling his finger just right to hit that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

"More," you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders. "Please, Jeonghan."

He obliges, adding a second finger and increasing his pace. His thumb finds your clit, circling it in tight, precise movements that have you writhing beneath him. You can feel the tension building in your core, a coiling heat that threatens to consume you. Your hands scramble for purchase against his shoulders – you’re too drunk on lust to recognize if you’re pushing him away because it’s too much or pulling him closer because it’s not nearly enough. 

"That's it, baby," Jeonghan murmurs, his voice low and encouraging. "Let go for me.”

His words push you over the edge, and you come with a cry, your body arching off the couch as waves of pleasure wash over you. Jeonghan works you through it, his fingers never stopping their relentless rhythm until you're trembling and oversensitive.

As you come down from your high, Jeonghan peppers soft kisses along your jaw and neck. "Beautiful," he murmurs against your skin. "You're so beautiful when you let go."

You're still catching your breath when you feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh. Your hand snakes between your bodies, wrapping around his cock. Jeonghan hisses at the contact, his hips jerking involuntarily.

"Fuck," he groans, his forehead resting against yours. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."

"Show me," you breathe, thumb brushing over the tip of his pre-cum slick cock. You relish the way he shudders against you. “Show me everything you imagined, pretty boy.”

He preens a little at your teasing words, arms shaking with the exertion of keeping himself above you. “Yeah?” he purrs, hips bucking to the tempo of your hand. “You wanna see, sweetheart?”

You barely have the time to nod before he’s sweeping his arms under your thighs and sitting back against the couch, setting you on top of him. Your wet heat is inches from his weeping cock, and you give him an experimental roll of your hips. The friction is delicious, and you bite your lips at the way his head rolls back.

You take advantage of his position and press hot kisses against his neck as he squirms below you.

“This is what you wanted, baby?” you whisper against his ear, biting gently. He shudders, one arm circling your waist and the other finding purchase in your hair. “You wanted me on top? Me in control?” 

He laughs breathlessly at that, hips grinding against yours with such fervour that you almost succumb right then and there. “You might be on top, sweetheart,” he hisses as you position yourself above him, one hand circling his length. “But I’m the one in char-”

He cuts himself off with a strangled moan as you sink down until your hips are flush to his. “Hmmm?” You hum sweetly against his throat, exhaling at the sheer size of him inside you. “What was that?”

“Fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back against the couch as his hands trail down to rest on the curve of your ass. “Move, please, sweetheart.” 

“Tell me how much you love my writing.” The words leave you in a rush, the sight of him panting for you almost too heady to ignore. You hadn’t planned on teasing him, but his earlier words had lit a fire in your core that would only be doused once you flipped the script on him. 

His head is still on the back of the couch as he barks out a laugh. “You’re a fucking menace,” he murmurs, pinching your waist. “Now, move.”

“No.” It takes every bone in your body to stay absolutely still. You can feel him, thick and throbbing, and the thought of it makes you almost forgo this insanity to ride him into oblivion.

His eyes meet yours, and he raises his eyebrows in mock outrage. “Are you serious?” He punctuates his words by dragging a hand down your body, fingers finding your clit and pressing until you jerk away from him. It’s a futile attempt though, because his other hand is still fisted in your hair, and he uses it as leverage to hold you against him, powerless against his ministrations. 

With a shaking hand, your press against his wrist until his fingers stop moving in circles around your clit. “C-come on,” you tease breathlessly, using your other hand to thread through his sweat-soaked hair and yanking until he bares his throat to you with a groan. “Play nice, pretty boy. Tell me how much you love my writing.” 

He groans again as you lick a stripe up his throat, the hand in your hair loosening as his resolve weakens. “Y-you don’t play fair,” he moans, legs shaking with the exertion of keeping still, of playing your little game of cat and mouse. 

“Neither do you,” you whisper, your words paired with a tweak to his nipple that has him gasping and arching his back. 

“Fuck!” He cries out, curling forward until his chin rests against your ribs and he’s staring up at you. “Y-your writing is perfect.”

He’s rewarded with another gentle tug on his hair and a firm, “keep going.”

“S-so perfect and wonderful, I – fuck, baby please – read every word th-three times,” he’s almost whimpering now, looking up at you with so much desire that you decide it’s time to reward him for being so pliant, so good for you. “You-you’re the best writer in the whole paddock, fuck, yes, thank yo-”

You decide to put him out of his misery, preening at his praise, you start with an experimental grind against his hips, and watch with glee as he almost melts back against the couch. You decide to take advantage of the situation for a little while longer, rocking your hips faster as his lips find your nipple.

“Who’s in charge?” you coo, fingers gripping his hair a little tighter. He draws back to give you a quick smirk. They don’t call him the fastest on the grid for nothing – one second, you feel like you’re in complete control, and the next, he’s lifting you off of him with surprising ease. Your chest meets the couch before you can even form a single thought, and Jeonghan gathers up your wrists in one of his hands. 

“You really thought,” he hisses as he re-enters your aching pussy. “You were in charge, sweetheart?”

The new angle allows him to sink even deeper inside you, drawing a low moan from your lips.

"You were saying?" he purrs, chest pressed against your back, his breath hot on your neck as he sets a punishing pace. Each thrust drives the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping and whimpering beneath him.

"You thought you could tease me like that and get away with it?" he groans, his free hand gripping your hip tightly. "Thought you could make me beg?"

You can only moan in response, overwhelmed by the sensation of him pounding into you relentlessly. The couch creaks beneath you dangerously.

"Answer me," Jeonghan demands, slowing his pace torturously.

"J-Jeonghan," you manage to stammer, your voice muffled against the cushions.

He leans over you, his chest pressed against your back as he whispers in your ear. "What was that, sweetheart? I couldn't quite hear you."

You turn your head, meeting his intense gaze over your shoulder. "Please," you whimper.

“Please what?” He demands.

"Please," you gasp, struggling to form coherent thoughts as Jeonghan's hips continue their torturously slow pace. "Please, I need more."

His low chuckle sends shivers down your spine. "More what, baby? Use your words. You’re so good with words, aren’t you?"

You whine in frustration, trying to push back against him, seeking the friction you desperately crave. But his grip on your hip is firm, holding you in place.

"Fuck me," you finally manage to choke out. "Please, Jeonghan, fuck me harder."

"There we go," he purrs, satisfaction evident in his voice. "Was that so hard?"

Before you can retort, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt inside you. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your fingers clawing at the couch cushions.

Jeonghan sets a punishing pace, each thrust driving you further into the couch cushions. The hand not holding your wrists snakes around to find your clit, rubbing tight circles that have you seeing stars.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Jeonghan groans, his breath hot against your neck. "So tight, so perfect for me."

You moan at his words, feeling the familiar coil of heat building in your core. "J-Jeonghan," you whimper, "I'm close..."

"That's it, baby," he encourages, his fingers working faster against your clit. "Come for me. Let me feel you."

Every part of your body is on fire, from the way Jeonghan's hips press against yours to the way his fingers expertly stroke your clit.

You come with a cry, your body shaking as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your inner walls clench around him, drawing a deep groan from Jeonghan.

He doesn't slow his pace, fucking you through your orgasm and pushing you towards another. You're oversensitive, every nerve ending on fire, but the pleasure is too intense to resist.

"God, you're perfect," Jeonghan pants, his rhythm becoming erratic. "So fucking perfect."

You feel his thrusts becoming more desperate, his breathing ragged against your neck. "Come on, Jeonghan," you manage to gasp out.

"Come for me," you urge him, clenching around him deliberately.

With a guttural groan, Jeonghan's hips stutter and he comes, spilling inside you as his body shudders with release. The feeling of him pulsing within you sends you over the edge again, and you cry out, trembling beneath him.

For a long moment, the only sound in the motorhome is your combined heavy breathing. Jeonghan releases your wrists and gently pulls out, causing you both to wince at the sensitivity. 

Jeonghan collapses onto the couch beside you, his body warm and solid as he pulls you into his arms. The weight of him, the feeling of his heartbeat drumming against your cheek, is grounding. You curl into his chest, letting the rise and fall of his breathing lull you into a rare moment of stillness. His fingers trace lazy patterns across your back, the movements unhurried, almost absentminded, as if he can’t bear to stop touching you just yet.

“Well,” he says finally, his voice rough and lower than usual, laced with satisfaction. “I think that was worth the wait.”

You huff a laugh, the sound barely audible over the soft thrum of life outside the motorhome. “Of course you do,” you mutter, your cheek pressed against the hard planes of his chest, which smells faintly of sweat, champagne, and something uniquely Jeonghan.

His fingers pause their tracing for a moment, as though considering his next move, before starting again, this time slower and more deliberate. “Admit it,” he murmurs, his tone teasing, though softer now, quieter, like the vulnerability from before hadn’t completely left. “You’ve been thinking about this as much as I have.”

You tilt your head up, catching the faint glow of the ceiling light reflected in his eyes. They’re darker now, warmer, but still full of that infuriating smugness. Your lips twitch in defiance as you fight the urge to smile. “What makes you so sure I was thinking about it at all?”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, a lock of hair falling across his forehead in a way that’s unfairly distracting. His grin is sharp and unrelenting. “You’re terrible at lying.”

“Am not,” you fire back, though your tone lacks any real conviction. The way his fingers continue their soft, languid exploration of your back doesn’t help.

“Okay,” he says, clearly enjoying himself as he leans his head back against the couch. “So when you cornered me after qualifying that one time in Japan two years ago, that wasn’t because you couldn’t stop staring at me in my race suit?”

You gape at him, your body jerking upright just enough to glare at him properly. “I cornered you because I wanted a quote, you egomaniac.” You punctuate the accusation with a half-hearted swat at his arm.

He catches your wrist easily, his grip firm but gentle, and intertwines his fingers with yours. The warmth of his hand against yours is distracting, and it takes all your willpower not to lose focus. “Oh, you got a quote, all right,” he counters, his laughter bubbling up like he’s savoring every second of your indignation. “Admit it—you’ve been counting the days.”

You roll your eyes, the movement dramatic, though the warmth blooming in your chest betrays you. “And if I was?”

Jeonghan’s grin softens at your words, the sharp edges smoothing out into something quieter, something vulnerable. He lifts a hand to your face, his fingers tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear with a tenderness that makes your breath catch. “Then I’d say it was worth the wait,” he says, his voice lower now, more intimate.

The air between you shifts, heavier now, the teasing replaced by something else entirely. His gaze locks on yours, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades—the low hum of the paddock outside, the faint creak of the motorhome settling. All that exists is him, his hand still resting near your face, and the weight of his words hanging between you.

Your throat feels tight, and you clear it quickly, trying to shake off the spell he’s cast over you. “Don’t let it go to your head,” you mutter, shifting slightly to put some distance between you.

“Too late,” he replies with a ghost of a smirk, leaning back lazily against the couch. His arm stretches along the back of the cushions, the casual sprawl of his posture somehow making him seem even more confident. Then, with an easy grace that feels entirely unfair, he leans forward and plucks something from the coffee table. “By the way, your article? It’s still late.”

You blink at him, incredulous, before groaning and burying your face in your hands. “Now you care about professionalism?”

Jeonghan shrugs, holding out his hand as if offering you an invisible microphone, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Exclusive with the winner of Monza? Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

You peek at him through your fingers, shaking your head with a laugh that’s half exasperation, half affection. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he counters, his voice softening again as he leans forward to press a kiss to your temple. His lips linger there, warm and reassuring, before he pulls back just enough to look at you again. “But I’ll let you pretend for a little while.”

Jeonghan’s arms tighten around you as the laughter fades into a comfortable quiet. The warmth of his hand on your back and the steady rhythm of his breathing are grounding, but your thoughts won’t stop spinning. You tilt your head up to look at him, searching his expression for something you can’t quite name.

“What?” he asks softly, his tone warm but teasing. His fingers brush over the curve of your shoulder, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

“What… what are we now?” you ask, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. They hang in the air between you, vulnerable and raw.

Jeonghan’s gaze doesn’t waver. His thumb brushes your cheek with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten. “We’re whatever you want to be, sweetheart,” he says simply, his voice low and full of something too deep to name.

You feel your heart stutter, the weight of his words sinking into you. “Can we…” You hesitate, the vulnerability of the moment making your voice falter. “Can we take it slow?”

For a second, he just blinks at you, and then the corners of his mouth lift into that infuriatingly familiar smirk. “Take it slow? After you just made me beg?” He chuckles, the sound soft but undeniably teasing. “You’re full of surprises.”

Your face heats instantly, and you swat at his shoulder, your embarrassment overridden by his smugness. “Shut up.”

Jeonghan catches your wrist before you can retreat, his laughter fading as he shifts closer, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m kidding,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. The mischief in his eyes melts into something gentler, something that makes your breath catch. “I’ll wait as long as you want.”

You glance at him, your walls crumbling under the weight of his sincerity. “It’s just…” You trail off, trying to find the right words, the weight of reality settling in around you. “Our careers, the season… It’s a lot. I don’t want to mess this up, not with everything else happening.”

Jeonghan’s expression softens even further, the teasing flicker in his eyes replaced by understanding. “I get it,” he says quietly. His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “I’ve waited three years to feel this close to you. What’s forever if it means I get to do it right?”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, equal parts devastating and beautiful. You close your eyes for a moment, letting them sink in, before leaning forward to press your lips to his—soft, brief, but full of everything you can’t quite bring yourself to say.

When you pull back, Jeonghan’s smile is softer than you’ve ever seen it, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he gazes at you like you’re the only thing in the world worth looking at.

“No pressure, though,” he adds after a beat, his teasing tone returning as his grin widens. “Unless you’re writing a follow-up article about me being the world’s most patient man.”

You groan, burying your face in his chest as he laughs, the sound rich and warm. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah, but you love me for it,” he counters, his hand sliding back to your hair, cradling you close.

And maybe you do. Maybe you always have.

FORMULA 1 QATAR AIRWAYS AZERBAIJAN GRAND PRIX 2024 Track: Baku City Circuit

The streets of Baku were as much a character in the race as any driver—a stunning clash of history and modernity, where medieval walls stood beside glimmering skyscrapers. The track was notorious for its tight corners and long straights, a playground of risk and reward. Jeonghan knew every inch of it like it was an old rival, one he had to best to keep his championship hopes alive.

Qualifying was tight—Jeonghan secured P2, just behind Mingyu. "He’s fast," Jeonghan muttered to you that evening, the weight of the competition clear in his voice. But there was no self-doubt, just the quiet calculation that always preceded his brilliance.

Race day was a spectacle. Jeonghan’s precision through the castle section was breathtaking, and when the opportunity came to pass Mingyu on the long straight during the final stint, he didn’t hesitate. The roar of the tifosi—echoing even in Azerbaijan—followed him as he crossed the line first. The team’s radio had erupted with cheers as Jeonghan crossed the finish line, and when you saw him after the podium ceremony, his champagne-damp hair and triumphant smile had made your heart skip a beat.

Later, after the media frenzy, Jeonghan pulls you aside. "Come on," he says with a conspiratorial grin, grabbing your hand. "You didn’t think I’d let you leave Baku without exploring, did you?"

The cobblestone streets of Baku feel like something out of a postcard. The sun is just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the historic Old City. Jeonghan walks beside you, his hand occasionally brushing yours as he gestures to the buildings with a sense of wonder that’s rare to see in him.

“How do you know all this?” you ask, genuinely curious as he points out the Maiden Tower and recounts its legends with surprising accuracy.

He grins, tilting his head in that maddeningly charming way. “What, you thought I only studied race strategies? I’ve got layers, sweetheart.” He insists on taking cheesy tourist photos, including one where he pretends to be a knight defending you at the city walls.

“I could be your knight in shining armor,” he teases, holding his imaginary sword aloft.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re already Ferrari’s golden boy,” you shoot back, snapping the photo anyway. “Isn’t that enough?” 

He’s good at this—whisking you away from the chaos of the paddock and making you forget, even if just for a moment, that the world is watching him.

Now, as you wander the streets of Baku, he’s more relaxed, his usual playful demeanor slipping into something softer. You pause in front of a street vendor selling intricate souvenirs, and Jeonghan picks up a small, hand-carved wooden box.

“For your desk,” he says simply, handing it to you before you can protest.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but you take the gift anyway.

“Yeah, but you love me,” he teases, slinging an arm around your shoulders as the two of you continue down the street, the sound of distant music and laughter filling the warm night air.

That night, back at the hotel, Jeonghan skims your article on his phone while sprawled on the couch.

Jeonghan’s Baku Blitz: Closes the Gap to Mingyu with Stunning Victory

His smirk grows wider with every sentence. “Stunning victory, huh? You really know how to make me sound good.”

You roll your eyes, throwing a pillow at him. “It was stunning. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s too late for that,” he quips, pulling you into his lap. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the little shout-out to my late-braking move. Makes me wonder how closely you’re watching me.”

“Always,” you admit softly, the truth laced between your words. His grin softens, and he leans in to press a kiss to your temple.

FORMULA 1 SINGAPORE AIRLINES SINGAPORE GRAND PRIX 2024 Track: Marina Bay Street Circuit

The Marina Bay Circuit was infamous—its oppressive heat, humidity, and unforgiving corners made it a grueling test of endurance. It was Jeonghan’s least favorite track, something he’d muttered repeatedly during practice.

In qualifying, he delivered a masterclass, securing pole position under the glowing lights that lined the circuit. "See?" he said, leaning casually against his car afterward, sweat still dripping from his brow. "Guess the heat doesn’t bother me as much as I thought."  Watching him grin through post-quali interviews, drenched in sweat but radiating confidence, had you practically floating back to your hotel room.

You’ve barely ventured outside the hotel after qualifying, and he texts you cryptically to “stay put.” Now, the air conditioning hums softly as you sit cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through headlines about his performance. You’re still reading when the door swings open, and Jeonghan strides in, carrying a tray.

“Room service,” he announces with a dramatic flourish, setting it down beside you.

Your eyes widen at the sight of chocolate-covered strawberries and a chilled bottle of champagne. “What’s the occasion?”

He shrugs, popping the cork with practiced ease. “Pole position deserves a celebration. Plus…” He smirks, holding up a strawberry. “I wanted to see you smile.”

You laugh, shaking your head as he moves closer, offering the berry. But when you reach for it, he pulls it back, dragging it over your lips instead, smearing chocolate at the corner of your mouth.

“You missed a spot,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss it away. The sweetness lingers on his lips, and before you know it, he’s pulled you into his lap, the rest of the world forgotten.

The race the next day is less triumphant. A perfectly timed pit stop keeps Jeonghan ahead of the pack for most of the race, but a late safety car allows another driver to close the gap, relegating him to P2. Still, with Mingyu out of the race, Jeonghan’s second-place finish is enough to reclaim the championship lead.

Jeonghan’s expression is unreadable when he reads your latest article:

Heat and Havoc in Singapore: Jeonghan Takes Second as Mingyu Crashes Out

“Well, at least you didn’t call me lucky,” he says finally, leaning back in his chair.

“You weren’t lucky. You earned that result,” you reply, watching his face carefully.

He hums, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Still. Next time, I’d rather win outright.”

FALL BREAK: SEPT 23-OCT 17

The crisp autumn air brushes against your face as you unlock your front door, arms full of groceries. It’s been a quiet few weeks since Singapore, the space between races stretching out like an eternity. You’ve tried to enjoy the pause, but it feels strange—unnatural, even—to be so far removed from the whirlwind of Jeonghan’s life.

Your thoughts drift to him as you drop the keys on the counter. Monaco. Ferrari’s headquarters in Maranello. Both places are worlds away from your little apartment.

You’re unloading a carton of eggs when there’s a knock at the door. Confused, you glance at the clock. It’s too late for deliveries and far too early for your neighbors to come by.

When you open the door, your heart stops.

Jeonghan stands there, his frame relaxed yet somehow magnetic. He’s dressed in a simple leather jacket and jeans, his dark hair catching the golden glow of the setting sun. A bouquet of your favorite flowers is clutched in one hand, their vibrant colors almost as captivating as the smile tugging at his lips.

“Jeonghan?” you ask, blinking in disbelief. “What are you—how—”

“Miss me?” he interrupts, stepping inside before you can fully process his presence. He hands you the flowers like it’s the most natural thing in the world, leaning in to press a quick kiss against your lips.

Your breath catches, and you can only stare at him, your mind struggling to keep up.

“You live in Monaco,” you point out, still staring at him. “And work in Italy.”

“I’m aware,” he says, a hint of amusement in his tone. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Of course, I missed you,” you murmur, your cheeks heating.

“Good.” He grins and takes your free hand, tugging you toward the door.

“Wait—where are we going?”

“Out,” he says simply.

You try to protest, gesturing to the groceries still sitting on the counter, but he’s already leading you down the hallway. His excitement is infectious, and you find yourself laughing despite your confusion.

An hour later, you’re standing at the entrance of a sprawling amusement park, the neon lights casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the evening sky.

“You’re serious?” you ask, staring at the carousel spinning lazily in the distance.

“Dead serious,” Jeonghan replies, his tone light as he hands over your ticket. “I figured you could use a night off.”

“I’m not the one traveling the world every other week,” you point out.

“Exactly,” he counters, his smile growing. “I needed to see you smile. And this seemed like a good place to start.”

The night unfolds in a blur of laughter and adrenaline. Jeonghan, surprisingly competitive, insists on winning you a giant stuffed bear at the ring toss, only to fail spectacularly—twice. You tease him mercilessly, your stomach aching from how hard you’re laughing.

When you step off the bumper cars, your cheeks are flushed, and your voice is hoarse from yelling. Jeonghan is no better, his hair sticking up in all directions after you gleefully rammed into him three times in a row.

“I think you’ve got a mean streak,” he says, pretending to nurse an invisible injury.

“Me?” you gasp, feigning innocence. “You literally tried to corner me!”

He doesn’t respond—at least, not verbally. Instead, he grabs your hand again, intertwining your fingers as he pulls you toward the Ferris wheel.

The view from the top is breathtaking. The park stretches out below you, a sea of lights and movement, while the city skyline glimmers in the distance.

Jeonghan is quiet beside you, his gaze fixed on your face instead of the view. You turn to him, suddenly aware of how close he’s sitting.

“What?” you ask softly.

“You’re happy,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “I like seeing you like this.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that steals your breath. It’s slow and deliberate, his hand moving to cradle your jaw as the world around you seems to fall away.

When he pulls back, you’re both smiling.

“This is dangerous,” you tease, though your voice is barely above a whisper. “You’re going to make me think nothing can go wrong.”

“Maybe nothing will,” he replies, his forehead resting gently against yours.

FORMULA 1 PIRELLI UNITED STATES GRAND PRIX 2024 Track: Circuit of the Americas

Austin brought a different kind of challenge. The Circuit of the Americas was iconic for its mix of sweeping corners, elevation changes, and a crowd that rivaled the tifosi in their enthusiasm. Jeonghan thrived here, securing P1 in qualifying and delivering a flawless race to claim another victory.

"Two wins in three races," he said that evening, pulling you into his side as you walked into a cowboy-themed bar downtown. "Guess I’m on a roll."

The bar was loud, filled with locals and fans alike, but Jeonghan stood out effortlessly. His cowboy hat tilted just right, a plaid shirt unbuttoned enough to make you wonder how he managed to look like that after hours in a car.

He kept his hand in your back pocket all night, his touch a silent claim when no one was looking. Every time he leaned in to murmur something in your ear, his lips brushed your skin just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Save a horse, ride a cowboy," he whispered at one point, his grin wicked as he tipped his hat at you.

That was all it took. You dragged him back to the hotel, barely making it through the door before he was on you, the hat ending up on the floor somewhere between the bed and the door.

The article you write the next day earns a rare whistle of approval from Jeonghan:

Cowboy Jeonghan Rides High in Austin, Extends Championship Lead

“I think this might be your best one yet,” he says, setting the phone down as he pulls you into his lap.

“Because I complimented you, or because I called you a cowboy?”

“Both,” he answers, his lips brushing against yours. “You know how much I love it when you’re right.”

And as his hand slides to the small of your back, you can’t help but think this season isn’t just his championship—it’s yours, too.

FORMULA 1 GRAN PREMIO DE LA CIUDAD DE MÉXICO 2024 Track: Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez

The atmosphere at the Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez crackles with energy even hours after the race ends. The stands have mostly cleared, but the celebratory chaos of the paddock lingers. Jeonghan, fresh off another stellar performance, grins as reporters crowd around him, microphones extended like offerings. His hair is damp with sweat, his race suit tied around his waist as he leans casually against the Ferrari garage.

You watch from a distance, notebook in hand, trying not to let your gaze linger too long. He catches your eye anyway, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He’s been calling you his “lucky charm” ever since you started waking up in his bed on race mornings, and it’s a moniker he seems to enjoy reminding you of at every opportunity.

"Don't go too far," he says when the interviews wrap up, his voice low as he brushes past you on his way to the motorhome. The warmth of his fingertips grazing your wrist sends a jolt of electricity through you. "We’re celebrating tonight, and you’re not wriggling out of it this time."

You don’t see the ambush coming.

You’re reviewing your notes in the quiet corner of the paddock when your editor finds you. His expression is stern, almost irate, as he approaches. The celebration around you suddenly feels muffled, the weight of his presence pulling you back to reality.

"Finally," he snaps, crossing his arms. "I’ve been trying to get hold of you for days."

"Hey, sorry, it’s been hectic," you start, tucking your notebook under your arm.

He doesn’t let you finish. "Hectic? I gave you the Ferrari all-access months ago. They’re breathing down my neck about where the hell it is. Where’s the draft?"

The question lands like a punch to the gut. You open your mouth, fumbling for an answer, but he’s already barreling forward.

"And don’t think I haven’t noticed your tone shift," he continues, his voice lowering but losing none of its edge. "All this newfound niceness toward Jeonghan in your articles. What’s that about, huh? You sleeping with him or something?"

The accusation slices through you, leaving you momentarily stunned.

"That’s not—" you begin, but your voice falters.

"Spare me," he says, waving you off. "I don’t care what’s going on between you two, but I do care about the reputation of this outlet. You’ve built your career on being incisive, unbiased. So get it together, or I’ll find someone who can."

He doesn’t wait for a response, leaving you standing there as the din of the paddock swells around you. The celebration feels distant now, muffled by the blood rushing in your ears.

When Jeonghan finally finds you later that night, you’re a bundle of frayed nerves. The confrontation with your editor replays in your head like a broken record, each word cutting deeper into your carefully constructed sense of self. You sit hunched over your laptop in the corner of the media center, the fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows that match the knot in your chest.

“What, you sleeping with him or something?”

The accusation echoes, burrowing into your mind, where it tangles with your own insecurities. You’ve built your entire career on being sharp, unbiased, and unflinchingly honest. And yet, somewhere along the way, Jeonghan had slipped through your defenses. You can still hear the venom in your editor’s voice, feel the judgment in his eyes. The doubt wasn’t just his anymore—it was yours, too.

Was he right? Had you compromised everything for Jeonghan?

Your hands tremble slightly as you scroll through the notes you’ve been trying to organize for hours, but the words blur together, useless. Guilt presses against your ribs like a vice, mixing with a raw ache of something you’re too scared to name. You’re drowning in your own thoughts, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve let everyone down: your editor, your readers, and most of all, Jeonghan.

When he finally appears, his presence fills the doorway like a shadow cutting through the sterile light. He leans against the doorframe with a casualness you can’t match, arms crossed and head tilted slightly, his damp hair still clinging to his forehead. The sight of him, so familiar and yet suddenly so distant, sends a pang through your chest.

“Working late?” he asks, his voice low but carrying the faint edge of concern.

You look up, startled, and quickly shut your laptop as if that might erase everything weighing on you. “Just...catching up,” you say, forcing a smile that feels as flimsy as the excuse.

Jeonghan doesn’t move, his eyes scanning you with the precision of someone who knows you too well. He doesn’t buy the act—you can tell by the way his brows knit together, a subtle but telling sign of his worry.

“Catching up on what?” he asks, stepping closer, his tone light but probing.

You shrug, trying to sound casual. “Just notes. Articles. The usual.”

His gaze sharpens. “Right. And that’s why you look like you haven’t breathed in hours?”

You glance away, your fingers curling into fists on the tabletop. “I’m fine, Jeonghan. Go enjoy your win. You earned it.”

“And what, leave you like this?” He pulls out a chair and sits across from you, resting his arms on the table. “Not happening.”

The flood of emotions bubbling under your surface threatens to spill over. You want to tell him everything, but the words feel too tangled, too raw.

“I just need to get this done,” you say, your voice tight.

Jeonghan frowns, studying you more closely. "What’s going on? Did something happen?"

"Nothing," you say quickly, sidestepping him. "I just need some space tonight, okay?"

His hand brushes your arm, but you pull away, and the confusion in his eyes makes your stomach twist. "Fine," he says after a moment, his voice quieter now. "If that’s what you want."

Jeonghan wakes up to sunlight filtering through the blinds, but the bed feels empty. The cool sheets where you usually sleep tug at his attention before he fully registers the weight in his chest. Frowning, he rolls over and reaches for his phone on the nightstand, still groggy.

The screen lights up with a mess of notifications: congratulatory texts, memes from Soonyoung, and a dozen links to your latest article. He swipes through the chaos with a faint smile, already anticipating your sharp insights mingled with the familiar affection that’s always laced through your critiques.

Propping himself up against the headboard, Jeonghan opens the piece. At first, the smile lingers—he’s grown to appreciate the balance you strike between honest criticism and admiration. But the further he reads, the slower he scrolls, the words pressing into him like bruises.

His smile fades entirely by the time he reaches the paragraph describing his meltdown in Spain. The words cut too close, dragging him back to that moment in the Aston Martin garage: the oppressive silence, the rain hammering against the roof, and the suffocating realization of yet another missed opportunity.

"Jeonghan’s brilliance is undeniable, but brilliance without consistency leaves championships just out of reach."

The sentence burns itself into his mind. The carefully chosen words feel clinical, detached—so unlike you. He rereads it, hoping to find the warmth he’s come to expect, but it’s nowhere to be found.

Jeonghan tosses his phone onto the bed and stares at the ceiling, disbelief simmering into anger. This wasn’t just an article. This was personal.

The paddock is bustling, teams dismantling their motorhomes to get ready for next weekend. Jeonghan doesn’t bother changing out of his sweats before leaving his room, each step through the maze of hospitality suites and garages fueled by frustration.

When he finally reaches the media center, his chest tightens at the sight of you hunched over your laptop, headphones in, oblivious to his stormy approach. He doesn’t hesitate.

"You want to tell me what the hell that was?" His voice slices through the low hum of conversations around you.

Startled, you pull off your headphones, your eyes widening as you take him in. "Jeonghan—"

"No." He slaps his phone onto the desk in front of you, his movements sharp and deliberate. The article stares back at you, a glaring reminder of the wedge you’ve driven between you. "Don’t ‘Jeonghan’ me. What is this?"

"It’s my job," you say, standing to meet his intensity. The tremor in your voice betrays your composure. "You’ve always said you respected that about me."

"Respect?" His laugh is sharp, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes. "You think I respect this?" He gestures to the article like it’s a living thing, something venomous and cruel. "You went for my throat."

"I didn’t go for your throat," you argue, though your voice cracks at the edges. "I wrote the truth."

"The truth?" His hands ball into fists at his sides. "You think I don’t know when you’re pulling punches? You tore me apart for no reason."

"You’ve been avoiding media days. You had a meltdown in Spain," you fire back, your tone rising as your frustration bubbles to the surface. "Those are facts, Jeonghan."

"You didn’t have to highlight them," he counters, his voice quieter but no less cutting. "You know how much this season means to me."

"And do you think this was easy for me?" you ask, tears pricking at your eyes. "Do you think I wanted to write that?"

"Then why did you?" His voice softens, the anger slipping to reveal something raw and vulnerable. "Why would you do that to me?"

"Because I had to!" The words explode out of you, breaking the fragile tension. "Because people already think I’m biased. That I’ve gone soft. That I’m compromised because of you."

The weight of your confession hangs in the air, pressing down on both of you. Jeonghan’s face shifts, the fury giving way to something heavier—hurt, confusion, disappointment.

"I never asked you to compromise anything for me," he says quietly, his voice thick. "I never would."

You look away, your gaze falling to the floor. "I know. But this isn’t just about you. It’s about my career. My integrity."

"And what about us?" he asks, his voice breaking slightly. "Where does that leave us?"

You have no answer, the words lodged in your throat. The silence stretches, broken only by the faint hum of activity outside the room.

Finally, Jeonghan exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I can’t do this right now," he mutters, taking a step back. "I need...I need to get out of here."

Jeonghan finds himself at the bar later that evening, the neon lights washing over him in hazy blues and reds. The whiskey in his glass is halfway gone before Soonyoung slides onto the stool next to him, his arrival quiet but not unnoticed.

"You look like shit," Soonyoung says, his tone light despite the obvious concern in his eyes.

"Thanks," Jeonghan mutters, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

They sit in silence for a moment before Soonyoung breaks it. "Want to talk about it?"

Jeonghan stares at his drink, the ice melting faster than he can keep up with. "I don’t know what we’re doing anymore," he admits, the words coming out heavier than he expected. "Me and her."

Soonyoung hums thoughtfully, taking a slow sip of his drink. "You two have always been complicated."

Jeonghan huffs out a humorless laugh. "That’s one way to put it."

"But," Soonyoung says, setting his glass down, "you’ve also always figured it out."

Jeonghan doesn’t respond, his thoughts a tangled mess of frustration and longing.

"You’re not going to fix it tonight," Soonyoung continues, his voice quieter now. "But if it matters—and I know it does—you’ll find a way. Just...don’t wait too long, yeah?"

Jeonghan nods slowly, the whiskey burning on its way down. Soonyoung’s words linger, a reminder of what he already knows but isn’t ready to face.

Not yet.

FORMULA 1 LENOVO GRANDE PRÊMIO DE SÃO PAULO 2024 Track: Autódromo José Carlos Pace

The rain is relentless in São Paulo, hammering down on the paddock and turning the atmosphere into a chaotic mess of drenched personnel and frayed nerves. Qualifying has been suspended indefinitely, the downpour rendering the track undriveable, and the mood in the Ferrari garage is grim. The asphalt glistens under the floodlights, reflecting streaks of color from team banners and sponsor logos. It feels like the world is holding its breath. 

You’ve never liked rain. It has a way of amplifying what’s already simmering under the surface, and today is no exception. Your heart pounds as you weave through the maze of garages, dodging puddles and sidelong glances from team members. You know exactly where he’ll be—Jeonghan never strays far from the Ferrari setup, even when there’s nothing to do but wait.

Sure enough, there he is. Sitting on the edge of a workbench, his race suit unzipped to his waist and his damp undershirt clinging to his torso. His head is bowed, one hand gripping the edge of the bench while the other pushes wet strands of hair back from his forehead. He looks exhausted—physically, emotionally—but the moment your shoes scuff against the concrete floor, his eyes snap up to meet yours.

You’ve been blowing up his phone all week. Texts, calls, voice notes—all unanswered or met with cold, clipped replies.

"Jeonghan," you start, the sound of your voice barely carrying over the rain pelting the garage roof.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t smile. "What are you doing here?"

The coldness in his tone sends a shiver down your spine, but you force yourself to step closer. "I could ask you the same thing."

His laugh is short, bitter. "Why are you surprised? This is where I always am."

"Don’t do that," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "Don’t act like this is normal. You’ve been ignoring me for weeks."

"I haven’t been ignoring you," he snaps, pushing off the bench. He stands tall now, towering over you, his hands resting on his hips. "I’ve been busy."

"Busy?" You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. "You call one-word replies busy? Jeonghan, I’ve been calling and texting nonstop, and you’ve barely said anything to me."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he says nothing. The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the distant clatter of tools being packed away. Finally, he exhales sharply, running a hand through his damp hair again.

"Maybe I’m tired," he says, his voice quieter but no less sharp. "Maybe I’m sick of pretending everything’s fine when it’s not."

Your heart twists at the admission, but you push it aside. "What’s not fine? Tell me, Jeonghan. Because I don’t understand why you’re shutting me out."

He shakes his head, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. "You don’t understand?" His voice rises, cracking with the weight of his frustration. "How could you not? You tore me apart in that article like I was just another driver. Like I meant nothing to you."

"It’s my job," you argue, but the words sound weak even to your ears.

"Your job?" he repeats, throwing his arms up. "You mean the job where you’re supposed to be unbiased? Yeah, I’ve noticed how ‘unbiased’ you’ve been lately. Especially when it comes to me."

"That’s not fair," you shoot back, taking a step closer. "You know I’ve always tried to be honest—"

"Honest?" He laughs, the sound bitter and hollow. "You call dragging my worst moments into the spotlight honest? You didn’t write about me; you dissected me. Like I was nothing more than a story."

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to let him see how much his words cut. "I didn’t mean to hurt you."

"But you did," he says, his voice softening but losing none of its edge. "And now I don’t even know where we stand."

"We stand..." You falter, your throat tightening. "We stand where we’ve always stood. I care about you, Jeonghan. But this is complicated."

He steps closer, his eyes searching yours. "It doesn’t have to be. It’s only complicated because you’re making it that way."

You look away, unable to hold his gaze. "You don’t understand what this means for me. For my career. For the season."

"And what about me?" he presses, his voice breaking. "What about what this means for us?"

The weight of his words hangs between you, heavy and suffocating. You take a shaky step back, the sound of the rain growing louder in the silence. "Maybe I should go," you whisper, turning toward the garage entrance.

"Don’t," he says sharply, and before you can take another step, his hand wraps around your wrist. “Don’t walk away from me.”

You barely have time to register the movement before he’s pulling you back, his other hand cupping your face as his lips crash against yours. The rain spills into the garage, soaking you both as his kiss deepens, desperate and unyielding. His hands slide to your waist, holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead presses against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "I won’t give you up," he whispers, his voice raw. "But I need you to choose."

"Jeonghan..." Your voice trembles, but he cuts you off.

"You love me," he says, his hands cupping your face. "Yes or no."

You hesitate, the weight of his question pressing down on you like the storm outside.

"Come on, sweetheart," he pleads, his voice cracking. "Don’t make me beg."

"I’m scared," you admit finally, your voice breaking. "Scared of losing myself. Of losing everything I’ve worked for."

He exhales shakily, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Are you willing to lose me to keep writing?"

"I..." The words catch in your throat, the truth slipping through your fingers. "I don’t know."

His hands drop to his sides, and he takes a step back, the distance between you like a chasm. "When you decide," he says quietly, his voice heavy with resignation, "give me a call."

The rain clears just in time for Sunday’s race, and Jeonghan is unstoppable. He weaves through the slick track with the precision and grace that made him a legend, crossing the finish line first and extending his lead in the championship.

But you’re not there to celebrate with him.

You watch from the media center, your chest tight as the cameras capture his triumphant smile. But there’s a hollowness in his expression, a flicker of something unspoken as he scans the crowd for someone who isn’t there.

The post-race interviews blur together, and even as you type up your article, the words feel lifeless. Without him beside you, the hotel room feels cold and sterile, the thrill of the race dulled by the ache in your chest.

The days leading up to the Las Vegas Grand Prix are a haze of press releases and anticipation. Jeonghan is one race away from becoming a world champion, but all you can think about is the sound of his voice, the warmth of his touch, the way he looked at you under the floodlights.

Your editor calls to praise your latest pieces, but the compliments feel hollow. The articles are polished and professional, but they lack the spark you used to feel when writing about him.

You glance at your phone, your thumb hovering over Jeonghan’s name. You haven’t called. Haven’t texted. Haven’t dared to.

Because the truth is, you’re terrified. 

Terrified of losing yourself. 

But even more terrified of losing him.

FORMULA 1 HEINEKEN SILVER LAS VEGAS GRAND PRIX 2024 Track: Las Vegas Strip Circuit

The sun sets over Las Vegas in a haze of neon and desert dust, the city already buzzing with anticipation for the final race of the season. But in the paddock, the air is electric for all the wrong reasons.

Jeonghan crashes out in Q3.

Your eyes are glued to the screen as Jeonghan’s car slides violently into the barriers, the sharp sound of the impact slicing through the usual hum of commentary. Gasps ripple through the room, but your stomach lurches with something deeper than professional concern. 

You’re in the media center when it happens, staring at the screen as his time locks in. The commentators speculate, the other journalists start drafting headlines, but you can’t hear a word of it. Your heart is already in free fall, and you don’t breathe again until he climbs out of the car, his hands held up in frustration as he waves off the medics.

P8. A disastrous result for the race that could make—or break—his championship. It might as well be the end of the world. 

The room erupts into murmurs as analysts speculate on strategy and rival team fans cheer, but you barely hear them. Your editor sidles up to your desk, his grin practically gleaming in the fluorescent light.

"Well, well," he says, leaning over your shoulder. "Looks like we’ve got our headline for tomorrow. ‘Jeonghan’s Championship Dream in Tatters.’ Perfect angle to dissect his mistakes, maybe even his cocky attitude catching up with him—"

His words fade into the background as something clicks inside you. Every fiber of your being recoils at the thought of reducing Jeonghan—your Jeonghan—to nothing more than a headline. You love writing, yes, but this? This isn’t writing. This is tearing apart the one person who matters most to you, all for clicks and ad revenue.

Without thinking, you swivel in your chair, fixing your editor with a glare so sharp it silences him mid-sentence. "This is my two weeks’ notice."

He blinks, taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." You stand, grabbing your bag and laptop. "I’m done."

Before he can argue, you’re already out the door, leaving behind the cacophony of keyboards and camera flashes. The paddock is chaos as you weave through the throngs of team personnel and fans, your heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and urgency.

You run.

The Ferrari garage is chaos. Engineers scramble to pack up the car, Jeonghan’s manager barks into his phone, and his publicist looks ready to faint. You push your way through it all, ignoring the glares and the shouted protests.

“He doesn’t want to see anyone right now,” Soonyoung says, stepping in front of you as you approach the motorhome.

“I don’t care,” you snap, shoving past him.

The motorhome is empty.

For a moment, you’re frozen, your chest heaving as you glance around the pristine space. The stillness only amplifies your worry. And then it hits you, like a sudden gust of wind: you know exactly where he is.

You sprint again, your heartbeat pounding louder than the chaos of the paddock behind you. The world blurs into streaks of neon lights, the hum of distant conversations, and the faint roar of engines being powered down for the night. The grandstands loom ahead, their cold metal steps stretching upward like an impossible climb. Each step burns in your legs, your breath coming in shallow gasps, but you don’t let up.

You don’t stop until you see him.

Jeonghan sits alone, halfway up the grandstands, his figure slouched as though the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders. The floodlights bathe him in a pale glow, illuminating the soft curve of his profile, his hair catching the light in strands of gold. His head is tilted back, eyes fixed on the track below as if searching for answers in the lines he couldn’t master tonight. A half-finished beer dangles loosely from his fingertips, the bottle swaying slightly with every small movement. Beside him, another bottle sits untouched, condensation pooling on the aluminum seat beneath it.

Waiting.

You take the last steps slowly, your chest tightening as your breathing evens out. Up close, his exhaustion is palpable—dark shadows under his eyes, his usual sharp features softened by an unfamiliar vulnerability.

“I knew you’d come,” he says without looking at you, breaking the silence. His voice is soft, but it carries a weight that settles heavily in your chest. He doesn’t even look at you, his gaze still fixed somewhere far ahead, lost in thought.

You hover for a moment before lowering yourself into the seat beside him. The cold aluminum seeps through your jeans, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your own skin after the sprint. Jeonghan doesn’t move, doesn’t turn toward you, and the distance between you feels like a chasm.

“Jeonghan...” you start, your voice hesitant, but he cuts you off with a bitter laugh.

“This is what happens when my lucky charm leaves me,” he mutters, a sad smile curling at the edges of his lips. His tone is light, but it does nothing to hide the ache in his words. He takes a slow sip of his beer, the motion unhurried.

You glance at the track, the sharp turns and straightaways now cloaked in shadows. “It’s not your fault,” you say softly, your hand reaching out to brush his arm. He flinches at the contact, his muscles tense beneath your touch, but he doesn’t pull away.

“P8 doesn’t mean it’s over.”

This time, he turns to look at you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. The raw vulnerability there makes your chest tighten further. His voice is quieter now, almost fragile. “You don’t get it,” he murmurs, shaking his head as his gaze drops to the beer bottle in his hand. “This race... it’s everything. If I win, I’m a champion. If I don’t...” He trails off, his words hanging in the air between you.

“I’m scared, Y/N.” His voice cracks, and the sound is almost unbearable. “Scared of all of it. The pressure, the expectations... losing.”

You stare at him, the usually unshakable Jeonghan, the Golden Boy, the Ferrari God, unraveling before you. Your hands move without thinking, cupping his face and tilting his chin so he’s forced to meet your gaze again. His skin is warm beneath your palms, a faint flush from the alcohol—or maybe the stress—lingering across his cheeks.

“Jeonghan,” you say, your voice steady despite the storm in your chest. You press your forehead against his, your breath mingling with his as you close the distance between you. “You love me. Yes or no.”

For a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. And then his hands come up to grip your wrists, his touch firm but trembling. “Yes,” he whispers, the word spilling from his lips without hesitation, raw and resolute. His voice shakes, but his eyes hold yours, steady and certain despite the tears brimming there.

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you lean in, your lips brushing against his forehead in a feather-light kiss. “Good,” you whisper, the word carrying a quiet strength. “You’ll always have me.”

His grip on your wrists loosens, his expression shifting to something between confusion and hope. “But your job... your writing?”

“I’m quitting,” you say simply, letting the words hang for a moment. You watch the shock bloom across his face, his eyebrows shooting up as he sits back slightly, pulling your hands with him.

“You’re what?”

You laugh softly, brushing your thumb against his cheek as if to soothe him. “Not writing, idiot,” you tease gently. “I’m still going to write. But I’m not writing for any organization that profits off me tearing the man I love to shreds.”

His lips part, but no words come. He blinks rapidly, trying to process, and you take the opportunity to continue.

“Besides,” you add, your voice lighter now, “Sky Sports has been trying to recruit me for an on-air job for almost a year now.”

He stares at you, his gaze searching your face for any hint of doubt or regret. Finally, his voice comes, soft and uncertain. “You love me?”

The corners of your mouth lift into a playful smile, and you raise an eyebrow. “Is that what you decide to focus on?”

“Y/N,” he says again, his voice dropping to a whisper, almost desperate. His hands move to clasp yours, his fingers lacing through yours as if afraid you’ll slip away. “Do you love me?”

You answer with action, leaning in and capturing his lips in a quick, tender kiss. His breath hitches, his fingers tightening around yours. “Win tomorrow, golden boy,” you whisper, your lips brushing his as you speak. “And I’ll tell you my answer.”

For the first time that night, Jeonghan smiles—a real, genuine smile that reaches his eyes and softens the tension in his face. And in that moment, as the world fades to just the two of you under the floodlights, you know he’s already won.

Jeonghan is going to lose.

He’s sure of it.

The car feels like it’s fighting him at every turn, the tires slipping just slightly when he needs them to grip, the brakes locking up when he’s trying to conserve them for the final laps. His body aches from the sheer force of the race—the g-forces on the corners, the strain in his neck, the tension in his hands from gripping the wheel too hard.

The numbers on his dashboard blur together, his mind a muddled mess of strategies, tire temps, and sector times. He’s made up four places since the chaotic start and sits in P4 now, but every gain feels like a herculean effort. Every corner feels like it could be his last.

He slams the steering wheel in frustration as he exits another turn slower than he should, the car wobbling slightly under him. “This isn’t working,” he growls into the radio, his voice clipped and strained.

His engineer’s calm voice filters through the crackling static. “We know, Jeonghan. Stay focused. We believe in you.”

Jeonghan clenches his teeth, a biting retort forming on his tongue, but before he can spit it out, the radio crackles again.

“Your girl is here. In the garage. She’s watching.”

“What the fuck?” The words come out before he can stop them, his tone incredulous.

“Soonyoung wanted to surprise you,” his engineer explains, and Jeonghan can practically hear the grin in his voice.

His mind stutters to a halt, and for a moment, all the noise fades—the engine’s roar, the tires screeching against the asphalt, even the deafening wind rushing past his helmet. He blinks, the image of you sitting in the garage flashing in his mind, your presence there grounding him in a way nothing else can.

And then, like a light cutting through the fog, your words echo in his head. “Win tomorrow, and I’ll tell you my answer.”

His grip on the wheel tightens, his breath steadies, and something in him clicks. It’s not just the car anymore—it’s him. His mind, his body, the machine—they all fall into alignment like pieces of a puzzle.

“Copy,” he says into the radio, his voice calm now. The frustration is gone, replaced by a steely determination.

Lap 50. Jeonghan is chasing down P3, the gap shrinking corner by corner. His tires scream in protest as he takes each turn with precision, braking just a fraction later, accelerating just a fraction earlier. The car isn’t perfect, but it doesn’t need to be. He’s making it work.

As he dives into the braking zone at Turn 7, the car in front of him falters, locking up slightly. Jeonghan seizes the opportunity, darting to the inside line and slipping past with a calculated aggression that leaves no room for error.

P3.

Lap 53. The leader pack is within sight now—Mingyu in P1, his closest rival, and Seungcheol in P2, a surprising dark horse this season. The three of them have danced this dance all season, but tonight feels different. Tonight, everything is on the line.

Lap 55. Seungcheol’s car begins to falter, his tires degrading as he struggles to maintain pace. Jeonghan hovers in his slipstream, biding his time.

On the main straight, he pulls to the outside, pushing his car to its limits. The engine roars as he edges past Seungcheol, the two of them side by side into the braking zone. Jeonghan holds his line, his heart pounding as he feels the car stick.

P2.

Lap 58. Mingyu is just ahead, the gap less than a second now. Jeonghan can feel the strain in his body, his hands cramping from the sheer effort, but he doesn’t let up. Every ounce of energy he has left is poured into these final laps.

Lap 59. DRS is open, the rear wing flattening to reduce drag as Jeonghan closes the gap on the straight. Mingyu defends aggressively, forcing Jeonghan to the outside.

They enter Turn 10 side by side, the apex inches away. Jeonghan holds his breath, his tires brushing the curbs as he edges ahead. But Mingyu doesn’t back down, his car pushing right up to Jeonghan’s rear wing as they exit the turn.

Lap 60. The final lap. It’s a battle of wills now, neither of them giving an inch. Jeonghan’s heart feels like it’s about to burst, the sweat dripping down his face soaking into the padding of his helmet.

The final corner looms ahead, and Jeonghan knows this is it. Mingyu is on his inside, the two of them neck and neck as they approach the braking zone.

Jeonghan brakes just a millisecond later, his car sliding slightly as he takes the tighter line. He holds his breath, willing the car to stay steady, and then he’s through.

The checkered flag waves, the two cars crossing the line almost simultaneously.

Jeonghan’s chest heaves as he slumps back in his seat, his mind a blur of exhaustion and adrenaline. He doesn’t know if he’s won or lost—everything was too close, too fast.

The radio crackles to life, and for a moment, all he hears is chaos—shouting, cheering, voices overlapping in a cacophony of noise.

And then, cutting through it all, your voice rings out.

“YOON JEONGHAN, TWO-TIME WORLD CHAMPION!”

The words hit him like a lightning bolt, and a yell tears from his throat, loud and raw and triumphant. He punches the air, his entire body trembling with emotion as he lets out another scream, so loud he’s sure the neighboring cars can hear him.

He’s done it.

Through the static of the radio, he hears your laughter, bright and unrestrained, and it’s the only sound that matters.

Jeonghan rolls into Parc Fermé with deliberate precision, the sound of his engine fading into silence as he pulls to a stop. His hands are shaking, his knuckles pale from the grip he’s maintained for the last grueling laps. The cockpit feels stifling, and yet he lingers for a second longer, the enormity of what’s just happened crashing over him like a wave.

He’s done it.

The realization leaves him breathless. His fingers fumble with the steering wheel as he pulls it free, his movements automatic even as his mind spirals. Around him, the world is chaos. Fans scream from the stands, the floodlights of Las Vegas painting the scene in stark gold and shadows. Through the static in his earpiece, his engineer’s voice is still ringing with elation, and he hears indistinct shouting from his crew, but it all blends into a distant roar.

All Jeonghan can think about is you.

He climbs out of the car, bracing his foot on the halo as he pushes himself upright. For a brief moment, he stands tall atop the machine, his body vibrating with adrenaline. His fists shoot into the air, and he lets out a triumphant yell, a sound ripped from deep within his chest. The Ferrari crew erupts in response, a sea of red swarming toward him, shouting his name, their arms outstretched in celebration.

But Jeonghan’s eyes are already searching, scanning the barriers beyond the chaos, darting from one face to another. He’s not looking for his engineers or the cameras or even his teammates. He’s looking for you.

And then he sees you.

You’re there, pressed against the barricade, your hands gripping the edge so tightly your knuckles are white. Your face is wet—tears streaming freely—but your smile is brighter than anything he’s ever seen. It’s disbelieving, joyous, and so achingly familiar that his breath catches in his throat.

In that moment, everything else fades away. The cheers of his team, the flashing cameras, the rules about protocol—none of it exists anymore.

Jeonghan jumps down from the car, tossing the wheel to a waiting mechanic, and tears at his helmet strap. The world around him is a blur of movement and noise—his team surging forward, the cameras flashing, the announcer’s voice booming overhead—but none of it registers. His helmet comes off with a sharp tug, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat as he grips the sleek surface in one hand and bolts toward you.

He’s moving before he realizes it, his boots pounding against the pavement as he cuts through the throng of people. The barricade draws closer, and the sight of you—your tear-streaked cheeks, your trembling shoulders—grounds him in a way nothing else could.

When he reaches you, he doesn’t stop.

His hands find you immediately. One curls around your neck, his palm warm and steady against your skin, while the other cups your face, his thumb brushing away the tears tracing paths down your cheek. His chest is still heaving, his breath ragged from the exertion of the race, but his touch is impossibly tender.

Your lips part, and your voice comes out in a trembling whisper, just loud enough for him to hear over the chaos. “Congratulations, pretty boy.”

It’s like the world holds its breath. For one fleeting second, it’s just the two of you. The noise of the paddock fades, the flashing lights dim, and all that remains is the quiet intimacy of your words.

Jeonghan’s lips curve into a smile so pure, so unrestrained, that it feels like sunlight breaking through a storm. “You love me,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent. His forehead dips to rest against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Yes or—”

You don’t let him finish.

Your arms shoot out, locking around his neck as you pull him down into a kiss. It’s desperate and dizzying, a culmination of everything left unsaid. Jeonghan freezes for the briefest of moments, his eyes widening, before melting into you entirely. His lips move against yours, soft but insistent, and the hand on your neck slides up to thread through your hair, holding you close as if you might disappear.

“Yes,” you whisper against his mouth, your voice breaking. Your hands fist in the front of his race suit, anchoring yourself as you press your forehead to his. “Yes. I love you.”

The barriers around you tremble as the Ferrari crew erupts in celebration, their cheers deafening. Jeonghan barely registers it. His fist shoots into the air, his lips still brushing against yours as he laughs—a sound full of pure, unrestrained joy.

“You’re my lucky charm,” he murmurs, his voice shaking with a mix of awe and certainty.

And when you smile back at him, it’s brighter than the floodlights, warmer than the victory. 

EPILOGUE

FORMULA 1 ROLEX AUSTRALIAN GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Albert Park Grand Prix Circuit

The air at Albert Park hums with the kind of energy that only a new season can bring. The stands are packed, a sea of flags waving for drivers and teams, and the scent of freshly cut grass mingles with the faint tang of engine oil. It’s not quite spring yet, but the Melbourne sun still beats down relentlessly, leaving Jeonghan’s fireproofs clinging uncomfortably to his skin as he strides out of the Ferrari garage.

His mind buzzes with the aftermath of qualifying—P2 isn’t pole, but it’s close enough to feel like a promise. Yet, beneath the satisfaction, there’s the familiar tug of nerves that always follows a strong start. Tomorrow is what counts.

His publicist catches up to him, clipboard in hand. “Sky Sports first,” she says, her tone clipped but not unkind.

Jeonghan barely suppresses a groan, already knowing what awaits him. He doesn’t mind media—not entirely—but right now, his thoughts are miles away from answering questions about his out lap or tire degradation.

He rounds the corner into the media pen, where cameras are trained on bright logos and polished smiles. But his eyes find you immediately, waiting just behind the barricade, a microphone in hand, your hair catching the golden glow of the late afternoon sun.

You’re a vision.

He slows as he approaches, his publicist muttering instructions he doesn’t bother to hear. Your eyes catch his, and a secret smile spreads across your lips. He mirrors it, his heart lifting in a way that has nothing to do with his qualifying position.

Jeonghan leans against the barricade, his hands braced on the metal. It’s casual, nonchalant—a stark contrast to the spark simmering beneath the surface. As the questions begin, his fingers shift, brushing yours. The touch is featherlight, a soft sweep of skin against skin, but it’s enough to make his chest tighten.

The lanyard around your neck gleams in the sunlight, a stark reminder of how much had changed—and how much hadn’t. You’re still you.

And you’re wearing it.

The chain glints faintly against your skin, the two charms catching the light with each movement. One is the microphone, delicate and detailed, perfectly crafted. The other is his initial: J. Small, simple, yet undeniably his.

(You’d teased him endlessly when he gave it to you at Christmas. “Modest as always, aren’t you?” you’d laughed.

“Of course,” he’d replied, his voice low and teasing as he leaned into your hair. “One charm for your new job, because I’m so proud of you. And one for me, because I’m so amazing.”

“Two-time world champion,” you’d corrected, poking his ribs.

“Two-time world champion,” he’d agreed with a grin, pulling you into his arms.)

“Jeonghan,” you greet, a secret smile tugging at your lips.

The sound of his name on your lips—professional but laced with affection—sends a warmth through him that he doesn’t bother to hide. “Y/N,” he replies, his tone light but his eyes heavy with meaning.

The interview begins, your questions sharp and to the point. Jeonghan answers with his usual ease, the confidence that had earned him his titles. But he’s distracted, his focus flickering between your voice and the way your thumb absently brushes the microphone charm as you speak.

“You’re awfully cheerful for someone who only managed P2,” you tease, tilting your head slightly.

He leans closer, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Just keeping it interesting. Wouldn’t want to win everything too easily.”

You roll your eyes, but the soft laugh that escapes you betrays your amusement.

The banter continues, each exchange laced with an undercurrent of warmth that only the two of you can fully understand. To anyone watching, it’s just another driver and journalist sharing a lighthearted moment. But to Jeonghan, it’s everything.

When the cameras finally cut, the energy between you shifts. He leans over the barricade without hesitation, his hands curling around the edge for balance as he dips his head toward you.

The first kiss is quick, a soft press of lips that feels like a punctuation mark to the conversation.

The second is slower, more deliberate, as if he’s savoring the fact that he can do this now.

The third lingers, his lips brushing yours with a tenderness that makes your breath catch.

“Jeonghan,” you murmur, glancing around with a mix of amusement and exasperation. But your grin is wide, and your cheeks are flushed, and he knows you’re not annoyed in the slightest.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice so low it barely reaches you. His eyes are soft, his expression open in a way that’s reserved only for you.

Your hand finds his wrist, your fingers curling gently around it. “I love you too,” you reply, your voice steady, your gaze unyielding.

For a moment, the world around you fades—the bustling media pen, the hum of conversations, the clicking cameras. All that exists is the space between you, filled with unspoken promises and the quiet certainty of what comes next.

And as Jeonghan straightens, reluctantly stepping back into the whirlwind of his world, he knows he’s carrying a part of you with him—just as you carry a part of him. Always.

a/n: and that, was full throttle. i cannot express to any of you how proud i am of myself for finishing this. i think i spent more time deleting things on this doc than i did writing it and somehow, i fucking love the way this turned out. alta, kae, if you're reading this - thank you. from the bottom of my heart. this story would have never happened had it not been for the two of you motivating me to get this out of my head and onto a doc. you both inspire me every day and i am lucky that i had you on my side for this one.

[mickyschumacher]

can i request something for carlos sainz x leclerc!reader on vacation?there’s such a soft spot in me for summer vacation carlos like in a beach setting or on a yacht. it can be soft or smutty it doesn’t matter i just love summery carlos. thank you!!!

[SECRETS IN SANTORINI!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: while the leclercs maybe spending their summer vacation at home, you opted for a secret vacation in santorini with your secret boyfriend, carlos sainz. or in which you are secretly dating your brother's teammate.

𝐖𝐀𝐑��𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minor dni), unprotected sex (if you're gonna slip, slop, slap, you must wrap your willy!), reader dob in 1999, dating in secret trope!, sainz & leclerc = google translated spanish & french ._., ig the reader has a shaved downstairs?, p in v, teasing, oral sex, lovey dovey smut?, poor humour, breastplay, fingering, cumming inside, bit of overstimulation for the reader, scandal and swift references, love confessions.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: bf!carlos sainz x younger leclerc!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: firm agree on the summery carlos! is it really my writing if i don't get santorini involved? anyways, hope this was up to your standards! sorry for the long wait! ♡︎

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Dating your brother's teammate was never on your bucket list. Hell, you tried to stay away from Formula 1. Well, as much as Leclerc could anyways.

People older than you weren't really your type. You opted for people near your age. That way there wasn't an awkward generation gap and there was no one that reminded you of your older brothers. Carlos was only five years older than you but the generational gap was most certainly there.

Men your age were... well, boys.

Men Carlos' age were men but also men.

You had seen Carlos at races before. And he was an attractive man, obviously. But that was that. You passed each other down the paddock, barely giving each other a glance. And not to mention the obvious, you were far too young for him at the time.

But then Ferrari's first car launch after signing Carlos had happened.

You had seen Carlos more in the few hours the event lasted than the past few years. You didn't know what it was. Whether you were unintentionally stalking him or vice versa. What you did know, however, he was definitely eyeing you.

By the time Charles had introduced you, Arthur, Lorenzo, and your mother, Carlos was trying to keep his interest at bay, pretending to be as family-friendly as possible.

Carlos ended up catching you as you came out of the bathroom, smoothly asking for your number. And as much as you wanted to give it to him, you weren't going to be easy. You were a Leclerc for crying out loud.

If Carlos wanted you, he would have to earn you.

And boy did he try.

You had heard from several people and the Internet that Carlos was a hardcore romantic. You never thought about it up until he started pulling out all the stops.

He was attentive as hell, remembering your favourite drinks, slipping you a new book to read as he talked to Charles, purposely linking his pinky with yours as discreetly as he could just so he could see you flush in front of him, sending you clothes for you to wear to his races to your apartment...

Carlos was menace.

But somewhere along the line, he became your menace.

You and Carlos were the epitome of the saying 'Romance is not dead if you keep it just yours'.

Keeping it secret... sure it was frustrating at times. The both of you had person after person trying to get with you because, well, you were a Leclerc and he was Carlos Sainz. Carlos had managed to draw a line by telling people he had a girlfriend but he didn't want to reveal her.

Yeah... it didn't settle well with the grid, in particular the three gossipers of the grid: Pierre, Lando, and your brother.

But after all the little bumps in the road, it was smooth sailing.

Most of the time you spent time together was alone, just the two of you. That way, there was no risk of being caught and you could revel in each other.

Of course, it wasn't that easy. Nothing was easy with you and Carlos, especially given that you couldn't keep your hands off of one another. Carlos a slight more than you because you had the decency and fear of embarrassment of getting caught by anyone. Carlos, on the other hand, was as indecent as they come. Hands always looking for an excuse to touch you, eyes travelling to find you first in any room, sending dirty texts when you sat across him... like you said, he was a menace.

To make things easier for yourself, for this summer break, you and Carlos had picked trusty Santorini as a romantic getaway, taking his dog Piñon as a welcomed third wheeler. Filled with so many tourists that you and Carlos would look like any regular couple there.

"Now this is a summer break," You breathed out, walking on to the yacht you had rented out for your stay in Greece. The air was clean and crisp, the sun was already beating down on you despite it being nine in the morning, and the translucent blue waters brought you a sense of familiarity that Monaco held.

"Don't you agree, Piñon?" You cooed to the soft ball of white curled up into your arms. A small bark of agreement came from the dog, tail wagging in happiness.

Carlos chuckled behind you, putting down your bags on the deck, under the shade. His thick arms enveloped your waist, bringing you closer to him. Nestling his chin into your shoulder, he said, "That's good, hermosa (beautiful). Now try saying it in Spanish."

You made a face at his teasing tone. Pulling yourself out of his grasp, you turned towards him. "Ahora son unas vacaciones de verano. ¿No estás de acuerdo, mi querido Carlos?" You recreated the same coaxing tone you had given Piñon to your lover, pinching his cheek with the energy of an overly endearing mother. Now this is a summer break. Don't you agree, my dear Carlos?

Carlos gave you a pointed look. You were teasing him. You knew he liked when you spoke Spanish because it was cute to see you fumble over the words but it also meant a lot to him that you were trying.

You rolled your eyes at his reaction and settled Piñon on the deck after making sure it wasn't too hot for those small paws of his. You watched him trot around the yacht, carefully examining his surrounding to test his boundaries.

Satisfied that Piñon was safe, you turned back to Carlos. "Brunch?"

"Brunch..." Carlos trailed off, hand reaching out to your face. The soft pad of his thumb graze your lips, gently pulling on your bottom lip to watch it bounce back. "...or brunch?" He asked, voice heavy with a clear need.

Your body thrived with an eagerness to respond to his touch. Goosebumps were the paint to the canvas of your skin, littering each part of you even though you were impossibly warm in the sun. You really wanted brunch. But your stomach wanted brunch. Instead, you simply nodded to him, agreeing with the answer he had never said. "You're right. Food is very important."

Carlos groaned at your response. "Hermosa," He sighed out, bringing his arms around your waist to pull you close yet again. "I want you," He murmured against your skin, nose brushing against your cheek and hot breath wandering down your neck.

Carlos could feel you smile at his words. "And you have me... for two whole weeks," You reminded him, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek.

Carlos curled his lip in annoyance at your reminder while he revelled in your touch. "I could have you for four," He also reminded you.

You sighed. You hadn't seen him in three weeks because life had it's mysterious ways of making the both of you busy. You wanted nothing more than a month with Carlos. But it was far too suspicious.

You had barely convinced your mother and your brothers that you were going to Santorini for a 'self-exploration' trip. Charles had immediately offered to turn it into a family trip but you managed to settle him down by saying you would spend the last two weeks with them. Alexandra had been a sweetheart in the matter as well. She was the only one, as well as Kika and Lily, that had known about you and Carlos, claiming they sensed it from 'a mile away'.

What they truly meant was that Carlos wouldn't stop eye-fucking you from a far.

"It's okay," You mumbled woefully, patting his chest softly, "I'll be with you in spirit while you reign Madrid."

Carlos held in his eye roll at your theatrics, you had a flair for them. "I wish you would reign Madrid with me instead. I want you to meet the family, let me finally teach you golf, go to the holiday house with me, hmm?" He implored, chocolate brown flickering to search yours.

The pain behind your eyes made him feel frustrated. He knew how much you wanted to do that because you wanted the same thing with your family. "How 'bout I call Charles, hmm? I'm sure he'll understand."

The thought of Charles finding out from anyone but you made you shudder. Would he understand? What was so understandable about hiding the fact you were dating his teammate for over a year, especially over a call?

Arthur, amongst Charles and Lorenzo, would probably be the most hurt. You and him told each other everything. You guys were the closest in age, similar to how Lorenzo and Charles were. Hell, you even helped him confess and get with Carla. And he was waiting to do the same for you, with some he trusted and knew.

And Lorenzo? It was really for the best if he didn't know from Carlos. He had initially told you not to get too close to any of the drivers because he was worried for you and well, the reputation of F1 drivers and dating wasn't too great. But you were quite sure that anything you and Carlos did had crossed the line of 'too close'. '

"Carlos, mi amor, I love you, but I think the idea of brunch, not brunch, is more understanding."

━━━━━━━━━━━

After your brunch, you had spent some time reading to Carlos inside the yacht, not wanting to get into the water just after you had eaten nor wanting to go out when the sunshine was at it's peak.

It was serene.

The windows were open, letting a cool breeze come and help reduce the heat and you were both sprawled on the soft mattresses that served as sofas on the floor of the yacht. The calmness and peace you had desired amongst the chaos life and F1 brought.

You were half sure that Carlos was close to falling asleep in your lap, but not by your retelling of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, after Carlos refused to see Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen for the sixth time this year, but by the way your combed your hand through his hair as you read. (Although you were still going to be persistent because the concept of seeing those two on screen in Santorini out of all places was a need, not a want).

"Carlos, mon beau (my handsome), you're going to fall asleep. Let's go swimming," You told him, placing your bookmark in between the pages and closing the book.

Carlos groaned, looking up at you. He held your hand close to his chest. "No, it's way too hot. Don't you see the water? It looks like lava."

You narrowed your eyes. "That precisely why we should go swimming. We can't just sit here and mope around. We're in Santorini... we need to stand up and move around."

Carlos lifted his head from your lap, sitting straight so he faced you. You let out a quick yelp when he pulled you forward, placing you onto his lap, legs straddling him. "I can think about fifty ways to stand up and move around... in fifty different positions."

You could feel your thighs involuntarily clench around him. You know he felt it to. You gasped at his words and shook your head. "You are a heathen, Carlos Sainz. A barbarian... a hooligan, a sexually-driven simpleton must I continue?"

"Well, I recall you loving this heathen, infidel, barbarian, and hooligan," Carlos shrugged, warm hands inching up the white sundress you had worn this morning. The action sent a shudder down your spine.

"Carlos," You mumbled, already falling into a state where you were losing the words to speak your thoughts as Carlos kneaded the flesh of your thighs with his rough hands.

"Yes?" Those puppy brown eyes flickered to your eyes while he brought his mouth to your thighs, opting to graze your heated skin with the teeth. "Tell me what you want, hermosa. And I'll give it to you."

You faltered at his words. His gaze was heavy with a dark blaze that sent your stomach churning. You allowed yourself to fully straddle Carlos' lap, teeth sinking into your bottom lip when you felt Carlos' clothed bulge press into your core.

Carlos struggled to prevent a strained hiss escape his gritted teeth, his grip on your thighs tightening, your flesh escaping the confines of his hands. Fuck, were your thighs so enticing to Carlos. He wanted to bite them and bruise them so even weeks later, they were covered in the reminiscents of him.

"What do you want, baby? Please tell me," Carlos begged, eyes desperately searching your own for any sign or indication of what you wanted.

You felt your core clench at the plea falling from Carlos' plump lips. You hadn't even really done anything but he was ready to serve you. Everything was foggy. You couldn't think straight. "I want... I want you, Carlos. Fuck, anything, everything... I–make love to me. Show me how much you love me."

His roaming hands came to a halt. "Mierda (shit)," Carlos cursed, bringing his tongue to swipe his bottom lip.

He could do that. He would love you so much that the entirety of Santorini would know and no one would even question your relationship with him.

Carlos brought his hands to your back, feeling the numerous strings of your dress against the pads of his fingers. One hand worked to undo the very knots he had done this morning while the other creeped up the back of your neck, pulling your head closer to his.

He brought his lips to yours, pressing them with an indescribable urgency. Your hands shot out to his chest, fisting the soft material of the polo you had chosen for him into a small bundle.

You gasped into the kiss, feeling a sudden breeze of cold air as the strings of your dress fell flat against your skin. Carlos' hands wandered down the surface of your back, coming to a stop at your waist.

The urge to get even closer to you coursed through Carlos' veins, pulling you flush against him. A moan fell from his swollen lips as you parted to fill the craving of some oxygen. Your pussy was pressed tight against his cock and your breasts were soft, pushed against his chest.

Carlos ventured to move his lips down the side of your jaw, edging towards your barren neck, aching to decorate you with aging and unique shades of purple and blue.

You let out a series of sinful whimpers upon the feeling of your skin being sucked at, feeding directly into his constrained cock. "Carlos..." You moaned out, eyes shut in pure pleasure, "They'll know. The–They'll ask q-questions."

"I know." You shivered as you feel him grin against your skin.

You watched him through your half-lidded eyes, moving up from your neck to look at you with his blistering gaze. With one simple movement, he took off his shirt, revealing his taut golden skin. Christ.

You sat still breathlessly on his lap as Carlos peeled off your dress, pulling your arms through the white material. The cool breeze trickled over your bare breasts, nipples hardening almost instantly.

Carlos let a warm hand rest over your rib, lifting you gently to remove your dress fully. He sighed, laying you down on the mattress. The tips of his fingers travelled from your neck and down the valley of your breasts, the hairs of your body standing straight at his touch.

"You know what it is a tragedy, hermosa?" Carlos queried, watching you quiver underneath him, chest heavily rising up and down.

He smiled at your asking through your eyes because the words just couldn't come out of your throat. "You will never see yourself the way I see you. Eres una sirena... obra de Dios. If He didn't put you on this Earth that would've been his biggest sin." You are a siren… God's work.

If your throat wasn't tied up before, it surely was now. You looked at him with a soft gaze, watching him come near you to press his lips on your own. You whimpered, feeling his hands travel towards your breasts, fondling your mounds with a cautious roughness that sent your stomach tingling.

You frowned at the loss of his lips but the complaint subsided upon the feel of his hot tongue swirling around your pebbled nipple. He paid attention to every flick and every crevice, keeping his deep eyes trained on you. He smiled at your hiss as he purposely grazed his teeth against your nipple.

Carlos removed his lips from your nipple, moving his head back to hover over your pussy. Still keeping his eyes on you, you watched in silence as the hot saliva fell from his lips, bubbly strings landing directly onto your glistening folds. Fucking hell.

"Eyes on me, baby," He told you, looking at your clenched eyes.

Your eyes shot open as Carlos took one long stripe of your folds, your hips bucking at the sudden sensation. Lingering a second too long on your clit, his tongue continued to work up towards your stomach and the valley of your breasts, returning his attention to your other nipple.

Your mouth fell open, feeling his fingers rub your wet folds, spreading his saliva around your pussy. While his tongue worked your nipple, he thrusted a thick finger into your walls. With your eyes rolling back, you attempted to fist the thick material of the mattress but to no avail.

"Fuckk, Carlos," You whimpered, writhing at his touch.

"Finally found your words, hmm?" Carlos teased, adding another finger into his torturous slow pace. His eyes were glued to watching your hips out of his periphery, snapping up to try and ride his fingers. As laboured breaths fell from your lips, he pushed his digits even further, aiming to reach a specific spot.

Smoothly, Carlos grabbed a nearby pillow, putting it under your lower back to bring you some comfort and a whole new level of pleasure. He stared at your face intently: your mouth had fallen wide open with a ghost whisper of his name flowing into the air, sweat glistened over your flushed face, pooling near the edges of your hair and neck, and your lips were swollen with the prettiest shade of red he had ever seen.

"Carlos," You managed to get out with your brain practically turning into jelly. "Carlos, please, I don't want to cum like this. I need your cock, please."

Carlos' cock throbbed at your pleas. "Your wish is my command, princesa."

Hearing your whines upon the loss of his fingers, Carlos took off his blue shorts faster than he had ever done in his life.

Even though you had been with Carlos sexually for a while, your cheeks still flamed when you saw his cock. Not out of embarrassment or unadulterated innocence. No. It was outright heat that was getting to you.

Every time you saw his cock, it was a violent shade of red, throbbing and aching, leaving Carlos begging to be touched by you.

You watched as Carlos leaned forward, hovering over you. It was beyond you how exactly pretty Carlos was. You hadn't realised until he started courting you. You had no idea how you were supposed to live without seeing his thicket of brown locks, his freckles that could only be depicted if you were close to him otherwise they blended with his prickly stubble, the smug smile he constantly wore to hide himself, and especially his big brown eyes that made you bend to his command.

"Carlos?" You softly called out.

Carlos' ears perked up at your gentle tone. He smiled down at you with raised brows. His hands continued to travel your body, retracing every curve and fold as he had committed to his memory. "Sí, mi hermosa?"

You ran a hand through his hair before caressing his cheek. God, he was your beautiful boy. "Je t'aime plus que tu ne peux l'imaginer." I love you more than you can imagine.

You knew he didn't speak French despite spending this many years with Charles but it often comes from you naturally when you were too caught up in your feelings.

"Je ne pense pas que ce soit le cas. You don't know how my every feeling is controlled by the look on your face. I can't breathe without you. Every race, I hope you're there waiting for me because you're pretending to wait for Charles. Hermosa, I exist for you. No one else." I don't think you do.

Your eyes widened, fresh tears lining your waterline. "You understood–you learned French?" You whispered, voice barely audible.

Carlos grinned. "I'm quite sure I said a lot of after that but yes, I did learn French for you... surprise!"

You suppressed the urge to push him off of you and gave him a long kiss. Pulling back, you laughed gently. "You're an idiot... making me cry during sex. And not even in the good way!" You feigned your complaint.

"Well, we still have tonight and thirteen more days. Today I'm just showing how much I love you," He whispered above your lips, hips lining up with yours.

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling Carlos' cock brush past your folds. You both moaned in unison as he pushed his cock into your pussy. Your walls wrapped around his cock tightly, gripping him like a vice.

Carlos cursed several profanities under his breath, head lolling back while pleasure coursed through his body. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you up to sit on his lap. His cock ached at the high-pitched mewl that fell from your swollen lips.

His hands fell to your hips, holding you tightly, slowly shifting you up and down his length, burying his cock in you.

You closed your eyes, letting your forehead rest on Carlos'. You can feel him staring at you, taking all of you in: every hue of your flushed state, your eyelashes riddled with tears and sweat, the heavenly and sinful sounds from your lips, and your greased hair.

"You are breathtaking," Carlos whispered against you.

You smiled, opening your eyes to meet his and rolling your hips slowly in response. "You make me feel so good," You praised.

A rough moan was elicited from Carlos, throat tight and choked up from your words and actions. He could barely function seeing your bare pussy take his cock so well, let alone how the tip of his cock throbbed when he lifted you up. His own eyes were beginning to shut as he revelled in the ecstasy you brought hip.

Fuck, you were so wet. You looked down at your thighs, seeing the obscene sheen of your arousal coat spread to Carlos' thighs. You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, hips snapping to create a rhythm.

"Carlos, I, fuck," You blabbered in complete disarray. You were beginning to seem the edges of a familiar white light.

Although Carlos appreciated the sign, he could tell by the way you were clenched so tightly around his cock, getting his cock to pulsate every few seconds, that you were going to come.

He moved his hands between your legs, watching you sink over his cock one more time before he obstructed the view by using his thumb to rub your clit in circles.

"Mierda," Carlos cussed, feeling you grip his cock even further if it was possible. "Cum for me, mi amor."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," You repeated the expletive as if it were a mantra, hips bucking as white clouded your vision. You let out a loud moan, body shaking as waves of your climax hit you one after the other.

Not a second later, Carlos was cumming too. His hips rutted against yours in almost an unrecognisable desperation, the peak of his ecstasy right within his grasp. His cock pulsed while his hips came to a falter, stuttering as ropes of his white cum spilled into you, warming your walls.

"F-Fuck," Carlos groaned, feeling your pussy clamp around him, trying to take every last drop of his cum.

You feel Carlos slump forward into you, exhausted. Gently, you lifted yourself off of his cock, wincing at your sensitivity. You fell straight onto the mattress, panting heavily.

"Shit!" You yelped as Carlos pushed some of his leaking come back into and circle your clit. You shook at the mini aftermath of your orgasm before calming back down.

"Satisfied?" You nudged Carlos playfully, knowing damn well Carlos liked to go the extra mile when it came to you.

"Very," Carlos commented, reaching his arms out to bring you closer to him.

You sighed, resting your head on his chest. The exhaustion was very quickly seeping into the both of you. Carlos' heartbeat was beginning to work as a lullaby and Carlos had found your warmth far more comforting than any mattress or duvet.

"Hermosa," He called, making you hum for you had no energy to speak. "We need to tell them."

You found yourself trying to open your eyes. When had they closed? You turned to face him, chin resting on his heated torso. You pressed a brief kiss and said, "I know. Let's tell them in a few days. So they have at least a week to yell at me."

Carlos frowned at your words. "I'll be right there with you. You know that right? I'm not letting you do this alone."

You smiled after letting out a small yawn. "I know, I know. I'm grateful. Thank you, mi amor."

Carlos returned the gesture, kissing your forehead gently. He rubbed your shoulders, feeling the dark abyss of slumber slowly call to him. "Anything for you, hermosa."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[lovelettersfromluna]

Champagne Coast

Summary: Ellie’s a dickhead that knows exactly how to make you feel good….go figure.

an: this one is a little short, but I have lots planned for the next chapter! I hope you all enjoy regardless 🤍

Warnings: MDNI!! 18+ ONLY, smut!, angst!, Ellie is…she’s really bad at the beginning of this one I’m sorry, mean!Ellie, reader has a brother (he’s a sweetheart but also a moron), new girl in town who is very mean to reader, jealousy, slight sub!Ellie if you squint, needy!Ellie, tribbing? (Idek if what they do is considered tribbing you let me know if it is), lazy make out, mentions of weed and alcohol, Ellie is TIPSY not fucked up during the sex scene I promise, Ellie sucks on readers nipple, please lmk if I missed anything!

Taglist: @elliessgfsstuff @gaylittleellie @quinnister @hopelesssheaven @beelzcutiie @luvrluvrr @mikaaj @lasmirabels

You can read part one here!

If you thought the events that took place at the party last weekend was going to change yours and Ellie’s dynamic in any way shape or form…

You were sorely mistaken.

You weren’t entirely sure what would happen after that night with Ellie, or why it even happened to begin with. It hurt your head to even think about it, any attempt at trying to figure out why the hell Ellie of all people would ever want to do those things to you was headache inducing. You even questioned your own sanity for a bit, wondering if it was all a hazy dream as a result of your drunken state, because surly that made more sense than Ellie following you up to your room to eat your pussy until you saw stars.

But no, not even you had an imagination strong enough to create a feeling like the one Ellie gave you that night.

So if she did come up to your room to kiss you like that, and touch you like that, and make you feel like that then…

Surly things would change, right?

Wrong

You didn’t even look too deep into things, even though the circumstances called for it. You didn’t think this meant something more than it truly was, like it was Ellie’s sick and twisted way of dangling you by a thread for nearly your entire life just to blow your mind one night at a random party to admit that she has a crush on you or something, there was no way that was the case. Ellie was a lot of things, but she wasn’t that good at hiding her feelings.

Which was why you knew that wasn’t this. You knew Ellie didn’t like you, you knew that you’ve been nothing more than a constant bump in the road that stopped her and your brother from doing all the things they wanted, she had made that clear to you from the moment she met you.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t want to at least talk to her about things.

Talking to Ellie became nearly impossible after that night.

Sure, her and your brother were never really at home. They had very busy schedules being who they were, they were almost always invited to different outings or parties that people around town had, so their presence was rather scarce almost all the time.

But that didn’t mean that they weren’t ever home, there would be ‘rest days’ where they would rot on your couch playing video games and eating left over pizza, nursing a nasty hangover or hiding away from a particularly hot summer sun. There would be at least two days out of the week where you weren’t all alone in the big house.

It had been almost three weeks since the party, and you hadn’t seen Ellie or your brother since.

You got small glimpses of Ellie dragging your brother out to his car early in the morning when you were just waking up, or pulling in to the driveway late at night long after you’d gone to sleep, giving up on trying to wait up on them to watch a movie or something.

And you weren’t an idiot, you caught onto the sudden disappearance of the two very quickly, and it was clear to see that this wasn’t along the lines of their usual summer festivities.

No, Ellie was avoiding you.

Which made things all the more confusing. You weren’t sure if she was doing it for you, or for her own comfort, or if she was just embarrassed that it had even happened, regretting the events so much that it was driving her away from the place that she was staying at.

But it had gone past even wanting to talk to her about it. You still did, and you’d take the first chance that you got to do it, but you missed them, Ellie and your brother. Even just knowing they were both downstairs brought you comfort, allowing you to know you weren’t falling asleep in the giant house by yourself. Despite the taunting and the teasing, it was nice simply having them around.

It felt like you were being punished for something you didn’t even do.

Alas, you were spending another night alone, one you could have been spending out in the city with your friends, hopping from one moody bar to the next before you all inevitably trudged back to your cozy apartment to keep the party going until you all passed out in your living room while watching Star Wars.

Instead you were carrying out the familiar routine you had set up for yourself. You found a new recipe you wanted to try earlier in the day, drove out into town to grab a few groceries and a bottle of wine, came back and cooked, ate dinner and showered, putting yourself in your comfy pajamas before retreating to the living room to finish your glass while watching a movie to fill up the thick silence that filled your house.

You let out a gentle sigh as your eyes drifted over to the large clock on the wall, seeing that it was already almost midnight. You had long since given up on wishful thinking, hoping you’d at least catch a glimpse of your brother before you went to bed. They wouldn’t be arriving until anywhere between two and four am.

After washing up the last bit of your dishes and turning off all the lights (all except the patio light, a silent gesture to the two of them that acted a bit as a ‘goodnight’ from your end) you made your way up to your bedroom, went about your night time routine and tucked yourself into bed for another night of rest.

You were mindlessly scrolling through your phone, allowing the warm glow to lull you to sleep and fill your brain with nonsense in a way that made it easy not to think, when you heard the sound of your brothers Jeep roaring into the driveway, paired with his sound system blasting whatever dumb song he was obsessed with this week.

It made you frown, surly you hadn’t scrolled for that long. Derek and Ellie wouldn’t be home for another three hours, you had to exit out of the app you were using to check the time-

It was only 12:03

This was very unlike Ellie and Derek, so much so that the first thing you felt at their sudden arrival was worry. Was something wrong? Did one of them get sick? Did they suddenly have a change of heart and wanted to spend some time with you?

You needed to go downstairs and check

Your sock cladded feet padded along the wooden stairs as you made your way down, hearing as the front door creaked open, allowing the sounds of your brother and Ellie’s voices to fill up the space, paired with the sound of a few unfamiliar ones.

Now, did you at all think this through? No. Did you even stay at your window long enough to see who exactly was coming out of your brother’s car? Of course not.

Did you see that it wasn’t just Ellie and Derek coming into your house?

Unfortunately, no.

Before you can think any of this through, you’re standing at the bottom of your stairs, arms crossed over your chest as Derek and Ellie lead in about eight other people into your house, their chatter filling up the room and nearly distracting them from seeing you.

But you can’t worry about that right now.

“Derek?” You call out softly, your brows gently furrowed in soft confusion as your hands cup your bare arms from the chill of the air conditioning.

He’s mid laugh when he hears you, his smile slowly dropping once he turns around, his eyes finding you at the bottom of the stairs, the image of worry clear on your face.

Your brother would never admit it, but his heart tugs over the fact that this is his first time seeing your face in almost three weeks, and the only emotion you’re expressing is worry over him.

He clears his throat, his lips tugging into a lazy smile before he lets out a slight chuckle. “What are you doing up? Isn’t it past your bedtime?” He chuckles out, causing the group of people to snicker behind him, which only makes you frown further.

You ignore them though, instead looking at your brother.

“Are you…okay? You’re never home this early” you question, the look of concern still on your face.

Derek opens his mouth to respond, but he’s quickly cut off by an unfamiliar voice.

“Didn’t know you had a second mom, Derek” a low and sultry voice calls out from behind him. When your eyes trail to where the sound comes from, you finally notice the girl that it belongs to.

She captivates you almost instantly. Her flawless complexion, her perfect hair, her glossy lips that are pulled into a taunting smirk as she watches you, eyes filled with judgment raking down your body, taking in the little fruits printed onto your pajama set.

Perfect legs settled on Ellie’s lap.

Your eyes shift from that, to the way Ellie’s hands caress her hip, fingers toying with the exposed skin where her top ends and her designer denim jeans begin.

When you finally look up at Ellie, shes resting against the couch, bottom lip tugged beneath her perfect teeth as she practically bites back a smile, watching you as the girl in her lap presses her fingers against her lips to push back her giggles.

Your attention is forced away from your brother, now shifted over to Ellie. You have to ignore the pretty girl on her lap and her intense stare. Her eyes smolder in a way that makes your insides flip, and it makes you wanna run away and hide for the rest of your life. But you promised yourself that the next time you saw Ellie, you’d take the first chance you had to speak to her.

No matter how embarrassing it was doing this in front of all these people.

You inhaled deeply before you cleared your throat, making your way over to Ellie and the girl on the couch.

“Can I…talk to you in private…please?” You ask quickly, your voice low as you practically mumble out the words.

Both Ellie and the girl on her lap laugh softly together, and you watch as Ellie tries to muffle the noise by pressing her face to the girls back.

“Anything you need to say can be said here…so what is it?” She practically spits out, her tone making you frown deeply as you try to swallow back the nasty words you have for her.

“Seriously Ellie I just need like five minutes-“ your quickly cut off by the girl in her lap, pretty eyes staring up at you from her spot on top of Ellie as she juts out her bottom lip in a fake pout, one that she’s using to clearly mock you.

“Awe…does the little baby wanna confess her crush? That’s so cute…go on, you can tell her” she mocks you as she pours her words out, her words followed by a soft giggle, which only makes Ellie laugh with her.

You scoff at her, your arms crossing over your chest as you finally look over at her. “Who even are you?” You challenge her, which only makes her raise her eyebrows in surprise before she giggles softly.

“So she does speak…I’m Hazel it’s nice to meet you princess” she drawls out, her tone making you frown further.

“Is that all you needed? I’m dying to hear what’s so important for you to take Ellie from me…” she hums out, her fingers toying with the hair at the nape of Ellie’s neck.

Ellie hums softly, her lips creeping up to work against Hazel’s neck as she pulls her close to her chest.

“As if she could ever…” Ellie mumbles against her skin.

Her words send a shiver down your spine.

It makes you want to say things that you’ll regret, because Ellie didn’t feel that way when she was settled between your legs, her mouth working against your cunt as if it were her last meal, as if her fucking life depended on it.

But you know that no one in the room would believe you.

You inhale deeply before you let out a gentle sigh, shaking your head. “Forget about it…it was nothing” you mumble out before you turn around, your eyes drifting over to your brother and giving him the biggest ‘fuck you’ stare of all time before you make your way up the stairs.

“Cute pjs by the way!” You can hear Hazel call out when you’re halfway up, followed by a plethora of laughs that follow, all of which belonging to your brothers idiot friends.

Ellie being the loudest of course.

You make sure to lock your door when you’re in your bedroom, your throat burning with the familiar feeling of tears as you shove your face into your pillow, embarrassed at the fact that Ellie even had the power to make you feel so low, so fucking cheap that she used you for a night before going back to her cruel ways.

You knew one thing was for sure. You were completely done with her.

You weren’t exactly sure what Ellie was up to, but you knew that it was pissing you off.

You would give anything for the quiet and empty house you had when Ellie was avoiding you. It was lonely and honestly kind of scary at times but you were alone! And you didn’t have to deal with anyone or anything that you didn’t want to.

Now you couldn’t remember the last time you were alone.

Because ever since that night with Hazel, Ellie had been bringing her over almost every single day. It was like she was fucking moving in for the summer.

And it wasn’t like there was a problem with that. There were many times your brother and Ellie would bring girls over, using each other as a wing man to hype the other up. Sure, you’d feel bad for those poor girls because they picked the two dumbest people your town had to offer, but there was nothing wrong with it.

But Hazel was a fucking bitch.

She wasn’t nice at all. You didn’t need her to dote on you and put on some show to make her seem nicer than she actually was, your opinion didn’t fucking matter, but it was like every time she saw you roaming around the house she made sure to clock in with another one of her snarky remarks about either your appearance or your overall presence.

She was even worse than Ellie.

And god, it was like every single time they were together they were making soft core porn on your couch. You had already lost count of the amount of times you’d walked in on Hazel straddling Ellie’s lap as she practically dry humped her while they made out. You always scoffed at the image, only to be followed by Hazels annoying giggle and Ellie’s encouraging chuckle.

You’d become a permanent resident of your bedroom, since it was the only corner of your home that wasn’t plagued by Ellie and her disgusting little summer fling. It allowed you to sulk in your room without either one of the morons commenting about how much you were pouting.

It wasn’t at all because of the tinge of jealousy you felt when seeing it.

But was it even jealousy? Or was it the fact that she was pretending like everything between the two of you didn’t even happen. You should have known from the moment she left you there to simply eat you out and go back downstairs to whoever she needed that you didn’t mean anything more to her than a quick fix.

You couldn’t think about it any longer, because you weren’t going to allow Ellie to give you any more headaches.

The sun had already set, and it was getting closer and closer to your usual time of getting ready for bed, and you hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. You sighed softly as you grabbed your phone and left your bedroom.

You knew that your house was once again occupied with at least your brother, Ellie, Hazel, and probably more of their idiot friends, so you knew that you had limited time to go downstairs and grab something to fill your stomach before you slept. So you quickly rushed downstairs in an attempt to slip passed them all without being noticed.

You hoped they were doing something that required their focus, like watching a movie or playing video games, something that would make it easier for you to slip into the kitchen and slip out quickly without having any nasty remarks hurled your way.

But of course, life wasn’t so easy.

You frowned softly when you made your way at the bottom of the stairs. Everyone was dressed up like they were about to go out. Loud music was playing as they sat around the living room, some of them in the kitchen getting more drinks, all of them laughing and chatting with one another. It wasn’t enough of them to be a party, and your brother didn’t bring out the speakers for it either.

Your lips were set in a near permanent frown as you watched him call your name, only bringing the attention of everyone else to you as well.

“Hi?…” you mumbled out softly before you moved to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and bringing it to your lips.

He practically hurdled over the couch to get to you in the kitchen, the older man clearly excited to see you after you’d been ignoring him for the past week or so.

“Hey…are you coming tonight?” He breaths out, which only makes you frown further before you shake your head, closing the fridge as you make your way to the pantry instead.

“I sure hope not…” you hear Hazel quip from behind him, which is only followed by the snickers and laughter of the other people there. It makes Derek huff softly as he turns around to glare at Ellie, which makes her chuckle softly with the girl and give her hip a gentle tap to quiet her down.

You sigh softly before you shake your head. “Definitely not…I didn’t even know you were going out” you hum out softly before you reach out to grab some crackers and a bag of chips. You turn around and give Derek and unamused look.

“Can I go now?” You question in soft annoyance, your tone making your brother frown deeply.

He feels bad, and you can see it clearly on his face that he feels bad. He’s supposed to be your big brother yet he’s simply sat back and watched as his best friend continued to torment you.

You didn’t blame him for it either, and that made him feel even worse. You were too fucking understanding, and it made him feel sick to his stomach that his little sister was being more of an adult than he was.

“I’m sorry Ellie’s being such an ass she just-“ his words are cut off by the music stopping, followed by the rustling of the group behind him.

“Bro c’mon! We’re gonna miss the party” you hear an annoyed male voice call out, the rest of the group groaning in agreement as they stand and wait for your brother.

You don’t miss the way Ellie’s arm drapes over Hazel’s neck, keeping the girl close, her eyes refusing to drift anywhere near you as she lets the girl litter her throat with kisses.

Hazel looks at you though, a taunting look in her eyes as her perfectly manicured fingers wiggle in your direction, giving you a cheeky wave.

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite princess!” She calls out, Ellie snickering quietly as she leads her outside with the rest of the group.

Your eyebrows are furrowed as you watch them before you let out a soft sigh, shutting the door to the pantry and gesturing towards the door. “Your friends are waiting for you…” you mumble out softly before you slip past your brother to make your way upstairs.

You’re halfway up when you stop and turn around to face him, an expression that could only be described as conflicted written all over his face.

“And please don’t make too much noise when you get back…some of us actually sleep” you huff out softly before you trudge your way back up before he could get a response in, closing your door behind you and flopping down into your bed.

You try your hardest not to let images of Hazel and Ellie linger on in your head, or think about what the actual fuck her motives were (Ellie and Hazel…you couldn’t crack either one of them) because frankly, it’ll just keep you from sleeping.

And you’ll be damned if you end up losing sleep over anyone, especially those two.

A bag of chips and a few episodes of Girlfriends later, and you could feel the familiar feeling of fatigue taking over your body. You quickly take advantage of it, going about your nightly routine as quickly as possible, tugging on an old sleep shirt of yours and hopping into bed, allowing sleep to fill the spaces of your brain that were once plagued by thoughts of Ellie.

It’s the middle of the night when Ellie and your brother come home. It’s just the two of them, having dropped off or left everyone else at the party when they were ready to go.

Your brother was sober, knowing he was titled with designated driver for the night, on top of feeling guilty about the situation with you, he couldn’t really bring himself to drink, especially if you ended up texting him needing anything. He wanted to be in the right state of mind for it.

Ellie on the other hand? Not so much.

She wasn’t belligerent by any means, she could still carry out conversations and she’d definitely remember everything in the morning, but she was much softer, a slight sway in her stance as drunk giggles passed her lips whenever your brother would say something to her.

She felt nice. She also felt needy.

So needy in fact, that after she and your brother stumble in through the front door, your brother quickly grabbing a bottle of water before bidding Ellie a goodnight, that her mind begins to drift off to a particular girl that had been plaguing her mind from the moment that she left the house.

And maybe these thoughts are what drive her up to her room, stumbling inside and tugging her jeans off, switching them out for a pair of shorts and a t shirt, then making her way to the bathroom to clumsily gargle some mouthwash to clean out the smell of smoke and liquor on her breath….

And peak her head into your bedroom to see your sleeping form.

She tiptoes towards your bed once she closes the door behind her, silently thanking you for not locking your bedroom door as you usually did.

Soon she’s standing over you, taking a moment to simply watch you sleep. Your face is pressed into your pillow, forcing your lips into a pout that makes Ellie want to kiss you until you can’t breathe. Your hair is messy, sticking in every which way which makes you look all the more endearing. You look so fucking serene and soft and…

God…had you always been this pretty?

It makes Ellie pout softly, mimicking the form of your lips as her hand comes down to brush a bit of your hair out of your face. The touch of her cold hand on your warm skin makes you groan softly, your unconscious form shifting a bit as you try to push her hand away, shying away from the cold feeling.

When you do this, it gives Ellie just enough space to slide into bed with you. Your bedroom is cold and she knows it’s nice and toasting under there with you, and she’s drunk and she’s needy and…

All she could ever want right now is you.

Another drunk giggle bubbled past her pretty lips, her hand coming down to tug your plush blanket up as she crawls into bed next to you, cold hands instantly slipping under your t shirt to rest against your naked hips, pulling you against her chest.

“Mmm…so warm…so pretty…” she mumbles mindlessly against your hair, her lips coming down to press against your neck as her thumbs rub small circles into your skin.

The foreign feeling of someone pressed up against your back paired with the cold hands running along your skin is quick to make you stir out of your sleep. Your mind is foggy and the heavy affects of sleep still weigh in on your body, making it hard to fully register what was actually going on.

Your hands trail down to rest atop of the ones splayed against your hips, it’s then that you’re able to make out the feeling of plump lips working against your neck, making you frown deeply.

“There she is…hey baby…” Ellie hums lazily against your neck once she feels your hands laying on top of hers.

The sound of her voice has you blinking your eyes open, your brows furrowed in confusion. Was this a dream? Were you seriously fucking dreaming about Ellie now? Was your brain really betraying you by filling your mind with thoughts of her even when you were in sleep?

You feel her grip your hips a bit tighter, forcing your body to turn around and face her. It’s then that you realize the usual hazy fog and dull feeling that comes with dreams isn’t present.

Ellie is there, in your bed, with her arms wrapped around your waist.

You bring your hand up to rub your eyes, your brows still knit together as you try to focus on the girls face in the dim light of your bedroom. You see her crack a smile, her eyes low as she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. One of her hands go down to grip your thigh before tugging it up to hook over her own hip, a low hum of approval leaving her lips at the feeling of you so close.

“Ellie? What…what the hell are you doing?” You groan out softly, yet with no attempts at stopping her from moving you about as she pleased.

She hummed softly, leaning in to press her lips against the base of your neck. You can feel her tongue swipe across your skin before she begins biting and sucking, the feeling making you gasp softly as your hands reach down to grip her t shirt.

“Missed you…wanted to see you…play with you a little bit…” she hums softly against your skin, soft moans leaving her lips at the sounds you make.

When she’s this close, you can smell the faint scent of liquor and weed swirling around the both of you. And it suddenly all starts to click.

Ellie was drunk.

You frown deeply as you try pulling away from her, which makes her whine softly, hands still tugging at your hips to keep you close.

“You’re drunk…not to mention how much of a fucking dick you’ve been to me” you huff out softly.

She whines again as she desperately pulls you closer. You catch the image of her lips forming a pout, an honest to god pout that you aren’t sure you’ve ever seen Ellie do before.

“Took like…two shots and I barely smoked…m’just…feelin’ nice that’s all” she explains before she leans in again, her hands slipping under your shirt and pulling you closer.

You roll your eyes at her explanation. “Cool…then go get Hazel…you’ve been very occupied with her lately” your voice has a tone of bitterness that even shocks you, not fully realizing how upset you sounded until you hear Ellie chuckle softly before she pulls back a bit to look up at you.

It almost takes your breath away, how fucking pretty she looks. Her pretty green eyes are low and gleaming up at you, a pretty pink blush covering her freckled cheeks, plump lips tugging into a smirk as she watches you.

It makes it so much harder to fucking resist her.

“Awe…you jealous baby? Upset I haven’t given you any attention since that night?” She teases you gently, her words making you frown down at her as she giggles softly before she leans in, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“Gimme a kiss baby…I’ll make it up to you…I promise” she sighs out against you.

Her warm breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine, your eyes fluttering shut as you take in just how fucking good her hands feel pawing at your hips. She hums softly before she parts her lips, pressing a soft kiss to your bottom lip before she tugs it into her mouth, sucking on it.

It makes you moan softly, which has her nodding in approval as she begins working her lips against yours.

“That’s it baby…lemme take care of you…lemme apologize” she sighs out against you before she presses her mouth against yours.

Your eyes flutter shut when she does this, melting and giving in to the girl as your mind clouds with want and need so strong, you feel like you might explode.

The kiss is slow and sensual, her tongue rubbing and lapping against your own as you enter a steamy make out session that has arousal pooling in your panties.

“Fuck…taste so good baby…missed you so much” she groans out against you, her hand slipping under the covers to tug at your panties, pulling them down your legs. You help her by kicking them off once they’re around your ankles.

Her words confused you, because if you remember correctly, Ellie was laughing in your face with Hazel on her lap a few hours ago, and now she’s in your bed, moaning about how much she’s missed you, and how she wants to apologize for it?

You can’t even dwell on it for long, because you let out a soft gasp when you feel Ellie’s fingers press against your clit, a soft hiss leaving her lips at the feeling of your slick coating her fingers.

“So wet already…been dreaming about this pussy baby…fuck…c’mere” she moans softly as she tugs her own shorts and panties off, leaving both of you only in your shirts.

You feel her tug one of your legs between her legs, the feeling of her wet pussy pressing against your thigh makes you moan softly, because you can feel just how desperate she is for it to, just how needy she is for you as you are her.

“Ellie…fuck…” you moan softly, the girl nodding as she tugs your other leg over her hip so your pussy was pressed against her upper thigh.

“I know baby…I need it too…here…like this” she moans out as she grips your hip, tugging them up and down to find a good rhythm, one that she quickly matches with her own hips.

Soon you’re both moving in unison, Ellie fucking her pussy down onto your leg and yours onto hers. The feeling makes you moan softly, your hands going down to tug at the hair at the nape of Ellie’s neck, keeping her close as you chase your high.

“Fuck…feels so good baby..I…” she moans out loudly, her hands feverishly pushing your shirt up before she presses her lips to one of your boobs, catching your nipple into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it, sucking on it as if her life depended on it.

Your skin muffles her needy moans, and it’s a side of Ellie you aren’t sure you’ve ever seen before. She’s rutting against your thigh desperately, pretty eyes staring up into yours as she moans and whines against your nipple, silently begging not only to cum, but for you to cum with her.

“H-huh…want you…to cum all over my leg Ellie…need it…mmm…fuck!” You manage to make out between loud moans and gasps, your eyes fluttering shut as she nods eagerly, sucking harshly on your nipple as she moves her hips faster, slick covering your thigh.

Her other hand reaches down to grip your hip as she forces you to go faster, matching her pace as you feel your orgasm grow closer and closer.

Her lips unlatch from your nipple with a loud pop, the sound of her moans working in harmony with yours as she too feels her orgasm growing closer with your own.

“M’so close…I…fuck….im gonna cum baby…you’re gonna make me-“ her words are cut off with a loud moan. It’s high pitched and whiny and so fucking pretty, nothing compared to her usual deep voice that she speaks in with your brother, or when she’s insulting you.

The sound makes you moan loudly, your back arching as you cum hard on Ellie’s thigh. Your hips slow down, your pussy slowly growing with the familiar feeling of sensitivity as you ride out your orgasm, Ellie matching the slowing motions that you carry out as well.

It ends with the both of you gasping softly, chests rising and falling as you trying to catch your breath. Ellie takes the opportunity to press sloppy kisses against your lips, tongue lazily working against yours as she moans and whines into your mouth.

But if this is anything like last time, you know what’s coming.

So you’d rather it happen now than later, especially when Ellie has the power to rip away the beautiful feeling of her lips against yours. So as she’s kissing you, you silently break away, pull your t shirt down, turn over so your back is facing her, and tug your blankets further over your shoulder as you settle into your pillow.

“Close the door on your way out” you mumble out as you close your eyes, thankful that the orgasm Ellie just gave you tires you out so much that it’s easy for you to simply shut your eyes and go to sleep before you can overthink things, or sit with the sinking feeling that settles in your stomach over the fact that you let Ellie waltz into your room and played with you as she pleased.

Again.

You especially don’t catch the shocked expression on Ellie’s face when she hears the words the fall from your lips.

[cece693]

He's Taken (Jason Grace x Son of Aphrodite)

Since one of you requested something with Jason and a son of Aphrodite, I wrote this to prepare for it :)

Summary: Piper has had the biggest crush on Jason...too bad he's already taken and by her sibling, no less.

tags: Piper chases after Jason, she should've known he was taken, you're Aphrodite's favorite child, jealousy between siblings, protective Jason

Piper should’ve known Jason was taken the moment he politely turned down her flirtatious remarks, following it up by calling her a "very good friend." Friend. That word alone should’ve raised multiple red flags, but Piper was blinded by her crush on the son of Jupiter. Maybe Jason was just as oblivious as Percy had been, from what Annabeth had fondly recalled, but when their group arrived at Camp Half-Blood and the Roman immediately ran toward a handsome boy waiting at the camp’s border, Piper finally understood.

The reason Jason wasn’t interested in her was because he was already in a relationship—with you, M/N, Aphrodite’s most favored child. Though no one had explicitly said you were the favorite, the moment Piper stayed in Cabin 10 and saw you casually conversing with your mother through a seashell—as if it were the most natural thing in the world—she couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy.

Here you were, not only in a relationship with Jason, the boy she liked, but you were also head of Cabin 10, and on such good terms with Aphrodite, a goddess often criticized for her distant treatment of her children.

Piper wanted to hate you, but it was impossible.

You were kind—too kind. You had a natural charm that Piper couldn’t help but notice, and it wasn’t long before you started forming close friendships with the rest of her friends. You had been friends with Annabeth, Percy, and Nico way before Piper knew them, so that didn't sting, but when Hazel, Frank, and Leo began to enjoy your company, hanging out without a care in the world, it stung.

Each interaction stoked Piper’s jealousy. She could see how easily you fit in with everyone—how naturally people gravitated toward you. It wasn’t your fault, but it felt like you were taking over her world.

Then, she heard about the rite of passage.

While spending more time with the children of Aphrodite, Piper learned about an old tradition within the cabin. Each camper, once they had reached a certain level of maturity or skill, was expected to break someone’s heart. It was supposed to be a test—an initiation of sorts to prove their power over love, to demonstrate that they could wield it as a tool. It had been prohibited a while back, campers calling it an outdated and cruel practice, but Piper couldn’t shake the feeling that you were still following the old ways.

You're playing him, she thought bitterly. How dare you wrap him around your finger, only to break his heart down the line. Upon discovering this, she was unable to take it anymore. Storming into Cabin 10, while the rest of camp was busy at the dining pavilion, Piper found you sitting on your bed, reading, looking annoyingly serene.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Piper spat, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.

You looked up slowly, frowning at the harsh tone. “What?"

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know,” Piper snapped, stepping closer. “I know exactly what you’re doing. You’re using Jason, stringing him along, just waiting for the perfect moment to break his heart.”

“Piper, you’re not making any sense. What are you talking about?”

“The rite of passage!” Piper’s voice was rising, her emotions barely under control. “That ridiculous tradition your cabin has where you break someone’s heart to prove yourself. That’s what you’re doing to Jason, isn’t it? You’re leading him on, playing him!”

You sighed, setting your book aside, your patience wearing thin. “Piper, you’re letting your jealousy cloud your judgment. This isn’t about Jason or some old tradition—this is about you not being able to accept that Jason is with someone else.”

Piper’s eyes flashed, her fists clenching at her sides. “Don’t twist this around on me! I’m trying to protect Jason. You’re going to hurt him—I know it. You’ve been manipulating him from the start!”

“No, Piper,” you said firmly, standing to face her. “This is your jealousy talking. You’re so desperate to find something—anything—to make Jason yours that you’re willing to believe whatever makes me the villain. But the only thing you're doing is pushing him away. Accept that he only sees you as a friend."

Although Piper disliked you immensely, that didn't mean you were happy to see your sibling suffer. Love was both a blessing and a curse. While you felt in paradise, basking in Jason's love, Piper suffered from painful, unrequited love.

Piper’s breath caught in her throat, her anger faltering for a moment as your words struck a chord. But she quickly pushed it aside, shaking her head. “That’s not true. I just don’t want to see him get hurt.”

“You don’t want to see him get hurt, or you don’t want to see him happy with someone else?”

Piper’s face flushed with anger and hurt. “I love him! And I know he loves me too, he just doesn’t see it because you’ve blinded him!”

Before the argument could escalate further, the cabin door swung open, and Jason stepped inside, his brow furrowed with confusion. His sharp blue eyes flicked between you and Piper, quickly sensing the tension in the room. “What’s going on?”

Piper turned to him, her desperation clear as she rushed to explain, “Jason, you have to listen to me—M/N’s just using you, manipulating your feelings to pass some sick test!”

Jason’s frown deepened, clearly caught off guard by her accusation. “What are you talking about?”

Piper’s voice cracked, a mix of panic and emotion seeping through as she took another step toward him, her eyes pleading. “That old rite of passage—where a child of Aphrodite has to break someone’s heart. He’s just waiting for the perfect moment to tear you apart. I’m trying to protect you from getting hurt!”

Jason blinked, his confusion gradually giving way to understanding. His posture relaxed as he sighed, but his voice remained firm. “Piper, stop. You’re wrong.”

Piper froze in place, her heart pounding in her chest as Jason’s words sunk in. “What? No, Jason, I’m not wrong! They’re lying to you!”

Jason stepped forward, his gaze steady and unwavering. “No, they’re not. I already know about the rite of passage, Piper. M/N told me about it a long time ago.”

The room seemed to close in on Piper, her world momentarily spinning. “You…you knew?”

Jason nodded slowly. “Yes. And I also know that it was M/N who banned it.”

Piper shook her head, her mind racing as she tried to process what he was saying. “No, that can’t be true. He’s just...how can you be so sure?”

Jason sighed softly, stepping closer to her, his voice quieter but filled with conviction. “Piper, I know you’re trying to protect me, but you have to understand—I know M/N. I know him better than anyone, and he would never hurt me. He loves me too much to do something as horrible as that."

Piper’s eyes darted between the two of you, still filled with confusion and doubt. “But what if you’re wrong? What if—”

“I’m not wrong, Piper,” Jason interrupted gently but firmly, his gaze unwavering. “I trust him completely. He’s never given me a reason to doubt him.”

Piper stood there, frozen for a moment, Jason’s words echoing in her mind. The certainty in his voice, the way he spoke about M/N with such unwavering trust—it hit her like a punch to the gut. Jason was in love with him. Truly, deeply in love.

Her heart cracked. No matter how much she wanted to believe she could change his mind, the reality was staring her in the face: she didn’t stand a chance.

Without saying another word, Piper took a step back, her chest tightening as the weight of her unrequited feelings pressed down on her. She bit her lip to keep the tears from spilling, her pride barely holding together. Then, before either of you could say anything more, she turned on her heel and fled the cabin, the door swinging shut behind her with a soft thud.

Jason stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, his expression a mixture of regret and sadness. He sighed softly, turning back to you with a look of concern. “I didn’t mean for things to get that heated. I never wanted to hurt her.”

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him in a gentle embrace. “She’ll be okay. She just needs time to process everything. It's not easy to get over a crush; I should know.”

Your attempt at a joke landed miserably, but to your relief, Jason let out a small chuckle, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. The tension in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a warmth that enveloped both of you.

“Have I ever told you how lucky I am to have you?” he asked, his voice soft and sincere.

“Oh, just like a thousand times,” you replied playfully. “But I also ask myself the same thing: how did I get so lucky as to find you, Jason Grace?”

Smiling up at him, you felt your cheeks heat up as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, gazing at you with quiet admiration. The world around you faded into the background, leaving just the two of you wrapped in this moment. “I don’t deserve you.” he said, a hint of vulnerability in his tone.

You shook your head with a chuckle, determined to dispel his doubts. “You deserve all the good things, Jason.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with warmth and affection as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Could you write for Daemon targaryen like currently after all those nightmares in harnehal he finds a prisoner of harnehal as the only person who brings him peace him falling in love with her and trying to be better person he still fights for team black obviously rahaenya is definitely not happy with these arrangements especially seeing him all dedicated all in love some things he never have done for her but she have no option currently rather accepting his second wife though at the end when team black would be winning and fight at harnehal like aemond Vs Daemon she ask for reader's head happy ending at the end please or anything you wanna write I just wanna see Daemon happy in love at end please

Finally I have time for my hobbies again! Sorry I left you waiting for ages, this term the exam season was tougher than what I have been accustomed to… Anyways, I have started writing some stuff and I wanted to post the intro instead of writing a full-length chapter 1 since it would have taken a couple more days (:

As a side note, I honestly have no idea where this story will be headed because I have no clear course planned, I had some little ideas and I just started writing them. Also I will be introducing stuff which is not in the asoiaf universe.

I am continuing to read Silmarillion from where I left off and let’s say the ideas about Daemon’s love interest are… inspired from what I have been reading (; Enjoy!

Memento Mori

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: strong language, I am not a native English speaker, reader is (or will be) described with long hair

This is a very short introduction! Also the chapter is from Daemon’s pov. The title is inspired by Memento Mori by Lamb of God (the song has been a great inspiration for the story so far)

The dungeons of Harrenhal were cold, wet and lonely.

He had no idea when, how and why he had gone down there – one moment, he was in his chambers and the next, he was opening his eyes to the mossy stone walls of the dark dungeons with a torch in his hand. The line between dreams and reality was becoming thinner each day he spent in this cursed castle.

As Daemon walked past the empty cells, he tried to shake off this unsettling feeling lingering around him, dancing on his neck on its tippy toes, making him wonder whether he was indeed alone.

I doubt Simon Strong keeps prisoners down here, he thought while wiping the water from his forehead which was dripping from the broken ceiling. Maybe he has decided to lock up the witch?

Just when the Rogue Prince – correction, the King Consort – was about to turn back and leave the depressing, humid and somewhat eerie atmosphere of the dungeons behind, a soft humming reached his ears.

A soft, sweet humming of a song coming from one of the cells at the very end of the darkness.

“What kind of prisoner is Simon Strong hiding here?” Daemon asked, his voice created echoes as he waved the torch in front of him, trying to cast some light.

The humming stopped immediately, as if the sound itself was cut by a knife.

Daemon’s purple eyes widened upon seeing that the last cell was indeed not empty.

There was a young woman inside, looking at him with her eyes full of curiosity. Her hair had an unearthly shine under the dim moonlight. She tilted her head to the side. “You can see me?” She asked, it was the same soft voice from a moment ago, though the sweetness was no longer there to be felt.

Daemon raised an eyebrow at her direction. “Do people not see you?”

The young woman shook her head, her movements – no matter how simple they were – felt almost too harmonious. “Not normally, it is not intended that I am seen.” Stopping for a moment, she eyed Daemon from head to foot. “You are not really here, are you?”

The raised eyebrow quickly turned into a frown. “What do you mean? I am standing in front of you.”

She shook her head once again. As her soft whisper filled his eyes, Daemon started falling into the nothingness, again, for the unknown-th time ever since he had come to Harrenhal.

“Wake up.”

***

When he woke up, trying to catch his breath, Daemon found himself lying on his bed, as always. Anytime he had one of those weird dreams – he wasn’t even sure if he should call them dreams anymore – his consciousness would find its way back to his bed.

Unless he was daydreaming, which were considerably the worse.

“Who the fuck was that weird woman?” Daemon muttered to himself as he stood up, dressing up in his regular robes. The feeling in his stomach was telling him that he had to go down there, to the dungeons, to find that woman. If he were to wait until dawn, he feared she might be gone.

What was it that she said again? It is not intended she is seen?

Leaving his chambers with a torch in his right hand, Daemon shook his head to the thoughts flowing through his mind, causing his silver hair to move. “Weird woman,” he muttered to himself as he walked through the dark corridors of the castle with haste. “She somehow reminds me of the witch.”

The dungeons were as dark and wet as he remembered from the dream. A cold wind was wandering besides him, kissing the mossy walls and licking Daemon’s skin, sometimes whispering wicked words in his ears. Even the wind was odd here, in Harrenhal, but he had somewhat got used to it – hearing its eerie whispers whenever he walked alone during the hour of the wolf.

“Show yourself,” Daemon spoke with a strong voice which created echoes as he stood in front of that very cell from his dream. “Your king commands it!”

“Huh, king?” The same soft voice answered from the dark corner of her cell. The moonlight had left its shining spot, leaving the torch in Daemon’s hands as the only source of light in this entire corridor of the dungeons. “I answer to no king.”

A condescending scoff left Daemon’s lips as he came closer to the bars made of steel, separating him and the weird woman. “You do live in Westros, do you not?” Daemon asked, not really waiting for an answer. “As long as you breathe in this land, you do answer to the King.”

A chuckle came from the darkness. “I have been breathing in this land before your ancestors flew across the Narrow Sea, Daemon Targaryen.”

Taglist: @throughgoeshamilton @mirandastuckinthe80s @xicesam @mariamyousef702 @eddiemadmunson @dont-try-pesticide @sweetybuzz25 @hc-geralt-23 @schniiipsel @ttae-yong @syrma-sensei @asiludida164 @kaitieskidmore1 @irmavanity-blog @pax-2735 @trickrtreatart @shanzeyxsyed @random-human02 @scarwicht @xcallmetaniax @instabull @niiight-dreamerrrr @my-dark-prince @stargaryenx @abaker74 @babywolff @sonnensplitter @bi-narystars @softtina @sadmonke @avalyaaa

[pre11yyy]

SUMMARY: You've been teasing Haechan way too much lately so he had to put an end to it (by fucking u so good)

A.N: this was originally a hard thoughts drabble but i just felt like writing more into it so hope u enjoyy... Also m in a very Haechan mood today so i might or might not spam u with his content sorry not sorry

Warnings: explicit content (mdni), mean!haechan, hard!dom!haechan, choking (with hands and cock), hard fucking, unprotected seggs, and more

You were standing in front of Heachan's door, ur hands playing with the hem of ur skirt as u wait for ur brother to show up so u could leave. U always kind of felt nervous around Heachan, u don't know if it's because he always eye-fucks u whenever u r around him, or because of his never ending teasing but u were sure that if u were to be in space alone with him something will 100% happen between both of u.

U can feel that he was only holding back because of his friendship with Mark and that makes u uneasy, so u've been playing with his nerves lately, wanting him to snap out and to give in for his dick i mean for his emotions but also his dick. You didn't know what has gotten into u yesterday but u sent him a picture with ur new red lengerie, waiting for him to see it before deleting it and sending a bunch of sorries wanting to see his face more than anything, but he didn't reply, only reading ur texts without an answer and u couldn't help but wonder if u crossed the line or if u read wrong into him. You weren't sure about coming here with Mark to get his jacket that he forgot in Heachan's house, embarrassed but also curious at the same time, eyes looking for him as he disappeared in his room, hearing his chatter with Mark about random stuff while leaving u standing in the hallaway, u were about to sit in the sofa when u heard their footsteps coming ur way and u stopped looking at Heachan who threw u a very intense look, his eyes hazy as they noticed u, drinking ur excuse of the dress that u fought with Mark over, the small piece barely covering ur ass, ur makeup heavier than usual and the only thing that Heachan wanted to do was to smear it and mess it up but he held himself or at least he tried before he saw the ghost of the red lace bra under ur dress, the same one u sent him yesterday, he cursed under his breath knowing exactly what u r trying to get from all this and he sure will give u that and more.

Mark wrapped his arm around ur shoulders "let's go" u pulled him away annoyed that he messed up ur hair but he returned it in immediately making u fight with him ur dress riding up as u squirm trying to get him away, Heachan watched the whole thing, his pants tightening as he saw the red thong pop in contrast with ur skin, flashing half of ur butt to him. He clenched his hands, his leg shaking impatiently and praying that u'd leave soon or else he'll bend u over in front of Mark. And as if his prayers were answered Mark let go of u earning couples of hits in his chest while laughing at ur tired form, he turned to Heachan "u coming dude?" he asked making the other frown confused "where?" his eyes falling back to u, not missing the small grin on ur face "y/n wants to get a tattoo, it's gonna probably take a long time i'll be so bored if i go with her alone" Heachan raised his eyebrows at u, u really giving it ur best ha! He nodded agreeing to join u and he almost regret that. U were laying on ur stomache the tattoo artist working on ur inner thigh, Heachan could see u through the empty space in the glass, he could see ur ass sticking out as the tattoo artist is inking in ur skin, not paying attention anymore to whatever shit Mark is saying, his mind wondering to later on, to when he'll have u and make u pay for all the teasing u did to him cause ofc he won't let it slide…

U were on ur way back, Heachan's the one driving insisting for both of u and Mark to spend some time in his house and Mark agreed even tho he wanted to drop u off before hands but Heachan refused, u were about to reach Heachan's house when Mark's phone started ringing, "ohh okaay i'll be there in 20 minutes, okayy dw" Mark sighed asking Heachan to drop him off right there "i have to go, they need more waiters tonight" Mark turned to where u r pretending to sleep knowing so well that he would force u to go home right away and u can't let that happen, not when u have this big of oppotunity "dude what am i gonna do? should i wake her up?" Heachan shooked his head "no need i'll take care of her dw" it took Mark a minute to nod his head not sure if he did a good job or not but trusting his friend nonetheless. The moment u heard the door click and the engine start again u opened ur eyes, sighing in relieve and laying there playing with ur phone, excitement filling ur whole body… U felt the car stopping before Heachan got off the car closing the door with too much force that it startled u, u got out of the car seeing Heachan's back facing u as he was opening the door to his house, u stepped in, tugging the end of ur skirt as u followed him inside and the next thing u know, u were pressed on the wall, Heachan's hand wrapped around ur neck making u gasp, his other hand on ur hips, breathing right into ur ears "u played with wrong person little doll" he whispered the hand on ur neck moving up to grip ur jaw making u moan from how rough he is, he chuckled looking at u amused "we didn't even start and u r moaning already?" he clicked his tongue moving ur face and forcing u to look at him, ur hazy eyes meeting up with own and u felt ur legs weaken at the way he was staring at u,

he burrowed his head on ur neck nibbling at ur jaw, his right leg forcing it's way between ur legs, urging u to sit on his thigh and he groaned as he felt ur wetness through his pants, his hand letting go from ur face and gropping ur breasts on top of ur dress, kneading them harshly loving the sound of ur moans and whimpers as u grind at his thigh "i bet u've been waiting for this to hapen right? to come here and for me to fuck u senseless" you whimpered in response, his knee raising slightly to press more on ur pussy making u scream his name, his eyes never leaving ur face, loving the way u look, mouth wide open, eyes rolling back, drooling at the pleasure u were feeling, your makeup a mess already, he groaned, his cock twitching at the sight, his hands leaving ur breast and traveling down to your ass, gripping it tightly and pulling ur body forward making u ride his thigh properly, his hands controlling ur every movement and not letting u stop even if u begged, he moved his face towards yours, his lips ghosting over yours, his hot breath fanning on your skin and you were so eager to kiss him, to taste his mouth that u've heard multiple times talking so dirty and sinful that it drove you crazy.

But he won't give in that easy, he moved away, his hand still controlling your hips and making you chase your orgasm, a devilish grin spreading across his face as he looked at the desperate mess he turned u into, your hands holding onto his shirt for dear life, your knuckles turning white, your eyes closed, your breathing uneven, your whole body trembling from the pleasure, your hips stuttering from overstimulation your thighs clenching around his knee. He chuckled "cum for me doll, cum for me like the desperate whore u are" you moaned in response, his voice and dirty talk sending u over the edge, the pleasure taking over ur whole body, a scream escaping your lips as you cum hard, your juices spilling out on his pants.

He let go of your body and you slumped down to the floor, a satisfied smile on ur face as you look at him through ur hazy vision, his hands fumbling with his belt and undoing his zipper, pulling out his cock and stroking it slowly, the precum spilling out of his slit, his eyes trained on your body, his tongue licking his bottom lip, he smirked and you knew that this won't end until he has his fill. "Strip"

You stood up on wobbly legs, the post orgasm high making your head spin but u still manage to strip out of ur clothes, standing naked in front of Heachan whose hungry eyes were scanning every inch of ur skin, his cock hard and ready, his hand stroking it as he looked at u. He groaned and walked towards you, his hand on the back of ur neck pushing u down until u were face to face with his cock, the tip touching ur lips leaving a trail of precum.

"Open your mouth little doll" despite his words he didn't give u a chance to do so shoving his cock inside your mouth, hitting the back of ur throat and making ur gag reflex kick in, he pushed his cock even deeper inside, making it hit ur throat as tears rolled down ur cheeks, you started coughing and trying to pull away but his hand didn't budge, not letting you escape, not until his whole cock was coated with ur saliva. You sucked him in and swallowed his cock whole, trying your best not to choke, your nails digging into his thighs, leaving crescent moons on his skin.

He grunted, his hand fisting ur hair and forcing you to deep throat his cock, your jaw starting to hurt and you were close to passing out from the lack of air, Heachan groaned as he released his seed deep down your throat, you swallowed everything, his hands finally letting go of your hair and you fell on the floor this time gasping and trying to regain your breath. U were panting, drool and his cum drippin on ur chin, eyes teared up smeering ur mascrara and eyeliner, your body hot and sweaty and the only thing he wants to do is to make u beg for his mercy but he held himself back, pulling his cock back into his pants and adjusting them making u look at him confused "w-what are u doing?" you asked, the panic evident in your voice, scared that he'll leave u hanging. He raised his eyebrow at you and chuckled "what is it doll? did you think i'll let u go this easily?" his eyes darkening and the corner of his lips quirking up "what do u think? should i leave u now?" he asked the smirk evident on his lips as he saw how eargerly u were shaking ur head "use your words little doll" he teased and u blushed "please" u whimpered "please what? what do u want?" he teased, enjoying how flustered and nervous u are getting.

"I want you to fuck me" u whispered, eyes casted down, he lift ur chin forcing u to look at him , his other hand removing the strands of hair that got stuck on ur face "i don't know if u derserve it tbh" u pouted at him, making him laugh ur insides tightening delicously at the sound of it "so eager for me huh? u want me that bad? u want my cock so deep inside u?" u nodded eagerly and he smiled at ur desperation, his hand letting go of ur chin and wrapping around ur throat as he pulled you towards him, his other hand holding ur jaw forcing u to keep your eyes on him.

"I'll make sure to break u until all u can do is beg me to stop, until the only word left in ur mind is my name, until u forget every other name but mine" he whispered in ur ear, his grip tightening making u gasp and moan "is that what u want? tell me doll" you nodded, a silent "please" escaping ur lips and he smirked, satisfied with ur answer. He led u towards his room, pushing u onto the bed, his mouth finding its way to your neck, his teeth scraping ur skin and sucking on it harshly, leaving marks on the way. His tongue trailing a path from ur collarbones, to ur nipples, swirling his tongue around them before biting and sucking them harshly, making you moan loudly. "You're such a slut for me aren't you y/n? always teasing me, wanting my cock inside u" his hand reached down, two fingers plunging inside your pussy without warning, a loud moan leaving ur lips as his fingers curl inside u, his thumb pressing on ur clit, sending shivers down ur spine.

"Oh my god.. ahh" he chuckled, his mouth still leaving marks on ur skin while his fingers are moving inside u. "I love how wet u got for me baby, so wet and ready to take my cock" his thumb speed rubbing harshly against your clit making u squirm on his hold from the pleasure until u cum, your juices squirting and covering his fingers, incoherent words leaving ur mouth as u try to catch ur breath but he didn't let that happen his hand never stopping its movement, fingers thrusting in and out, curling and uncurling, making ur walls flutter around him, your whole body twitching as he overtimulated u while u were trying to pull him away from u, ur tears not stopping as u cried and begged him to stop, "Fuck… Heachan please… Please i can't anymore" u whimpered, tears rolling down ur cheeks as you kept cumming, his fingers never leaving, the pleasure was too much that u were about to pass out but he won't let u, his hands finally stopping, showing u his fingers that were coated with your juices before he licked them, enjoying the sweet taste of it.

"You're doing good doll, u taste so sweet" he cooed, his mouth leaving kisses and licks on ur face, his hands roaming around your body, making your breath hitch and ur skin tickle, his fingers finding its way to ur neck, wrapping around it and squeezing gently, your mouth forming a small o shape, his other hand holding your jaw, his mouth on top of yours, his tongue forcing its way inside and exploring ur mouth, u felt his fingers tightening its hold blocking the air making u dizzy the only thing u can hear is your own heartbeat, your eyes rolling back and closing, the pleasure making its way through ur body, your whole body going limp as he kisses the life out of you. He pulled away, his fingers letting go of ur neck and you gasped, trying to take in the air, Heachan kissed the side of ur neck before whispering in ur ears "are u ready baby?" he bit ur jaw "are u ready for my cock?" u nodded eagerly and he flipped you over, his fingers digging into ur hips, his cock entering inside u in one thrust making u cry out his name, the sudden pleasure overwhelming and making ur head spin, Heachan groaned at the way ur walls wrapped around him squeezing his cock so tight making his mind go blank and his self control slip, he moved, his hips moving in and out, his pace fast and rough, not caring whether it's hurting you or not, all he wanted was to have his way with you and mark you and make sure that you'll be thinking of him and him only.

"Shit… u feel so good y/n, so fucking tight" he cursed under his breath, his hands holding onto ur hips, his fingers bruising the soft skin as u were gone, ur mind so foggy only gasping and moaning as he pounded into u, his cock hitting deep, his hips slamming hard into your ass, a string of curses leaving his lips, the pleasure so great and overwhelming that his mind is clouded, all he can think about is you and his need to release, his need to cum deep inside and to make sure that u r full and dripping with his cum.

You were so close, u can feel it, you were about to cum,your whole body trembled as his fingers were digging harder into your skin holding you close and tight, u felt his thrusts getting sloppier and faster, his cock reaching the deepest spots, hitting your g spot over and over again, and when his hand reached around and pressed on your clit, it was over for you, you came with a scream, his name leaving your mouth as ur thighs were shaking, your eyes rolling back, ur whole body trembling, and Heachan wasn't done, he groaned, his movements slowing down as he filled you with his cum, his cock pulsating inside of you, his cum dripping down ur thighs as he pulled out. Heachan was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took, his hands moving away from your hips watching intensly how his cum oozed out of you, a smug look on his face, proud that he marked you as his, your whole body aching, his hands were all over you, tracing every bruise and bite mark he made, his lips trailing kisses on your neck, a small smile on his face as he held you in his arms making u cling to him more before u felt something poking ur back and u widen ur eyes so tired "Heachan please no" u whined trying to get away from his hold but his grip was tight, not letting go as his lips curled up, his smile growing wider "just one more time y/n" and u were sure by the tone of his voice that he doesn't mean that at all.

[peachhcs]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachhcs/768260981215330304/httpswwwtumblrcompeachhcs767959888939941888

okay so freaking cute.

i can’t wait to see them in san jose.

totally see them having really soft sex because of her shoulder and will just being so gentle.

a weekend in san jose

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

part 11!! WOW guys i made this into a lovely 6.3k fic filled with lots of fuff and a bit of smut! i got super carried away and because everyone seems to like longer fics sometimes, i put this all into one part woohoo (can also be read as a stand alone if u really want)

i made note in big red letters where the smut starts and ends so if you don't wanna read it, you can just skip past it. :)

if you do read the smut though warnings are: hickeys, making out, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected p in v, swearing, i think that's it? just read at ur own risk and skip if u don't wanna read! :) but anyways, enjoy this long fic!!!!!!!!! this may be the last part of this side plot unless there's more you guys think of and if you do pls send my way and i will happily write it

au masterlist

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10

samy was in san jose the next weekend. she came out of her gate in search of will who told her he'd meet her there, so her eyes scanned the crowd for his familiar blonde curls. there were so many people pushing and shoving their way through, she forgot how busy san jose's airport was compared to ann arbor.

finally, the brunette found will's taller figure near the edge of the crowd. she quickly grinned, raising her hand so he'd see her before navigating herself towards him. she came out on the other side of the crowd embracing her boyfriend in a tight hold. he held her tightly, spinning the two around a bit.

"hi, so good to see you," the girl mumbled into his shoulder.

"glad you made it safely. it's good to see you too," will cheered, pulling back so he could see her face. his hands caressed her cheek, quickly pecking her lips and then pulling her back towards the exit.

"mack's waiting with the car in kind of an illegal parking spot, so we gotta hurry back," will explained his fast pace while samy just giggled. typical.

"don't tell me you parked in the pick up lane," she raised her eyebrow. when will didn't say anything the girl hit his arm and rolled her eyes.

"what? i wasn't gonna spend an hour fighting with someone in the parking garage," he defended himself because why would he waste his time in there when he could sort of illegally park in the pick up line for ten minutes?

will navigated them through the busy airport in five minutes, way faster than samy would have gotten herself out. the warm san jose air hit her skin like a refreshing drink after spending so much time in the cold back in michigan. she giggled as the blonde pulled her towards his fancy bronco—one of the first things will spent his new money on.

"wow, i haven't seen the car in person yet," she admired how clean and sleek it looked compared to her parent's old ford suv she drove around back home. (and it was actually jack's before it was hers)

"nice, isn't it?" will grinned proudly as he helped samy get her suitcase into the back.

"hey samy!" mack exclaimed from where he moved himself to the backseat. the only rule in will's car was that samy got passenger seat anytime she was around.

"hey mack!" the girl exclaimed and ran around to quickly hug in before getting into the front.

will was in a moment later and the three of them rolled out before an officer gave them a ticket for parking in the pick up line.

"it's good to see you, mack. i haven't seen you since the draft," samy grinned.

"you too. i'm excited you're visiting this weekend. smitty was yapping in my ear yesterday about all the plans he had for you guys," the younger brunette said making will flush in slight embarassment. samy found it endearing though.

"ooh, i can't wait. i haven't been up since we moved him in at the beginning of august," the girl poked her boyfriend's arm to which he just grabbed her hand to hold it.

macklin smirked from the backseat, remembering the conversation he poked at will about a month ago about his driving. it all made sense to the shark player now.

"well when you and will aren't off doing whatever, sennecke and i wanna catch up with you. he said he'd drive up to hang out like tomorrow or something," macklin said.

"wait, yeah. i wanna see him beck. i told him i'd see him whenever i was here," samy grinned. beckett and mack were the two "freshmen" she adopted and basically took under her wing at the draft this past summer and with such busy schedules, she hadn't been able to see them since.

"not to put a dent in your plans or anything smitty," macklin eyed his friend in the front seat. will just shrugged.

"all good, we have like three-ish days to do stuff. i haven't seen much of beckett either so it'd be cool to see him," will nodded in agreement and the other two smiled.

will dropped macklin back off at his place and then went back around the block to the house. he helped samy with her luggage again and led the way into the marleau household.

"just a fair warning, pat's youngest kids will go a little crazy at first because..you know..you're quinn, jack, and luke's little sister," will chuckled a bit before he opened the door. samy flushed, a smile gracing her lips.

"dont worry, i can handle it," and with that, will carefully opened the front door.

the commotion could be heard loud and clear. it was definitely a boy house with the tv on loud and voices already arguing about something as the couple stepped in.

"hey guys, will's back with samy!" patrick saw them first where he got up from the couch to greet them.

christina came out from the kitchen with the youngest boys behind her. the older ones got from the couch too. "hi samy! it's so good to finally meet you. we've heard a bunch about you," chrisitina grinned, going in for a hug.

"it's so good to finally meet you guys too," she hugged her back and then went to give a quick hug to patrick.

"welcome to our home for the weekend! these are our boys—landon, brody, jagger, and caleb," patrick introduced the boys who shyly waved at the girl.

"you're quinn's sister!" caleb exclaimed making the others laugh. samy smiled, bending down so she was eye level with him.

"i am. maybe i can score you a signed puck or something," the girl laughed and she loved the way caleb's face lit up at that idea.

"why don't you guys get settled in and then i have some lunch whenever you're hungry," christina smiled and samy thanked them for letting her stay before following will upstairs.

she admired how will already hung up some of the things that were on his walls at boston. she especially liked the framed pictures of her and him on his nightstand.

"those boys are adorable," she turned to him as he set down her suitcase and shut the door.

"they're pretty funny. maybe they can convince you to play some driveway hockey with them," will chuckled.

"oh, 100%. they seem so nice, i'm glad you've found a home here with them," samy sat down on the bed to just take it all in and catch her breath after the plane ride and meeting everyone.

will quickly joined her. "it's..it's the life alright. i'm grateful for how kind they've been to me."

"i mean, duh. who wouldn't wanna be kind to you," the soccer player laughed as she reached over to pinch her boyfriend's cheek. he took that as his opportunity to take ahold of her hand and bring her in for a better kiss than their peck at the airport.

this one was a lot slower and filled with more love. samy curled her good arm around his neck where she toyed with the little curls on the back of his neck. her hand brushed against his chest and will curled his own fingers around her own.

"i love you. i'm glad you're here. this is gonna be really fun," the boy hummed when they pulled apart.

"i love you too, handsome. can't wait to beat your ass in driveway hockey later," she teased and will rolled his eyes.

"alright. don't gotta go that far."

"you're just mad because you know i will, even with a hurt shoulder," the brunette smirked. luckily, she was able to graduate from a bulky sling to a shoulder brace that still kept everything in place, but she had a bit more mobility than before.

plus, even though it was her right shoulder, she shot with her opposite arm and hand in hockey so she'd have no problem taking down will and the marleau kids.

later that afternoon, samy did exactly that. all the marleau boys were out in the driveway with will and samy as they teamed themselves off to play against one another. samy got brody and landon, the older ones, for the first round and she already knew they were gonna kick will's butt.

she ran right past will's feet and passed the ball they were playing with towards landon. he swiped past his brothers to shoot it right into the back of the neck. samy and brody cheered while will groaned.

"you have a hurt shoulder, i'm not gonna go hard on you," the blonde complained and made an weak excuse for the loss.

"come on, babe. i'm not broken. i can still play. you don't gotta go easy on me," samy said.

"if you say that, i am gonna go hard on you and then end up hurting you more, so i'm good," will said as the six of them sit themselves back up.

"will hurting his girlfriend? ooh.." jagger said making everyone but will laugh.

"someone record it!" samy added into the teasing which will just shook his head to.

they played for the rest of the night until christina called them in for dinner. samy got to know the marleau's more while she told them about her life at michigan and the legacy her and her brothers were leaving on the field and on the ice.

once they finsihed, will and samy hung out downstairs for a bit before calling it a night knowing there was a lot to do tomorrow with will's extensive itinerary.

"i love those kids," samy commented from the bathroom as she brushed her teeth.

"they're really great. they're always bugging me to play with them," will smiled.

"that's so cute. they probably look up to you so much in addition to their dad. i hope you cherish that," the brunette hummed.

"oh, i do, don't worry. it keeps me motivated when they watch the games and see how i do."

the youngest hughes shut the light off and eagerly crawled into will's bed. this was her favorite part about getting to visit and sleeping in the same bed together. will was always so warm, so it was especially nice when they were in michigan or boston and it was below 30 degrees. even now it added that extra comfort as the girl snuggled in close to her boyfriend and wrapped her arms around his torso. the sleep came faster than it had all semester and she was out in minutes with will not too fard behind her.

—

will picked macklin up again the next day as they headed downtown to the place they would meet beckett for lunch. the younger brunette was pretty chipper as he climbed into the back, probably because it wasn't 7 in the morning for once when will picked him up.

"how was your night?" macklin wondered, definitely smirking.

"it was great, how was yours?" samy asked.

"mine was great, too. did you guys—"

"macklin" will warned before the boy finished his sentence. samy just giggled.

"i was gonna ask if the boys dragged you out to play driveway hockey," macklin kept talking even though they all knew that wasn't his original question.

"they did. i beat will in an overwhelming 6-2," samy proudly said.

"6-2? jeez, smitty. you got distracted or something?" the younger brunette burst into laughter making will's cheeks flush.

"shut up," will mumbled while samy poked his cheek.

"he's just mad i can still beat him with a hurt shoulder."

the three made mindless conversation as they rode into the city. samy caught macklin up on everything happening at mich and a few things on her brothers. macklin caught samy up on things she did and didn't hear from will about the sharks and life in san jose so far. it all sounded like it was going really well which made the girl happy.

will rolled them into a parking spot just outside of the restaurant, "i think he's almost here or is here," macklin checked his phone.

a bright orange range rover rolled into the parking space two down from where they were just as macklin said that. everyone knew it had to be beckett considering the orange matcbed the anaheim colors perfectly. they all got out and sure enough, beckett's tall frame got out of the car.

he smiled widely when he saw them. "hey guys!" the younger boy exclaimed as he locked the car and hurried over to them.

"hey, beck! it's been so long," samy hugged him first which he reciporcated into a tight squeeze.

"it's so good to see you in california. hey, celly, smitty," the other two boys took their turn saying hello.

"your car is awesome, by the way. orange is very fitting," samy pointed to the car.

"oh, thanks. my mom thought it would be fun for me to get it wrapped, so i did. pretty sick isn't it?" everyone nodded in agreement before heading inside to get a table.

the four ended up on the outside patio where macklin was the first to get conversation going and ask about beckett's season so far. the younger boy excitedly explained how much experience he's been gaining and getting to make friends with the older guys on the team. of course, samy asked him about trevor for jack's sake.

"oh, he's super funny and a great mentor. he's got a lot of good tips for all the rookies," beckett smiled.

"i'll make sure to tell jack that, then," samy chuckled.

"what about all of you? the sharks have been really moving up with the recent wins," the ducks player turned the conversation to the other two boys.

"yeah, i mean it's been awesome. we're all definitely improving which i think is really good. get to spend all my time with mack over here," will roughed up his friend's shoulder making the brunette pull away from his grasp.

"totally. i love annoying him. my favorite activity, actually," macklin grinned.

"michigan has always been doing really good this season. do you think you guys are making it to the finals again?" beckett turned the conversation to samy.

"i hope so. we've definitely turned the program around in the last year, so i'm excited to see what else we can do," the girl grinned.

"sorry about your shoulder, by the way. i know that must suck," the younger boy commented and samy just shrugged.

"it's not horrible anymore. i actually beat will in driveway hockey last night so that has to mean i'm doing better," the youngest hughes teased her boyfriend again.

"damn, i mean yeah. what was the score?"

"6-2."

"6-2? smitty, what happened?" beckett had the same reaction as macklin making him and samy laugh again.

"alright, alright, i get it. i suck when my girlfriend does any competitive sport against me," the blonde shook his head, but smiled nonetheless.

the three spent the rest of lunch catching up with one another before deciding to walk around downtown a bit since beckett nor samy had been before. macklin and will took the honors of pointing things out and taking them into the shops they thought were cool.

samy's eye was caught when they made it into a small boutique. she quickly admired all of the jewlery and clothes up on the racks. will watched the girl carefully, a soft smile on his lips as he followed her around the store and let her use him to carry the things she wanted to try on.

"hey, we'll be right back," will called when samy pulled him back into the dressing room. macklin and beckett just exchanged a glance before snickering to themselves and letting the couple be.

will just stood on the outside of the stall though, handing things to samy when she asked for them and rating the things she put on. she came out in a very pretty, short, maroon dress with little flowers as the straps. will's eyes never left her as she did a small spin and he basically eyed her up and down. the color reminded him of boston.

"i really like this, but i don't know when or where i'd wear it," samy said as she looked back at herself in the mirror.

"i could think of a time," will subconsciously licked his lips earning a bright blush from the girl in front of him.

"alright, lover boy. i'm gonna change and then we can keep going," samy chuckled and shut herself back into the stall.

even though there was no occasion, samy decided to buy the red dress. she was at the register quite literally about to tap her card when will quickly slipped in and beat her to it, the payment processing onto his card instead.

"will," the girl looked at him in surprise.

"what?" he grinned.

"you didn't have to pay," samy frowned. him paying for her ticket here was already enough.

"and?"

not wanting to get into it in the store, samy decided to let it go as will grabbed the bag before she could. "thank you," she said as they walked away.

"anything for you," he kissed her cheek and they met back up with beckett and macklin outside.

"wow, you're so whipped," macklin commented when he saw will carrying samy's bag for her. beckett snickered.

"you'll understand when you have a girlfriend," will hummed, not even caring about the teasing anymore.

they stopped by a few more places before deciding to head back. everyone hugged beckett and made promises to see one another again and that beckett would try to see samy when the ducks came to detroit in a few weeks.

for november, it was surprisingly hot in san jose, so they rolled the windows down as soon as they were back in the car. will let samy control the aux, so she scrolled through her spotify looking for the right playlist as will got back onto the road to home.

one her favorites came up first which happened to be tate mcae's nwest song, two hands. the beat quickly brought the mood up and it felt perfect with the windows down. she started singing the lyrics, sticking her hand out to catch the breeze, imagining she was in the music video.

macklin and will nodded along also big fans of tate's music. samy's hair blew everywhere from the wind and she didn't see the way will's gaze kept flicking to her as she sang along. one of his guilty pleasures was listenng to tate mcrae's songs and it was the cherry on top listening to it with his girlfriend right beside him who loved her music just as much.

will thought of the lyrics, specifically the way samy sang them, especially when tate sang "i want them all to see, you look good on top of me." the blonde's mind ran a bit wild and he tried keeping his thoughts under control knowing this wasn't the time to be thinking of that.

but boy, it was hard not to and will wondered if samy was having the same thoughts.

they dropped macklin back off and will quite literally sped back to the house, samy a bit oblivious to the thoughts running through her boyfriend's head.

much to will's luck, the house was empty when they got in. he remembered that jagger had a basketball game and the older boys were still at practice, so he was gonna use all the time he had and pulled samy to the stairs.

"what's up with you?" samy laughed as she followed the hockey player into his room, lifting an eyebrow when he shut and locked the door behind them.

"i really wanna kiss you," the boy mumbled and then closed the space between them without letting samy respond.

he held her face in her hands as she let him kiss her. it was quick but passionate as the two melted into one another. samy felt will's eagerness as he slipped his tongue into her mouth and sucked her bottom lip into his.

"you're so beautiful," will mumbled between kissing and pulling back an inch for air.

"not that i'm complaining, but what's sparked this?" samy hummed as she ran her finger dow his sharp jaw.

"something about that song and you singing it had my head spinning," will confessed. the brunette smirked, a bit surprised to hear this.

"oh really?"

"figured we could test it out, you know?"

———SMUT STARTS HERE———

a wide smile spread across both of their faces as they reconnect their lips. will pushed samy back onto the bed where she laid down and he hovered above her. he remembered her shoulder, so he forced himself to slow down a bit so he wouldn't hurt her. he leaned on her good side as they made out.

samy's hands tangled into will's curls and a soft moan left his lips into hers. they really took this moment in, feeling every part of each other pushing against one another. will's hands curved around samy's hips as he worked her hips againsy his own, pressing his hardening dick against her thigh.

"shit, baby," the blonde moaned out. he was really trying to take his time knowing he didn't wanna hurt the girl even worse, but it was hard when his brain was so wired up at the moment.

samy moaned at the feeling of will's excitement agains her leg. one of her hands fell down to his chest again where she tugged at his shirt as indication that she wanted it off. the boy obliged, sitting up to peel the material off and exposing his very toned chest to her.

"every time i'm wowed by you," samy hummed as she admired will's six pack and toned muscles across his upper half.

"i'm flattered," he grinned, reconnecting their lips.

he helped samy get her own shirt off which revealed the pretty bralette underneath. will had such a bad thing for her tits as he immediately dipped his head down and started sucking the plump flesh. the girl giggled, wrapping her fingers into his curls again to give occasional tugs.

it was a really good thing samy wasn't playing at the moment so will could leave his hickeys or love bites he liked to call them now.

"shit, baby," the girl moaned when will brought his lips to her nipple. he prided himself in her reaction and sucked harder while going and back and forth between the two.

samy began arching her back off the bed into will as he hit all the right places and her skin became littered with dark bruises that only he would know were there.

that thought had will's cock twitching in the restrictive material of his shorts and a groan leaving his lips at the feeling of samy's bare tits pressing against his chest.

"fuck, babe," he muttered, pulling his lips away.

will started moving down. he placed little kisses all the way down samy's stomach until he reached her shorts. he smirked when he saw the look of desperation on her face for him to take them off.

"want these off?" he wondered and the girl nodded.

"please."

will pulled them down her legs where that pink fucking thong that drove the boy crazy hid underneath. his mouth watered at the sight, getting flashbacks to august. "god, i love this fucking thing," he grumbled, hooking his fingers around the band and pulling to make a snap against her skin.

"wore it just for you," a smirk graced her lips making will shake his head.

"i fucking love you," will leaned down to press little kisses around her hip bone that eventually turned into him sucking hickeys because these were the places no one would ever see but him and the thought drove the boy more crazy.

the little whimpers escpaing samy's lips was doing nothing to help the problem in will's pants that he tried to desperately ignore. he wanted to focus on samy and her pleasure, trying to forget about his own for now.

"fuck, you're dripping," will said when he pressed his fingers against the thin, very wet material of her thong.

"you're not the only one with eager thoughts," samy smiled lazily as she watched her boyfriend push her the material to the side so he could slide his fingers against her.

she threw her head back into the pillow when he started pushing them into her warm heat.

"fuck, will," a moan escaped her lips.

"god, you're so wet, baby. fuck," will slid two fingers in, slowly pumping in and out and in and out to get samy ready for the real thing.

he figured he needed to get her really ready because they didn't do anything when he visited michigan considering she just had surgery. this time was a completely different story though and it was safe to say they were both craving this.

"oh my god, will. faster, please," samy begged a little.

will pumped faster before dipping his head down and replacing his fingers with his tongue. the sensation made the girl jump a little, not expecting his tongue. the surprise was quickly replaced with immense pleasure though as will worked his mouth around.

"s-shit, will. oh my god," she grabbed his curls and tugged, basically using him to move him where she wanted.

considering will didn't do this a lot, he was pretty fucking good at it. he took samy's moans as a sign that he was doing it right and let her control him with tugs on his curls. she pushed her hips further against the boy's tongue, her orgasm close.

"fuck, will. i'm gonna cum," she cried.

"cum for me, baby," will encouraged, sucking harder.

the feeling sent the soccer player over the edge. she released right on will's lips and tongue, tugging his hair hard. the blonde smiled, licking his lips as he sat back up.

"did so good for me, baby," the blonde praised, leaning down to place a gentle kiss to her lips. she flushed, slowly coming down from her high.

will leaned himself against her again and samy felt how hard he was now, still straining through the tight material of his shorts. his hips jerked forward when samy rubbed herself up against him.

"s-shit. i'm so hard for you," will moaned into her mouth.

"better do something about that, huh?"

the hockey player sat back on his heels as he unzipped his shorts, puling them and his underwear down in one go. his cock sprang up, the tip red and leaking some precum already. samy's mouth watered seeing her boyfriend's thick, throbbing cock before her.

"f-fuck," the blonde muttered as he pumped himself a few times. he leaned forward to fish out a condom from his nightstand, quickly breaking the wrapper and rolling it on.

"need to be inside you," he mumbled, eyes back on his girlfriend.

"want you to fuck me, will," samy begged a bit also eager for him to put it in.

will hovered over her again, lining himself up with her entrance. he slowly pushed in, ducking his head into the crook of her neck. they both moaned out at the first contact. the urge to cum already so strong.

"oh fuck, baby. you feel so good," will groaned, slowly rocking himself in and fighting all of his urges to just poud into her. he needed to be slow for her sake and not hurting her.

"yeah, baby. fuck, you're so big," samy moaned into his ear, her fingers scratching up his back as she let the pleasure overtake the slight pain since they hadn't done this in so long.

her walls sucked him in and he paused when he bottomed out to give the brunette a second to catch her breath. he kissed her lips, struggling to hold onto his self-control and not pound his hips.

"tell me i can move," the way she squeezed around him had his urge to cum slip fast.

"yes, move, please," samy nodded, so he started rocking his hips back and forth in a steady rhythm.

they moaned out as the pace continued building and will littered more kisses across her chest and lips. her tits pressed against his own chest again and will moaned at the feeling of her nipples rocking and bouncing against his skin with each trust.

"fuck, baby. oh—you feel so good—fuck," he wasn't gonna last. "you're squeezing me so good, practically sucking me in," the boy continued.

"feels so good, baby. shit. keep doing that," samy praised him as well, her grip getting harder on his biceps.

will was rocking his hips at a strong pace that moved the bed along with them. he was so glad no one was home right now or else he'd never be able to show his face ever again.

"mm, fuck yeah. oh, fuck yeah. you're gonna make me cum," will blabbered, the only thought in his mind was the one lyric and how he was quite literally on top of samy.

"cum for me will. wanna cum with you," samy got out.

little beads of sweat began building between their bodies and will directed his gaze to where he disappeared in and out of her. the way she sucked him so tight was gonna send the boy over the edge as his self-control slipped away.

"fuck. fuck. i'm gonna cum..i-i'm gonna fucking cum. please say you're close," the blonde cried, his hips now practically pounding into her even though he told himself to take it easy.

"i'm so close, baby. so close."

he felt her clenching around his length which meant she was about to cum. will thrusted a bit harder, hoping to push her over the edge for a second time. she buried her head into the pillow, her chest risng again to push against will's. he groaned, mesmerized with the way her tits bounced back and forth with each snap of his hips.

the sensation sent samy over the edge. she moaned loudly, releasing around will's throbbing cock that had been waiting for her to go first. the tight clench and squeeze sent the blonde over the edge too. he snapped his hips one last time into her, releasing into the condom with a moan.

"ah, fuckkk baby. jesus christ. fhhuck," the blonde's hips twitched, his sweaty body collapsing onto hers as he spilled all of his cum into the condom.

samy dragged her hand through his curls, grinning while peppering kisses across his face. "so good, will. did so good."

"fucking love you so much. we should put that song on more often," will smirked, placing his own soft kisses across her face.

he slowly pulled out, pealing the condom off and running it to the bathroom. he came back with a towel to clean up the rest of their mess. samy watched lovingly as her boyfriend cleaned her up before snuggling into her side for a moment.

"too bad i can't leave any bites on you," samy hummed when she saw how bare will's neck and chest looked compared to hers. they didn't want to risk fans seeing the marks during the season.

"you still can lower than my shoulders," the blonde smirked.

the brunette hated not returning the favor, so she pushed will onto his back and dipped her head below her shoulders which definitely resulted in will getting hard again and a second round.

———SMUT ENDS HERE———

on the last night samy was there, will planned a fancy date night at one of the restaurants downtown. she wore the dress she just bought and it was a miracle they even left the house because when will saw her come out of the bathroom, let's just say his mind ran wild again.

the atmosphere was definitely very high end and it felt like they were amongst the rich people who lived in the area on a saturday night out.

"i'm glad you came out," will grinned.

"thanks for buying my ticket again. i really appreciate it," samy grinned back.

"there's a lot more where that came from," the girl rolled her eyes a bit at his words despite the smile still on her lips.

"i'd have you out here every weekend if i could, you know that," will swirled some of his drink around in the glass, a mix between a smile and smirk on his features.

"yeah, i know. i wish. i'll probably see you soon though. when are you guys playing detroit?"

"in a few weeks i think," the hockey player hummed, the schedule not on the top of his head.

"so you'll see me then and maybe by then i'll be able to actually play," the girl scoffed a bit, but will just shook his head.

"i know it sucks, but you've been doing really good. you're gonna be back on the field in no time," he grabbed her hand from across the table. the gesture made her blush.

"i know, i know. i guess i have to think of new hobbies or something," they shared a laugh.

after dinner, they walked around downtown some more just trying to take everything in and spend every second they could together before samy's flight back home tomrorow. granted, will was still going crazy over the maroon dress hugging all the right places on his girlfriend's body, especially because it was so boston college colors, so their walk around downtown didn't last for long.

will was impatient and quite literally eager to have his girlfriend one more time because she needed to leave. his lips were on hers when they made it into the parking garage and he was pushing her against the car.

he knew the house would be full when they got back, so will did the one thing he promised macklin he'd never do—have sex in his car.

it was the best sex will ever had in the car though.

—

they got to the airport close to 6 in the morning, even earlier than when morning practice started. samy's flight was at 9 though and she wanted to be there early, so will got himself up to drive her and macklin tagged along to say goodbye too.

the drop off line gave the three deja-vu as will parked to the side and got out to help with the luggage. macklin yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eye as he got out too.

the two boys stood in front of the entrance where samy was about to disappear into.

"alright, i'll go first since smitty will take decades to let you go," macklin took the lead by opening his arms. "it was good seeing you, hughesy. we'll see you super soon."

"it was soo good seeing you, mack. keep will in line for me, yeah?" the girl joked a bit, eyeing the blonde behind them who playfully rolled his eyes.

"obviously, i will," they laughed and then macklin pulled away.

samy's gaze fell to will's sad one. she opened his arms for him where he buried his face into the crook of her neck, squeezing her tightly. "i'm gonna miss you so much."

"me too, but you'll be michigan in just a few weeks," she tried looking on the positives for them or else will would just make it really sad.

"i know, but it seems so far away," the blonde frowned.

"it'll go fast, i promise. i love you," the youngest hughes pulled back to see will's pretty face. he smiled, breathing her in one last time.

"i love you, too baby. get back safe. text me when you land," he hummed and she nodded.

they hugged one last time before samy pulled back because if she didn't they'd never let go of each other. she waved to the boys before heading inside. they waved back, will blowing her kisses until they couldn't see her anymore and some car behind them honked to get moving.

"fuck off," will said as him and macklin climbed back in.

they were basically half-asleep still, so much that when the brunette got back into the passenger seat, he didn't realize how pushed back it was so he basically fell onto his back when he got in. it caught both of them off guard.

"what the fuck happened to this seat," macklin grumbled as he fixed it so it was more upright and not as pushed back.

the realization hit him faster than will remembered the reasoning and then macklin's jaw dropped open.

"HOLY SHIT! you fucked in here! oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," the younger brunette began freaking out and will internally face palmed.

"dude, chill. chill. i promise i cleaned everything," will tried calming his friend down.

"dude, i can't believe this. oh my god, that's fucking disgusting. you said you'd never fuck in here!" the boy exclaimed.

"we had no other options! i swear it's clean," will defended himself. macklin didn't have anything else to say except shaming his head and the car behind them honked it's horn again.

will quickly drove out of the line, suddenly embarrassed that he forgot to fix the seat. he also worried macklin actually was mad until the brunette asked:

"so on a scale of 1-10 how good was it?"

there it was. it wasn't even 7 in the morning yet.

"dude," will shook his head.

"what? i feel like i deserve to know after you betrayed me like that."

"it was actually really fucking good. 10 for sure," will gave in with his answer.

"you know what? hell yeah. high five me for that one," macklin held his hand up. the blonde smacked it, a content smile on his lips now.

"now drive fast so i can get out of this car and go back to bed."

[pinkusmaximus]

Sis! Now I need a full on fic for Logan x Fem!Reader x Wade with the whole pregnancy thing! I love the trio and I can just see Logan’s wheels always turning, trying to pin point the scent difference, why he’s so touchy and clingy. Then when it comes out both men are 10 x more clingy! Dotting on their woman hand and foot, taking care of her when she’s sick or hurting from the added weight and her symptoms. I can see one of them standing behind her and they just put their hands under her belly and they just lift it up some to relieve the pressure on her and she’s just IMMENSELY relieved

Oh, I’m not sure if I’m in a state for a full fic right now (I work and when I’m not working I’m in school) but I can elaborate more for sure!

🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀

You would absolutely be the most spoiled, protected pregananant person in the world. In fact, they’d have to start taking turns with missions, because one of them would need to be at home with you at all times from the moment it’s confirmed by your doctor. Not that you really needed the confirmation, with the way Logan lives with his face pressed into your neck the moment it clicks for him that the lovely warm scent that mixed with your usual sweetness and lingered after you were long gone is due to the little life inside you.

Wade is a lot more hesitant at first. He’s overwhelmed with how happy he feels at the news, and that alone is enough to scare him. Logan’s too caught up in his protective instincts to think logically about the fact that you really are in quite a dangerous situation, but Wade’s all too attuned to the myriad of ways you and the baby could be hurt because of them and the lifestyle they’ve chosen. You’ll never see him so cautious. He comes home with less injuries than ever (though not insignificant, but it’s Wade), not wanting to cause you any undue stress after he reads how bad stress can be on you and the baby (because yes, he’s secretly started hoarding a stash of pregnancy books and magazines from the moment he saw those two blue lines).

And trust me, the moment that you start to show, things will only amp up from there. That’s when reality starts to set in— this is happening. They’re going to be dads.

Now that Logan has an explanation for his odd behaviors from before, it becomes much easier to manage them for the three of you. You and Wade understand his instinctual need to keep you close, so you start to mind it less when he gently tugs you over to him in his lounge chair from the couch, keeping his broad hands over the expanse of your belly and his head on your shoulder where he can keep that comforting aroma in his senses. It also means that it’s easier for him to allow you to relax with Wade, his instincts now accepting Wade as a fellow protector, rather than a threat.

Wade loves laying his head on your stomach for as long as he’s physically able to, your hands lovingly caressing his head as he talks to the baby about anything and everything, for as long as you’ll let him go on— or until he falls asleep, feeling a deep sense of comfort from being so close to you and the baby. Every other sentence is punctuated by enthusiastic kisses to your growing roundness, slowly becoming softer and more tender as his rambling shifts from making up stupid nicknames for the unborn child and telling them all the ridiculous ways he’s going to teach them to get into trouble, to soft murmurs of how good of a parent you’re going to be, how much he already loves them, how he can’t wait to see Logan act like a real daddy, how he can’t wait to be their daddy, too. And once you’re too big for him to lay his head down, he’ll just rest his head on your thighs instead, dotingly rubbing his hands all over stomach, tracing your stretch marks with his fingertips and admiring your physical and mental strength for carrying their child.

When you get to spend time with both of them, it’s usually on the couch or in bed now. You’re exhausted all the time, so lucky you that you’ve got two men who would never let your feet touch the ground if that’s what it took to keep you happy. You’re always laying with your head in someone’s lap, having your hairline lightly brushed by soothing fingertips, your feet and calves massaged by strong hands. You’ve always got someone to run and get you what you’re craving, someone to help you shower when you can’t see your feet anymore, someone to hold you when you’re crying because your hormones are too much and you’re thinking too much about the impending pains of birth. Bonus, that also means you’ve got two hands to crush in your death grip when you need it— and you don’t have to worry about breaking their bones.

A pregnancy with Wade and Logan may be tumultuous in some ways, but in all the ways that count, you couldn’t ask for a more perfect family.

[chiiroptereh]

[Please zoom in, there's a lot of detail! And a massive file size...ouch]

Hi guys, long time no post! Been working on Art Fight and life stuff, but I've got something kinda fun for you.

This is a compilation exploring how a mortal Bill may interact with our world if there were still some kinda Euclidean instincts buried in there. Y'know, before the Book of Bill ruins all my headcanons >:P (EDIT: IT HAS BEEN READ. YAHOOOOOO)

Also quite an experimental piece as you can probably tell. Lots of details on both said headcanons and the art stuff under the cut, but I invite you to study the colorful texture yourself beforehand and think about what it might be representative of, just for fun because I got some really cool answers from my friends when asked :]c

TL;DR: the headcanon is that Euclideans have exceptional eyes for geometry. They find things like symmetry, tessellating patterns, graphs and fractals very aesthetically pleasing. If pushed into our 3D world, they feel comforted by the familiarity flat objects/spaces bring, as well as high-contrast patterns. Shadows especially are a familiar dimensional reduction that may bring them much comfort.

Bill would surely not be happy about these inclinations, constant reminders of a past long gone, but I'm not sure he's even aware of them here :P I think his ego gets in the way to the point where he just views these interests as common sense, which, of course, us lame humans just don't understand because we aren't nearly as cool as him. Of course he likes perfectly symmetrical leaves and staring at the kitchen floor, it's called taste, look it up!

And yet, he can't seem to shake the strange sense of melancholy he gets from viewing his own shadow.

~ End of TL;DR, long version below! ~

🔺 Headcanon Development

So, the catalyst of this idea was in relation to my friend and I's AU ( @love-triangles-au ). TL;DR, Bill's brought back mortal, meets another triangle named Y.V. (it's his hand holding the paper in the piece, actually), at some point they fall in yaois together, you know how it is. And, in writing a pair of triangles (or, more broadly, writing from the perspective of a different species), something I've had to consider was that you really can't get much further removed from a human being than sentient geometry.

The anatomical aspect was mostly figured out (see my piece on Bill's eye-mouth), but I wanted to consider what psychological differences might be at play. I wanted them to be weirder, more alien, double-so for Bill. At first I explored these possibilities through the lens of Bill and Y.V.'s relationship, specifically the question "what might a triangle find appealing about another triangle?"

Well, really the only things that came to mind were straight lines and symmetry, anything related to the geometric form of such a creature. That's more-or-less where that ended until the thought struck me that there's no reason this aesthetic appreciation couldn't extend to the rest of the environment, and then further when I realized, "wait, this is a species that is designed to live in a 2D environment. Like, they should seriously be really weird. I need to push this like 200% more."

So...yeah! I did some thinking and brainstorming with others and came up with a pretty long list of things a Euclidean in our world may be inclined to enjoy or find some level of comfort in. It's worth noting again that in this piece specifically this is a mortal/powerless Bill, so he can't really escape this Earthly environment. IF he's aware of these instincts at all (and that's a big "if"; when have you last been cognizant of your own instincts let alone known where they were stemming from?) I think he'd have snuffed them out in immortality and/or purposefully gone against them; he doesn't take kindly to being told what to do.

In order from left-to-right, top-to-bottom, here's an explanation for each!:

Flat objects such as paper are something he may find particularly engaging. It's basically 2D!

Tessellations are especially fascinating, and our world has them everywhere in the form of tile floors. Symmetry and such a predictable pattern...as the infinity of the starry sky might for us, the infinite potential of tessellations might invoke a similar sense of awe in him. Add on the maximum contrast of black on white kitchen tiles and the forms are only even better defined! A sensitivity to contrast would be very helpful for a 2D being navigating their environment.

Fields are flat and open, much like Euclydia itself. Laying flat may make him feel a little more at home.

More tessellation in the honeycomb of hymenopterans (bees, wasps and friends)! It helps that pain is hilarious.

The city is an absolute treasure trove. Rectangular buildings, precise architecture, square sidewalks and straight lines abound...he may as well be looking at a rainbow or an art gallery! I think a Euclidean's brain is very fine-tuned to mathematics, especially in regards to trigonometry. What may appear to be a straight painting might appear obnoxiously crooked to him.

Zebras are high-contrast :]

Another flat surface, another relaxing space <3

I think graphs are about as high as high art gets to most Euclideans.

I've touched on shadows before, and for good reason; truly they must be something borderline magical to the Euclidean and perhaps bitterly nostalgic.

This one kinda speaks for itself. Dweeb.

🎨 The Artsy Stuff

Lately I've been trying to find ways to fit more color into my work, as color is perhaps one of my favorite things in the world. My wardrobe is rather garish; my dad jokes that you could see me from space. My fursona is obnoxiously bright for a reason -- I feel my soul is a very colorful one!

I also realized recently that I don't actually know the exact style that speaks to me. I could talk about the phenomenon of the "style crisis" that many artists have all day, but in my mind the best cure for this feeling is to go against it entirely and begin stealing as much as possible.

So, I've tried to keep an eye out for more sources of inspiration everywhere I go, physical and digital. I've tried to train my mind into making a habit of considering, "can I do anything with this?" everywhere I go, and it recently paid off!

The glittery rainbowy texture you see plastered all over Billiam is this one, a photo-manipulated set of fruit stickers. I must confess I've been obsessed with this image for the past 72 hours, and this seemed like a good excuse to try it out!

I worried throughout the process if it might be so abstract that it loops back around to being horribly deliberate, if that makes sense -- like each sparkle was not a piece of a whole but rather an object in itself -- but it seems like that hasn't been a problem, so I'm grateful for that :Dc

I hope it can dazzle and delight you as it does me, but as long as you find it fascinating at the very least then I consider it a success! I really enjoyed hearing my friends' interpretations while workshopping it, and got tons of amazing answers from opal to kaleidoscope to fossilized bone marrow! I truly believe that the best art has some room for interpretation and it really excites me to be surrounded by that kind of creative energy that follows said pieces. That definitely adds to my pride in this work. It's weird, it's colorful, it's detailed and yet ambiguous. I'm feeling pretty autistic about it

Alright, I think that's about it. Thanks for listening!

[brailsthesmolgurl]

1 YOU, 1 ME

This is a one-shot request by one of the lovely readers of mine, enjoy this one :) Although I must say, this brings me back to the days when I used to be suicidal, so the experiences of mine are translated into the form of reader's POV so that you would get to take a trip of what I had dealt with as well. Just as my other one-shot Delirious, I do not take mental health as to be a joke. I am here for you if you needed someone to talk to, just like how I know you would be supportive of my works. I would do my best to cater to you as well because YOU MATTER <3.

Warnings: Deals with HEAVY Topics, Depression Mentions, Heavy Angst but yes to fluff. Please please please refrain if you are easily influenced by such topics.

XAVIER

When you had arrived at HQ today, Captain Jenna had approached you, handing you a file and informing you about the location of the wanderer as per usual. You studied the file, the wanderer looking like a saber-tooth, with fangs that could definitely pierced through skin like paper. "Good morning." You directed your head upwards and your partner stood by the side of your desk, a smile on his handsome features as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Good morning Xavier." You handed the blue file to him and he took it, opening up the page and started reading through the details just like you did. "This should be a relatively easy mission. You ready for it?" He gently placed the file onto your desk and he waited for you to get up, before walking at the same pace as you to get to the basement parking.

Xavier is wearing his white suit today, the silverish-blue garters an accessory that also serves as a tool. You can tell that he had a good sleep last night given that his blazer was pressed and there is barely a crease on it. Regardless, crumpling of clothings would be normal anyways given the dynamic range of movements hunters have to do to kill a wanderer.

The mission had ended early just like every other time. Your pairing is known to be the best due to the compatibility of Xavier's light evol and your Resonance evol, hence it is an added advantage when it comes to dealing with wanderers. Him dealing damage to one of the wanderers and your evol resonates the same act of his, inflicting damage upon other wanderers without you touching them.

"Shall we go and get something to eat?" Xavier asked you, readjusting his garter and wiping off some of the dried crusts of a wanderer's bodily fluids off of his shoulders.

You flicked your hand, your weapon disappearing on call and you looked over to him. "It's alright. I am a little tired. I'm just gonna head home for the night." You turned and started heading towards the direction of your parked motorcycle, the moonlight only being your source of lighting.

"Wait, don't wander around alone." His warned, footsteps catching up to yours effortlessly. "You might get lost in this forest you know."

Your lack of comeback made him ran his palm across the back of his neck out of embarassment. If only you are still interested in his facial features, then you might just be able to catch sight of him blushing bashfully. "My bike's here. I'm gonna head off. Enjoy your meal." You did not give him any time to revert the same to you. You just hiked up onto your bike and rode off into the night.

The same situation happened for a couple more times, till he got used to it. You would appear for missions, complete it and then you would leave. Just like how he did last time when you first met him but now the tables have seemingly turned. He watched you as you tried to control your breath after the wanderer was defeated. This time it was a huge creature, with a large tail lined with huge spikes that could kill with one swipe and it took the both of you a bit more time than usual to defeat it.

"Hey, y/n, do you---" He walked closer to you, leaning down to get a better view of your hidden face. The long hair of yours a brunette curtain.

"No Xavier, I am fine." You assumed he was going to ask you out for dinner but you were quick to reject, not wanting to add on to anymore complications. "I just needed some time to myself."

"I was meaning to ask, if you are okay?" He stopped for a tad bit. "Is everything alright?"

Your nod was curt but his frown is becoming more prominent by every added minute. "I can tell something is wrong y/n."

"Perhaps I have not been getting enough sleep recently." You dismissed him, walking towards your bike with him following behind you in quickened footsteps. "But I can assure you I am fine."

"But, you barely come to HQ and you have been excusing yourself from dinner with me after missions. Your reason for the past few times have only been 'I am fine' and 'I am tired' which is what's concerning me." He came up to you, obstructing you from getting onto your motorbike.

"Xavier." Your voice lowered. "I just want to go home and rest." With your tone, the blondie gave up, sighing and stepping aside to let you get onto your bike and he watched as you revved your engine and darted off into the embrace of the darkness.

┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✧

The rings of your doorbell beckoned you to get up and off of your couch, the drama on your television turning into white noise in the back. Not that you were actually watching it anyways, the screen was on but your mind was floating elsewhere. This time however, you did not falter into your state of guilt, rendering you a chance to actually sit in still silence. You are admittedly taken aback at the sound of your doorbell ringing as you do not have any visitors checking in anytime soon including Tara. You took your time to get to the door, not even bothering to check the peephole and you swung open your door.

Here he is now, in front of your door, looking down at you from his towering height, with a casual outfit and a pizza box in his hands. Yes, he did pretended he was the pizza man just to get you to open up the door for him. Now he also knows that the peephole is just a decoration for your door.

The sight of you however, made his jaw dropped mentally. Your arm was littered in cut marks, in different shapes and depth, but the crusting of the scabs tells him that this had happened a couple of days ago. You nervously pulled your sleeves down to hide your scars, making intense eye contact with the ground. It did not hit you for you to cover your scars as to a stranger, they would care less of what happens behind your doors. But maybe much of a dismay towards Xavier. He occupied himself within your door frame and you staggered backwards.

"What's wrong?" He placed the pizza box onto the shelf next to him and he gently took your arm, pushing the sleeve up. Your hiss made him halted his actions, eyeing you for a further reaction before he spoke. "Why did you do this?"

"I..." You could not make up any words, tears gathering at the back of your eyes. The guilt flowing its way through your system instantly. It was like you lost all of your control and succumbed to your emotions. The emotions that you were so scared of showing to anyone. Especially to Xavier. With him being your partner, and your crush. You did not want him to report this to the team, and you certainly do not want him to think differently about you. "I...I was scared..." Your fist tightening. "I didn't want to lose anyone else like how I lost Tara."

Ever since that day you found out about Tara's death, you got lost. Blaming yourself was the only viable way for you to forgive yourself. She was stuck with some rookie to go and defeat a wanderer on the day you had called in sick. It was that specific mission with the inexperience rookie that got both her and the rookie killed.

Yes, it has nothing to do with you but it also has EVERYTHING to do with you. What if you did not report in sick that day? Maybe things would have had a better turn? And maybe, just maybe Tara would be able to pull through till you arrived on the scene? You remembered, the way she stared at you as she laid on the battlefield, blood oozing out of all of her orifices. Her eyes a window to her soul, opened but lifeless. As if she died hoping you could have arrived on time.

Xavier said nothing, his breaths slow and steady. Approaching you, the blond haired man pulled you in by your waist, his grip solid. You had sunken into the hole of self-blame, rotating around a death circle and at this point, Xavier could do nothing but to tell you that he is here for you, through his actions. "It's not your fault that she lost her life, y/n. Please don't blame it on yourself. I am sure Tara would not want you to do this to yourself either." He slowly lifted your arm up, analysing the wounds. They are skin deep but not deep enough to damage your skin permanently but he had to wash this and wrap this up quickly before it evolves into a nasty infection.

"I just couldn't stop myself Xavier. It hurts so much in my head that physical pain is the only way to relief it." You croaked with your dry throat. "I just felt so sad you know. Like it really hurts my heart. I don't know what is this feeling." After the first few hours of you losing Tara, you experienced nausea and headaches. Then comes the crying and the grief and then to the self-blame. You had read up about mental pain being able to manifest itself into physical pain but you were too ignorant of how severe this may be. So severe to the point that you had to result to self-harm to remind yourself of the pain you had to go through because of your carelessness. Leading you towards the bathroom, the boy was careful in his words and steps. "I believe this is what one would call grief. It hurts so much mentally that it hurts you physically as well. In this case, you have to hurt yourself to relieve the pain and I think it is time for you to meet a psychiatrist y/n." He sat you down onto the toilet seat and took out the medical kit from your cabinet. His words gave you the confirmation of what you had read about being factual. Kneeling down, he seeked for your confirmation with an alcohol pad in his hand.

When you nodded, he dabbed the pad across your arm and you bit onto your lips harshly to stop yourself from screaming out in agony. You do not deserve to scream as you had done this to yourself. His pause made you look at him. "You do not have to hold back. If it hurts, you can scream. If it hurts, you can cry. If it hurts still, you can talk to me." His eyes were sincere, the cerulean orbs a vast ocean, inviting you to be within his embrace as he opened up his arms to you.

And you fell, straight onto your knees and you grabbed onto his shirt, the blood crusts on your sleeve staining his shirt in the progress but the both of you could care less. You needed a good cry while he knows that you needed comfort. "It's alright y/n, I am here for you. I will always be here for you." His fingers ran through your hair, tucking some stray strands behind your ear, your body shook with every sob you took. "I just need you to know that regardless what happens, you can always tell me. I will never leave you alone, I can't bear to see you in this state because I love you." His sudden confession halted your cries for a moment, staring up at him with the ugliest look you got.

At this moment, you really wished that you could take any other days to hear his confession rather than hearing it from him when you are in such a vulnerable state. Seriously, who would want to get a confession when they are having a break down and they have tears and snot streaked on their face as part of their 'makeup'?

"You are saying this because you pity me, don't you?" You were ready to pull back, a slither of embarassment passed your expressions. "I do not need your pity."

"I do not pity you, y/n. In fact, I had always been admiring you for the things you do. You had uphold yourself well despite you are struggling so much. I really do like you and no matter what I will always be here for you." He reinstated his point and you grabbed hold onto his neck, crying even louder, strained voice echoed through your bathroom.

"I thought, I really thought I would have to deal with this all by myself. I can't, I never know that I am this weak." Your cries a reflection of your sadness and your relief, knowing that you can finally put your heart at rest, not having to deal with the grief all alone like how you always done it to yourself. Xavier placed his hand under your chin again and you looked up into his eyes of blue, with him leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips. The death cycle shall come to an end.

ZAYNE

You tapped your feet onto the tiled floor impatiently. Clack, clack, clack. If anyone were to be within your vicinity now, your tapping against the floor would definitely be another added on frustration towards their state. Eyes darting everywhere, focusing on one thing to another. The door in front of you still remained tightly shut. The smell of antiseptic a constant fragrance within the hospital and you were about to get a headache.

You are up for your monthly routine check-up and meeting Zayne has always been nerve-wrecking, not because your heart is desperately trying to jump its way out of your chest and to give Zayne a hug, but it is also because you would like him to examine your brain as well. You figured something has been wrong with you mentally recently, after Tara's death to be exact. You get hot flashes at night, waking up at ungodly hours and sometimes, just sometimes, you would just want to lie in bed all day and not wanting to do anything, let alone eating.

You could not pinpoint exactly what was going wrong until the day you woke up from a nightmare, your chest tightened in a way you had never experienced before. Your breaths short and rushed, but no air was going into your lungs. Your throat had constricted airflow as well, choking you till your tears are being squeezed out of your eye sockets. It was until you had to scratch your arm till you bleed then you only regained consciousness, your breathing slowed, airways opening to welcome the fresh breaths of air that you were restrained from. You thought it was an allergy reaction for a moment but you were sure none of the allergies would get you to paw through your arm, breaking the skin barrier and seeing crimson red to replace the pain you had felt a while ago. Something is clearly wrong.

You had chose to wear a loose sweater today, not wanting to reveal your so-called battle scar to random strangers. Not wanting them to judge you for 'Im so emo, I hurt myself to be cool and I preach that battle scars are a sign for me fighting for my life in everyday society'. You can hear that in your own head, slowly succumbing into a state of blurred vision as you lowered your head, your vision darkening. "It's your turn." The familiar voice brought you out of your own reverie. Another shadow loomed over your hunched body, with straight shoulders and what seemed to be an outline of a long coat, you knew it was Zayne.

"Yeah." You stood up slowly and followed behind the cardiologist into his room. As usual, you took a seat next to his desk, the padded seat warm to your bum. A knob twisting, in suit with a locking sound, it marks the start for your checkup session. The room was filled with tension, as Zayne ran his stethoscope down your back, listening cautiously to your heartbeat as you took in deep breaths. The man's eyebrows were furrowed, eyes narrowed as if your heartbeat had an arrythmia. "What is it?" You asked, noticing that the listening session of his is unusually longer then usual.

"It seems like your heartbeat is slower. And there were slight staggers of arrhythmia on your right atrium. I should run some bloodtests and perhaps get an MRI scan on your heart as well." He retracted the stethoscope away from your back and walked to the front of you, fingers scooped your chin up and you looked at the man in front of you now. Standing tall, with broad shoulders that could be spotted underneath the bulky medical coat of his. He is in his blue scrubs today, perhaps a surgery aligned earlier on and he did not have much time to change out of it.

He took a small flashlight the shape of a pen out of his coat and he leaned down, a waft of his cologne hitting your nose. Minty fresh with a mix of antiseptic, that is what he smells like on the days he has a full schedule ahead. You peeled open you eyes wider and he flashed the light into your pupils, his hazel green orbs in an uncalled staring competition with you. "Pupils are functioning well as usual, but I do realise some redness at your whites. Have you been getting enough sleep?" A slight hint of him caring for your quality of sleep went away as fast as it arrived.

"I...Actually..." Your lips froze, words forming at the tip of your tongue but you could not roll out any of them. It was like your brain was subconsciously begging you not to tell Zayne, in order to not ruin his impressions of you being a healthy individual. He is a doctor, what harm would that cause if you were to tell him that you had been experiencing some mental issues these past few days? Perhaps he would just throw you some medical facts, ask you to drink more water and you should feel better in a day or two.

Then you recalled when your grandmother had passed, he did not show any bits of sympathy towards you other than passing on the box that was left behind by your late grandmother. He did not even ask if you were doing alright when you sat right here in his office, trying so hard to hold those choked sobs back. The thought of him not showing any sympathy towards you during the loss of your grandmother gave you the ultimate decision that you will not reveal anything to him. "I had been sleeping late these days because of paperwork."

The doctor sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the glasses sat comfortably at the bump he has on his nose. "If its so, try not to procrastinate in the afternoon and actually do your paperwork instead of rushing them all at once in the middle of the night." His sound advice not a bit helpful to your fib. "You wearing a long sleeved sweater in the middle of summer would cause you to get a heat stroke, which would directly affect your heart as well. So I would advice you to keep cool whenever you can." He sat down in his chair, picking up a pen and started scribbling away on the prescription tab. "As for now, take these medications for your arrhythmia. Once the MRI is scheduled I will get the nurse to contact you to come in for the scan."

┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✧

"Y/n." Tap tap tap. "Y/n wake up." An oddly familiar voice drowned your hearing, your body lifted off of the floor by a force. "Y/n. Please wake up." The smell of antiseptic filled your nose and your eyes slowly opened up, the blinding lights above made it hard for you to adjust to your surroundings. Your name was called out again and you turned your head a little, catching sight of Zayne, his eyes slightly widened. He was staring at you as if he had seen a ghost. You could barely remember what happened. Ringing in your heads made you winced and the man pulled you tighter within his arms. Your face now against his hard torso. "What happened?"

You blinked your eyes a couple more times and you looked down. Blood pooled on your wooden floors, the wax layered on top of it preventing the liquid from seeping through. Your arms were streaked in red, the evidence clear as daylight underneath your fingernails. It probably happened again, did it? "I...I don't know." You responded weakly, your lips equivalent to sandpaper. "I don't know what happened."

Zayne pushed you back a little and he held your arm up by your wrist, eyeing over all of the bloody and deep scratches to search for a sign of infection. Perhaps, a sign for why would you do this to yourself as well. Zayne decided to come by your abode when you had missed out on your MRI appointment, him knowing that you would not purposely miss out on any medical appointments and even if you have to, you would at least have the decency to make a call to inform.

That day when you left the room, he noticed your charm was lacking, your retorts were non-existent, and your face was ghoulish. You struggling to tell him a piece of your mind, only to retract back and say that you fell asleep late due to paper work caught the doctor off-guard as well. But he is not the type to intrude, to ask you questions that you would not want to answer.

He came by, searching under your potted plants for the key and it was slotted right beneath the jasmine pot that he had given you as a congratulatory present when you got accepted into Unicorn. His heart inexplicably felt warm at the thought of you still caring for the jasmine till this day. He twisted the key into the doorknob and it clicked open, slotting himself right into your doorway and he looked through your apartment. It looked neat, but the lights were not turned on. He heard a loud thud and his footsteps reacted to it, carrying him across your living room and towards your bedroom.

Another thud, this time louder, echoed through your room and he opened the door hastily, immediately catching sight of your body, laying on the floor, jolting as if you were shocked by an invisible electric current. You are having a seizure, in a pool of blood that he could only assume belonging to you. He took three long strides and he was shocked to his core. Your arms were littered with long and narrow open wounds, the culprit being your blood stained fingers. Your eyes were flipped to the back of your head, veins popped out of your neck as one of your hand latched itself onto your forearm and yo dug deeper into your wounds. "Y/n!" He shouted, unbuttoning his sleeves and pushing them up his forearm and he dived down onto his knees to heave you towards him, away from the wall.

He immediately started doing CPR, going according to the beat as he switched between pumping your chest and blowing air into your mouth. The effectivity of the CPR started kicking in when your convulsions started to calm down, your body going from tensing to limp and you laid unmoving on the floor. He leaned down to get a good hearing of your heart. It is beating in a normal rhythm, a good sign that you are still alive. The arrhythmia is gone now but the soon-to-be scars on your arms is the next thing he worries about.

He did not understand, none of the theories he had studied about one's physicality applied. The heart arrhythmia, the sight of you convulsing on the floor, the hearings of your choked breaths as he watched you, the skin deep lacerations inflicted upon yourself only with the use of your fingernails. None of the symptoms matched any of his medical theories. i am not a doctor, pls dont chew me on this :,)

Unless it has something to do out of his field, which is the mental aspect. Zayne being a doctor, although succeeded at a relatively young age, but his expertise has always been within the field of cardiology. Of course he has friends within the psychological field, but it never struck him that you would end up with a mental illness. You had always been fit as a fiddle in his eyes, both mentally and physically. But all it takes is for two accidents in a row to trigger the mental illness for you. If its so, why did you not tell him anything about it? Why did you keep it all to yourself? He knew he should have said something, he should have stayed by your side when he found out about Tara's death. It was too short of a timeframe for you to be dealing with two deaths within a few months' gap.

"It's alright, you will be okay. Everything will be alright." He only remembered during one of the mental illness campaigns he was asked to attend, they taught of ways to identify individuals experiencing mental illness and very little was talked about how can one deal with someone who is having an episode. The speaker said something about acceptance, comfort and validation. And that is to the extent of what Zayne knows.

"Y/n, I need you to take in deep breaths, I need you to calm down." He could not treat her just like any other patient in this damn moment. This vulnerability of hers is new territory for him, but it shows that she is not as strong as she portrays herself to be and this part of her provoked him to want to be there for her even more than before.

"I don't know...I don't know why I am like this." You trembled in his arms, your head spinning and you felt like you were about to taste bile anytime.

"And it is not your fault, y/n." His voice is calm, soothing to your ears. You could feel his hot breath against the shell of your ear and you looked up at him, the lights above him forming an angelic halo. "It shall never be your fault." He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I am sorry that I was never there for you. From now on, let me be there for you." Other than the kiss on your forehead being a shock factor, the fact he wanted to be involved in your life and your 'journey-to-recovery' made your heart skipped an extra beat. "I promise you, from now on, I will always be by your side, only when you want me to."

You lifted your hand up to touch his cheeks, your palm cold to the touch on his warm face. You swore you saw him blushed for a mere second. "Of course I would want you to be by my side Zayne." And he gave you a comforting smile. The man then slowly inched down, eyes looking between your eyes and lips. When you tilt your head upwards, he took it as your consent and you both shared the first kiss.

RAFAYEL

"Do you want that?" Rafayel asked you, index finger pointed right at a banana boat plushie. Two 'flavours' to be picked from, one with the usual chocolate, vanilla and strawberry theme while the other has a caramel, vanilla and banana theme. You were about to pick for the latter but the man standing beside you was quicker in calling out shots. "I think the original one would fit you better. The colour theme just looks more harmonious than the other."

You watched as he picked up the dart and aimed it towards the target. He pulled his wrist back and with a flick, the dart landed onto the target's bullseye. The stall owner did not look a bit amused, probably thinking that he could scam Rafayel enough money for a meal. Walking over to the banana boat plushie, the guy took it down and handed it to Rafayel over the counter. "Thanks." You smiled, hugging the plushie when he gave it to you.

"Where is my hug?" Rafayel looked betrayed, the signature pout of his surfacing. "I was the one who scored you Mr.Babana here." Yes, he called it Babana. Smiling, you went over to him, arms opened wide and you hugged him, your head settling right into his chest. He smelled of grapefruit and white wood, with a splash of peach as the base. You thought he only used one perfume for all types of events as he has voiced his dislike for strong smelling scents but you were clearly wrong. Musky smelling ones for when he attends interviews, fresh smelling ones for when he attends events, and sweet smelling ones are only reserved for his outings with you.

His chin was propped right above the top of your head, and he smells fresh shampoo. You nagging him about how sakura composites are good for the hair recently is enough for him to know what shampoo you are currently using. To Rafayel, you are not that hard to decipher. In fact, you may be one of the most uncomplicated character he had ever met in his life. Your genuine emotions and expressions a direct reflection to your conscience and that is exactly why he likes you.

"Thank you for the Mr.Babana." You chuckled, pulling away from the hug but his arms remained on your shoulder, he would have opted to hold your waist but he wanted to make sure that you would not be uncomfortable in this situation.

"My pleasure of course." He mimicked your smile and this time, the both of you took a step back from each other and then walked down the path together. The cobblestones beneath your shoe reflecting the lights from the parade, painting them in all sorts of colours that offers more variety than a rainbow. "Y/n, I have to travel abroad tomorrow to attend one of my exhibitions. So, I was wondering once I am back from my business trip, would you like to go out with me again?"

Him informing you about the business trip made you hesitant to answer him. Not because you did not want to go out on a date with him again. You just did not want to be alone. Not when you had just lost a friend to a wanderer. All of the smiles you had presented today are genuine, but deep down, you were worried your remorse would eat you up and ruin the whole date for today. The last thing you want is for Rafayel to be on the receiving end for your breakdowns.

"I am waiting for a yes." You jolted at how close he is to your face, you could practically feel his breath against your skin. He smirked, taking a step back to give you some breathing space, hands tucked into the pockets of his black jeans. The young man today adorned a fitted black tshirt with a pair of jeans, pairing over it is a jean jacket. Simple outfit but definitely looks amazing on him.

"Y...yeah, of course we can Rafayel." You looked down, nervously trying to calm your hyped heartbeats. With that, the date between you two came to an end, with Rafayel fetching you home safely and making sure you got into your home before he drove off.

┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✧

Rafayel had left for his business trip for the past two days. And for the past two days, it can only be described as hellish for you. Jerking yourself off of your bed, you sat straight, eyes widened as cold sweat trickled down the back of your neck. Yet another nightmare, the same one every night. With the sight of Tara laying on the traylike bed in the morgue, awaiting for you to identify her. She was as pale as the walls surrounding her, her body laid rigid, and her eyes closed. It almost seemed like she was asleep but you knew right then and there, she would not be able to open her eyes anymore.

She had a wound the size of a bullet in between her eyebrows. They called it a fatality spot as anything that is sharp enough to penetrate that area and passing the skull would be guaranteed an instant death. Just like what Tara had gone through. The wound however, according to autopsy, was inflicted by something biological, so bullets are out of the question and the only answer you could think of is the act of a berserk wanderer. You kept trying to blink, assuming that if you blinked hard enough, Tara would be able to rise again and everything would be back to how it was like. But, that's not the case most of the time.

Instead of accepting her death, you chose to deny it. Ironic, your identification process of Tara in the morgue is validated but you yourself chose to not accept the reality of her death. You even refused to go to her funeral the day after tomorrow, claiming to yourself that it would only make you hate yourself more than anything else. You were not there when it happened as you were sent onto another mission, a much tougher one that involves civillians. So, Tara was assigned this mission, just to deal with a bunch of wanderers. Or so you heard, but her wound says otherwise. Whatever wanderer she had been dealing with is certainly way beyond what she could handle.

The date between you and Rafayel took place the day after her funeral so the wounds of your grief still remained fresh. With that stated analogy, the first few days of your denial marks the start of your wounds, freshly cut opened, breaking off the surface of the skin barrier but still not deep enough to leave a scar. Now you are in phase two, where blood starts seeping through the wound as it has broken through the skin barrier, cutting deeper. This is where the nightmares become more and more revolting, more and more realistic that you have a hard time differentiating between your trance and reality.

You buried your face into Mr.Babana and you cried like there is no tomorrow. You had to get it out somehow, and the best way you could think of is to cry yourself to sleep again and pray hard so that you would not have a continuation of the nauseating nightmare. When you opened your eyes again, you were met with the warmth of the sunlight peeking in through your window. Sunlight in general, is known to promote energy boosting for one's body but right now, it only did the opposite for you.

Your phone rang, drowning out the sounds of your ugly cries. Shimmying towards you bedside, you held up your phone and you saw the contact name 'Your Favourite Fishie'. You specifically recalled that you had saved his name under Rafayel, but when did it got changed? Maybe it was during that time when he was playing on your phone while his was charging and he seized the opportunity to change his name into something so ridiculous like this. You sniffled, trying to calm your breathing the best possible and you answered the call. "Hello." You croaked out. Shit.

"Hey, y/n. Did I happen to wake you up?" His voice came through the other side of the call. He sounded borderline concern.

"No, you didn't don't worry. I woke up to use the washroom." You spoke, if he were to be in front of you right now, he would be nagging you to speak up but thank goodness your phone has a good microphone to pick up your small volume. "How is your exhibition going?"

"Boooring." You can tell he was rolling his eyes to the back of his head. "That's why I am already on my way back. I will arrive in probably half an hour. So would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

Contemplating, you knew that if you were to meet him in 30 minutes, your puffy face would lead to a telltale sign that you had just cried. Then, you assumed that Rafayel would be disappointed with you. You see, Rafayel had never been the type to submit towards pressure, instead, he is a notorious rebel towards it. It is like he has something personal against stress. With your current status, you immediately felt like you are not worthy to be spending your time with him. Let alone having to have a huge crush on him. What makes you think that he would like you back if he found out about your current state of distress? He would definitely not want to deal with such an issue.

"Actually, today I am not free. I have stuffs to do." You gnawed onto your lip.

Pouting, the purple haired man crossed his legs nonchalantly, sitting himself comfortably in his luxurious car as Thomas drove it. "Like what stuffs?"

You panicked, eyes watery and you sniffled. "I have to go to the doctors. I am having a flu and I don't want to infect you."

Rafayel heard that sniffle of yours and he immediately replied. "Oh, alright. Then you rest well okay? There will always be some other day that I can bring you out for a nice dinner so you owe me that alright?"

"Yeah okay." And the call ended with him saying 'bye and take care'. Hanging up the phone, your lips quivered, chills ran down your spine as you started hesitating about whether you should still stay in contact with Rafayel. You could not possibly land him to be your boyfriend, where did the confidence come from? "I am just not worth it." Your cries then came back.

The next hour went by and you were laying in your bed the whole time, no will to move, no appetite, no will to even meet anyone. You just wanted to succumb to your loneliness, the sound of the fan is the only voice you can hear. The only company you have for now. You had just calmed down from your break down, your eyes full on puffy now and you are experiencing after-cries hiccups. Your mind had a constant voice, reminding you of just how useless you are not only at your job, but also your incapability to keep your emotions in check. Feeling overwhelmed, you curled into a ball and just allow the tears to flow.

The door to your room creaked open but it did not faze you. You were too caught up with the voices in your head but Rafayel's voice made you covered your ears. You are delusional now, great. Until a hand touched your shoulder then you snapped your head towards the source, met with purplish-blue eyes that were filled with utmost concern for you. "Hey, hey what happened?" He climbed onto your bed and sat right in front of you, his large hands cupping your small face, his thumb drew over your cheeks, dismissing your tears. "Why are you crying y/n? Did someone hurt you?"

Your silence marks the end of his questioning and he pulled you into his chest. His solid torso cushioning your head as he laid down with you in his arms, on top of him. "Shh, it's alright." Rafayel held you close to him. "I know things have been tough for you."

"We should stop meeting." Your desolating suggestion made him pulled back in shock, his eyes scanning your face for any smiles or hints of it being a joke but he did not find any at all. "I like you Rafayel, and I think this is not healthy for you."

"Who are you? The moral police? Who are you to determine what is healthy or not for me?" His eyebrows are furrowed in frustration. "Even if you want to push me away, you can't because I am in love with you y/n. I am so madly in love with you that I kept thinking about you everyday, everything that I see reminds me of you, every artwork that I inspect at the exhibition only related to you. So, you can't push me away, no matter how hard you try."

"But, whatever I am experiencing now, it makes me think I am not worth---" His finger silenced you, pressing it against your lips to ask you to shut up politely.

"Do not speak for me y/n. As much as I like to hear your voice, I do not want to hear such unflattering ideas from your pretty head okay?" He ran his hand down the sides of your cheek, his gaze loving. "I want you to know that, I will never let you cry alone, ever again. Do not worry about me being stressed out or anything about you not being able to be in control of your emotions. I am sure I can handle anything when it comes to you, for I had waited a long time for someone like you y/n. Annnnd I will not let something as simple as you going through a period of depression push me away. So, why don't you do me a favour and tell me what is going on in that pretty head of yours?"

His confession surely warmed your heart, with you staring at him in disbelief. You know he had always been showing signs of him being interested in you, but you never thought you would be able to catch sight of him being empathetic towards you. Your sobs came again, this time much more stronger and you leaned into him, spending the day telling him about everything that you had went through and ended up sleeping next to him. Rafayel propped himself up on his elbow and he watched your features, puffy and reddish but you did not lack your beauty amidst all of the chaos you have to go through. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, a promise to you that he would stay with you forever.

This is the end of this one-shot and sorry my lovelies, this will not be getting an extra episode or anything. It shall only be ending here :,)

P.S: These are part and parcel of my actual experiences, hence I do not downplay or look down on anyone who are struggling with mental illness. As I know it is very tough to get over it. The part where Rafayel had spoken to reader, where he would be by his side blah blah, was actually what my boyfriend told me when I was having a terrible panic attack. So please my girlies, do not settle for the bare minimum and lower your standards for a guy/gurl who could not be better for you. Because you all deserve happiness oki.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Jingle of The Bells

jake "hangman" seresin x reader

Summary: Your little girl is worried her father won’t make it home for Christmas.

Notes/warnings: this is the same family from the Oh, Baby universe, but it stands alone as well :) Mostly Fluff, a dash of angst.

This is for @sailor-aviator's Christmas Writing Challenge (my word is Bells)

Words: 2386

Your daughter was so much like your husband. You’d say too much if not for the fact that you loved them deeply. But there came a lot with their similarities. Double doses of determination, wit, and control. So, not unlike your husband, your little girl wanted to be the one to call the shots. However, circumstances didn’t always allow for that, and in those cases, Eve struggled the most.

---

“Mama, he’s supposed to be home!” 

Eve’s arms were wrapped tight around your neck as her wails echoed in your ear. You held on to her snuggly, her little legs tucked into the open space between your criss-crossed seated position on the floor. 

Until you’d joined her, she’d sat in the same spot all night, the teddy bear from her father settled in her lap as she stared at the front door. Despite the colored lights strung around your home, the pile of presents for her and her baby brother from Jake’s mother, grandmother, and team, and the cookies waiting to be decorated, Eve hadn’t moved. 

Every five minutes she would ask you the time, and each answer you gave her broke your heart right along with hers. She was too young to remember that Jake’s return schedule wasn’t always a guarantee. You were used to not making plans on the day you were originally told your husband would be coming home to you because promises in his line of work didn’t exist. There were no promises he would be gone only as long as he initially believed, no promises he would return on time, no promises he would return at all. But for so long Eve was spared all of that. The one time she remembered her father leaving, he did manage to come back when expected. She had never faced that disappointment. Until now. 

“Sweetie, it’s not Daddy’s fault,” you whispered. “I promise you he wants to be with us and that he’ll be home as soon as he can.”

“But it’s Christmas!”

Christmas Eve, actually, but to your daughter it was all the same. She had expectations. Cookie decorating, and milk pouring—a skill she’d asked Jake to help her perfect, not wanting to spill a drop for the reindeer. There was a letter she wanted to write to Santa, thanking him for bringing her Daddy home, which he had not, only adding to Eve’s bitterness. And it didn’t do her any good that before Jake left, she had also begged for a Christmas Eve pajama party where you all dressed in matching flannels, her baby brother included, and read a story before bed. 

Jake had done his best to promise those things to Eve, and in the same moment, with a single look at you, had silently communicated the very real possibility that none of it might happen. You knew it, expected it, and didn’t blame him for it, but it didn’t change that your little girl was in pain and her father wasn’t by her side to make it go away.

“I know. I know, Sweetie,” you said, gently rocking her back and forth. But your soothing could only be so effective, and for the night, she wouldn’t be able to take much more. “I think it’s time for bed now.”

“Why?” came out nasally, her crying having stuffed up her nose.

“Because you’ve been up for too long. You woke up hours earlier than you usually do and you didn’t take your nap today.”

She pulled her head back from the crook of your neck to look at you, and you wiped away the salty liquid from under her lashes. “But what about Daddy?”

“Daddy will be home soon. He’s just a little late, but that’s ok.”

“It is not.”

“It is, Sweetie,” you said, your own tears forming and beginning to blur your daughter’s face. “He’s trying so hard to be here, and that’s what matters.” When one of them fell, Eve’s finger rose to meet the droplet as it slowed its descent down your cheek. You grabbed her hand and rubbed the tear off her fingertip. “Come on, let’s go lay down.”

This time, with exhaustion setting in, she didn’t fight you, but she did wiggle from your hold to stand up on her own. Then she used the last of her energy to rush over to the coffee table where the small set of jingle bells she’d been dangling in front of her brother’s face to elicit his giggles was lying. Jake had bought her those bells last Christmas and immediately regretted bringing such incessant jingling into his home. 

Swallowing back your remaining tears, you watched as Eve wrapped her fingers around the velvet cord that kept the bells in a bunch before making her way into the hall and draping the cord over the knob of the front door. 

You nodded and stood. Her tears were not quite dried, and you knew she was desperate to keep her eyes on that door, but she still took your hand when you reached out for her. 

“I’ll tell you if I hear them,” you said before lifting her in your arms to carry her up to her room. 

---

In her weakened fight against sleep, Eve failed. When you finally had her tucked in her bed, passed out and releasing soft snores, you returned to the living room where you wrapped yourself up in a blanket and stared at the flames dancing in the fireplace. 

You did your best not to fall apart in front of your daughter, but Jake being gone ripped you to pieces as much as it did her. It didn’t help that his return was no less anxiety-inducing than his departure. The occasional unpredictability allowed your mind to wander to undesirable scenarios that, at this point, you knew weren’t likely, but the thought of them still terrified you. 

Jake was fine, though. You believed it, knew it. He was safe. The next person to open that door would be him, it was just a matter of when, and hoping it would be before the holiday was over. 

---

The clock had reached midnight only a handful of minutes before your eyelids grew heavy and begged to close. You fought sleep but, much like your daughter, reached your limit and succumbed. The consistent crackling of the fire combined with the warmth of the blanket lulled you slowly but effectively. It was too quiet and peaceful to resist, until a jingle clanged against another jingle which together thumped against something thick and solid. 

Your body jolted as you heard a muttered “Why so damn loud?”

“Jake?” you called, tossing the blanket aside and running toward the door. He barely had his duffle on the floor and his key out of the lock when you slammed into him. 

His arms were around you in an instant, slightly lifting you off the ground as his nose tucked into the crook of your neck. “God, you feel good,” was muffled in his deep voice, vibrating against your skin. His arms tightened. “So good.”

Your feet met the floor again, and with your hands on his cheeks, you guided his head back so you could press your lips to his. Your moan greeted his. Then you sighed into the kiss and melted further into his hold. No matter how many times you said goodbye, you were always relieved to find him the same as when he left. The feel of him, the taste of him, the chills you got when his hands wove into your hair—he never returned as anyone other than your Jake. 

He gave you two more pecks, then one final long kiss before he broke it to breathe, allowing his forehead to rest against yours while his chest expanded and deflated and expanded again to take in the air you’d stolen. “I missed you, Honey.”

A tear forged a cold trail down the flush of your cheek and slipped into the seam of your lips. “I missed you, too.”

Jake pressed a kiss to your forehead before meeting your eyes. “How are the kids?”

“Needing you,” you said as he wiped away the wet river from your skin. “Eve thought you weren’t going to make it home in time.”

Knowing your husband, it took only the barest of shifts in his stance, his brow, his eyes, for you to see his heart was breaking right along with Eve’s. He turned his head toward the staircase that led to the bedrooms of your home, his daughter’s in particular.

Inching up on your toes, you softly kissed the line of his jaw and, somehow, for the first time, noticed he had a little bit of stubble. His last day or two must have been exhausting if he hadn’t gotten a chance to shave. Likely, everyone was in such a rush to get home to their families that some basic rules went out the window. Your kiss traveled up to his cheek. 

“It’s ok, baby,” you whispered. “You’re with us now.”

“Did she cry?”

“She’ll forget all about it when she sees your face.”

Jake lightly hummed, unsatisfied with the state he’d forced upon his daughter. Without letting another beat pass, he took your hand, led you to your daughter's room, and eased her door open. 

The glow emitting from Eve’s new plane nightlight—an early Christmas gift the Daggers had sent from overseas—highlighted her sleeping face, and her delicate features were so peaceful you’d never have known she was devastated a few hours prior.

When you had let her open the gift from the team, you of course told her who it was from right away with a huge smile splitting your face. She was so excited as she pulled at the bow and shredded the paper that she laughed louder than you had heard in quite some time. Her eyes went wide and she hopped up on her feet to fly the plane around the room. She giddily showed her infant brother—who received his own nightlight in the form of a train so the gifts would be unique to each child—before she plopped down on the carpet in your living room to examine every detail of the elaborately designed light. 

And then she began to sob. 

She sobbed for missing her daddy and aunts and uncles; for missing the many times Jake had taken his family to see the planes he flew, which closely matched the shape of Eve’s gift. She sobbed until you took her upstairs for bed, helped her plug in the light, and told her a story of her daddy seeing that plane and that train and immediately thinking of his baby girl and little boy. 

That was only three weeks ago, and Eve’s angst had grown with the passing days. But the little light helped her rest at night as long as she completed her ritual of crouching down in front of the radiating glow and whispering a soft “goodnight Daddy” before settling into bed. 

It did help for a while, but it didn’t cease the daily return of her tears. And this night, fairly so, was by far the worst. Her disappointment made the light its least effective since she’d received it. 

Jake stepped into the room and took a seat at the edge of her bed. “I shouldn’t wake her,” he said as he brushed a blonde curl out of her face. From that light touch, Eve stirred, but then she stilled again, releasing a soft breath.

Your husband sighed right along with her. You knew how badly he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and hold her tight. He needed that. He could see her in front of him, and from those inhales and exhales, could hear her, and he could feel the soft curls of her hair, but nothing compared to feeling her little heartbeat beating against his, or hearing her sweet voice, or seeing her bright smile. That he’d have to wait for morning to truly greet his daughter after months away was an ache you would never know. Yes, you ached for him when he was gone, and you knew he did for you, but it just wasn’t the same. This was his child, a piece of him that he’d gone without for so long. It was a powerless feeling. She was right there, but being the father he was, Jake wouldn’t disturb her for his own sake. 

Carefully, Jake leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Merry Christmas, baby girl.”

Your lips curved into a smile. “Would you like to go see our son?” Another one of his children that he’d undoubtedly refuse to disturb, no matter how much he wanted to see the little pair of eyes that matched yours staring up at him. 

Jake nodded, gently squeezing Eve’s tiny hand. He was about to stand when you both heard a soft, “Daddy?”

Your heads whipped in Eve’s direction to find her fists rubbing at her eyes. Her eyelids fluttered as her vision adjusted to the darkness, but when she saw the darkened figure sitting by her side, Eve didn’t second guess herself. She kicked at her covers and leapt across the bed with the speed and agility of a bunny rabbit. 

“Daddy!” 

Jake chuckled as he caught her. “Hi, baby girl.”

Little hands reached up to his face to verify his realness. They ran up and down the scruff she’d rarely ever seen, making Jake’s cheeks contort in funny shapes, and then she grinned. “You came home.”

You couldn’t see all of Jake’s face, but you heard his sniffle as he tugged your daughter closer to his chest. “Of course, I did.”

“Mama said you would.”

“Well, Mama’s usually right, isn’t she?” he said, turning to look at you and confirming the redness that was brightening the green of his irises. He winked before returning his attention to his daughter.

Eve nodded vigorously then threw her arms around his neck, squeezing with all of her might. “I like Santa again.”

“When didn’t you like Santa?” Jake asked as he rubbed his hand up and down her back.

Eve pulled back. Her smile was still in place as she patted the tops of his shoulders with both hands. “Today," she said. "But you are home so he’s ok.”

---

A/N: so i have another christmas challenge fic coming that is Rooster x reader, which is my very first Rooster fic so hopefully I do alright. Then my focus will be on The One I Want and some Thorn (Expendables 3) fics :)

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @eloquentdreamer @jessicab91 @rosedurin @novagreen04 @memeorydotcom @purplevortexx @sgt-barnesveins @books-are-escapes

[rubra-wav]

Hiya! I absolutely loved your posts about the HH main cast dealing with a sick reader and them being sick. You did a phenomenal job with them!

As for a request, what about Vox, hell’s resident bipedal tv, hc’s of him realizing he’s legitimately falling for reader?

Vox realises he has feelings for you

A/N : Thank you so much seriously!! 💛

Cw: SFW, gn!reader, suggestive comment at one point, angst-ish/ Vox coping

- It'll be a good long time before he realises he's fallen for you, and when he finally does, he's fully in it. There's no turning back and there's no backpedalling. He's absolutely whipped.

- It hits him one day like a train that he's actually in love with you all at once.

- He hung out with you the afternoon, and that night he's laying on his back with his phone gripped in his hand against his chest.

- It's been exactly 3 and a half hours since you were out together on a movie date at the VIP premiere. (as in in the ridiculously lavish movie room he had within Vee tower)

- He had been counting.

- You hadn't texted him back yet, and he was tapping his claw impatiently waiting for you to message him back with the world's biggest pout on his face.

- He'd already sent 4 texts, and none of them had been answered yet. He had to stop himself from sending more because he didn't want to seem too desperate. (Even though he was)

- He told himself he'd be mad that you had made him wait whenever you got back to him. He'd blow up over it.

- However, the second his phone buzzes and he sees the notification from you saying you had fun and were sorry you hadn't gotten back immediately it's like his dopamine receptors have been kicked into absolute overdrive.

- He's giddy. Warmth is flooding his chest, and he starts breathing heavier as the world's dorkiest smile spreads across his face.

- It isn't then that he realises exactly, but it's when you leave to go to sleep after texting him for a couple of hours with a flirtatious comment that has his head spinning and sparking.

- You were talking about how you'd washed your sheets that day and were making your bed. He acted like he was bored, and your next words absolutely took him out.

- "Fine. Next time, come over, and I'll spread you out on my bed then."

- When he calms down, it's messed up again as he's questioning himself.

- Why did I glitch out to them saying something that resembles a shitty pick-up line? Why did I count every minute that passed the second you went home? Why do I feel like I'm on drugs the second you pay me the slightest bit of attention.

- OH FUCK -

- He goes through all stages of grief as he realises he's in love with you in a single second and ends up causing a blackout in his bedroom in the process.

- When he roboots, he holds his head in his hands and chugs delulu juice instantly feels absolutely terrified.

- It's humiliating for him to have such delicate feelings, let alone for someone who surely doesn't feel the same way. His experiences with real, genuine romantic love for other people have hardly ended well.

- He likely tries to distance himself from you because he's scared of the fact he is so attached to you.

- It's been ages and ages of being attached to you but he's only fully realised - or at least fully acknowledged the extent of that attachment.

- His distance from you is shortly lived however as he craves you and your presence so badly he's disgusted at himself.

- He would not be the one to confess 9 times out of 10.

- Even if it's glaringly obvious you are also into him, he copes so fucking hard he's actually delusional with the excuses he makes about it.

- He basically friendzones HIMSELF.

- You could kiss him on the cheek or hold his hands in yours or cup his face lovingly and he would be there glitching while thinking about how you must just be like this with everyone else-

- He's charismatic, charming, and can often read everyone around him like an open book - analyse their behaviours, true intentions, expressions, thoughts under it all, etc.

- But he's so terribly stupid with love.

- You need to confess to him first most likely and he'll probably still think you're bullshitting him.

- Literally finds every reason of why you aren't in love with him and tries to twist everything that way.

- Even when he's in love, he wants it to be reciprocated obviously. The thought of it not being requited as he expects is embarrassing at best.

- But, he's genuinely probably even more terrified of what that means if you do love him back.

- It's easier if you don't love him back for him because he's scared of the way you might further bring out whatever imperfections and vulnerability he's shown you already after actually being in a relationship with you.

- He craves being in a relationship with you and the security you could bring him to expose those parts of himself he desperately conceals with masks resting on masks, but also its deeply unnerving to him simultaneously.

Infuriating watching the process of this man actually realising he's in love for real, honestly 😭

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Ace's Story - 1

Source for the pic

Firestarter 1

Word Count: 3056

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader, slight NSFW (It's mature, not explicit), slightly sugestive behaviour, flirting, jealousy, frenemies, sexual tension, miscommunication, unresolved tension, slight angst, slow-burn, romantic comedy vibes, alternate universe modern setting, swearing, drinking, fluff, feelings realisation, denial of feelings.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Special Warning 2 : Below the summary is the masterlist. I advise reading the introductory chapters first, as they give a sense of the story, introduce characters and locations and, this chapter starts off immediately after the Sanji chapter.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You intended to have some alone time, to reflect and heal, but your childhood friend's older brother, Ace, seems to be there just to upset that fragile peace you're striving for. He's a flirt and a womaniser. But why does he also have to be so handsome and perfect? And how long can you resist his charms?

Notes: Here's the first chapter of Ace's story. I've been having a blast writing this, I do hope you enjoy it as well. If you want to be tagged when I post a new chapter, let me know! Also, don't be shy, I'd love to read about your thoughts! Thank you! ❤️

Masterlist for previous introductory chapters.

Next Chapter

After lunch you take another quick stroll through town and ask around for some part-time jobs, but nothing’s available so you return to your car, ready to go home and hoping Nami and Robin can help you find that job, like they promise they would. 

But the car doesn't start. 

You try to do what your father said, as silly and idiotic as it may seem. You pet the dash of the car and the steering wheel and coo at them in a soothing voice. 

“Hi, sweetheart. You're going to work for me now, aren't you? You're a pretty little girl, aren't you?” 

Rolling your eyes and inhaling deeply, you turn the key again and the engine sputters and chokes almost catching but it doesn't and you grunt. 

You spend the next fifteen minutes alternating between spewing pretty words at the car and shouting ugly insults, but the car is dead. Finally you give up and call your dad. 

“Dad, the stupid car won't start!” you whine like a teenager, not caring because you're annoyed and upset. 

“Have you tried-...”

“Yes!” You interrupt. “I've tried everything! I've tried being nice and petting it, and I've tried being mean and hitting it. None of it is working!”

You hear Ace's loud guffaws in the background and instantly blush. “One of those options usually gets me started!” He shouts and you ignore him. You hadn't realised you were on speaker. Shanks starts to go into detail about what you should do but you just sigh in exasperation. 

“Can you come help me, dad? Please?” You add another little whine to your voice because that might do the trick. He sighs on the other end and concedes so you tell him exactly where you are parked. 

You still try to get the car to work while you wait, but it only makes you more and more frustrated. On your last attempt, you make the engine overheat and smoke billows everywhere, so you get out of the car, open the hood and wave your hands around to disperse the smoke. 

The smell of burnt oil and smoke is overpowering, and you are soon assaulted by a coughing fit before the cloud dissipates and you manage to take a look inside. Supporting  your weight on your hands, you lean inside, certain that you can find whatever is wrong with it despite having zero knowledge of mechanics. You have absolutely no idea what you are looking for. 

“Princess, you wanna kill me?” Ace's voice is deeper than you've ever heard it, and he manages to surprise you enough to elicit a small gasp. 

“Ace!”

He's leaning against the hood of his jeep, legs crossed, a hand on his chest and a smirk on his lips as his eyes drink you in. At least he has a shirt on for once, which is a first since your reencounter. “You can't lean like that while wearing a tiny dress.” He emphasises with hand gestures so you get his point. “Someone might see more than you intended.” His smirk grows. 

Your eyes pierce his without any hint of amusement. “Are you saying that you saw my butt, Mr. Someone?”

His laugh bubbles up in a sweet sound as his freckles dance along with the vibrations and you have to force yourself not to get dragged along into laughter as well. 

“I'm not saying that. I just don't want someone else to see it.” You can't control the small blush that fills your cheeks with embarrassment. The way Ace manages to make you flustered is almost infuriating. 

“Where's my dad?” You ask, deadpan. 

“Couldn't make it.”

“Meaning?” You are proudly becoming Ace-fluent and understanding that everything he says has a double meaning. 

“I volunteered.”

“That's what I thought.” You sigh and he laughs. “Can you actually help?”

He moves away from his jeep and approaches you, supporting one hand on the hood and the other on his hip while casually glancing over the engine. “That's totally fried.” He points at the engine and shakes his head. “You'll need to come with me.” With another languid smirk he points at his jeep. 

“You're bullshitting.”

“I resent that.” His hurt-boy act almost convinces you. 

“No you don't!” 

“I don't. I just like to see you mad at me.” 

You huff and place both hands on your hips while glaring at him. “Be serious, Ace!”

He sighs and this time actually leans properly into the hood, starting to mess with some parts. You have no idea if he's just touching things for the sake of it or if he actually knows what he's doing. 

“I know what I'm doing.” Is he a mind reader? “I help Franky at the firehouse all the time. He's the mechanic, but I know a few basics.”

“Firehouse?”

“Yeah, I'm a firefighter!” He exclaims as if it's something you should've known by now. 

“I didn’t know that.”

“Luffy works with me there as well. It’s hardly a job when we have as much fun as we do.” He chuckles softly. “I guess we’re lucky firefighters since there are barely any accidents where people get hurt. It’s mostly forest fires or small car accidents.”

You nod. “The perks of a small town.” You mumble as you lean closer to see what he’s doing and your shoulders bump and brush together. He’s warm and taut but you focus your eyes on his hands, paying no mind to your closeness. You notice that he’s screwing some oily nuts. He uses just the tip of his middle finger to turn the nuts, and the precision with which he does so is insane.

And he smells nice. How can he smell so good if he’s been working with your father all morning? He smells like…  nature! Some sort of sandalwood or cedarwood with a fresh hint of pine. It’s intoxicating and you try to breathe as little as possible near him.  

“Yeah, and that’s why I have time to help your dad and learn new stuff. Franky’s the genius mechanic, but I’ve got a few tricks.” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice, but you don’t look at him.

You're still distracted by the nuts and the amount of oil making his fingers glisten as he twirls them. You’re not usually a very carnal girl, but Ace does things to you and your body. Uncontrollable things. Inadvertently, you wet your lower lip and let it catch between your teeth, humming at his answer, or at his actions, you can't quite tell, except that hum sounded quite close to a low grunt. “That's… interesting.” 

Wow. Awesome brain power. You almost kick yourself for that but he immediately catches on and stops his motions, his eyes looking at you hungrily as they pause on your lips and the way you're biting them. Then travel up to your eyes and it’s almost as if he leans into you, like magnets being pulled close together. So close. 

“You alright there, princess?” He exhales sultrily as his warm breath tingles near your face, and you gasp, coming out of your bliss and scratching your head with nervousness. 

“Yes, yes. I'm fine.” You train your eyes back on the car’s insides. “So, is it overheating?”

“Damn right it is.” He mumbles making you look up once more and his eyes never leave your lips. Your breath catches as you pull away from the hood to gain some distance from him. 

But as you do, you take a step back towards the open road, just as a car is going by. 

“Watch it!” He yelps as his oily hand grasps your forearm with a strong grip, that’s sure to bruise, and he pulls you towards him making you collide with his chest with a sound oomph. “That was freaking close!”

Your heart is banging against your chest in an insane rhythm, the adrenaline of almost being hit by a car making you tremble and gasp for air. Ace’s hand is still gripping your forearm tightly and it’s starting to hurt but you can’t seem to find your voice. 

“Drive slower, asshole! You’re in the city” He screams at the car, his other hand wrapping protectively around you and settling on your head, pulling you flush against him. It’s a weird dichotomy, this feeling. One hand holds you tightly with a deathly vice while the other protects and soothes you with a soft caress.

You take a deep breath, inhaling his scent - that strong wooden scent - trying to ground yourself and will your heart to calm down. 

“Are you alright?” He mutters your name softly, trying to shake you out of your slight shock. 

Nodding fervently you pull back, away from his warmth and his intoxicating scent. You find your voice and force it out with a shaky breath. “You’re hurting me, Ace.”

He eyes you quizzically for a moment before realising he’s still holding your arm as if you’re about to be taken away from him. His grip relaxes instantly and he raises his hands releasing a string of apologies. 

“Ah, crap, sorry. I didn’t realise I was still holding you that tightly.”

Your arm hurts and will definitely bruise, but you don’t want him to feel bad about saving you, so you give it a quick massage and dismiss the subject with a smile. “Thank you, Ace. That was quick thinking.”

His face seems deadly serious and you had yet to witness this side of him. “It shouldn’t have to be necessary. The asshole was driving way out of limits. I should’ve gotten his plate number to give to Zoro.” He sighs as his eyes leave the road and finally settle back on you. “You sure you’re alright?”

The slight edge of his voice makes you realise he was also scared, despite not showing it, and you are deeply grateful. “I really am.”

“Oh, shit. I smeared oil all over your arm, hang on.” You look at the arm he was gripping and it is, indeed, covered in greasy oil that transferred from his hand, but you’re fine with it, you’re about to go home, anyway. Yet Ace doesn’t relent, he seems to be looking for a rag or something to wipe your arm with.

“I think I have some wipes in-... no, Ace! That’s not necessary!” But you’re too late. Off with the shirt he goes and now you start to think that he might be allergic to any kind of shirt since he’s always so keen on having his torso bare. 

“I’ll clean you up in a second.” He uses his shirt to wipe your arm and you sigh, knowing full well that this is a useless fight and you can’t win, so you just let him do his thing. 

A string of giggles and high-pitched squeals makes you turn your head to the sidewalk. Sure enough there are two girls giggling in each other’s arms, ogling Ace’s form and you frown.

“Hiiiiii, Ace!” They say in unison, their voices hitting a note that would’ve been able to shatter the finest of crystal glasses. 

Ace’s job is thorough, though, and he only turns when there’s no trace of oil on your arm. But when he does turn, it’s with a cheeky smirk and a tip of his hat. “Hello, ladies!” He leans his hand back into the hood of the car so he can give his full attention to them.

They giggle some more and you roll your eyes to the back of your head. “Pathetic.” Mumbling curses between your teeth, you close the hood with vigour, making Ace yelp because you almost caught his hand in the process. “Sorry.” You scorn, not sorry at all. 

Then you reach inside and take out your purse and car keys, locking it in the process, and walk towards Ace’s jeep.

“Let’s just go.” You state coldly.

Why are you acting so jealous? It’s not like Ace is anything to you. You’re not special, you’re nothing to him. 

And you don’t want to be anything to him. So maybe get a grip and stop acting bitchy?

The girls wave goodbye at Ace and one of them tells him to call her because she misses him. You’re not quite sure how your eyes don’t fall out of their sockets from the force with which you roll them. 

Acting bitchy it is, then, you decide as you settle into the passenger seat.

He finally climbs into his jeep and you’re about to ask if he’s seriously going to drive without a shirt on, when he reaches into the backseat - leaning towards your side and making you turn to the window so you don't have to face his naked chest right up your nose - and retrieves another crumpled shirt, putting it on in a swift movement. 

Your eyes follow his earlier movement, to see if there’s an infinite pile of shirts back there, and you release a light snort through your nose at the sight you discover. There’s a folded duvet and a pillow, and thinking about the size of the bed of his jeep, your head instantly makes the assumption on why he keeps that in his car. 

You don’t want to do it, you don’t want to think about it, it just happens. Your mind is stronger than your will and, in a split second, pictures of you and Ace in the back of that jeep course through your head.

The open night sky above you, shining with stars, little dots that act as sole witnesses to your acts of passion;

Languid kisses that trail from your neck, to your chest and end in your lower belly, promising more;

Feather like touches that start on your entwined hands, where he places them above your head. His fingers trace the inside of your raised forearm, tickle your armpit, and follow along your side to your ribs, settling on the bone of your hip, stealing your breath away;

His body slotted above yours, his knee between your legs, keeping them open for him as his chest lowers above you and his lips claim yours;

You shake your head vigorously, mentally chastising yourself for what your mind conjured. He’s a player! You don’t need another fuckboy in your life. Hell, you don’t need another man in your life, period!

“Do you want me to call Kid? He owns the mechanic shop and he can tow your car.”

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of it later. Just take me home, Ace.” You realise how cold you sound and you’re pretty sure he realises that too because he keeps looking at you with his eyebrow raised.

“What happened to your mood, princess? I’m sure Kid can fix your car in a heartbeat.”

He’s seriously that clueless? Figures.

Setting your sight on the open window and the view outside as he starts the jeep, you shake your head.

“Sure. Don’t call me princess.”

Ace settles an arm behind your headrest and turns his body to look back as he reverses the jeep and you force your head to stay still and your eyes to stay glued on the post office signpost across the street.

Fuckboy, player, womaniser. Fuckboy, player, womaniser.

You keep repeating that mantra without fail until he finally faces forward and drives the car. There are few things sexier than a hot man reversing the car like that and you’re not about to add that image of Ace to your already scrambled brain. You refuse. 

“Are your panties in a twist, princess?” He chuckles.

“Two things, Ace. Three, actually.” You raise your fingers as you go and this time you actually look at him. “Don’t talk about my panties, don’t talk to me the rest of the way, and don’t call me princess!” You emphasise the last sentence and end with a hiss and a huff followed by crossing your arms over your chest and turning back to the window. 

You can almost hear the cogs turning inside his head. You’re pretty sure he’s reliving every interaction with you up until this moment and why you’re acting pissed. But you’re not about to admit to him the real reason. 

It’s a freaking stupid reason!

You’re not entitled to be upset. You’re not even entitled to be jealous or pissed. Yet, here you are. So you might as well just roll with it. But you’ll never admit it. Ever.

The ride is tense and it seems longer than it actually is, so you can’t wait to jump out of the jeep as soon as he parks it outside your house, but he presses the button that locks the doors and you sigh while turning to him with a raised brow and pursed lips, waiting for him to speak.

“What did I do?”

“That’s a good start. Always admit to guilt. Men are always at fault.” You snort and try the door, even though you know it won’t budge. 

“Princess, look at me. I really don’t know what I did wrong.” The uncertainty in his voice almost makes you cave, but there’s that freaking nickname again. And it’s getting under your skin. 

“Don't. Call. Me. Princess.”

“That’s it? Is that why you’re upset? ‘Cause I can stop. I don’t want to, you’re my princess.” He jokes but you’re not in the mood for jokes. 

“You know what I think, Ace?” Your angry stare bores into his eyes as his smile suddenly dissolves. “I think you call all your girls princess, or sweetheart, or gorgeous or another stupid, infantile pet name, because you can’t be bothered to learn their actual names!” Your hand grips the handle and you try to open the door again, this time with more force, yet it still doesn’t budge. “At least that way, you’re safe when you actually forget their name because they’re just another notch in your freaking cowboy belt!”

He just stares at you, jaw slack, while his hand grips the wheel. 

“Open this door, Ace! I want to leave.”

You huff again but it takes him a moment to react. Downcasting his gaze he nods and unlocks the door without another word. 

“Thanks for the help.” You tell him before slamming the door and climbing the steps to the porch. This was not how you had envisioned the end of this afternoon. 

At all.