#I love them so much I sure hope nothing bad happens to them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelsgoldrush · 9 months ago

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“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you.

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.”

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend.

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison

Allison:

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss.

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.”

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features.

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules.

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up.

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail.

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients.

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment.

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you.

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him.

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his.

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic.

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on.

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?”

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days.

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble.

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

12K notes · View notes

lvrclerc · 2 months ago

Text

✶ BETTER THAN THE NOVELS

summary: you're a romance novel influencer that has never actually experienced romance. ironic, right? and when f1 driver lando norris accidentally becomes a constant presence in your life, he decides he can't possibly let that slide.

F1 MASTERLIST | LN4 MASTERLIST

pairing: lando norrisﾉf!reader

wc: 11.2k

cw: reader is a ferrari fan and is said to wear feminine clothing (dresses, skirts etc), reader has a race taking place in her home country but it's not precised where, takes place during a fictional season (w the 2025 grid), cussing, inspired by nick and cassie on tiktok, slight angst near the end for plot reason, otherwise just tooth-rotting fluff!

a/n: first fic who cheered! this is so self-indulgent and cliché but who caresss also its a long one so buckle up (editing was hell, ending is a bit rushed too sorry)

THERE WAS NOT ONE day in which @.whoisy/n, book influencer extraordinaire, did not pass her day with her head inside a romance novel.

You always liked reading. The passion struck you in late primary school when you first opened Percy Jackson and before you knew it, you finished the entire series in three days and begged your parents to buy you Heroes of Olympus. There was no going back after that. You couldn’t spend a day without your thirty minutes to an-hour reading session.

Like every girl raised with the idea of being a strong, independent female lead in the novel that was your life ─ at the sweet age of thirteen, dare I be precise ─ you never dabbled too much into romance. If it ended in a book you were currently reading, so be it, but you wouldn’t outwardly enjoy it. Why would you need someone in your life? You were so not like the other girls, you didn’t waste your time on boys or parties or things like that ─ you didn’t even wear pink!

Except that now that you have grown up, at the age of twenty-two, you liked wearing pink and bows, and because you spent most of your life buried in books with this idiotic, sexist idea of the “not-like-other-girls”, you never had kissed or dated anyone. Damn Rick Riordan.

I mean, you went on dates, sure, but they never went anywhere further than a “that was fun!” text and radio silence right after. It made you feel used, sometimes, but at that point, it was just something you expected whenever you took an interest in an individual.

The only thing that stuck with you as you got older was your passion for books. So after you resigned yourself to it, you dived into romances. Bad idea, really, because you started living vicariously through them.

Everything was so perfect: the storylines, the female leads, the guys and the girls and what they whispered into the other’s ear, and when they noticed small things nobody else would’ve noticed, proclaimed their love high and loud in heartfelt speeches, the awkwardness of a first love and the tenderness of a first kiss. A part of you, whenever you tapped your Kindle or rushed through the pages, ached a little in the middle of your incessant giggling. Something that yearned for a story like that - but you’ve learned against your will that nothing in the real world could compare to the stories or the movies.

You were doomed to die an old maid with many, many cats and a thousand bookshelves. It didn’t sound that bad, of course, but come on. You still held hope that maybe, one day, something like that would happen to you. Maybe.

One of your favorite subgenres was sports romance. There was something so romantic about running into someone’s arms after a well-spent game ─ you devoured the hockey ones, the basketball ones, even the football ones. More recently, though, you got into the motorsports ones ─ more specifically, Formula One.

There weren’t many, mainly because of the work that had to be done to dodge plagiarism: you couldn’t use the actual drivers or team, so you had to reinvent everything down to every detail. But for those that existed, you simply couldn’t let them go. You liked Formula One, it wasn’t a proper passion like reading was but it still was a nice pastime: you’d turn on your sketchy website that streamed F1 TV Pro to watch the Grand Prix and became impatient during the overly long summer and winter breaks. While you were more partial to drivers than to teams, you grew very fond of Ferrari as the years went by.

You were very vocal about your interests in your accounts. Obsessing so much over books gave you access to fandoms at a young age and a desire to have your own space within them. You quickly became a staple presence on BookTok, BookStagram, and BookTube after your first posts and videos went public. People found you funny, endearing, and relatable… not to throw yourself flowers, but you were. It’s that transparency about your Sahara-desert dry love life and your contagious excitement about your hobbies that made you so popular, reaching millions around multiple platforms.

People liked you, so people were kind to you. An advanced reader copy of a new F1 romance novel was on another level of kindness, though.

You hadn’t expected it, but it came in your mailbox with a sweet written word from the author, Leandra Moore ─ she was pretty influential and had written multiple New York Times-acclaimed New Adult romances. You didn’t even process everything she was saying, only that she liked your videos and your personality and ‘thought you might like her new work’.

What a stupid question. Of course, you did.

You devoured the 430 pages in a sitting. The sky, awfully bright when you got the package, was pitch black by the time you turned the last page. You were breathless, flushed, and smiling so hard your cheeks were beginning to hurt. “Silver Spring Race” was a wonder of brother’s best friend, secret exes, and second chance rom-com goodness, mixed with the adrenaline of the perfect F1 season, five out of five stars on Fable and GoodReads. You didn't waste any time: tripod, lighting, and you were already filming a review video in your almost ecstatic state, giggling away with the camera knowing full well you were sharing with a few thousand.

It was a simple review as you always did. Yet, it did way, way better than your normal videos ─ so much so that the book had to be released early. So much so that Leandra had the means to host a release party after the goddamn Miami Grand Prix. So much so that she invited you, personally and free of charge, as multiple other book influencers to attend the Grand Prix and the release party the day after.

Someone had to pinch you because holy shit, this couldn’t be your reality. You never confirmed something as fast as you did for that. Honestly, who wouldn’t?

The race had been an exceptionally good one. The sun was bright and hot but the slight breeze made up for the extreme Miami heat. You and your book influencer friends and acquaintances had amazing seats at the Beach Grandstands - some on the North and some on the South. You quietly wondered just how much money did Silver Spring Race generated for Leandra to get those sought-after seats.

There had been a few technical difficulties during the race, causing Pierre Gasly to DNF, and a narrowly avoided crash on Albon's part which cost him to lose standing. Ferrari was going strong, though, which kept you breathless from screaming until the checkered flag. Norris ended in pole position, with Verstappen following suit in P2 and Leclerc in P3. While it was not the outcome you hoped for due to your bias toward the latter's team, you had to cheer when faced with the radiant smile of the first-placed.

Now, the thing was to get out of the stands. That was a harder task, the Beach Grandstands were filled to the brim and before you could process what was happening, the flow of people separated you from your friends. No matter how much you fought against the current you couldn't help but be brought down to wherever they were going: guess you'll have to find a way out by yourself.

By the time people scattered, you were in an unknown setting with multiple staff members, all wearing different colors ─ pink, orange, red ─ and running around. You would have liked to stop one of them to ask where you were, or at least how you could access the parking area from here, but all passed you as if you didn't exist. You couldn't blame them, the Grand Prix had just ended, and they probably had ten thousand other things to do. You were on your own. Great.

You just wandered off and hoped you'd stumble upon a miraculous exit sign amidst the long and confusing hallways.

You definitely didn't expect to crash into Lando Norris.

You didn't realize it was him at first. The only thing you knew was that as you were looking around, finally finding somewhere open from where you could see the stands (but still not anywhere that looked like it could lead you to the parking lot), you back bumped full speed against someone.

You turned around, heart skipping because of the shock. Soon enough, though, your astonishment turned horrific when you gradually noticed the full can of Monster energy drink spilled on an orange tracksuit, staining it deep brown.

It couldn't get any more embarrassing. Until your eyes darted up and you saw a mess of curls and wide, green eyes. That's when your horror became panic. Holy fuck, you didn't just─

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed, after a few seconds of stunned silence. “I'm so, so sorry─ I didn't─ I was looking for the exit and I didn't see─ holy shit─”

You started aggressively looking in your small handbag, hoping─ no, praying, you brought some tissues with you. You spilled an energy drink on Lando Norris. His energy drink. Lando Norris was in front of you, staring at you like you were some wild, erratic animal. He was probably furious. You wanted to bury yourself six feet deep underground. “I'm sorry, I can't find any tissues I─”

He snorted.

You froze in your tracks, interrupting your rambling. A glimmer of amusement shone in the driver's eyes. “It's chill, don't even worry about it. It's not as if that was like, the only suit I owned.”

“Uh─” you started. “I'm still─”

There was something about your expression, maybe the fact you were opening and closing your mouth searching for something to say like a fish out of the water, that made him reiterate. “Really, it's cool. You can stop panicking.” After a pause, he continued, in a more reassuring tone. “Plus I'm already all sweaty and dirty, so not much of a difference.”

He was…? Heat furiously rose up to your cheeks and you couldn't tell if it was because of embarrassment or his words or how painfully aware you were of the situation. “What?”

This time, Lando's face was graced with a shit-eating grin aimed right at you. “From racing and champagne, you know.”

Oh.

Now you wanted to be five feet under. What was wrong with you? “Right.” You took a deep breath. You bump into Lando Norris, an F1 driver you admired for years no matter your loyalty to Ferrari, and spill an entire energy drink on him before accidentally stepping right into borderline sexual harassment. Get a grip, Y/N. “I saw. I mean, I was in the stands. Beach Grandstands. I saw you. Win the race. Congratulations, by the way!”

You sounded like a robot. Oh my god. You couldn't act less natural even if you tried.

Lando arched an eyebrow. “Thanks a lot. But uh, if you were in the stands─ what are you doing in staff quarters?”

Your heart lurched in your chest, realizing the impression you probably gave. “Shit. I promise I'm not a weird fan or anything, I'm not a stalker! Which is definitely what a stalker would say. But I'm not. I was dragged by the mass of people and I couldn't find the exit and nobody would tell me─”

Another laugh from him interrupted you and what surprised you was the absence of mockery: he sounded genuinely amused. You didn't know how to react to the fact he found your distress funny. “Are you always this anxious?”

“See, this whole…,” you made a circular hand gesture, “... situation is not helping my anxiety. So the answer would be maybe.”

Lando chuckled again and this time, an awkward smile found its way to your lips. “I wasn't trying to blame you, it was just a question. You can breathe. But the exit's not there.”

“Yeah, I think I noticed,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“It's through there,” Lando turned around and pointed to a slightly hidden door, but right above was a bright green exit sign. You were blind. “You just go straight and the parking lot shouldn't be that far.”

“Oh, uh. Thanks. I didn't see it,” you simply answered. Dusting off invisible dust from your clothes, you looked at him again. “Again, I'm sorry about the drink. Really.”

“I told you it's nothing, just go before a team member calls security on you, ‘aight?”

You aggressively nodded, which stole another breathless laugh from him that you decided to ignore. Right as you went through the door, the curly-haired driver called: “Hey!” You turned around, frowning in incomprehension.

“Next time you decide to sneak into McLaren's quarters,” Lando said, “at least wear the right colors.”

You quickly glanced at your Ferrari shirt, slightly cropped to go with your jean skirt. That's when the words echoed in your brain. “I wasn't sneaki─!”

Before you could finish your argument, he closed the door on you.

Walking back to your car, the realization of everything that went down the last 10 minutes slowly dawned on you. What the fuck had just happened? Was it real? Did you hallucinate? Did you just humiliate yourself like that in front of Lando Norris?

Most importantly: novels made meet-cutes seem so simple and easy, how did you manage to mess it up that bad?

A day later, you tried to push that interaction to the back of your mind, mainly because of how embarrassed you were about how you acted but also because otherwise, you wouldn't be able to think about anything else.

Once the night had comfortably settled, you confidently walked into the venue Leandra rented. It was an immense room in an even bigger hall, and so elegant you couldn't help but feel a bit out of place. You guessed that’s what you were supposed to expect when you partied at the same place the drivers usually did ─ at least that's what one of the girls told you: it was where they would throw after-parties when they had time after races. Fits the theme, you thought.

The decor was tasteful and themed in a way that didn't feel cheap, which was surprisingly hard to do, as you discovered as you mingled with Leandra Moore and her entourage. The buffet was delicious, the champagne was flowing, and there were professional photographers and signed illustrations of the two main characters of Silver Spring Race, along with a Fairyloot exclusive edition of the book. You could have died right here and there: the details were to die for.

Right as the music was getting louder, the conversations grew more deconstructed and the alcohol less diluted, you decided to step out for some fresh air ─ as much fun as it was, being socially involved for so long was tiring you out. If you wanted to last the night, you needed a little break.

The exit was notoriously hard to find, which gave you war flashbacks from yesterday you had a hard time pushing away, but you didn't spend as long finding it ─ just enough to regret the aesthetic choice of wearing high heels for the night.

By the time you got outside, your feet were aching for freedom. You quickly rushed to the stone stairs leading to the party hall and sat on the first step. The scenery was quite stunning: a fountain throned in the middle of the place leading to stairs, lightly illuminated by the white neons in the water and the warm hall light, and tall trees surrounding the square. You could have probably appreciated it more if you weren't so preoccupied with detaching those fucking straps of your ankles: why weren't they coming off, those little─

“Oof, looks like you need help again.”

Your hand froze on your shoe as the voice and accent hit a familiar spot in your brain. It took you a second to catch up, and around a minute to realize. Your heart dropped and you turned around, slowly, like the main character in a horror movie.

Lando Norris stood before you. Again.

Who exactly was controlling your life? Because the odds of this happening a second time were really, really low.

His hair was usually messy, and yet tonight they seemed more contained and professional. He wore a white shirt, and a few buttons popped open at the collar gave you an open view of a small gold chain around his neck ─ you had to drag your gaze away. Straight-legged black pants finished the look, topped off with black loafers. He looked miles away from the Lando Norris you accidentally ran into after the race. He probably showered.

He looked gorgeous, too. It would be a blatant lie to even ignore it, and that realization slightly took your breath away.

Yet, the only thing coming out of your mouth was a strangled, “I swear I'm not stalking you.”

A pause. You had serious issues.

And still, Lando laughed. Hard and loud, like the ones you saw in a few selected interviews when you were bored and scrolling on YouTube during the breaks. It made you feel slightly self-conscious. He breathed in as he walked toward you, a chuckle still in his tone when he spoke up. “I mean, I'd believe you this time but the coincidence's pretty big.”

An offended scoff escaped you and suddenly, all the thoughts about him being a celebrity, a renowned driver, a trust fund kid flew out the window right into the fountain.

“I'll let you know I was invited to an event here, thank you very much. I have other, more important things to do than follow someone around.”

When you realized what you said, your eyes widened. “Sorry, I didn't mean─”

But Lando was smiling.

“Nah, you did.” Right now, he stood right next to you on the stairs and you quietly wondered if he was going to sit down or keep looking down on you like that. Then you realized that you were, again, in the most improbable situation known to man. Anxiety swirled in your stomach.

“Soo… what event are you attending?”

You squinted your eyes up at him. “...Is this an interrogation?”

Lando simply shrugged. “Can never be too sure.”

Well, you couldn't blame him for that.

“A book release party. The author, Leandra Moore, happened to invite me and other people. She was the one that got us tickets for the race yesterday, too. I just went out to get some fresh air.”

He hummed in response. “Oh yeah, heard something about that. I guess you're legit, then.”

“Yes, I am!” When you looked up again, there was that shit-eating grin. You rolled your eyes to the high heavens.

“... Wait. Is your name Y/N?” He suddenly asked.

Huh?

You never mentioned your name to him. You don't think it was even brought up in the 15 minutes you two talked. A frown scrunched up your eyebrows. “Uh, yes? How'd you know?” Silence. “And I'm the stalker?��

Lando laughed a bit at that. He finally sat down next to you, and the heat of his exposed forearms somewhat close to your own made you panic again.

“Y/N as in WhoisY/N?”

The gasp you let out could have landed you a role in The Young and the Restless. There was no fucking way. Absolutely none. This is where you drew the line. “You can't possibly be watching my videos.” Your tone was resolute.

“Nah, not me. My little sister though, Cisca.” That made more sense than to imagine Lando Norris, McLaren's golden boy, giggling and kicking his feet in front of your last romance review. Still, it felt unreal. “She eats up every single one of your posts. You’re the reason why we have so many cartoon covers at home, that's why I thought you looked familiar at first. The book release party confirmed it.”

You didn't know what emotions you should let transpire first. The fact that you were a celebrity in the Norris family was enough to make your jaw drop, but the mention of cartoon covers added heat to your cheeks ─ you hoped he never opened his sister's books.

“She's so gonna freak out when I tell her I met you,” he said between laughs.

“She's going to freak out?” You asked in disbelief. “You're in Formula 1. She can't freak out because of me. I'm freaking out because of you!”

He didn't point out your statement, thank god, but his eyes didn't seem to miss it. “I'm her older brother, she uses that to make fun of me now. But no, definitely, she's going to freak out.”

“What even is my life right now.”

That, at least, made you both erupt in an unstoppable fit of laughter. When it died down, you finally had the space to ask the question sitting in your mind since he appeared behind you. “What are you even doing here?”

Lando arched an eyebrow at you. “Is this an interrogation?”

“Yes.”

He exaggeratedly rolled his eyes, clearly mimicking you. “There's a race after party in the hall. McLaren special. Also went out to get some air, DJ-ing was becoming suffocating.”

“Oh,” it clicked, and you started thinking out loud. “I guess the girls weren't lying when they said that's where the drivers partied. It makes sense Leandra would rent out this hall.”

“Why?”

You were pretty sure smoke could be escaping from you right now just by how flustered you were. “Uh. For promoting her book?”

“Yeah, I got that, but like… why would our parties have anything to do with it?”

Lando was becoming suspicious again. Somebody kill you right now. How do you keep messing it up? “Because… it's… an F1 romance?”

Blank stare. You were just as red as the dress you wore and ready to go home to cry yourself to sleep. Then he laughed, hysterically, and you couldn't feel more ashamed.

“That exists?” He asked, breathless.

You turned your face away from him. “Yes.”

“And you read that?”

“Leave me alone,” you added, “if she follows me, your sister does too.”

That seemed to make him stop, at least, to your devious satisfaction. “I think I'll need to take a look at her shelves when I go home.”

“For the good of the girl and mine, please don't.”

The cold night breeze brushed your arms and you were now very mindful of how thin the material of your dress was. You shivered, rubbing your arms with your hands. Lando was quick to notice. “Shit, sorry. I don't have a jacket. I would have landed it to you otherwise.”

You don't know what came over you, but you bumped your shoulder with his. “Wow, that was almost gentleman-like.” Where did this familiarity come from, you didn't know ─ you have known the man for no longer than an hour. But there was something about the easy-going conversation, the late night, and the champagne buzzing in your blood that made this scene… just like the ones you read about, in your favorite books.

As soon as that idea slithered into your mind, you forcefully pushed it out. That was another level of delusion, Y/N. Those novels fried your brain.

You got up before Lando could answer. “It's fine, I was going to go back to my hotel anyway. The party drained my social battery and my flight takes off early tomorrow, so it's better if I go to sleep.”

“Okay, sure. Let me walk you to your car at least.”

Oh shit. “... I don't have a car.”

He blinked slowly. “What do you mean? How'd you come here, then?”

“I carpooled with some girls who are not going home right now.” That was a very dumb idea now that you look back on it.

“So… how are you planning to get to your hotel?”

You didn't bring your wallet with you, so no chance of getting a taxi. “... I'll walk?”

“... Yeah, no. No chance. At night? Dressed like that?” He took you in, making you hyper-aware of the high slit and the almost sheer material of your dress. “I'll take you.”

You were stunned. So much for avoiding delusion or further embarrassment. “I can't possibly ask you─ I mean, you have a party─”

“If you think that after-party is going to end anytime soon, you're so wrong,” he chuckled.

In all honesty, you could have argued more, but Lando already seemed settled on his decision. He stood up, not before grabbing the heels you took off during the conversation and decidedly headed toward the parking lot. You hummed and followed suit as he started walking toward his car, your comments dying on your tongue. The improbability of what was currently happening was just too much for you to grace it with a thought, so a sentence would be crossing the limits.

The car ride was spent in comfortable silence as soon as you typed the address of your hotel in his GPS. Your eyes widened when his car came into view: a black 2018 McLaren Senna, with red accents, you hadn't seen so beautiful with your own eyes in a while. You had to bite back a gasp when you got in.

Lando rolled the windows fully down. The wind whipped strands of hair around as you watched the scenery roll by at a dizzying speed, making you wonder if he knew what a speed limit was. Soft bass music played on the radio, one you didn't know the lyrics to, but Lando did as he whispered-sang them. He looked calm behind a wheel that didn't belong to a Formula One car, the contrast was drastic. The driver met your eyes with a smile, and that was only then you realized you'd been staring. You turned your head as he laughed.

When your hotel came into view, you quietly thanked him for dropping you off and stepped out of the car. You didn't know what to do after that. Some part of you tugged at your mind ─ it was too good to be true, those things only happened in books. He was probably waiting for something in return. After a small wave to him, you were ready to disappear behind the doors and leave this night behind.

“Wait!” Lando called out from his opened window. Your stomach dropped. You knew it.

Hesitantly, you turned around.

“You're still wearing the wrong color,” he simply said, “I better see you in orange if you want my services next time.”

Relief washed over you and no matter how hard you fought it, a smile broke your carefully impassive facade. “Next time?”

Lando smiled at you. “Next time.”

And when he drove away, you couldn't help the butterflies in your stomach either.

As you lay in bed that night, you didn't push anything away. You processed what happened, today and yesterday. You didn't know how to feel or what to feel exactly, many emotions were contradictory, but maybe it was alright ─ not to know. To just let yourself feel without having to put a name on it.

When you grabbed the phone in your handbag, an Instagram notification caught your attention before you could even unlock it.

@.lando started following you.

A disbelieving, loud laugh escaped you. He did say there would be a next time.

After that it was safe to say, even though a little wild, Lando Norris had become a staple in your daily life.

The moment you got back home, you had received a DM by the driver himself asking if you traveled safely to which you couldn't help but reply with a “Stalker much?”. He simply answered that there was only a single flight going back to where you lived today, so it was easy to find on Skyscanner. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

It made you smile.

The texts continued. What first started as small conversations every two days, reacting to each other's stories or silly tweets with not much depth behind them gradually grew, over a month, into useless life updates, every day with no exceptions.

lando: just ate the biggest fucking sandwich today

lando: [1 picture attached]

lando: scooby-doo type shit

whoisy/n: i'm so hungry actually

lando: did u get sidetracked reading again

whoisy/n: it's LITERALLY my job

lando: go get something to eat you muppet

whoisy/n: yessir

whoisy/n: u'll never guess what happened in my book

lando: he cheated on her right

whoisy/n: …

whoisy/n: you WILL guess what happened in my book

lando: LMAOOO that was so obvious from what you told me

whoisy/n: i had sm faith in him. men!!!

lando: they're all the same

whoisy/n: RITEEEEEE QUEEN

Lando always asked about what you were currently reading. It didn't take a genius or an Oxford diploma to notice how much you loved it, not when your entire social media presence was built around it. You knew it wasn't performative and he enjoyed hearing you talk about it ─ he often sent texts during the week asking about your favorite character, at what page you were, and if they kissed yet. It was harder during weekends due to races. Somehow, he still made time.

Similarly, Lando took the habit of sending you long vocals at the end of his days, explaining what happened, what Oscar and him were up to, and how annoying the different media were. He still refused to tell you much about his team, because your allegiance to Ferrari was simply “outrageous” according to him. You gladly landed a listening ear, chiming with a helping comment whenever you could. The late evenings got later and the vocals longer and longer each passing week, and before you knew it you two were calling almost every night.

It was a normal occurrence. He would get ready for bed and you would drop your Kindle for an hour or two, even longer the rare times he didn't have anything planned the next day. You would talk about anything and everything at the same time ─ sometimes he'd rope you into downloading a game and playing it with him, sometimes you'd just remodel the world until one of you was too exhausted to keep playing God. Most of the time, it was Lando.

Due to its sudden start, this growing friendship of yours quickly attracted the attention of your entire following base as well as his. Lando commented on almost all your new Instagram posts and TikToks with random things that either had a link with what you were talking about or none at all ─ most often alluding to the many inside jokes that stemmed from your conversations. Every interaction succeeded in making everyone crazy, especially your followers: apparently, you were finally getting the sports romance you were dreaming about for years.

The thought crossed your mind, how could it not with the amount of allusions under your posts? The fan edits on your For You page? But you never let yourself linger on it for too long.

You and Lando were friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

The call you got that night was unexpected. Tomorrow was race day, the Canadian Grand Prix more specifically ─ and Lando never called before a race. You understood perfectly, something about being well rested and focused, so you usually sent a good luck paragraph he'd read in the morning and answer after the event. So why did his caller ID light up your phone screen as you were getting ready to go to bed, you didn't know.

You picked up without a second thought. “Everything's alright?”

“What happened to hello?” He chuckled, his voice grainy through the speaker.

“My God,” you sighed. “Hello, Lando. Is everything alright?”

“Why wouldn't it be?”

“You never call before race day.”

Silence. “Hello?” You called. “You're still there?”

“Yeah, sorry. Uh, it's just─ your books are so unrealistic.”

Your heart skipped a bit, and you sat a little straighter against your pillow. “What?”

“I couldn't sleep and I didn't have anything to do, so I picked up one of your F1 romances you recommended in your last video─” No. No, he didn't. “Throttled? By Lauren Asher? And I just─ it's so dumb.”

Your mouth dropped open and instead of letting out words, a small screech left your lips. “You─ you read─? Why?”

“Like I said, I couldn't sleep. Whatever, it's─”

“Embarrassing!” You interrupted Lando. “You read one of my─ oh my god. This is not the family-friendly kind either. And it's F1. Next time just punch me in the face, I’ll be less humiliated.”

A wheeze came from the other side of the phone. You buried your head in your pillows, trying to put out the fire in your face. “Oh yeah, definitely not family-friendly.”

You groaned in response but that didn't stop Lando from continuing. “As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, it got most of the sport right but otherwise it's so… it took all the competitiveness out! That's, like, the entire point of F1! I thought you were a fan, how can you willingly enjoy that?”

“I mean, I know it's not the most accurate representation of F1,” you flopped on your back, “but it's kinda like Drive To Survive, y'know? Most people watch it for the drama. I read those for the romance plot.”

Lando scoffed at your words. “Even the romance plot isn't that good, Y/N. The whole part in which he throws a race to make her happy? That's such bullshit.”

“How so?”

“If you love her, you win a race for her.”

You couldn't put the words on it once again, but the way he said it constricted your chest with such tightness you had to take a long, calming breath. You had to concentrate to get out your next sentence. “Well, I don't know, it's not like I know anything about romance. I thought that was pretty romantic.”

“What do you mean, ‘don't know anything about romance'? You read this shit all day long.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, but that's not the real thing. I've never actually dated or kissed anyone, so actual romantic gestures are like… foreign languages to me.”

A beat. Until you suddenly heard a mess of covers moving around, reverberating right in your eardrums. You hissed, and Lando spoke up again.

“You've never kissed anyone? Or dated?” He sounded stunned, which surprised you. It's not like you've tried to hide it. It grew to be your brand over time.

“Uh, yeah. Never.”

“You're shitting me.”

“No?”

“I can't believe it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, jeez, thank you for making me feel so great about being a twenty-two years old virgin, Lando.”

“No! No! I didn't mean it like that,” he screamed at his speaker. “You're just… you're you. You’re too nervous for your own good, true, but your cheeks get darker when you laugh, you fiddle with your sleeves when you don’t know what to say, and you constantly hum songs when it’s too quiet for you. You're smart, you're beautiful, you're passionate, you're funny…” He got quiet before continuing. “I don't get how anyone could pass up the chance to kiss you, that's all.”

Oh. Oh.

The fluttering in your stomach flew its way up to your throat, and for a little moment, you thought you were going to throw up. The silence stretched as you basked in Lando's words, left hanging in the thick air. Suddenly the screen didn't seem like enough space between the two of you.

Lando ended up breaking the stillness. “I just─ I think I should hang up. The race's tomorrow and it's getting─” A pause. You glanced at the time: 00:23. “Shit, the race is today.”

“Don't worry. Go to sleep, get those hours in and win tomorrow,” you answered in a shaky breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do.”

Still, neither of you clicked on the red button. “Lando?”

“Mmh?”

“Thank you. For what you said.”

“... I meant it.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He hung up.

You desperately tried to fall asleep, tossing and turning, fighting with your pillow and covers to get comfortable but the only thing your mind could focus on was the end sentence he uttered, the inflections of his voice a ghostly whisper in your ear. I don't get how anyone could pass up the chance to kiss you.

How did you successfully act as if that call never happened? You didn't know. You never were a good liar, less of a good actress. Maybe it was the way Lando carefully sidestepped the subject every time you nearly alluded to it that made you so good about ignoring it altogether.

It was nothing. You just blew it out of proportion, like you usually did. Maybe you should try self-help books instead of romances for the next few months.

No matter how bittersweet your feelings were about this whole situation, you chose to put them aside, simply because Lando had two free weeks starting today and he chose to put a few of his days aside to fly out to your town. For the first time in almost three months, you were going to see each other face to face. And under normal circumstances! That would be a first.

When he came out of the airport, with a gigantic suitcase for just a few days and his characteristic grin adorning his lips, all questions just vanished into thin air. You resisted the urge to jump into his arms but you didn't miss how tight Lando held you when he initiated the hug ─ you melted into him like snow in the sun.

Lando had rented a hotel room for his short stay, a good thirty minutes ride from you. He used it once before you both silently declared your home was way better than a five-star Hilton. He squatted on your couch and you'd sleep in your bed, the rare times you slept as most nights were spent playing video games and marathoning movies. Most of them were romantic comedies. Lando would complain about the lack of realism and you'd smack him over the head, and the movie would be watched in between snarky commentaries and heartfelt comments on your perception of love, sneaking glances at each other.

You tried not to let the latter get too much to your head.

However, Lando's trip had to end at some point. Too soon, it was the evening before his plane ride home and you were helping him gather the stuff he left all over the place ─ the state of your living room was deplorable, but you could cry about it tomorrow morning. In any case, you had to get ready since Lando established earlier there was no way in hell he was going to go back without going out at least once. You replied by saying you already went out a couple of times but according to him, visiting was not considered “going out.”

A good thirty minutes later, you crossed the threshold of your house, heels clacking on the pavement as you approached Lando. He was waiting next to your own car, black shirt half buttoned and messy curls hastily tamed. You had forced yourself not to stare too much ─ friendship established or not, you were still the same girl he found on the stairs in Miami and he was still undeniably beautiful. His eyes raked over you in silence, his lips parting slightly, and you found your normally confident walk faltering.

You hoped he thought of you just the same.

Then, breathlessly, “Wow.”

That's all it took for fire to flame up your face, drowning the blush you so carefully applied. You graced him with a little spin, which he applauded. “Well, you're not so bad yourself,” you added. Understatement of the year.

You walked to the driver's seat, but Lando's hand on the handle stopped you going further. “Nah, I'm driving tonight. I got a surprise for you.”

“What do you mean, surprise? Weren't we supposed to go to the movies?” You raised your eyebrows, confused.

“We watched, like, 30 movies and I've been there 5 days - I’m starting to overdose. Trust me and get in the passenger seat.”

“... You being so ominous is making it very hard to trust you, Lando.”

“I’m an F1 driver, I can drive your car.” He sounded offended you doubted him, even though you weren’t alluding to his driving skills at all. Still, the tone he employed when mentioning your car was almost offending you. Not everyone had a McLaren salary. “I meant the surprise,” you clarified.

“Ah. Well. Have a little faith in me, c’mon.” On these words, he climbed into the driver’s seat and closed the door on you. The audacity of that man, sometimes you couldn’t believe it. It didn’t leave you much choice than to take the seat next to him and watch the landscape go by. Quiet conversation was made as the sky tinged with dark, navy blue, and before you knew it Lando was parking in front of one of the most reputable ─ and expensive ─ restaurants in your town. It was safe to say you never put a foot in it before.

When you got out of the car, you almost jumped at him. “That’s your surprise?!” You whispered-exclaimed under his amused gaze. “You’re crazy. Downright mad.”

“I’m inviting you!” Like it was the most natural thing in the world, to just indebt yourself by inviting a girl to dinner. The smile he flashed at you was a mix of hesitation and enthusiasm, so bright that any protests and remarks about how you just couldn’t let him pay died in your throat. Instead, you thanked to which Lando answered by giving you his arm. You took it and entered the restaurant.

You couldn’t describe the meal as anything but luxurious, whether it was taste-wise or the plate’s presentation. Your surroundings were gold plated and yet the only thing you could focus on was how hard Lando was trying to make you choke on your food ─ the jokes were flowing just as much as the wine in your glass, any awkwardness you may have felt stepping into this place disappeared into thin air as soon as Lando started occupying the conversational space, like he could sense how tense you were.

Before you could even look at the dessert, he stopped you. “We’ll skip that,” he said. You threw him a strange look. “I have another thing planned, just go with it.”

How many surprises were in store for you tonight? You didn’t know, and your Excel-spreadsheet-on-vacations self was getting panicky. But if there was one thing you learned with Lando was that your incessant worrying was needless, especially with him. You left after he took care of the bill, being very careful about not letting the numbers in your sight, and climbed back into the car. The sky was now an inky black and the air was lukewarm on your bare arms. Lando rolled the windows down like he usually did, but this time let you be in charge of the aux ─ considering it still was your vehicle. Frank Ocean’s “Moon River” resonated in between hushed giggles and the chime of the wind in your hair. Flashbacks of that fateful night, three months ago, crept through your memories. You still couldn’t believe what it had come to.

You drove longer than you did before. This time, Lando parked on a cliff you had no idea existed, even though this was your town. And this time, when you got out of the car, your breath was taken away by just how many stars contrasted with the darkness of the night, the lights of the town too far away to blind them and instead joining them in a faraway source of light.

Marveling in front of the scenery stopped you from noticing Lando’s shenanigans behind you. He was awfully quiet, which wasn’t like him, so you turned around.

You found him on the roof of your car. Literally. With plastic goblets, the half-empty bottle of wine you had at the restaurant, and ─ you weren’t joking ─ a plate of pancakes. Your jaw dropped open, nearly hitting the floor. “What? How─ huh?” No full sentence could come out of your mouth at this moment, no matter how hard you tried.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like pancakes,” he pleaded, “I woke up way too early to make them not be eaten.”

You thought you dreamt yourself climbing on the top of your car to sit next to him, but it was all very real: you were wholly stunned, which he seemed to notice. Sheepish, he prompted a proper explanation, “I just thought I should, uh, properly thank you. For letting me stay at your house and all. This seemed less impersonal than the restaurant.”

“You stole the wine,” was the only constatation you were able to get out, barely. Emotions constricted your throat too tightly for you to utter anything else.

He laughed. “Took it when you weren't looking. ‘S not like they're going to reuse it so I took care of the waste.”

“Such an ecologist soul,” you teased.

“They call me Father Nature at McLaren.”

“How'd you…” Words weren't coming out easily. Your eyes darted from the bottle, to the pancakes he probably woke up at an ungodly hour of the morning to make, and Lando ─ who was waiting for you to speak like you were his saving grace. Nobody ever looked at you like that, you thought, like you meant something more than what you were. “How'd you get this idea?”

Your question seemed to fluster him a little. He ran a hair through his curls, eyes darting to the side. “Uh, that's what he did. The male character in your book. Nothing Like The Movies I think? I thought that'd be something you like, y'know?”

Your heart thumped against your chest like it threatened to burst out of it. He read a romance novel, one of the most recent ones you reviewed. He took note of your favorite scene, in which Wes was supposed to take Liz to a restaurant but ended up eating on the roof of his car. He reproduced it.

For you.

“I…” There was a sentence threatening to spill out that you're not sure you quite mean yet, but you were feeling it so deeply it was hard to keep it in check. “I don't know what to say.”

“Then just eat the goddamn pancake before they get harder than they are. Turns out, they're not really durable.” It surprised a chuckle out of you.

The conversation carried on after that. The slow hum of Frank Ocean's discography escaping from the car made the perfect soundtrack to the vast discussions about racing, books, and life in general. The longer Lando and you went on, the quieter your voice got until they were reduced to a little more than a whisper, almost into each other's ears. Your cheeks hurt from laughing, your pinkie was intertwined with his, and the bottle was empty by the time the clock on your lock screen showed midnight.

“How did you even find this place?” You looked around once more, taking in the city lights, the tall trees, and the numerous stars above you.“I've been living here for years and I never knew you could get such a good view. Plus, it's not like you sneaked out during the night to scout places out. Unless?” You gasped exaggeratedly.

And there it was again, the pinkish tint at the end of his ears and the avoiding looks. “Nah, no sneaking out. I… I mean, what I did was─”

“You…?”

“I googled ‘date idea’ in your city and this is one of the places that came up.”

All of the sudden, the reality of the situation slapped you in the face. How Lando's thumb was lazily drawing circles on your hand, the romantic lyrics of the song playing from the car, the wine and the restaurant and how your eyes have been switching from his eyes to his lips a bit too often ever since you parked.

“Is this…?” You could kiss him right now. According to how transfixed he was by your mouth, you didn't think Lando would mind much.

You leaned in ever so slightly. He never answered your half-question, and even if he did you don't think you could have heard it through the hammering in your ribcage. However, his lips were but a brush of air against your own.

Because a goddamn flash stopped you.

You both jumped in surprise, the harsh light blinding you for a split second. The other half of it was enough to realize what you were faced with. Lando was the first to voice it, in more of a hiss than a sentence. “Fucking paparazzis.”

He got off the car in a jump, but a flurry of hurried footsteps told you that by the time he reached the spot the light came from, there would be no one left. You jumped off as well, dusting off your dress. “Lando?” You were shaking. Somehow, you couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment, panic, cold, or the brutal withdrawal of the high you were in not even a minute ago.

“The fuckers ran away.” His voice betrayed the palpable anger radiating off him. “I should’ve known. They’re always fucking there.”

The mood was gone, replaced by the static of the cold night air and the missing warmth of each other. By a silent, common agreement, you both cleaned up your car’s rooftop and climbed back in your seats soon after. The soft music was gone, the windows rolled up and Lando’s hands were tense on the wheel. When you got home, nothing more but a small “goodnight” was exchanged ─ apart from a glance, as you crossed your bedroom’s door, but it was too dark for you to interpret what it could mean.

When you woke up a few hours later, Lando was already gone.

You knew it was too good to be true. Things like that happened to the type of girls in the novels, not to you. But when Lando wouldn’t answer your texts, or carried on his vacations and his first Grand Prix back without a care in the world, you still couldn’t be asked to describe the terrible ache in your chest. You should have known.

You couldn’t wrap your mind around it ─ that all the late night calls, the comments, the texts, the rooftop of your car and the soft sweep of his breath on your lips was so easy to brush off for him. Not when it was the ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ of what could have happened that night that kept you up for so many sleepless hours. It left you wondering if any of it was real: the friendship, the sweet words, and everything in between, or if you were just the new mystery girl to toy with and give up when it became too complicated.

The heartbreak and betrayal weren’t even the worst part of the situation. You didn’t expect the photo to come out as quickly as it did, after McLaren had a good PR team and would be able to at least intercept it, right? Wrong. It came out two days later. The picture was slightly blurry but clear enough so you could perfectly see your face and Lando’s, dangerously close to each other, and your hands intertwined together.

The flurry of comments, DMs, and interview requests sent to you after was unbelievable. Your community did the best it could to try and get the tabloids off your back, bless them, but all the other sides of the internet were either begging for more information or calling you names. Still, Lando and McLaren chose to ignore the whole situation. Swallowing your pride and deciding to take the high road, you did the same. You read romance books, you reviewed them, you exchanged a little bit with your followers on social media, you watched movies ─ you carried on with your day-to-day life, even if it was with a little less vehemence and a growing dislike for the romantic genre you adored.

It was the first year a Grand Prix would take place in your city. A brand new circuit, with brand new challenges. Taking place in the middle of the season, you were ecstatic when it was announced a few months back. Now, seeing people walking down your street with bright orange shirts and a number 4 on their back on a Friday morning, the only thing you wanted to do was to close your blinds and crawl back into bed for the weekend.

Your plans were thrown in the wind not even an hour later by none other than Cisca Norris. With an Instagram DM. You started following each other a few days after your friendship with Lando had been noticed by the public eye, but you’ve never really spoken to each other. She looked like a sweet girl nonetheless.

ciscanorris: heyyyy

ciscanorris: ik we never talked

ciscanorris: and that might not be the bestest moment to get friendly

ciscanorris: but heyyyyyyy

Your eyebrows rose at the notification, but you weren’t about to let your situation with Lando get in the way of interacting with his sister ─ who had nothing to do with it in the slightest.

whoisy/n: hey cisca! dw at all, hows it going : )

ciscanorris: great!! hbu?

whoisy/n: tired, but apart from that nothing much

ciscanorris: rest well then!

ciscanorris: i’m going to be honest tho

ciscanorris: i’m not just texting you to ask how you’re doing

It should have surprised you yet it didn’t. The timing was too spot-on to be a coincidence, but you chose to live in ignorant bliss.

ciscanorris: are you going to the race this weekend?

whoisy/n: what do you think

ciscanorris: can’t blame you

ciscanorris: my brother’s an ass

That made you chuckle.

whoisy/n: i was thinking worse

ciscanorris: so am i

ciscanorris: but he wants to make up for it

ciscanorris: really

ciscanorris: he insists you should go to the race

whoisy/n: and he couldn’t text me and ask himself because…?

ciscanorris: doesn’t want to spoil the surprise apparently

ciscanorris: idk what he’s planning

Another surprise. Knowing how the last one amazingly ended, you were a little doubtful. Lando sent his sister to ask you to come as if she was the one racing, and now he had something planned ─ again.

ciscanorris: just check your mailbox and think about it

This was enough to pique your curiosity. You went out immediately, opening the little white mailbox next to your front door. There was only a small, brown letter with your address hastily written in black ink ─ you recognized Lando’s handwriting. There it was: a paddock pass, classic McLaren colors, with your name on it. With it? A note, same brown paper, same handwriting: “Please”.

That’s all it took to convince you to go. After all, you still had to get a proper apology.

This time, you entered the McLaren’s side of the paddock with purpose. The staff member at the entrance knew your name and even showed you the way ─ a sharp contrast with your experience a few months back. You stood above the garage, right in front of the track and near a decisive turn, though the number didn’t come back to you. It was a good spot, excellent even, it could be said to be better than the Beach Grandstands in Miami.

Yet, there was no sign of Lando.

You walked past Oscar in the hallways and the quiet driver just flashed you the tight-lipped smile you give to acquaintances in the street. You walked past his girlfriend, Lily, and you even passed by Lando’s dad, whose eyes widened in recognition but was clearly too busy to offer you anything more than that. Everyone but the man you came to watch the race for. You started to absentmindedly fidget with the bottom of your orange shirt ─ if that was his version of an apology, he was pretty shit at it.

The race started soon after your arrival, and the pit in your stomach dug deeper and deeper as you watched Lando do the formation turn. You suppose you were to wait until the end of the race, which made sense in a way, but you didn’t appreciate being put on standby like greenery on a windowsill.

The animosity dimmed when the sound of motors rang in your ears at lights out.

The circuit was brand new, and two days of preparations were not nearly enough to get acquainted with an entire novel track. Risks were high, and the probability of winning was evened out for everyone, which justified the cacophony of cars bumping into the others during the first lap as everyone found their footing. You believed Lando would have a good chance of ending P1 and snatching a victory in your city ─ it was the type of track and weather that favored him.

But Lando had started on pole position.

From the years you spent watching races and your general knowledge of him, Lando Norris didn’t do well when he started a race on pole. Most often, pressure got to him and he lost one or two places during the first few laps, which made you curse at the TV more than you’d like to admit. Unfortunately, it was exactly what was happening right now: you gripped the railing for dear life as Hamilton passed him, then almost broke your nail on the metal when Verstappen followed suit.

By the last lap, Lando had managed to stay P3 and keep his place on the podium, much to your relief, but the bitterness of pole escaping him was obvious in his behavior: champagne was sprayed all over him by his colleagues but he wouldn’t even look up from the ground, his traits disfigured by disappointment. Maybe some would see it as tiredness, but you knew better.

That’s why as soon as he walked down the podium to head to his team and to his garage, you darted downstairs to meet him.

It didn’t take long to spot Lando. His team surrounded him, clapping his shoulder and congratulating him with a bright smile. He barely returned them, scratching his neck in embarrassment. He was looking around like a lost puppy and you stood there, amidst the mess of elated people, unsure of what you should do or say. When Lando’s eyes set upon you, his expression went from disappointment to remorse in a split second.

He acted before you could. Rushing toward you, his voice was broken when he spoke up, trying to make himself clear above the surrounding noise. “I’m so, so sorry. I fucked it all up. I was─ that was shitty. My race was shitty.”

You blinked. “What?” You couldn’t understand the link to the race and your situation to save your life. “Lando, you’re P3.”

Lando ran a hand through his hair, gripping his curls. His eyes bore into yours, cutting off anything you might have wanted to add. “No!” He continued. “It’s not─ it’s not good enough. I should have been P1. It should have been me, up there. I worked… I worked so hard so I could…” He was breathless now, searching your face for something, even though you couldn’t tell what exactly.

“What are you even talking about?” Frustration elevated the tone of your voice.

“I was supposed to win the race for you!”

That shut you up. Incredulity coursed through you and your mouth, half-opened to say a sentence, couldn’t manage to get out a sound. His words didn’t make sense, and somehow you didn’t need to know more. Lando took your stunned silence as a sign to continue.

“I was supposed to win the race for you. I wanted to give you your book moment. You’re, you’re the type of girl that deserves to get swept off her feet, the grand gestures and all that!” He threw his arm in the air. “When you told me you never had that when we called that night, and the fact I could be the first one to do that for you… I never wanted something, someone, as bad.”

You felt yourself flush. “Everything else failed,” he kept on going, almost erratic, “I tried the heartfelt confessions but bailed right after, I tried to impromptu date but I forgot all about the fucking journalists. So I thought that- that maybe I could give it to you the way I knew best, by racing.”

His words, two months back, echoed in your mind. If you love her, you win a race for her.

“But I had to fuck that up too. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”

All of it was for you.

The way Lando looked at you, desperate and miserable, the way your feelings were overflowing out of you and him… it was almost too much for you to process. Your mind and heart were an unintelligible tangled mess you couldn’t make sense of, and in classic you fashion, the first sentence that spilled out of your lips was a teary-eyed, broken, “You’re so stupid.”

“I know.”

You quickly wiped the tears that started spilling down your cheeks. “Not in that self-deprecating way you’re thinking of. Don’t you think it would have been easier if you just told me all this instead of ghosting me for almost a month? Making me think nothing about all this was real? Is that why you weren’t texting or answering me, you were figuring out how to go about this circuit?”

Lando nodded bashfully. You let out a dry laugh. “You’re unbelievable. I don’t care about- that! I don’t care that you didn’t get pole position, I don’t care about your ‘failed’ attempts. I couldn’t care less. What I care about is you. If you had told me that instead of leaving…”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he apologized again. “I just─ I wanted─ I know I acted like a moron and I should’ve done better but I thought that if I─”

“I understand. I know.” Gently, you took his hands, furiously fisting the pans of his tracksuit, into yours. Apparently, it acted as an ice bucket dropped right on Lando’s head. He stared at you as if it was the first time ─ in a way it was. He was sweaty, dirty, and covered in champagne, his curls falling onto his forehead and you were standing there, almost as surprised as your first meeting. Except everything else had changed, and the man in front of you wasn’t just a guy driving in a fast car you liked watching on Sundays. “But I didn’t need it. You’re plenty enough all by yourself, without the grand gestures and book-worthy moments. I’m not a book heroine. I need something real.”

The space between the two of you suddenly seemed too vast for the emotions inside of you. One of Lando’s hands carefully slithered on your waist, as if to test the waters. The gentleness of his movement, its implication, stole the breath out of you. “How real are we talking?” He was trying to make light of the situation, but the underlying seriousness in his voice betrayed him.

“I think you know it by now.”

And just like that, his lips crashed onto yours.

It was an electric shock as if lightning struck you and spilled in your entire body. When he pulled back, you didn’t waste a second wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him right back in.

If his hands were considerate, never unraveling further than your waist and cheeks, his mouth was the complete opposite: hungry, intense. He kissed you like he had been holding back for so long it pained him not to touch you, and you kissed him back with the same vigor because you had been waiting just as much. He tasted like expensive alcohol and you were drunk on it, on the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands on your body. You couldn’t get enough. You don’t think Lando could either. It was messy, somewhat clumsy, his mouth wet and firm moving in sync against your own in haste and impatience.

But it couldn’t have been more perfect. Not for your first kiss.

“Really, right here? Get a goddamn room.”

You recognized Oscar’s voice, even though you couldn’t see him, which was an acidic reminder of where Lando and you both were. You broke the kiss first, and he let out a breathy laugh against your lips, sending shivers through your whole body. “That… was a long, long time coming,” he whispered.

“Whose fault is that?” He chuckled again. You did too.

You gave each other a bit of space, mainly for some well-needed air but also for the comfort of the staff around you. Still, Lando’s hand went up from your waist to your forearms, taking you in like it was the first time he saw you. His smile, wide and bright, brought the trademark heat to your cheek. “You wore the right color this time.” You were now hyper-aware of the shirt you wore, bright orange with a 4 printed on the back. “Good, I would've hated kissing you while you were wearing red. That equals cheating now, by the way.”

“Oh, really? You know, you still technically haven’t taken me out on a proper date,” you teased. “Don’t think you’re forgiven just yet.”

“Don’t even worry about that, I’ll take you out on the best dates ever. No paparazzis this time. You’ll even choose the movies.”

“Even if it’s a romcom?”

“I kinda grew attached to them because of you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Before you could get another comment out, a squeal replaced it as you felt the floor give up under your feet. It took you too long to realize Lando had swept you up in his arms, bridal style and was currently heading down a hallway. Your arms went up around his neck, this time for support. “What are you doing?” You asked with a giggle.

“Taking you to the driver’s room.” Even though you couldn’t manage to see his face, you could practically hear his grin, proud and cocky. “Going to give you reasons to forgive me, we can talk date ideas here.”

“What about the interviews?”

“They can wait.”

Playful protests escaped you under the incredulous eyes of the staff members who saw you disappear behind the white door. You didn’t care. At all. Anxiety be damned, as well as everything that held you back before. Because of this, what you had with Lando, felt perfect. Right. It might be too soon to call it love, but you had no doubt it would come to that sooner than later.

Because the way he held you, the way he kissed you, the way he looked at you, was undoubtedly better than any romance novel you ever read. Because it was real.

©drgnsfly 2k25. do not copy, steal, post somewhere else or translate my work without my permission.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 #ln4 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 #formula one #mclaren #f1 fanfic #lando x reader #lando norris fluff #fluff #lando norris imagine #f1 imagine #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ᯓ my writing.ᐟ

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jensthwa · 10 months ago

Text

show & tell (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

You have known Mingi since you both were fourteen. You’ve been by his side through thick and thin and you would do anything for him, really, considering he’s your other half. When he has an unfortunate bed experience and asks for your help and you say yes, he starts considering that, maybe, you’re just the best friend a guy like him can have.

PAIRING: best friend!mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: childhood best friends to ?

WORD COUNT: 8k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, wooyoung being a little shit, hwa being the voice of reason, sex talk, pet names (love and also dude and bro but in a sweet way), mingi scaring the sense out of you, descriptions of female anatomy, kissing, dirty talk (sort of), teasing, a little bit of voyeurism, fingering, squirting, almost getting caught, unresolved feelings.

NOTES: had to do a lot of research for this one, so i figured nothing better to post as my first fic here! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: july 18th 2024.

masterlist. / part two.

“Delete her number right now!”

“She's such a bitch for saying that to you…”

“And over text too? Wow.”

“Yeah, no, I didn't like her from the start.”

Wooyoung’s living room comes to life once again that morning, voices echoing and insults flying out, all towards the girl Mingi’s seeing.

Was seeing. You're sure she's out of his usual rotation with the lovely shit show she just caused.

You stay silent, your eyes fixed on your best friend's expression, on his red cheeks and apologetic eyes because everyone told him that girl was bad news.

He should've listened to you when you told him you liked her friend better. She was a sweet girl, clearly had a thing for Mingi.

Unfortunately, Mingi has a type. And that type always ends up breaking his spirit one way or another.

But you stay silent, letting your friends have their little rants about how much of a bitch she is for hurting Mingi's ego like that, until he covers up his face with his hands and lets out a frustrated whine.

“That's enough, everyone. I think he got it.” You smile a little and everyone turns to you, Yunho’s chest heaving and everything but Seonghwa (who also kept his mouth shut all this time) interferes before anyone else has the chance to start again.

“You know you shouldn't feel ashamed for that, right?” he asks Mingi, who slowly lowers his hands to his lap and looks at you for a brief second. You nod, confirming what Hwa says “No one is born knowing everything and she shouldn't expect you to know how to make a girl squirt.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mingi whines again, closing his eyes “Don't say it like that.”

“How else should I say it?” Seonghwa is confused but he laughs a little bit and turns to you.

Being the only girl in the room, you think everyone it's expecting you to pick your friend up and join them in their insults but you can't (for Mingi’s sake). Instead, you let out a sigh “I mean, it's hard to even make it happen on your own without any help, Mingi. I don't know what the fuck she's on but…” shrugging, you extend your arm to pat him in the shoulder two times “Hwa’s right.”

“So you do know?”

“Woo—” Hongjoong reprimands right away and you turn to Wooyoung, confused.

“Huh?”

“You said that it's hard making it happen,” he explains, smiling because he just found a new target for the next few days “So you must know.”

Talking about sex with them was never difficult, it didn't make you uncomfortable whatsoever but you know what Woo is doing.

You look down at Mingi before answering though and his eyes are glued to the carpet, begging for the topic of his unfortunate encounter with that bitch to die on everyone's tongue.

So you take mercy on him.

“Oh. I mean… Yeah.” You shrug once again, leaning back against the cushions on the couch while Wooyoung claps like he just heard the most hilarious joke ever.

“You truly are amazing.”

Rolling your eyes, you get up from your comfy seat “Sure. But it took a lot of practice and the whole ordeal was frustrating for me, so, again, I don't know what the fuck she was on,” you say again, smiling down at Mingi before taking a few steps towards the door “It's noon already, by the way.”

“Shit.” Woo gets up quickly from his spot on the floor and everyone else follows suit.

“Alright, everyone out! We have a midterm to cheat on.” San calls out and everyone takes it as their sign to actually leave (not just hang around the apartment) and continue with their days.

This reunion was a little impromptu, just because Wooyoung texted everyone begging to come over and hang out with him and San before their online philosophy midterm.

“And by that he means that you need to stay,” Wooyoung hugs Seonghwa hard, almost begging him with his eyes “We didn't study… Don't look at me like that! Please?”

“I'm not doing your fucking midterm for you!”

You chuckle, leaning on the door and waiting for your ride home to get his shoes on. When you look down at him again, Mingi mouths a thank you and you blow him a kiss.

When you get downstairs, you swear you still hear Wooyoung begging his senior to take the test for him.

Everyone is quiet in the car. You can tell they're tired from exams and life in general, so you don't press them with questions and just let the music play in the background while you look out the passenger window and, eventually, at Mingi.

His grip on the steering wheel lets you know he's a little more affected than he let on back there. But, again, you say nothing.

You know better than to pressure him into telling you his feelings.

Mingi and you have been friends forever. He lived a few houses down from yours, becoming your first friend when you moved to the city. You both were fourteen when it happened, so you've known him long enough to know what happens when he gets his heart broken.

Not that Mingi loved that girl or anything, but he never really took embarrassment well. He didn't when the first girl he liked rejected him in front of the whole ninth grade class and he didn't when his pants ripped in the middle of the stage while performing a routine with his dance team on senior year.

You stood by his side every single time and every single time he waited to sit down and let everything out, collect his feelings and talk to you through his frustrations. You really loved that about him, because he never said anything he regretted just because he was upset at the moment.

Maybe that's why you two have been friends for so long. Opposites attract, or whatever your mother told you one time.

In reality, you think it's because you two complement each other well.

He knows when to speak his mind and you're kind of impulsive, heart on your sleeve and sharp tongue ready to defend your and your loved ones honor if needed.

That's why it takes a lot of strength for you to not pull up that girl's number from his phone and give her a piece of your mind.

One by one, you drop your friends off in different parts of the city and when it's time to go into your own house, you circle the car and Mingi rolls his window down.

He reads the look you give him a little too well, so he opens his mouth to stop you but you shake your head.

“Call me, come over or just let me know if you need anything,” you start before he says anything “If you need me to beat her up, I can do that too.”

He huffs out a laugh “You don't even know how to fight, love.”

You sigh at the nickname, he's been using it since the time you told him you had a crush on his friend, way back in highschool, and that you were positive you were going to get together and he would call you love because that's what good boyfriend's do.

Turns out, you weren't exactly his friend's type. Neither were the other girls in your school.

“I don't give a shit, I'll do it,” You two smile to each other fondly for a few seconds and then you tap the top of the car “Thanks for the ride, dude.”

“You’re welcome, bro.” He rolls his eyes, annoyed because he hates when you call him that, but waits for you to get inside either way.

And in the solitude of your room, you wait.

You distract yourself with papers that are due in a few days, you start studying for your finals even though they're months away and you even go downstairs to say goodbye to your parents when they leave for a fancy dinner with their colleagues before you hear your phone ring.

Mingi's FaceTime comes right on time, because you were getting really anxious from the radio silence on his end.

“I have a small query for you.” He puts on an accent that makes you grimace immediately and he laughs at you.

“Ew. Never do that ever again,” you beg, going back upstairs to your room “Go ahead.”

“How do you do it?”

“Excuse me?”

“How the fuck do you make yourself squirt, love?”

Oh.

Definitely not the conversation you were hoping to have with him.

It catches you off guard and you stammer your response “Um… You— I mean, it's not really a thing I can explain.”

“You have such a way with words, though.”

You stare at him through the screen, annoyed, and he just laughs again “Don't make me come over and beat you up.”

“Alright, alright,” his giggling dies out and you distract yourself from the heat you feel creeping over your cheeks while putting away your statistics prep for the quiz you have next week. There's a bit of silence and then you hear him sigh “I do really want to know, though.”

“If you're asking me this to then go over to her house and prove her wrong, I'm not telling you shit.”

“No! No, that's not it at all,” he defends himself quickly when you turn your head to the camera, scowl in your face “When she asked me to do it, I really did try to make her, you know…”

“You said squirt so freely a minute ago, Mingi,” you tease, smiling, but at his expression, you give in “What exactly did you do?”

“I tried to, you know, do it like they do it in the movies,” he demonstrates his point with his free hand, his middle and ring finger down on his sheets, pressing and moving side to side “And she was enjoying it and she came, but nothing really… came out.”

“Wow, first of all: you make her come and she has the nerve to give you shit over text? I hate her,” you shake your head, disappointment written all over your face “and second of all, that was a terrible mistake.”

“What? Going like this?” He does it again and you roll your eyes, laughing a second later.

“No, dude, trying to porno your way into making her squirt.”

“Oh.” His movements on the sheets slow down and you grimace again.

“Please stop doing that,” you beg and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you through the screen. You take your phone and move to the bed, resting your head against the pillows with a huff.

You ponder for a moment. You're sure telling him what he wants to hear it's not really a threat to your friendship, but it's also something that's very personal and intimate. You can talk about sex with Mingi and the other guys, sure, what doesn't mean you tell them about your sex life.

Maybe that's why Wooyoung was so excited earlier today, because you spilled something that involves you directly and not something vague and general like you usually do.

“Would it give you peace of mind if I explained it to you?” You ask, your voice barely a whisper as you sit straight on the bed.

Your best friend takes what feels like a lifetime to respond and, when does, it's in a hushed tone as well “Please.”

You groan and you comply either way, trying to find the right words to even start “Okay, I'm going to be very technical about this.”

“I wouldn't expect anything else from you.”

His teasing tone makes you glare at him for a few seconds before dismissing it with a click of your tongue “The very first thing you need to make sure happens, is that you wash your hands—”

“Yes, Y/N, I'm not a virgin,” he huffs this time, annoyed “I know all of that, just skip to the part where I make her squirt.”

“Jesus, fine! I also want to clarify that this works on me and I'm not really sure if it'll work on anyone else, alright?” he nods and you look away from the screen because you're not sure how to look him in the eyes “The first thing that I do— The first thing that you need to do,” you correct yourself quickly “Is make sure she's comfortable. And I mean, the space. Towels, water bottles… She needs to hydrate a lot.”

“Hydrate… a… lot…” You turn your head to the screen and your jaw goes slack at what you see.

“Are you writing this down?!”

“I’m making sure I don't forget anything!”

“You're unbelievable…” You let out under your breath and take a deep one before resuming the, apparently, class “Squirting can be confused as peeing and—”

“Shit, hold on.” He interrupts and you hear his mom’s voice at the door, asking him something you can't really catch through the shitty airpod audio “It's just Y/N… I'm not really saying anything so I don't understand how I'm being too loud for— Yes ma'am.”

You try not to laugh because he's literally being scolded right in front of you.

Old habits die hard, and Mingi's mom loves to put him on the spot.

Your laugh dies hard as well, because the next words, for some reason, make your heart drop to your ass.

“She's telling me to either cut it out or go to your house, so… I'm coming over.”

“Oh, I— Hello?” Your lockscreen mocks you because the call literally ended before you could tell him to go and fuck himself “Shit.”

You don't know why you panic, but you do. You tidy up the room, you change your pajamas into something more presentable and you try to remember what you were telling him before he pulls open your bedroom door.

“Mingi! Fuck, you scared the shit out of me “ you're panting, hand over your chest.

He’s also panting, like he runned to get to your house, but he looks dumbfounded by your reaction “Your mom literally gave me the spare keys in your presence.”

When he steps closer, you notice he's wearing cologne and that his hair it's a little wet, still, so you figure he took a shower before calling you tonight.

Which means he probably wanted to sleep everything off, like he usually does, but whatever this is made him call you.

“Yeah! But I thought you— Nevermind.” He shrugs and gives your hair a kiss before he moves to sit at your desk, the same way he usually does when he steals your laptop and notes to complete his assignments for the few classes you share.

God. Somehow, you wish he was doing just that so it brings back some sense of normalcy. Maybe then, your heart can calm down enough for you to understand why this specific situation has your senses going insane.

You sit back down on your bed and try to get your heart back to its place in the meantime.

“They're not home, right? I didn't see your dad’s car.”

“Company dinner.”

“Ah.” He nods and you both fall in uncomfortable silence. It shouldn't be awkward, but it kind of is, even if you laugh when he pulls out the notebook he was writing on from underneath his oversized shirt and steals a pen from your pencil case, it's still a little weird.

You gulp.

“So, squirting can be confused as peeing.” He recalls the last thing you said with a smile and then he turns to look at you for a second “Go on.”

You're grateful he's taking notes all of the sudden. He's turned to you, so you have a clear view of his back and you can freely take a grounding breath before continuing “It can make you feel very uncomfortable if you think you're going to pee yourself and that's really why most women don't squirt in the first place.”

“You sound like you're reading a textbook.” He confesses with a laugh.

“I told you, I'm being very technical about this— Besides, I did my research when I was trying to…” you gulp again “You know.”

“You said squirt so freely a minute ago.” Mingi teases you the same way you teased him earlier and you squint your eyes in return.

“Very funny. Anyways… Yeah, when you feel that, you usually tense up. You need to relax before even making it happen,” he nods, writing it down quickly “I also read that, depending on the person, you can confuse the liquid with, like, usual… arousal? Yeah, arousal” you sound more confident the second time you say it, unsure on how to call it because you never really explained anything related to your vagina to anyone else.

He turns to you, confused “So… If she doesn't squirt a lot, how can I tell if she did it?”

“I guess you'll notice it in her reaction?” You shrug and then cough a little to try and get rid of the sudden lump on your throat “I mean, it's not my case, so I wouldn't… I wouldn't know that.”

Mingi, because -you guess- hates you, just raises a brow and looks you over one time before turning back to his notes.

“A-anyways,” you cough again “It's all in her g-spot. It happens because it gets stimulated and that g-spot it's like…” you, once again, try to find the ideal words to explain “It's like the upper wall of the vagina? No, no, that's not right,” you see him draw a line over what he clearly wrote down on the paper and you laugh, apologetic “It's more like the, uh… Like the front wall of it.”

“Front wall?”

“Y-yeah?” you offer, nervous and unsure “I mean… Ugh, let me explain again. Something that you need to take into account is that you can only find it if she's really, really turned on.”

“O… kay.”

“Sort of like when you get hard we, uh, also get hard. Just differently,” you notice he's no longer taking notes when you turn to him again and the room is suddenly very hot.

The AC’s on, right?

Fuck.

“And apparently it only really shows up when you're really aroused. The g-spot, I mean,” Quickly, you're up from your bed and walking around it, fetching your water bottle and taking a big gulp of it with your eyes closed.

Mingi clears his throat a second later.

“So it feels hard to the touch or…”

“Not really, um… It kinda feels like a berry.”

He laughs “What?”

“Yeah, it's kind of soft but it has a texture to it too. And we, uh… have this gland that fills up with the liquid— Kind of like a prostate gland! Yeah, that's what that article said,” putting even more distance within Mingi and you, you sit back on the bed, just on the other side “If you try to do it before it fills up, you end up with nothing. That's what frustrated me the whole time I was learning how to do it.”

“You didn't drink enough water?”

“No, no— It fills up when you get really turned on. And when I was trying, I was trying way too hard and didn't, uh… I didn't do a lot of foreplay before trying, s-so.” You nod, finishing the explanation in a softer voice.

Your cheeks feel hot and you swear your upper lip is sweating a bit. Why would you even say that?

“Y-you didn't touch yourself enough or…?”

“Exactly, I didn't, I just… Tried t-to stimulate it. Wasn't even wet enough so I used, uh, lube.”

“Oh… Lube. Sure, okay.” He nods again, and then moves his hand over his face, looking away for a second “And then?”

“I'm not really sure how to… Give me a second.”

What were you even telling him before exposing yourself like that? Before the tension in the room skyrocketed in a suffocating way? You're not sure.

Oh, foreplay. Okay, what's next?

“Fingering,” you say out loud when you remember and at the sudden word Mingi turns to you, eyes wide and you stumble over your words yet again “Y-you need to finger her to stimulate the g-spot, duh.”

“Don't duh me, Y/N, I'm learning!”

“Sorry!”

“Okay! Now what do I do when… fingering.”

That makes you frown. You're not really sure what to tell him next. So you look straight ahead and, unintentionally, move your ring and middle finger the way you do when you're touching yourself.

In the silence of the room, you audibly hear Mingi’s breath hitching and that draws you back to reality.

When you look at him, his eyes are solely focused on your fingers.

“I don't really know how to explain this next part.” You sound apologetic, your lips tensing into a straight line.

A bit passes.

And then another one and another one where Mingi looks at you with a weird, foreign expression on his face.

So you open your mouth to apologize to him, but he beats you to it.

“Then show me.”

You swear you never even heard him sound like that before. Or maybe you have, the tone of voice similar to when he just wakes up, low, grouchy, as if his throat might be dry.

It just never affected you this way.

“W-what?” you blink hard, a few times, trying to focus on whatever the hell is going on.

“Show me how you do it… I-if you want to.”

“Mingi!”

“I just— Look, you don't have to,” he says right away “If you don't want to, you can forget I ever asked but I'm so… curious”, he says, getting up from your desk chair and planting his knee into the bed “And I'm also really butthurt over what happened. I want to learn but I don't really have anyone else to ask.”

“What about, uh… Minseo! Yeah, what about her?” you offer quickly, also getting up.

“San's ex?!”

“I don't know any other woman that you also know, Mingi!”

He gulps and breathes heavily, gathering his words, his thoughts, just like he always does and you remember: This is Mingi. Your Mingi. The Mingi you've known for years and care about more than anything.

“I'm asking you because I trust you,” he says, looking you over once again “And because if I fail, you're not… going to make fun of me for it.”

There it is.

You soften at that and he seems to relax at your reaction. His demeanor lets you know he's not just saying that because he wants to see you touch yourself, he's being honest.

So you decide to be honest, as well. In a whisper, because your voice will tremble and give away how strongly you feel about his request.

“I've never done it in front of anyone before.”

“So no one has ever make you—”

“No,” you confirm before he even gets it out and you sigh “I never ask for it and I haven't really… I've only slept with—”

“Hangyeol.” He nods and scrunches his nose in disgust at the memory of your highschool boyfriend. They never really got along and it was a shame, because Han was a great guy, he just wasn't the one for you.

“Mingi,” you walk over to him and he straightens up his spine “This could really… I mean, there's no getting rid of me in this lifetime, buddy,” reminding him makes him smile and you do as well, nervous, your body on high alert “But this could mess us up.” You finish in a whisper.

“I'm not letting that happen.” He says back, eyes scanning your face before zeroing on your eyes “There's no getting rid of me either, love.”

That nickname is going to be the death of you, you're sure. It makes you suck in air you very much need at this moment.

Fuck it.

“I'll… get the towels, then.” You smile a little even though your cheeks are burning and you feel a little dizzy while holding his gaze, but you don't back down.

Before you move, though, he stops you with his hand holding your waist “I know where they are. Stay here.”

You could literally melt right now. And you know it's a short trip to the downstairs hallway closet from your room, so you make sure you strip your duvet before things get messy.

You should go to the bathroom, too, to clean yourself up a bit before Mingi finds out what you find out when you sit on your bed.

You're so wet.

And it's so fucking embarrassing, because you're not supposed to feel this way for him, for this.

Because, if anything, this is clearly just an educational experience.

And if Mingi’s excited look when he re-enters your bedroom tells you otherwise, you're choosing to ignore it for the clearly educational experience’s sake.

“These will do?”

You take the two mismatched towels and place them on the bed right away, not even looking at him.

“Yep.”

You think he nods but you're not sure, you just caught a glimpse of him moving towards your desk while you pretend to fix the towels in the bed to perfection.

“Okay, so… You need to, uh, be comfy and shit. Drink water, you just did that a few minutes ago…” when you turn to him, he's reading his notes like he's actually about to conduct an experiment and you chuckle before shaking your head “The… The foreplay part should be next, right?”

“Right…” you drag out, biting the inside of your cheek before he looks back at you.

“You look really tense, Y/N,” he deadpans, looking down at his notes again “You need to relax so it can happen, right?”

“You're about to see me touch myself and you think I can relax?”

“Oh,” he frowns, immediately and then blinks a few times to refocus, you think “I'm not the one doing it?”

“Uh… Yes? Later? I thought you wanted to see me first, y-you… You asked me to show you…”

You can feel him think, the gears on his brain twisting and you think he's going to backpedal at any second because he's not really saying anything. Then you see it, the moment the image crosses his mind.

And the next second you have him in front of you, towering over your form and then he's not.

Getting on his knees, he tentatively places a hand on your knee and parts your legs so you can make room for him to touch the end of the mattress with his chest and raise his chin just enough to make you think he's asking you to kiss him.

Oh God, you want to kiss him.

His voice is a sweet murmur when he speaks again “Show me how to get you there, love,” he sounds like he's pleading, like he's begging you to instruct him and your breath catches when he moves his hand up your thigh “What do you like?”

Your mouth moves before you can even think “Kiss me.”

You don't even notice you're leaning forward until his breath fans against your chin and he tilts his head even more so that your noses touch.

“How do you like being kissed?”

You breathe out a laugh, a little annoyed by his constant questioning “Figure it out, Mingi.” And then the last thing you see is his smirk before his mouth presses against yours.

It's not what you expect. If anything, you expected him to take the lead. Han used to do so, all the guys you've ever kissed did it as well. You don't really know why his patience surprises you, but it does and if your heart could race even more, it would.

Because he waits for your guidance, waits for you to grab his shirt and jank him closer, waits for you to sigh against him and then returns the gesture when he feels your fingers move upwards and tangle in his dark hair.

His mouth is complying to yours, his tongue is exploring it and wetting your lips in the process and you've never felt this good with anyone before.

That's something you'll need to unpack later, but your brain disconnects when your best friend lets out a noise the second his hands touch your waist under your shirt and you forget, for a split second, that the point of this is to have you on your back pleasing yourself for him to learn.

Because you want nothing more than to hear him make that noise again.

The kisses grow needy and so do you when he trails a path with his wet lips from your chin to your neck and the next thing you know is that your back is against the towels you laid down before and his mouth is kissing the valley of your breasts over the cotton of your shirt.

You look down and it takes a second for him to feel you staring before he looks up at you “Should we take this off?”

Your voice gives away how gone you are when you reply a simple yes and your shirt is on the floor the next instant.

Now, you're sure this is not the first time Mingi has seen you in your underwear. You both have gone swimming before and he has walked into your room a million times while you're getting ready. You're even sure he's seen you walk out from your bathroom in this specific bra before… But he's staring at you like it's the first time he's been able to trace the way your breasts spill a little bit over the fabric of this old bra you decided to wear today, like it's the first time he's allowed himself to enjoy it.

Like it's the first time he's allowing himself to feel any sort of attraction for you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, shallow breath hitting his cheek when he returns his mouth to your jaw “Let me… Come here.”

You scoot up until your head rests against your pillows and he follows, resting his body weight on his side and chasing your mouth when you turn your face to him.

You should speed this up. There's no way you're not going to feel like shit if tomorrow you wake up and remember you're letting yourself enjoy this more than you should.

There’s no reason for you to lose your breath when his fingertips trace softly the skin under your breasts or for your legs to grant him access so quickly when they reach your belly and bypass every other part of your body before going straight in between them.

And he notices it too.

“I don't know why I asked you so many questions before,” he starts, turning his hand so that he back of it and his nails start caressing the inside of your thighs through your sweatpants “I know what you like. I pay attention to you whenever we're talking about sex with the guys.”

You frown, about to remind him that you never speak directly about your own experiences but he continues his ministrations, giving your other thigh attention “I usually watch you closely in case any of it makes you uncomfortable, but I notice your reactions when they speak about something that you like.”

Oh. Heart on your sleeve, your biggest flaw.

“Like that one time Woo was going on and on about marking and you couldn't stop fidgeting on your seat…” his nose traces your jaw softly before his teeth take the skin underneath it and you gasp just enough to prove him right “Or that time Yunho said he hated teasing because he's an impatient little shit” he chuckles, his index finding the spot next to your mound and going down slowly until his knuckle graces the crevice where your leg and your hip connect “and you defended it until we had to stop you guys from yelling each other over it…”

Your breath shakes and your eyes close at the sensation “Mingi…”

“Am I wrong?”

You shake your head no and you can all but hear him smile when he speaks again.

“Of course I'm not.”

You open your eyes and expect him to look at you the way he does when you're unable to defend yourself against his quips, but he's not. His eyes are following his own actions and his bottom lip is pulled by his teeth when he takes the fabric of your sweatpants and pulls it up, enough to give you some friction where you need it the most.

“Can I take this off?”

“Fuck, y-yes.”

Joining your shirt on the ground, you're left only in your underwear while Mingi is fully clothed and it bothers you out of nowhere.

“You're so wet already…” he observes and you blush, puffing some air and covering your eyes with your hand. He just laughs “That's a good thing, it means that I'm doing okay.”

He's doing more than okay. Damn all the experience he has and the way he reads you so well.

But his sweet tone gives you some clarity and you support your weight on your hand to fix your position on the bed.

“Alright, let's… resume the lesson before my parents get home.”

“They probably won't for now. The company dinners last until like… two in the morning, usually, right?”

“That's when they decide to go out for drinks.”

“Your mom always wants to go out for drinks.”

“Let's not talk about my mom right now!” you beg and he laughs again, making you chuckle alongside him and you're glad he's talking all of this -the kissing, the teasing, the sweet-talk and the wet patch on your underwear- so well.

The awkwardness from before dissipated the moment he got on his knees in front of you and all that followed was this lovely tension you're dying to keep between the two of you forever even though you shouldn't.

“Show me, love,” he pleads and you sigh, his mouth finding your cheek for a quick second, encouraging you “And then you can show me how to make you feel good, too.”

You stare at him for a few seconds “Damn, you're good,” he shakes his head and you smile, getting rid of your underwear and pushing the quick moment of embarrassment being bare with him in the room gives you “Remember that this is what works for me, okay?”

He nods and then props himself up so he can see it better.

You take a second before your fingers dive into your wet folds and, when you do, you gasp at the feeling.

You've never been more wet just for kissing and teasing before. What the fuck.

You do what you usually do when you're alone for a while and try to contain yourself from moaning because Mingi's eyes keep moving from your fingers to your face. Then, you remember you should be talking him through it, as well.

“You see how I'm building it up?” you start, chest heaving and he hums as his reply “I'm not trying to make myself come but I'm kinda just… edging myself a little bit.”

“Edging,” he repeats and then hisses when he sees your thumb pressing into your clit just how you like it, making you sigh heavily “I know all about that, that's good.”

“Y-you do?”

“You'll be surprised,” he smiles, proud of himself.

“Okay,” you continue, taking a deep breath “Then you know about prepping, too,” he nods “So, a finger first…” you say, swallowing hard when your middle finger makes its way into your cavity without much effort.

Dragging back and forth for a minute or so, you're incapable of containing yourself any longer. Air leaves your mouth in pants and your eyes close when you drag the pad of your finger upwards, locating your g-spot with ease because you're used to it.

“And then, two fingers.”

“Mhm.”

“Look at the position of my hand. I read that these two fingers work the best because they're longer than the rest, although…” you look at Mingi's hand over your belly. You didn't even notice before this that he was touching you, but he is and his thumb is tracing a pattern that both relaxes you and sends shivers down your spine “I'm sure that it won't be a problem for you, huh?”

He sends a cocky smirk your way and you would've smacked him if you weren't so… preoccupied.

Pressing your precious spot and then dragging back and forward, you stop the movements altogether. It felt too good, way more than good and it's a different sensation of what you're used to.

And it's all because of him.

You look at his side profile, his eager eyes commiting to memory what you're doing to yourself, probably taking mental notes now that his notebook is long forgotten over at your desk and…

He deserves this. He deserves to be the one to have this, just tonight.

You hate to leave what feels like it's about to be your best orgasm in the hands of someone who's just learning, yet alone a man.

But Mingi is not just any man.

“Mingi,” you call and his curious eyes leave your heat a second later “your turn.”

“Did you… Did it happen? I didn't see anythi—”

“No,” you interrupt him, your fingers leaving you and you turn to him, your clean hand finding his face “show me what you learned.”

His mouth parts, but you have a newfound confidence and a glint in your eyes that is new, so nothing comes out.

“Prove that bitch wrong.”

That seems to do it.

His eyes go from being confused to spark with determination and want and electricity runs through you again because he seems so relieved he gets to touch you sooner than expected.

Shyness and nervousness buried six feet under, you both smile to each other before you feel him.

His fingers gathering your wetness, his thumb finding your clit with ease and expertise.

“Wettest pussy I've ever touched.” You can tell he's a little lost in the heat of the moment but it's okay. So are you.

Fuck.

It's been way too long since someone else touched you this way, so you all but melt at the circles he draws on your clit. He paid close attention before, because he's touching you just the way you like it.

“That feels so good…”

“Yeah?” he asks, dark eyes finding yours before a particular stroke forces you to close them. And then he gathers enough slick to insert his ring finger inside and you can't help the moan that slips past your lips.

You lift your hand to cover your mouth, but Mingi clicks his tongue in feign disappointment “I want to hear if I'm making you feel good, love. Don't hold back on me just because this is unconventional.”

The worries die altogether with that.

And now that you have free reign to stop containing yourself, you don't know how to stop.

It's not long before his middle joins his other finger but he doesn't go for it right away. He fucks you slowly, allowing you to get used to the unfamiliar stretch of his way longer, way thicker digits until they slide in and out with little effort.

His pace picks up after what feels like ages and your hand fists his shirt for the second time tonight, nodding and moaning in encouragement.

“Deeper,” you instruct “curl them upwards and go deeper, you'll feel it then.”

He obeys immediately, his chest heaving and his mouth parting in delight when he finds it. The pad of his finger presses down on it tentatively and your grasp on his shirt hardens.

“Is that it?” you nod and he does it again, which earns another moan “What do I do now?”

Before you completely get lost in the feeling, you decide to drop the step by step bullshit aside and give him the full instruction in hopes that he'll remember it all without fucking up: “What works for me is pressing… Fuck, yeah, just like that a-and then…” you take deep breath “Just a little harder… Yeah, then rub it in a circular motion while maintaining that same pressure… Fuck, Mingi!”

He's a little too good at following instructions, because he touches you like he's been doing this forever and soon you feel the familiar swell, the usual buildup of it all and he's taking you over the age like it's nothing.

You forget how to speak, you forget how to tell him what he needs to do next and so, when you finally explode, you take his wrist and place his two fingers over your clit.

When you move them side by side, he lets out a fascinated giggle but knows exactly what to do.

A second later, your release is coating your thighs and the towels underneath you and you don't register anything else because your ears are ringing.

Did you lose consciousness for a second? It feels like you did.

That was the best fucking orgasm you've ever felt in your entire life.

And when you come back down, you only register the sound of your breathing and plump lips kissing your face, his fingers stopping their pace once he realizes you're done with it.

Opening your eyes, you stare at your popcorn ceiling for a second. Then, you look at Mingi who's already staring at you with a what the fuck just happened expression.

It makes you laugh. Softly at the beginning, post-orgasm bliss takes over but then Mingi laughs too and your whole chest swells with inexplicable pride.

You don't think twice before kissing him again. When you realize you did it, you pull back and blink at him like he didn't make you see stars three seconds ago.

“That was…” his eyes do the thing he usually does. You never notice it until now, but he scans your face so frequently you've grown used to it, but now… It feels different. His teeth nip his bottom lip and he shakes his head before speaking “Come here, love.”

And then he's kissing you again, slow, intimate, beyond the stupid lesson you just taught him.

But you don't mind it one bit.

You sit up, getting on your knees on the bed and basically forcing him to do the same. Ignoring the gross sensation of the wet towel underneath you, you pull him further into you until his chest presses against yours, until his hands roam your body and settle on your waist, securing the embrace.

This time, when you pull away, there's this whole unspoken new thing between you.

“That was…?” you press, smiling a bit, pulling both you and him back to reality.

Right now, with you half naked and his hard-on pressing on your belly, it's not the time to discuss your feelings.

“Possibly the coolest thing I've seen,” he starts, giggling when you roll your eyes “and the hottest thing I've seen, too,” you shrug, dismissing his stare because it's making you feel hot all over your body, again “and I'm really, really grateful you said yes, love.”

The soft tone he uses to say the last bit relaxes you and you nod, deciding it's not the time to tell him you never even came like that on your own.

Instead, you decide to grasp this intimate moment and extend it as much as you can. You can see Mingi is not expecting it when you reach his sweatpants and let your shaky thumb trace the outline of his cock.

Closing his eyes, he lets out a pleased sigh before he grabs you by the back of your neck and rests his forehead against yours.

“This is supposed to be purely educational, Y/N”

“Is that what you want it to be?” you softly ask, pulling your hand away but then his hips buck and chase after your touch, making you smile despite the emotions swelling in your chest “Let me help you… Please…”

“Fuck, don't beg me, love.”

“Don't make me beg, then.”

What the fuck are you even doing?

“Y/N, I—” he stops suddenly and you're too lost in the moment to notice why.

But then the sound of keys and a door closing downstairs scares the fuck out of you and you push Mingi away without thinking it through.

He lands with a thud on your bedroom floor, next to your discarded clothes.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he whispers-shouts, both shocked and offended, but you're getting off your bed and picking up your clothes and the soaked towels so you don't really care about his feelings right now.

“Bathroom. Now.”

You're so blessed for having your bedroom right next to the upstairs bathroom. And so blessed that it is your bathroom and you don't have to share it. You’ll get on your knees and thank your gods afterwards, but right now you can only think one thing.

Don't get caught.

Lord knows you'll never hear the end of it if Mingi walks out of here with a hard-on. Your dad will kill him, your mom will cheer because she loves the idea of you and Mingi together and you'll probably pack your bags and move away if it happens.

When you lock the door behind you and make a quick show of putting your underwear and pants back on, you hear Mingi chuckle.

“We can always tell them we're having a sleepover, Y/N, you didn't have to karate kick me off the damn bed!”

“Hush!” But he just keeps giggling at your very obvious flustered state.

You're about to rip him a new one when he takes two strides, backs you against the bathroom sink, and catches your lips in a quick, sweet kiss and all your worries dissolve just like that.

“Guess they didn't go for drinks after all..”

“You think?” cocking your head to the side, the smile on your lips can't be fought at this point.

He returns it and leans in for another kiss, longer this time and you sigh against his mouth before pulling away because you really, really shouldn't be doing this right now.

You hear your mother calling your name and then footsteps up the stairs. A murmured she must be sleeping and a hum from your father before they pass the bathroom door. You truly only relax when you hear their door closing at the end of the hallway.

“Okay, we're safe now.”

“When were we ever not safe?”

“When I was half naked on my bed, Mingi!”

He shakes his head with a smile and takes a step back.

You clear your throat.

“I really did want to help you out but—”

“Raincheck?” he asks and at your hesitation to say yes, he continues “If you want to. If you don't, it's okay. We… We'll figure it out, okay?”

“Okay.”

He smiles again “Good, uh…”

Mingi seems unsure on what to do next. Feeling the same, you decide the best thing to do is to get him out of here.

Opening the bathroom door, you carefully peek into the hallway, taking his hand in yours and beckoning him to follow you down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible.

“Shit, your shoes…” you whisper.

“I don't think they noticed if they didn't barge into the bedroom to check on us like they usually do, love.” He returns, in the same tone.

That does nothing to ease your mind, but he makes sure to put them on quickly and then grabs your shoulders, shaking you in a teasing manner.

“Quit worrying, Y/N. I can feel you thinking.”

Of course he does. There's no one, in this world, that knows you better than him.

It makes your heart flutter and it shouldn't. But you're getting on your tippy toes and stealing a parting kiss before you think about it too much.

It's irresponsible for you to do so, but Mingi grabs your waist and extends the duration of the kiss and suddenly you don't give a fuck about your parents or anyone else finding out about this… shift in your dynamic.

“See you tomorrow?” he asks against your lips and you nod.

“See you tomorrow.”

And with that, he leaves.

You lock the door and practically run to your room after.

What the fuck have you done?

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated and since it’s an open ending (sort of), let me know if you want a second part!

#ateez #ateez x reader #song mingi #song mingi x reader #mingi #mingi x reader #mingi smut #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez hard hours #mingi hard hours #mingi hard thoughts #first post!!!#pls tell me if u like it or if u dont or anything pls my askbox is open #<333 #fic; s&t

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luv-lock · 2 months ago

Text

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤUGLY LOVEㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Mark Grayson x Fem Reader Part 2

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : You Didn't Love Him. You Couldn't. No Matter How Much You Try. And Yet You Didn't Leave. It's Toxic. It's Bad. But It's All You Have...

☆⁠ WARNINGS : Explicit sexual content (consensual but emotionally heavy), emotional distress during intimacy, crying during sex, guilt, toxic relationship dynamics, unhealthy love. This is not a happy love story.

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

"I don’t love him."

You say it easily. Like it’s not a big deal. Like it’s just a fact.

You were too honest with your friends.

Maybe because you knew they wouldn’t judge you. Maybe because you wanted someone to tell you that what you were doing was fucked up.

Maybe because you just wanted to say it out loud.

Your friends looked at you.

"You mean like… you’re falling out of love?" one of them asked hesitantly.

You huffed a dry laugh. "No, because I was never in love."

They exchanged glances, unsure what to say.

"I can’t stand the sight of him sometimes," you continued, feeling your own words sink like stones in your chest. "I mean, he’s cute, I guess. But everything else? Nah."

One of your friends frowned. "Then why are you still with him?"

You don’t answer right away.

Because you don’t want to.

Because you don’t want to say "because no one else will love me like that."

Because you need it.

"He’s obsessed with me," you say instead, voice dry. "Might as well let him be."

Another laugh. Another joke. The conversation moves on.

But then—

A shadow.

A flicker of movement in the corner of your eye.

Your stomach dropped.

Slowly, you turned—

And there he was.

Mark.

Standing just a few feet away, looking right at you.

For a second, everything froze.

You stared at him. He stared at you.

He had heard. He had to have heard. You were so sure of it, your heart hammering in your chest, a sick knot forming in your stomach.

And then—

He smiled.

Like he hadn’t just heard you rip him apart.

Like nothing had happened.

"Hey, babe!"

Then he walked up to you, all smiles and warmth, hands casually in his pockets. His dumb jacket was unzipped, his hair still a mess from whatever bullshit he had been doing.

You were shaking.

Because there was no way he hadn’t heard.

But he was already kissing your cheek, leaning in close, like nothing was wrong.

"Sorry I’m late," he said, pulling out the chair next to you. "Got caught up with something."

You stared at him.

Nothing in his face gave him away.

Maybe… maybe he hadn’t heard.

Maybe—

"So, what were you guys talking about?" he asked, grinning, grabbing the menu.

Your throat felt tight.

One of your friends cleared their throat. "Uh, just… school stuff."

Mark nodded, seemingly unbothered. Then he turned to you, eyes bright, warm. "You ready to go? I made reservations."

And before you could react, before you could even breathe, he took your hand and pulled you out of your seat.

Took you out the door.

Took you on your fucking date.

Like nothing had happened.

Like you hadn’t just ripped his heart out and stomped on it.

You sat stiffly in the car, eyes flicking to him, trying to gauge anything.

Had he really not heard? Had he somehow walked up after—

No. No way. He have super hearing.

So why?

Why was he acting like this?

You opened your mouth—

Then closed it.

Because for once, you had no idea what to say.

You should’ve ended it.

You tried to end it.

It was late. Mark was in your room, lying on your bed like he always did, scrolling through his phone, waiting for you to come sit with him.

You stood near the door, gripping the hem of your shirt so tightly your fingers ached.

This wasn’t healthy. For either of you.

He was a good person. You weren’t.

You weren’t going to magically wake up one day and love him.

You took a deep breath. "Mark."

He turned immediately.

And then—

That smile.

That fucking smile.

Eyes wide. Face bright.

Like you had just said the most wonderful thing in the world.

"Yeah?" he asked, hopeful.

You hesitated.

The words sat on the tip of your tongue—I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t love you. I never have.

But you couldn’t say them.

Because he was looking at you like that.

Like you were the center of his universe. Like there was no world without you in it.

That was all it took.

Your throat closed.

Your heart sank.

And instead of saying what you needed to say, you just smiled.

"Never mind," you muttered.

Mark grinned, opening his arms for you. "C’mere."

And you went. Because it was easier to just let him hold you.

It started the way it always did.

Mark touched you like you were his.

Because in his mind, you were.

His hands, warm and careful, traced over your skin with something close to reverence. Like you were something precious, delicate—something he didn’t deserve but was grateful to have anyway.

His lips were soft as they pressed against your neck, down to your shoulder, lingering, inhaling deeply, like he wanted to memorize you.

"You're beautiful," he whispered against your skin.

You stiffened.

Because you weren’t.

Not in the way he saw you. Not in the way that mattered.

But Mark never saw the truth.

Or maybe he did, and he just refused to acknowledge it.

You let him undress you slowly. Let his hands roam, let his mouth worship. You didn’t push him away, didn’t roll your eyes, didn’t sneer at him like you wanted to.

You just let him.

He hovered over you, his breath shaky, pupils blown wide as he looked at you like you had hung the stars in the sky.

You swallowed, your throat dry. You shouldn’t be doing this.

You didn’t love him.

You never would.

But you had already given so much of yourself to this stupid relationship, so what was one more thing?

So you smiled, because that’s what you were supposed to do.

Mark’s breath hitched, and his lips were on yours again. His touch was desperate but restrained, like he wanted more but was afraid to take too much.

"It’s okay," you murmured, and that was all he needed.

The weight of him pressed down against you, warm, solid, real. His skin against yours, his hands mapping out every inch of you like he needed to memorize you, like this was the only proof he had that you were his.

And then—

Pain.

A sharp, tearing ache as he pushed inside you, slow, careful, almost reverent. Mark was shaking, his forehead pressed against yours, whispering apologies against your skin.

"You okay?" His voice was strained, breathless. "I—fuck, I can stop—"

You shook your head. "No. Just… keep going."

Mark groaned softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. He moved slowly, like he wanted to savor every second, like this was something holy to him.

It wasn’t holy to you.

It was just another thing you had given away.

But to him, this was love.

For him this was enough.

And so in the dim light of his bedroom, with his body pressed against yours, you pretended.

Pretended you wanted this.

Pretended you could love him.

Maybe if you acted well enough, you could convince yourself.

Maybe if you closed your eyes, you could imagine someone else.

But then—

"I love you."

Your eyes snapped open.

And it hit like a slap.

Mark was inside you, forehead pressed against yours, hands gripping your waist like he never wanted to let go.

His eyes—God, his eyes.

They were soft, devoted, desperate.

Like he would burn the entire world down just to make you love him back.

And that’s when it happened.

The dam broke.

Your chest tightened, your stomach twisted, and before you could stop it—

You started crying.

Not quiet, delicate tears.

But ugly, broken sobs.

Mark froze immediately. "Hey, hey— what’s wrong?" His voice was pure panic, hands cupping your face, eyes wide. "Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head violently, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

Because no, Mark hadn’t hurt you.

You had hurt yourself.

You had hurt him.

And now there was no taking it back.

Mark kissed the tears off your cheeks, his hands running soothingly down your sides, whispering, "It’s okay, it’s okay, I love you, I love you so much," over and over again like some kind of prayer.

And that just made it worse.

Because he meant it.

Because he would always mean it.

Even when he shouldn’t.

Even when you didn’t deserve it.

You curled into him, pressing your face against his chest, letting his arms wrap around you, letting his warmth swallow you whole.

And for the first time—

You didn’t push him away.

Because you were tired.

Tired of fighting him.

Tired of fighting yourself.

So you stayed.

And Mark held you like you meant it.

Like you would never leave.

You sat there, wrapped in the sheets, knees pulled to your chest.

You weren’t crying anymore.

But the tears still lingered, drying on your skin, the occasional sniffle betraying the fact that you had completely fallen apart just moments ago.

Mark was moving around the room.

Not chaotically, not frantically—just with purpose.

Like making sure you were okay was the most important thing in the world.

You watched from the corner of your eye as he grabbed his shirt from the floor and pulled it over your shoulders before pressing a soft kiss to your temple. His touch was so gentle—as if he was afraid you might break.

Then, he left the room.

You heard the sink running. A cabinet opening. Footsteps.

He came back with a glass of water.

"Here, drink something," he said softly, kneeling in front of you.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t reach for the glass.

Didn’t even look at him.

Mark hesitated, then gently took your hand and placed the cup in it, his fingers lingering over yours before he pulled away.

"You should drink," he urged again.

So you did.

Not because you wanted to.

But because you knew he wouldn’t stop worrying unless you did.

You took a few sips, enough to satisfy him, and set the glass on the nightstand.

Mark smiled, brushing your hair behind your ear before standing up again. "I’ll be right back, okay? Just… just sit tight."

You stayed curled up under the sheets, staring at the wall, deep in thought.

Because this was it.

You had crossed the final line.

It was your first time.

It was his first time.

And yet, all you could feel was emptiness.

Not because it had been bad.

It hadn’t.

Mark had been perfect. So careful. So gentle. So impossibly sweet.

And that just made it so much worse.

You had nothing to give him. No love. No devotion. Not even the barest hint of affection.

You had just let him have you.

And in return, he had given you everything.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t right.

But it was too late now.

You swallowed hard, tightening the sheets around your shoulders as Mark returned, holding a small plate of food.

"I made you something," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling as if nothing was wrong. As if he hadn’t just given himself to someone who didn’t love him back.

You glanced at the plate.

A simple sandwich.

Your throat tightened.

Because of course he would do something like this.

Of course he would take care of you.

Even when you didn’t deserve it.

"You should eat," Mark encouraged, nudging the plate closer to you.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t say a word.

You couldn't even look at him in the eyes.

You just sat there, curled up in the sheets, sinking further into yourself.

Mark’s smile faltered slightly.

"...Was it bad?" he asked suddenly, hesitantly.

Your eyes snapped to him.

He looked so unsure, like the thought had just crossed his mind, like maybe you had regretted it.

Which you had.

Just not for the reasons he thought.

You forced yourself to shake your head. "No. It wasn’t bad."

Mark studied your face for a moment. Then, slowly, he reached out, brushing his fingers against your cheek.

"You’re still shaking," he murmured.

You hadn’t even realized.

Before you could respond, he was already moving—pulling the sheets tighter around you, rubbing slow circles against your back, trying to soothe you.

"It’s okay," he whispered. "You’re okay."

You didn’t say anything.

Didn’t react.

Just let him love you.

Because you had no idea what else to do.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— NEXT ☆ Part 1. Part 3.

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

1K notes · View notes

jamminvroomvroom · 6 months ago

Text

as sick as it sounds, i loved you first. 1

LN x fem!leclerc reader

part 1 of 2 -> find part two linked HERE!

in which you just can’t help yourself and neither can lando…

I’M BACK BITCHES!!!! hi sorry it’s been a while but we are back with what i hope is a bang lol. i’ve missed writing so much and as stressful as this was, i’m so so glad to be uploading something! i worked hard on this one and, of course, now i hate it whoops, but my girlie @lavenderlando made this possible and worth it. that’s my hype woman fr fr. N E WAY enjoy! lemme know what you think, and use some imagination for the timeline…

songs to set the vibe: i love you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams, 2hands by tate mcrae, love in the dark by adele, illicit affairs by taylor swift, think twice by suki waterhouse

warnings: 18+!! minors GO AWAY! smut, angst, fluff, kinda enemies to lovers? kinda? r is charles sister oop, miscommunication, both of them are down bad for eachother but they are also extremely dumb! breeding kink, size kink, pain kink (if u squint), unprotected p in v (don’t be silly!),

part 1: 10.3k words

1. oncoming traffic

“hey, osc, who’s that girl hanging around leclerc? thought he was still with alex.” lando tries his best to sound nonchalant, but oscar can see through him like a freshly buffed window, the way lando clears his throat and nervously ruffles his unruly hair.

“mate, i know you’re not the sharpest but i didn’t think you were that slow.” oscar laughs, side-eyeing the brit. he was baffled that lando was even asking. lando just shoots him a glare. “wait, you really don’t know?” lando’s glare hardens further, his eyes demanding an answer and oscar just laughs. “that’s his sister, you idiot. how have you never seen her?”

lando didn’t know how he’d never seen her. this year had been nonstop, what with the pseudo-championship battle and the never ending media shitstorm that rained on him whenever he reared his head. he’d also learned in his years of racing never to look too closely at the women in another drivers entourage. that’s how you ended up in the wall during a race. but charles’ sister? how had he never noticed?

“maybe i should go and introduce myself.” lando trailed off thoughtfully, his voice remaining playful. oscar snorted beside him, adjusting his racesuit.

“ooh, yeah, send twitter into a frenzy. it’s been boring lately.” the aussie driver drawls sarcastically, successfully dodging lando’s rapidly approaching elbow to his ribs.

“glad to know that you take pleasure in my never ending public humiliation!” lando grins maniacally, sauntering out of the garage, no longer any intention of seeking out the pretty girl in the short, black skirt. it was for the best.

he’s passing through the pit box, immersed in a groupchat thread with max and p about a trip to portugal that he didn’t really want to go on, and bam! like the idiot oscar had just accused him of being, he slams blindly into oncoming traffic.

oncoming traffic: the pretty girl in the short, black skirt.

“are you incapable of looking where you’re going?” your accent comes out thick, low with rage. it tickles his brain, like he’s heard it before. lando opens his mouth, like a fish out of water, closes it again pathetically. “seriously, for a pilot you have abysmal spacial awareness!”

“sorry… what the fuck.” lando mutters. why is this woman shouting at him like she knows him? like he regularly barrels into her?

“lando, yes?” you’ve calmed down a bit now, but you still speak through gritted teeth.

“…yes?” he replies like he’s not so sure.

“learn to look where you’re going.” you wrinkle your nose, composing yourself before stepping around him and strutting down the pitlane as if nothing had happened.

lando stands there, fixed in place, watching her walk away in utter confusion.

“smooth!” oscar calls from inside the garage, flanked by several laughing mechanics.

“go fuck yourself!” lando’s flushed red, now, and beeline’s for the pit wall.

he’s out of earshot when oscar says it.

“think he just met his wife, boys.”

lando is staring at the data on the screen when it hits him, will’s voice somewhere far away all of the sudden.

the mysterious leclerc had every right to reprimand him, because she was right. he did need to learn how to look where he’s going.

she’d told him that already, during their actual first meeting.

2. the first collision

the music was too loud, suffocating him along with the overbearing smell of cheap perfume, but the alcohol in his system and the outpouring of validation kept lando going.

three time race winner, lando norris.

five years of clawing back points and grabbing at podiums with two impatient hands had built up to this, to the incomparable glory of gracing that prestigious top step, and lando wasn’t about to let go of this moment just because of a pressing headache. max and pietra were waiting for him in a booth, surrounded by the rest of lando’s touring entourage. he was wracking up quite the tab, but it was all worth it. every slap on the back, seductive grin sent his way, made it worth it.

he’s stumbling over his feet, wasted, or close to it, grinning lazily, peering through hooded eyes. the vodka cranberry in his hand is sloshing dangerously around in the glass, his careless movements propelling him towards disaster.

lando hears the splatter of liquid, first, the scoff of disgust immediately after. long hair whips against his face as she turns, eyes wide with fury, set into a face that was never meant to look angry. he can smell vanilla, flowers. she’s an angel, turned devilish under the strobe lights, her delicate face morphing when he takes in the sight of him.

“are you fucking serious? mon dieu!” her accent twists his tummy, as does the increasingly see-through material of her tight white dress, layers of chiffon turning transparent with the stark red liquid. it’s all over her back, running slowly down the length of her exposed thighs, sticky. lando stands there, utterly transfixed and useless. she looks like she might slap him; he kind of wants her to. “of course, just stand there. fucking pilots.”

she mutters the last part and lando gulps. what does she know about other drivers? the implication makes his skin crawl for no reason, the idea of this nameless, mystery woman being familiar with his co-workers. he’s flushed with embarrassment for a multitude of reasons, opening his mouth just to close it again.

“‘m sorry!” he finally calls out to her, over the music. can the dj turn that shit down? “can i buy you a drink?” she just glares at him, gesturing at her ruined dress. “or… a new dress?” lando tries again, flashing what he hopes are puppy dog eyes.

he wants to take her back to his hotel room, lick the sweet liquid off of her frame, lap at her til she’s clean and crying. he wants to peel the stained white material off, tear it a little - it’s already ruined anyway! he can’t, though, because she’s wrinkling her nose at him, eyebrow raised, judging, and he’s awash with embarrassment all over again. the club spins and he feels nauseous. he finds max’s eyes on him, his friend stifling laughter at the tragic scene.

she’s gone when he looks back, seems to have disappeared into a cloud of distinctly expensive perfume, and her friends are curling their lips up at him, dismissive. they don’t care who he is. he wonders if they’re redbull fans, ferrari fans, perhaps.

he’s met with hoots of laughter as he slumps into the booth. he grabs a shot without a thought, doesn’t even register what liquor it is as it slides down his thick throat.

“can’t believe you just did that. only you would spill a drink all over leclerc’s sister.” max teases, elbowing him playfully.

“wha- he has a sister?” lando slurs, spluttering.

he doesn’t remember much after that.

youruser just posted on instagram:

tagged: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc

liked by francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc and others.

youruser: shoutout to the guy that spilled his drink all over me!

francisca.cgomes: so beautiful so slay i miss u already

alexandrasaintmleux: love you!!!

charles_leclerc: delete this 🤦‍♂️

and other comments.

3. the watchful eyes of the big, black horse

your arm is linked with kika’s, giggling with her as you walk through the paddock.

“what about him?” kika whispers, pointing her chin towards one of the passing alpine mechanics. he’s blonde, pale, eyes dark. “pierre said he heard that he’s good with the ladies.” she wiggles her eyebrows and your cheeks heat up, swatting her playfully.

“i am not about to get a reputation for sleeping my way through the paddock.” you scoff. “plus, he’s not my type.” you shrug.

“you need to start putting yourself out there more, you keep saying you want someone.” the portuguese girl reasons. you nod sheepishly.

“i don’t wanna look for something, i want it to find me. is that pathetic? i just see how you are with pierre, how alex is with charles, and that’s what i want. something… real.” you sigh. kika sees the way your eyes gloss over with sadness.

“it’s never as easy and as perfect as it looks, babe, trust me. and anyway, maybe just focus on… the thing you were telling me about.” kika lowers her voice, giving you the look.

“shut up!” you squeal. “god, i am not discussing that here!”

“discussing what?” you hear pierre before you see him, hot with embarrassment. you’ve know him since before you could even walk, which is why you have no problem voicing your deepest, darkest shame.

“how i’m not getting laid, apparently!” you drawl sarcastically, slapping your hand over your forehead.

a poorly concealed laugh that you don’t recognise has you whipping around, eyes wide with bewilderment. it’s hearty, smooth, surprisingly warming. you practically growl when your eyes land on the source of the noise, standing next to pierre who looks embarrassed for you, his lips pressed thinly together to prevent himself from cackling.

“why is he here?” you grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes so tightly shut that you feel a pang in your temples.

“as polite as ever.” lando smirks. you open

your eyes just in time to catch him eyeing up the skin of your thighs that your skirt doesn’t quite cover. is he checking you out?

“says the drink spiller.” you bite back, rolling your eyes.

“hey, i tried to pay for the damage.” lando looks utterly amused, pink lips still twisted into a punch-worthy smirk.

“so, you’ve met lando, then.” pierre grins, staring between you both. you don’t register the way he’s trading looks with kika, watching whatever this scene is unfold.

“unfortunately!” you smile tightly at the racing drivers.

“pretty sure you walked into me that second time. distracting me in the workplace, or something.” lando chimes in, enjoying this all a bit too much.

“if you did a better job at looking where you’re going-“

“okay, so this has been delightful!” pierre buts in, knowing that you have the shortest temper of all the leclerc offspring. “you,” he points at you. “get laid. you,” he points at lando. “don’t piss her off, you won’t like the result.”

kika can only send you a sympathetic smile, and remind you of the coffee date you have scheduled for tomorrow morning, as she’s dragged away from your place of social suicide. pierre winks, tilts his head far too pointedly for your liking towards lando. you fantasise, in that moment, of clawing his eyes out.

“i am sorry, for the record.” lando smiles at you, genuine and gleaming. something inside of you twists.

“for which time?” you’re just teasing now, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“you have quite the attitude on you. that why you’re not getting any?”

you’re about to rip his head off and give max an even easier ride towards the championship, but lando steps forward. you can smell old spice, tangy and alluring and masculine.

“how fucking dare you-“

“because most men don’t know what to do with a woman like you. don’t know how to treat them right.” he’s so confident when he says it, leaning towards you in a way you can only describe as enticingly.

“oh, and you do?” you scoff, arms crossed. you must remain combative, or else you’ll give in. is this rock bottom?

“i’m free tonight if you wanna find out.”

“i’ll be far too busy doing literally anything else.” you can only pray he hasn’t caught the tremble in your voice, the ever so slight quiver of you bottom lip. you chew it into your mouth to stop yourself.

“but not anyone else.” lando doesn’t pose it as a question. it seems that he’s got you all figured out.

“whatever helps you and your hand sleep well tonight.” you spit. there’s heat between you, sparking into a flame that could burn down your whole life. you feel eyes burning into the back of your head - green ones that match yours. you falter. “i’m done here, lando. have a fantastic evening.”

he takes another liberty, leaning in even closer. spearmint and the idea of a million bad choices flood your every pore. you can feel the big, black horse watching over you, now, set into bright yellow, adorned with ferrari red. looming, warning, turning you in.

“you know, something tells me i will.”

lando disappears first, not even giving you a chance you spin on your heel and storm off. you want to kill him, hurt him, sink your teeth into that bronzed, thick throat, claw into his back, down, down, down… until you’re on your knees and-

“why were you talking to lando?” charles’ voice cuts through your filthy thoughts and you sign yourself over to god immediately, purifying yourself as you banish the visions of delicious sin. after all, you’re standing in the presence of il predestinato, the prince of monaco, a saint to many. but to you, he’s just your brother. your big brother, always in the way, always meddling, always, always watching. you sigh.

“friendly conversation.” you quip, short. you love him dearly, would take bullets for him, but, god, he keeps you on a leash. leo’s has more give than the conceptual tether charles has to you, keeping you close, boyfriendless, out of “trouble”. you know why, and deep down, you’re beyond grateful, all things considered. you can’t admit that, though.

“that’s not how pierre described it to me.” charles raises an eyebrow, voice bitter despite the clear attempt he’s made to try and hide it.

“fucking pierre.” you grunt. “it’s nothing, he came over with pierre. i was with kika. first time i’ve ever even had a conversation with lando.” that didn’t result from a drink being spilt over you to the point of transparency. you leave that bit out - charles really doesn’t need to know that.

charles mulls over your words, eyeing you suspiciously. you want to stomp your heeled foot like a child, a brat, scream and shout and kick and wail that he has to back the fuck off eventually, but you just smile innocently and pray he believes you.

“okay,” he mutters, making his peace. “i don’t want you getting too… familiar with him. bad reputation. he used to be quite sweet until his last breakup and now he will fuck anything with a pulse.” you wrinkle your nose at your brothers crude words, feeling the need to jump in and object. but why? you don’t know lando, you don’t care about lando. you press your lips into a thin, painful line. “you should go back to the hotel with alex. looks like i’ll be here late.” he rolls his eyes, you know how it is.

“sure, good luck.” you offer, smothering the rage that pools in your belly. let me fucking live, you think. just because he’d had to swoop in and save you from yourself once before, didn’t mean that you could live like this forever.

he has lit a spark under you, one that spreads like a wildfire towards the flame that lando ignited minutes before. if only your brother knew how to keep his big mouth shut, you wouldn’t be spurred on to bad behaviour.

if only lando hadn’t spilled that drink over you, maybe you wouldn’t be opening his instagram profile and sending a message request.

a place. your room number. a time.

you only wish you’d gotten to see the devilish grin on his face when he received it.

lando can’t want you for the reasons that other guys do. your status as charles leclerc’s little sister, and the gateway to your brother that you provided, meant nothing to the brit. that’s why you’d let him have you; he wouldn’t try to take more than you wanted to give.

4. generous

the knocks are soft against the door, yet they manage to have every hair on your body standing to attention. you’re quick to let him in, itching to get him inside and away from prying eyes. this is clandestine, secret, could even feel somewhat sacred once it’s over, and the last possible thing you could ever need is for another soul to know what you intend to do with lando, what you intend to let him do to you.

“hey.”

“hi.”

you stare at each other.

he steps forward. you don’t move away. he takes it as an invitation to close the space entirely, so close that, there it is again: oldspice, except this time it’s mixed with something fresh, shower gel you guess, sea salt. his curls are crisper than they were a few hours ago, still damp from the shower he must have just taken.

“what changed your mind?” he asks.

“i was feeling generous.” you deadpan. he bites back a laugh.

“generous, huh?”

“very.”

“considering your alleged dry spell, i’d say i’m the generous one, no?” his voiced is edged with something dark, dropped a few octaves. you could absolutely squirm under his gaze, but you hold strong.

“you know where the door is if that’s how you’re gonna be.” you coo, mocking his seductive undercurrent. all he does is flash his teeth, grinning cheekily, his way of accepting your challenge, your attitude.

“i think you want me to stay, honey.”

honey. you fear it works on you. the gap closes even further, you fear it’s your doing.

“you’re only getting this opportunity because i invited you here.” your resolve is slipping. you’ve admitted that you want him in your pathetic bid to hold the power, when the truth is, you want him to pounce on you, strip away every layer and barrier and make you see stars, feel euphoric.

“okay, honey, whatever you say.” he chuckles, cruel and taunting. “so, how dry of a spell has it been? wanna know what i’m working with.”

lando touches you then, lightning shooting down your arm as he traces from your elbow down to your fingers, featherlight, barely there, a ghost of a touch that haunts you so deliciously. your fingers intertwine. you initiate it, but really, it’s his fault. this is all his fault.

you try and laugh, but it sounds broken, quivering it’s way out from your dry throat.

“dry.”

he just stares at you, expectant. he needs to hear more, needs to know. he craves details about you, has ever since you body slammed him outside his garage - leading to some very covert instagram stalking on his behalf and his oh so convenient way of worming his way into a conversation with pierre when lando could see that the other driver was on his way over towards you. it’s pathetic, maybe, but he craves you the way one craves nicotine forever after just one puff of a cigarette. he has you, just for tonight, maybe longer if he gets this right, so he will know everything he needs to know so that he can touch you just how you need.

“i’ve only… it’s been a while.”

he sees right through you.

“you’ve only what?” he presses. he needs to know.

“i’ve only done this once.” you whisper. it’s the meekest he’s seen you. he loathes it.

“and was it good?” lando murmurs so attentively that you want to cry.

your fourth interaction with this man, and he has you melting.

“not really.”

“do you trust me?” his nose is bumping yours. you’re locked in, twitching. he has both hands on you, now, one still laced with yours, the other trailing up your arm, tempted to brush his fingertips against the taut skin of your neck.

how the fuck can i trust you? i don’t know you! what the fuck are we doing? what the fuck am i doing?

that’s not what you say, though, because for some reason, you are so sickeningly comfortable and okay that you worry that something is wrong with you.

“yes.”

“then this time will be so, so much better. i’ll make it all better.”

when his lips meet yours, you’re surprised at how good it immediately feels. you don’t know what you were expecting, but his lips are plush, enveloping yours softly, but firm enough that you sink into him, allowing him to cement that grip on the side of your neck that he’d been taunting you with.

he kisses you like he’s sure of everything, like this is second nature and you’ve done it a thousand times. you want to kiss him a thousand times. why it’s so good, you’re not sure, but it gives you the confidence to lean into him, grab the bottom of his hoodie in your hands and tug.

“be patient, ‘n i’ll make you feel so good, honey, i promise.” he mouths down your cheek, nipping at your jaw, down your neck until he finds that special spot below your ear. he nibbles there, lapping his tongue over your sensitive skin like he already knows your body. you want to see just how familiar with you he can get. “but,” he punctuates the word with a sharp bite. you both dread and revel in the mark it will leave. “you have to behave for me, okay?”

his words are whispered against the shell of your ear and you shiver, eyes rolled back already. you wonder if he’ll get them to do a full three-sixty rotation in your skull.

“‘kay.” you breathe, mindless, floating away. it’s already better than last time.

“‘kay’?” he mocks. “no, honey, you gotta promise me. can you promise me?”

“promise.” you lock eyes, conveying your obedience. his eyes blow wide, pupils dilating to shove away the mysterious bluey green. his teeth grit. he knows he’s hit the jackpot.

“good girl.”

you’re stripped naked, mustering all of your energy to shove his clothes off, his hoodie flying away, his sweats kicked into a faraway dark corner. you’re left naked, him in some increasingly tight boxers, and you tumble into the freshly made bed. he slinks over you, crawling on his hands and knees, predator stalking prey.

he stains your inner thighs purple, tugging your legs over his shoulder, huge hands warm and rough as they manoeuvre your malleable body to his liking. lando presses kisses to every inch of skin, dragging his tongue over your bare flesh before he spreads you open, sucking and tasting and savouring. he moans into you, open and wet, and it ricochets off of every nerve ending, sending your body taut and arched, catlike. you’re trying to get away, whilst simultaneously grinding yourself closed to him, feeling that broad, sharp nose of his bump messily and firmly against your clit, an ache spreading through your pelvis that makes you shake and shake and whine his name out to the gods.

“taste like heaven.” lando’s words are simple, straightforward, make you bite your lip so hard you taste something metallic seeping over your tongue. “so tight, even around my tongue,” he slurs, drunk, lost. “gotta stretch you out for me. that okay, honey?” you can just about make it all out, and you nod furiously, pleading.

his teeth graze your clit.

“say please.”

“putain! please!” you kick your feet out when all he does is laugh into your wet flesh.

one finger grazes through your folds, parting them and collecting a mess of your slick. he looks transfixed as it drips down his finger.

honey.

you watch him watch how he opens you up, revelling in the utter fascination painting his features, pussy drunk and curious, transfixed.

“can’t believe you’ve never been fucked right.” he coos, breathless, genuinely shocked. you quake under his skilful hands and his awful, sinful, dirty mouth.

“more.” you plead, not ashamed by your crude begging. you’re a mess for him already, might as well get the full experience.

“think you can take another?”

a second finger slides in, rocking against your walls, testing the waters. you writhe, meeting his movements with shallow thrusts of your hips.

“faster, i need- mon dieu! anything, lando, please just-“ he really goes to town then, scissoring your dripping cunt open, curling and twisting and grinding the two digits so deep that you see white, hazy chocolate coloured curls and deep, glazed over eyes.

“that’s it, honey, there you go. so fucking pretty for me.” lando whispers the last bit, awestruck, and you’d take the time to wonder why if you weren’t on the verge of tears, overstimulated, ears ringing. your orgasm crashes over you like a surge of electricity, tearing through your body like it’s trying to escape and take cover. it’s so strong that you’re damp everywhere, sweating and crying and so fucking shocked that it can feel like this.

“lando.” you pant, mouth dry, voice hoarse.

“you did so good. was it okay?” he rubs small circles into your hips, eyes flitting between your own and where you’re still leaking for him. he manages to tear his eyes away, like a trance has broken, snaking up your body until he’s laying next to you, propped up on his elbow. he hovers over you, raking his eyes over the rising and falling lines of your body.

“pretty good, i guess. didn’t know you had it in you.” you tease, smirking lazily up at him.

you want to keep staring at him but your vision is blurring as your eyes begin to droop. what a long day it’s been.

“high praise coming from you.” lando reasons, laughing lightly. he strokes over your hipbone and you jolt, curling around onto your side. his skin is warm against yours, soft and smooth, and you dare you press your even closer, shy, as if he wasn’t just buried mercilessly between your legs. you hum in response, spent and languid. “you wanna get some sleep?” he asks.

“we didn’t… i mean, you didn’t…” you trail off, awkward, gesturing towards his middle.

lando just smiles.

“guess i’ll just have to come find you in monaco.”

you flush, cheeks burning as you consider the fact that you’re gonna be in the same country, a very small, very private city. who knows what could happen?

you fall asleep quickly, easily, far too comfortable next to the british driver. if you were to ask, he’d say he left immediately. he watches the way you breathe far too intently, ever so slowly pulling his clothes back on. he doesn’t know how long passes, but what he does know is that he can’t wait to have you like this again.

5. some guy

you sink into the oversized armchair, sitting back and letting kika and alex talk, nattering backwards and forwards about nothing in particular. or, maybe you’re just zoned the fuck out.

you can’t stop thinking about the way he touched you, your body littered with evidence, dark purple bruises turning a stale green between you thighs. when you woke up, you initially wondered if it was all a dream, but the dull, sweet ache thrumming through your bones told you just how real it really was. you went through the motions, embarrassed momentarily before deciding to just embrace it, try to bask in the way he’d made you feel: sexy and desirable and electric.

it was just a shame that it had to be him. that’s what you kept telling yourself, at least.

kika’s nodding along to a story alex is telling about leo, about to respond with a similar anecdote about simba but she gasps instead, almost spilling her americano all over herself. this gets your attention and you open your mouth to ask her is she’s okay, but she beats you to it.

“my god, what is that?” she chokes, staring at you. or, well, your neck.

you flush, heated, blood pooling in your cheeks.

you’d tried to cover it up, seriously, applying layer after layer of concealer and strategically placing your hair in such a way that you prayed it wouldn’t be noticeable, but nonetheless, there it is, clear as day. red raw skin tinged purple around the seams, branded into your neck like some kind of public humiliation ritual.

fuck you, lando fucking norris!

you avert eye contact, leaning away from alex who is now making a point of leaning in, going as far as to push your hair back so she can get a closer look.

“oh my gosh!” she squeals, giggling with kika.

you take a long, slow gulp of coffee, not caring that it burns your tongue.

“who was it? holy shit, was it lando?” kika whisper shouts and you officially drop dead on the spot, watching her connect the dots so easily.

“oh jesus, no! no!” you lie, feigning offence, your leg bouncing shamefully under the table. the two girls eye you suspiciously, but you assume you’ve played it off well.

“who, then?” alex asks. you wonder if kika has told her about yesterdays interaction.

“just- i don’t even know, some guy.” you huff, playing with a loose thread hanging from your jumper.

“some guy? after what you were saying yesterday? okay, babe.” kika teases sarcastically. “no, cmon, who?” she pouts, leaning in as well.

“just… someone.” you squeak, unable to look up at them.

“okay, well, we will find out eventually.” alex wiggles her eyebrows and you stick your tongue out, mock-glaring at your sister in law.

“no, the fuck you won’t.” you try and fake some confidence, scrapping for a mere shred of control.

yes, the fuck they will, because when you leave for the bathroom, you leave your phone unlocked like the utter fool you are. god has it out for you, you figure, because that’s when he chooses to strike.

the message lando sends you is short and sweet, and alex chokes on a piece of cake when kika starts gesturing wildly at the notification that pops up on your screen.

for when you’re lonely at home and can’t find anyone to fuck you right.

attached is his address.

they don’t breathe a word when you come back, but they share a knowing smirk when they catch you smiling at your phone, and again when you ask if either of them have anything with a higher neckline that you can wear for the race.

youruser has just posted on instagram:

tagged: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux

liked by: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris and others

youruser: race day, big slay

user1: LEO!!!

alexandrasaintmleux: prettiest girl in the world

user45: lando what are you doing here 🤔

6. manners

“are you even listening to me right now?” charles scoffs, finishing off his drink out of annoyance. your eyes snap back to him, the thumping music vibrating through your body.

“sorry, just tipsy.” you purse your lips, attempting to lock back in on whatever he’s saying, but it’s hard. it’s hard, because sprawled out in a booth across from where you stand at the bar, lando is watching your every move.

you’ve managed to avoid him thus far, no contact since you’d liked the DM he’d sent you a few weeks back. you’d be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t think of him and what you’d done at literally every waking moment, so the way he’s watching you, hooded eyes sparkling under the strobe lights, has you squirming. it was easier to tell yourself that, surely, it wasn’t that good when he wasn’t right in front of you in a half unbuttoned shirt. the navy blue fabric is wrapped around his body deliciously, taut where his muscles are, the colour popping against his tanned skin - which you can practically feel writhing against yours.

you wish charles would go away so you could crawl into that booth and commit public indecency.

speak of the devil, your brother seems to have clocked that you have zero interest in what he has to say so he huffs, ordering another round for the table and telling you he’s going to find alex. he shuffles away and you subtly search for the british drivers mindful eyes, but he’s disappeared, left his entourage in the booth. you swallow disappointment that makes you feel pathetic, head in your hands against the bar top, but the lightest brush of fingers against your waist drags you out of your spiral. you know immediately.

“did you dress like that for me, or are you just a slut?” he’s grinning, light and teasing, surprisingly sober, tipsy at most, just like you.

“i could ask you the same.” you smirk, blatantly eyeing his exposed chest. he shrugs, leaning in.

”might have left an extra button undone just for you.” lando winks and you hope the lights hide the way you flush.

“sure you did, just for me and every other girl in here.” you challenge. his eyebrows furrow.

“nope. just for you.” his eyes darken, just a tad but enough that you notice. your mouth runs dry. “you never replied to me.”

“not true, i liked the message.” you smile coyly, sipping your drink. your lipstick smears against the rim of the glass and you watch him stare at the print, tongue wetting his lips.

“you are something else.” he shakes his head, pushing his curls back. it could be frustration, but he still seems at ease, like he’s enjoying your combative nature. you smile into the glass, hoping he doesn’t notice. he does. “how much have you had to drink?”

“this is my second.”

“you sober enough for me to take you home?” lando’s face is mere inches away from yours now, and you can feel the pull, desperate to crawl into the space that still remains and lose yourself there.

“depends.”

“on?” you truly exasperate him, but he thinks he loves it.

“if you’re actually gonna fuck me this time.” you casually take another sip, playing it off as if your crude words had no impact on you.

lando’s eyes widen at your bluntness, and so does his grin.

“meet me by the valet.”

lando leaves, and you quickly follow, downing the remnants of your glass and touching up your lipgloss.

alex watches from her booth, and pulls out her phone.

to: kika gomes

oh, she’s deeeeefinitely sleeping with lando!!!

pietra leans towards her boyfriend, close enough that he can hear her over the noise.

“isn’t that charles’ sister?” she shouts, pointing to the bar, where lando is stood.

max analyses the way he’s stood, leant against the bar, nice and close to the ferrari drivers little sister. he knows that look on lando’s face, and he knows it far too well. max pinches the bridge of his nose.

“oh for fuck sake.”

it’s weird, sitting with him in silence. he’s only had half a drink, able to drive back through the winding hills to his apartment. you stare out the window, mostly, when you aren’t staring blatantly and curiously at lando. you can see the sea, glistening under the moonlight and you wish you could focus on that instead, but he’s there, and you have to admit - begrudgingly, albeit - that he’s stunning. his hands wrap around the wheel tauntingly, as if he’s trying to convey how he’ll touch you, all consumingly. your thighs press together, your fingers clasping together as if you’re subconsciously stopping yourself from reaching out for him prematurely.

as if he can hear your thoughts, his palm smoothes over the skin of your bare thigh, right where your dress has ridden up, without a second thought, nothing tentative about the way his digits curve around your skin.

“so, you’ve been thinking about that night, then?” he breaks the silence, glancing over at you.

“what makes you say that?” you whisper, not even meaning to but the silence had been so heavy.

“well, you only left with me on the condition i’d bend you over.” he laughs loud, whole and warm. you fight it, just for a second, but then you join in, giving in to him. you can’t help it, he makes it easy.

“you got me.” you concede, rolling your eyes. without realising it, you’ve relaxed completely into his touch.

he pulls off of the road and into a private garage. you breath hitches.

“do you want a drink or…?” lando gestures blindly towards his kitchen, walking further into the apartment.

he’d spent the elevator ride up to his place leant against the opposite wall, taunting, making you wait. he’d let himself look at you, totally unabashedly, raking his eyes over your frame, meekly tucked into the corner, shy under his intense gaze but frustrated by his lack of urgency.

“i’m good. didn’t come here for a tea party.” you hope your words push his buttons. they must, because he turns on his heel, facing you again, suddenly towering over you.

his eyes are steel, face serious, and you don’t know what to do. you’ve never seen him look at you like this.

“i think we need to work on your manners.” he speaks condescendingly, down at you, and if you weren’t so needy, hadn’t been waiting weeks, you’d turn around and leave just to really prove his point. but you stay planted, looking up at him through mascara coated lashes, softening you gaze until you’re sure you’re conveying faux innocence.

“maybe we can work on them in your bedroom.” you truly don’t know where you get this confidence from, he’s the second man to have ever touched you so intimately, but he’s magnetic, drawing you out of your own head and straight towards him.

he tugs you towards him, kissing you messily, right there in the dim light of his kitchen, pawing at your waist hungrily. his tongue brushes your and you moan, humming into his mouth at the faint taste of mint and vodka, long gone but you can taste everything. his thick fingers find your ass, hoisting you up until you have no option but to wrap your legs around him, your dress scratching at your thighs the higher it rides up, but all it does it turn you on more, rough sensations on sensitive skin.

lando walks you blindly to his bedroom, never breaking the kiss, and you wonder how many times he’s done this to get it down to muscle memory. the thought makes you nauseous, drags you mercilessly right back into your head, and you pull away, your lips barely brushing his.

“why me?” you breathe, panting into the shallow space where your mouths have parted.

“what?” he whispers, confused.

“why do you want to do this with me?” you have to check, past insecurities rising to the surface like bile in the back of your throat. he looks genuinely baffled and you feel foolish for ruining the moment.

“why wouldn’t i? you’re gorgeous and-“ he cuts himself off, his eyes glazing over. the demeanour slips and you’re stuck, his arms still tight around you, holding you close in the empty space at the foot of his bed.

“what?” you whisper.

“you’re part of the same life.” the way he looks at you says words that he can’t.

words that will sound too shallow and too selfish and too meaningless, even though you will understand them because you’re here for similar reasons, and therefore, they will mean too much.

you can’t take things from him. you can’t fake it. you can’t break him into a million pieces when he finally discovers that you want him because of what he can give you.

you nod once, firm.

“i get it.” you smile sadly. lando wants to know more. he can find out some other time. a moment of clarity passes between you. “kiss me, again?” you ask. he delivers immediately.

kisses you all the way onto the bed. kisses you while he helps you take off your heels, while he drags the zipper of your dress down. you both feel safe now, understood, and that really moves things along.

“so pretty.” he mutters into your skin, shedding you of your tight dress.

your shaky fingers work over the buttons of his shirt, peeling it off of his broad shoulders, taking in the sight of him all over again. you’re left in your panties, braless already, and he gawks down at you, like he’s seeing everything for the first time. it makes you feel powerful.

“can you hurry up?” you writhe, arching into his touch. he smiles, covering his body with yours and pressing a kiss to your lips. his fingers slide over the curves of your body, finding the band of your underwear and toying with it.

“want me to take them off?” he purrs, trailing his lips down your jaw to just below your ear.

“now.” you beg, eyes fluttering closed as his warm breath pricks at your skin, teeth nibbling. “no marks.” you whine, flashing back to the weeks over knowing looks and attempts at covering the last one up.

“what were we saying about manners, hm? gonna need to start hearing some ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’, okay, honey?” he bites down again, harder this time, and you squirm underneath him, your soft belly moulding to each dip of his abs.

his fingers dip into your panties, finding your clit amongst your wetness. you just about bite back a moan, but you can’t help but roll your hips into his hand, his fingertips gliding easily through your folds.

“va te faire foutre.” you mutter, teeth gritting at the pleasure and his words. go fuck yourself.

“i’ve lived in monaco long enough to know what that means.” lando whispers, pinching your clit once before plunging a finger inside of you.

you hiss, head thrown back, the feeling of him smiling against the hickey bittersweet. and to think, it was almost healed. you can’t help but keen into his touch.

“more,” you pant. “please.”

“you learn fast.” lando approves, and quickly fulfils your request, adding another finger.

they flex inside of you, grinding deeper and deeper until you’re whimpering his name and leaking down his wrist. your arms wrap around him, nails digging in to his smooth back, his ropey muscles tensing under your firm touch. his thumb bumps your clit, over and over, pushing you to the precipice, so close you can taste the impending orgasm on your tongue.

“it’s so good, merci, god.” you sound wrecked already, and lando can’t wait to see how far he can push, how far apart he can take you.

“that other fucking loser didn’t know what he had, jesus, you’re so fucking hot.” he rasps, admiring the rise and fall of your chest, how your breasts bounce with every thrust of his fingers, the way his hand is glistening in the low light of his bedroom. his words are your undoing, the awe in his voice sending sparks shooting through every nerve ending.

“lando, ‘m gonna… putain!” the way you switch languages is sexy to him, tells him how scrambled your brain is, and he twitches in his boxers. when you cum, it’s as gorgeous and as enticing as the first time, and he jolts against your hip, desperate to get inside of you finally.

“you’re so beautiful.” he groans, pulling his fingers from your entrance. he stares blindly at the mess you’ve made on them, salivating, remembering the way you taste. it’s a no brainer for him, and he licks both digits clean, giving you just a moment to recover.

“i need you.” you whisper, your legs still spread, quivering slightly.

you pull him in once more, his covered crotch grinding against your slick and you cry out, the friction sending you into overdrive. his teeth dig into your shoulder, the sensation entrapping him, leaving him weak, ready to give you whatever you ask. he pushes his underwear away, and your eyes go wide.

“you can have me,” he grunts, running his hand over himself. “think you can take it?” he wets his lips and you think you could cum again at the sight of him. sweat slicked, tight curls falling over his eyes, lips licked pink and kiss swollen, hard and heavy in his own hand, body curved over yours possessively. you’re a simple woman, really.

“i think i can try.” you want to sound confident, but it comes out as a squeak.

he sits back on his knees and brings his free hand to cup your jaw.

“i’ll go slow with you, honey, okay? you can tell me to stop.” lando promises. “you sure you want this?”

you nod, pouting up at him.

“i want you, i can take it.” you manage through a deep breath.

the stretch is brutal, splitting you in half. all you can do is breathe, watching the way he watches you, and that’s what you hone in on, his pretty eyes watching where he’s filling you up. when he bottoms out, he stops for a second, scanning your face for discomfort.

“are you okay?”

“c’mere.” you coo, and he falls back over you, paws at your waist. “move, lando.” you plead.

it’s slow, deep, makes your toes tingle. you can feel each and every drag of him against your walls and it makes you dizzy, a knot twisting and tickling in your belly. your fingers are twisted around him, around his biceps, crumbling a little bit every time he flexes in your grip.

“oh, mon dieu.” you’re whimpering, legs wrapping around him like vines, tighter and tighter with every buck of his hips.

“‘s it feel good, honey? yeah? you’re so fucking tight for me.” lando chokes, licking over the sweat on your collarbone. “‘m i making it feel good?” he sounds so cocky, sexy, but there’s a soft edge around his words. it matters to him, how he’s treating you, this, a certain delicateness hanging around your intertwined bodies like a cloud.

“so good, lando, so fucking good.” the words scratch your throat raw, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“no, no, lemme hear you, pretty girl. can feel how close you are for me.” you can hear the edge to his voice, can tell the end is near for both of you, the way his words wobble despite his best attempts at hiding it. “need you to look at me, and i need to hear you.”

you don’t even realise until then that your eyes are shut, screwed up tight as the pleasure rolls through your body, flooding each and every one of your senses. you free your lip, and everything pours out, whines, raw slurs of his name.

“i’m so close.” he grunts, watching the way your face moves, hanging on to every micro expression, the way you battle to keep all of your attention on him.

“fill me up.” you urge, squeezing his hips between your thighs. his eyes widen, the request slowly registering, and he blinks away the voice in his head telling him to do it.

“you know i can’t.” he’s firm, sensible even if you aren’t.

“want it so bad, lan, please, wanna feel it.” you reason, cupping his face and pushing his curls back.

“not tonight.”

“yes, tonight. give it to me.”

“i said no, don’t be a fucking brat.” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut.

“know you want it.” you whisper, seductive and devious. you can see his resolve slipping, tightening around him.

before you can say anything else, your hands are scooped up, pinned above your head. he’s right over you now, your hips perfectly aligned, and he’s driving so deep that you swear you can feel him in your tummy. his thrusts resort to a harsh grind, digging into each other with every snap of his pelvis.

“you want it so bad? huh? fine.” he growls, forehead resting against yours. “want me to cum in you, fuck it all back in? yeah, honey? you gonna keep it all in for me?”

“whatever you want.” you promise, eyes rolling back in your head. “just- please, please do it.” you pant, mouth dry.

“that’s it, pretty girl, take it all for me.” he buries his face in your neck, nipping at your collarbone. “doing so good.” the words fan against your throat, hushed, leaving you warm from the inside out, brainless.

when you spill around him, it’s at the same time as he lets go, and he fucks you through your orgasms. you go limp beneath him, taking it, letting it all wash over you, letting him wash all over you. you feel like you can’t breathe, suffocating under the weight of him and the reality of what you’ve just done. again. for some reason, you don’t care, and decide that you’ll do this again and again, anytime he’ll have you. not that you’ll ever tell him that…

“fuck.” he exhales, rolling off of you carefully, but the overstimulation - and then lack thereof - makes you wince, and he strokes your hip gently in apology.

“that was better than i thought it would be.” you grin, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“you know, these are starting to sound kinda backhanded.” he beams, laughing breathlessly, but just as he begins to relax into his bedspread, he remembers. “oh fuck, shit, we need a pharmacy!” lando bolts up so that he’s sitting, scanning the room blindly for his clothes. you giggle and he snaps his head towards you, panicked.

“no, lando, we don’t.”

“all of that ‘uh, fill me up, please lando you’re so sexy’ talk means that, yes we absolutely do! fuck, how much is plan b these days?” he’s spiralling now, tugging at his curls.

“first of all, i’m on birth control. second of all, i don’t sound like that, and most importantly, i did not call you sexy.” you smirk, stretching out your tight muscles.

“that’s the most important part? woman, you nearly killed me.” lando gasps, slumping back down into bed.

“‘m sorry, couldn’t resist playing with you a little. good to know we share a kink, though.” your smirk turns into a coy smile, and you swing your shaky legs out of the bed, your feet sinking into the plush rug.

“oh, yeah? what other kinks are you hiding from me?” lando sits back against the headboard, tucking his hands behind his bed. you have to look away, or else you’ll accidentally fall back into his bed.

“guess you’ll have to wait and find out.” it makes him quirk an eyebrow, a look of understanding settling over his face.

“so this is gonna be a regular thing, yeah?”

you’re putting your underwear back on when he says it, searching for your dress, but his words make you freeze. he sounds hopeful, and it makes your chest pang… wait, is that your heart?

“i don’t… i mean, as you unfortunately know, i haven’t done this before. i don’t know how this works.” you say it so earnestly, so innocently, that his whole face softens, awestruck and boyish.

“i want it to be a regular thing.” he says it gently, like he’s offering it to you, to the universe.

“okay. me too.” you whisper back, shy under his gaze.

“are you… like, do you think you’ll be sleeping with other people?” lando squeaks, doing a terrible job of playing it cool.

“for so many reasons, no.” you grimace. “but if we’re doing this then i wouldn’t want to anyway.” you say softly. your dress is back on now, but he has you flustered, and you can’t quite get the zipper.

“lemme help.” he offers, and he’s out of bed and before you in a matter of seconds. his calloused fingers graze your skin as he pulls the zipper together and up, adjusting your dress back into place. it feels so terrifyingly intimate, exciting, and you can’t bring yourself to move away. “i wouldn’t want to either.” he breathes the words quietly into the small space between you.

“okay.” you don’t even try to hide the way you beam, staring up at him.

“i’ll take you home, yeah?”

“yeah.”

7. worth it

and so, begins a clandestine affair, touches in the shadows, subtle glances, watchful eyes.

one of you calls, the other comes, sneaking through doors that neither of you should enter, leaving bars a few minutes apart, making up excuses to get out of plans.

there’s the time lando has you bent over the end of your bed, tears leaking into the mattress, slick everywhere. he’s so deep this way, hammering away at the special spot nestled within you that he’s become very familiar with. one of his hands is dragging your hips back to meet his thrusts, the other splayed out across your back, holding you down.

your phone rings. it’s alex. you were supposed to be a brunch twenty minutes ago. you groan out, frustrated in every sense of the word.

“answer it, honey.” lando grunts, pulling you towards him even harder. you whimper, shaking your head, words dying on your tongue. “go on, i know you can do it. wouldn’t want alex to worry, would you? let her know you’re okay.” he coos, condescending.

he’s so arrogant, full of it, and you like the challenge. you can’t let him win, can’t let him revel in how fucked out he has you, so against your better judgement, you grab the phone, fingers shaking as you answer.

“hi, love. i know, i’m late! ‘m sorry, i’ll be there soon!” you wince at the way your voice shakes. you hope she can’t hear the way you’re panting, or the sound of his hips hitting yours.

lando slows his hips, hitting deep at such a torturously slow pace that feels a million times better than it already did. your free hand flies back, swatting at him.

“where the hell are you? i was worried!” alex sounds relieved, but there’s something else in her tone that you can’t quite decipher.

“i’m on my way, i promise! i was with arthur.” you lie, throwing your younger brother into the line of fire. you know, for credibility. alex is silent for a moment.

“oh, okay. well, get here soon, please! love you!” and with that, she hangs up the phone. you release a breath you were holding, crying out when lando immediately speeds up again.

“i hate you.” you choke, grinding your hips into him. lando just scoffs, sliding a hand under your belly, flush against the mattress. he finds your clit, playing with it, urging you quickly towards your release.

“no, you don’t.” he laughs. “you better cum for me, pretty girl, i think you have somewhere to be.”

“i’m on my way, i promise! i was with arthur.”

alex has to bite back a laugh. she stares across the table, where arthur is having an avid debate with charles and joris. arthur, who had been with her and charles for hours.

“oh, okay. well, get here soon, please! love you!” alex hangs up the phone, giggling to herself. leo stirs in her lap.

“what’s so funny?” charles asks her. she shakes her head.

“oh, nothing, she just overslept.”

there’s the time where he has you hiked up on your kitchen counter, messy curls tickling the insides of your thighs. he’s licking at you ravenously, dragging his tongue up and down, twisting around your clit in circles.

you’re tugging on his hair, holding him close to where you’re aching, dripping, slicking up the lower half of his face. he’s groaning into you, starved and desperate. it’s been a week since you’ve seen him, had him like this, the longest you’ve done without him since the first time you’d had sex. its untamed and needy and you fear what it means, the way you’re so addicted to one another.

you also haven’t seen your brother for a week, something you realise when you hear a key turn in the lock, down the corridor. you have seconds to react, the noise washing over you like a bucket of ice cold water. you squirm, pushing a very confused lando away, managing to kick him lightly in the head as you leap from the counter.

“mon dieu! fuck, i’m sorry!” you gasp.

“what the fuck is going on-“ you cut him off, slapping your palm over his mouth.

you glance around frantically, looking for a way out of this. there is but one option available.

“the balcony! just- fuck, get out there!” you shoo him over to the small window, begging him with your eyes. “please! i’ll get rid of him!”

you can hear footsteps approaching. you’re sweating now, smoothing down your skirt and your hair anxiously.

charles calls your name, rounding the corner and walking into your kitchen, just as you pull the window closed again.

“shit, you scared me!” you fake, clutching your chest. you can feel your heart hammering.

“i did knock, sorry!” charles looks you over, scanning the kitchen. “are you okay?”

“yeah, fine, sorry, i must have been out of it. i’m in the middle of an assignment.” you lie.

“oh okay, well i can always go…” he’s looking at you weirdly, and you fear he knows something, that he can tell.

“can we get dinner tonight? i’ll book.” you offer, scratching your neck.

“yeah, that’s great. are you sure you’re okay?” your brother asks, turning to leave.

“promise, yeah, i’m just so busy with work, deadlines and all that.” you wrinkle you nose, feigning distaste.

“well you can tell me all about it later, okay? love you.” charles says sincerely, smiling.

“love you too.” you call, listening for the sound of the door closing behind him.

you immediately rush for the window, throwing it open, peeking your head out. lando stands with his back against the wall, shivering in nothing but a t-shirt. you look at him sheepishly.

“get back in here.” you tell him, standing back to give him space to crawl back through. “‘m sorry.” you giggle.

“you’re lucky you’re worth it.” lando teases, stalking towards you and wrapping you in his arms. his skin is cold against yours, and you huff, try and push him off. “hey, i’m cold!” he pouts.

“you know, you’re lucky you’re worth it, i could have just let him murder you.” you reason, looking up at him. your hands slide around him, returning his embrace, warm hands skating up under his shirt.

“you wouldn’t.” he says simply. “i’m way too good in bed.”

“you keep telling yourself that, norris.”

“i don’t need to, you tell me more than enough.”

lando leans down to kiss you, then, nothing all that unusual but it always feels like a step too far, intimate in a way that you two usually aren’t. you kiss him back regardless, because really, you love it. he always tastes minty, divine when you let him lick into your

mouth.

“i believe we were in the middle of something.” he whispers.

“remind me.” you breathe.

and there’s also the time where he’s fucking you in his drivers room, the massage table thudding dully against the wall with every hard thrust.

his race suit is pulled down just enough, your dress bunched around your hips, and he’s slamming into you mercilessly.

the whole thing was a blur, really; you’d always vowed that you would never have sex at a race track, but that promise was old news, now, broken the very second you caught the way he was staring at you. his eyes were hard, unreadable, jaw clenched as he glared at the man talking to you. you were just being friendly, catching up with franco, but lando wouldn’t have it, not after such a shitty race. one harsh snap of his neck towards the mclaren motorhome had you quickly excusing yourself. you knew what it meant.

“you don’t talk to me at the track but you let him?” lando growls, rutting into you wildly. you cling onto the damp material of his racesuit, head thrown back.

“was just saying hello.” you gasp out, opening your eyes to look up at him. he’s staring down at you, angry. it’s hot.

“i don’t wanna see you talking to him. you see how he was looking at you? fucker should know who you belong to.” he hisses, sliding his hand between your legs. “you’re gonna cum for me when i say, okay? and you’re gonna be nice and loud, honey. no holding back.”

“lando i’m-“

“when. i. say.” he cuts you off, punctuating each order with a snap of his hips.

all you can do is take it, dripping all over him. you can hear it, the wet squelch of him filling you up.

“should mark up this pretty neck, yeah? let everyone know that you already belong to someone.”

you barely register what he’s saying, but the words leave you hot, pushing you even closer to the edge and you clamp down around him.

“squeezing me so tight, bet you’ve wanted me all day, huh, honey? saw you looking at me earlier, pretending like you weren’t when i caught you. couldn’t just asked and i would’ve fucked you right then.” lando grunts. you wail out, thrashing against the makeshift bed and he nods, letting you know it’s okay.

“that’s right, pretty girl, that’s it. been so good letting me have you. cum for me, baby.”

baby.

it’s the first time he’s ever called you that. it’s the final push you need.

he collapses into you as he finishes, sweaty curls plush against your bare shoulder. you’re both panting, spent, basking in the moment of silence.

“thank you.” he whispers, sealing it with a kiss against your neck. it tingles, a foreign feeling settling in your belly, shooting through your veins.

“you drove really well.” you reply, quiet. his breathing halts, a self deprecating laugh filling the room.

“don’t do that.”

“what?”

“act like you were watching my race. charles have a great drive, that must have been a lot more interesting.”

“maybe, but i was watching you.”

your words hit him hard. he can’t help but kiss you. you swallow a moan, and a whole heap of feelings that you’re too scared to tackle.

“you better go. will i see you in brazil?”

“yeah, lando. you will.”

youruser just posted on instagram:

tagged: francisca.cgomes

liked by: alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, charles_leclerc and others

youruser: hola chica 🤭

francisa.cgomes: my love my loveeeee

user21: once again i am asking. why are you here lando? 👀

user56: stop inventing!

alexandrasaintmleux: my beautiful girlies

user66: icon mother slay incredible

PART TWO IS HERE!

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239

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keen-li · 5 months ago

Text

Merry!Ex-mas.

18+ MDNI

22.k words synopsis: you get a notification about plane tickets you purchased about a trip you were excited for, only reason you're not excited at the remainder, is because you had planned the trip with your now ex. At the time you never thought you'd be spending December broken up. So, it felt like a great idea. not so much now. ex!jk x ex!femreader (fem anatomy.) exes to lovers use of 'yn' warnings: angst, fluff, smut: long-distance relationship, exes, second chance, miscommunication, b*tches is awkward, tension, one bed, forced proximity, Jungkook isn't crazy rich but he's got good money, i think he's an accountant, jk has that short ceo hair cut. reader has communication problem, jungkook's freaking green sweater needs it's own fanfic!, think are!you!sure jungkook. protective!jk, there's a creep who approaches reader as jungkook is off skiing, and whilst she's in the sauna(nothing bad happens.), sweet!wants!to!try!jk, jk has issues of not communicating too. they just can't seem to talk. avoiding stuff. teasing. touchy!jk, secret glances. jealousy, reader is very jealous,they're lying to themsleves, jungkook loves to take pictures especially of reader. hot tub jungkook who's looking up at you like you're a goddes. very needy kissing, boob sucking, dirty talking, oral(f!receiving.), handjob, cowgirl, protected!penetration, aftercare. hand kissing. [i don't know what else i need to add, let me know] as per usual, it was edited but if there are any errors, forgive me. A/N: this fic is honestly cause of that Jungkook green sweater I've never travelled to please don't come at me if anything is wrong. I very much world built some things. I've given written from top to bottom so don't except a part 2, unless maybe drabble requests. I wrote this in one week and i'm so proud i was able to write 22k words, in that time. though i was supposed to go up on the 25th[shhhhhh] A/N: i'm still learning how to write smut. so if you think the smut is cringe please don't tell me :) i don't wanna know. unless you want to help me improve it, and you do it kindly, i'd appreciate. likes, reblog, and all positive asks and comments are always appreciated. i hope you're happy with this one. [read under the cut]

You get the notification as you're scrolling through your phone. A remainder of sorts that you had been forgetting something. Cause you had been.

It loomed over you all week. The lingering feeling of remembering what you can’t. You hated it. But now that you know it’s source you couldn’t feel any worse.

Being the recipient of the message, you’re burdened with having to translate the message. Why do you have to do this? Broken up, having to text him feels like opening a can of worms. But the tickets are non-refundable, and it would be unfair for you to not inform him. You did both pay for them, Jungkook of course paying more because he was just too stubborn to split. he'd actually wanted to pay for the full thing but you were at odds with the idea. he settled eventually.

So, it would be unfair to not tell him. Right? Yes. But you don’t want to believe it.

Even if how the hell are you going to remind your ex about the holiday trip you planned thinking you’d be together for; but in turn would celebrate separately. Before the notification of the trip.

To add on, now you have to open your chat. An action you dread to do; for your emotional health.

What are you actually going to say? You think, finger hovering over the keyboard. Something that won’t make you sound like you’ve missed him, were thinking about him or even thinking about going on this trip with him. All which you’ve been doing. You’ve succumb to the thoughts, only because you two broke up in October, still relatively early to just forget a 3-year relationship with someone you thought you’d marry.

Sigh.

You still haven’t answered the question of how you’re even gonna bring it up. Will he even answer?

“shibal” jimin laughs into the speaker, not helping you one bit. “you two are ridiculous.”

You roll your eyes still waiting and hoping he’ll say something sensible. It’s all in vain. “How the hell do you book a trip and break up just before. You couldn’t wait?” He laughs and you just know he’s sat at his computer playing games, from his loud and unfocused speech.

“We didn’t freaking know we’d breakup.” You justify. “Plus, cause of the breakup we forgot. I forgot.” Your voice loses its strength at the end of the sentence, your mind slipping into a deep thought.

You haven’t been able to remember anything of relevance since that day. Maybe only how to breath and live but you’d say your body takes full credit for that.

“Hmm.” is all he says to you before screaming obscenities to someone in his game.

“Jimin are you gonna be of any help or wh-”

“You know what you should do?”

You want to believe his following statement will be of use, but you can never be certain.

“Just send it” he groans from what you assume is an attack on him. Your brow raises. “Send him a screenshot of the notification. If he doesn’t respond go on it on your own.”

“Or take me with you” he whispers. If it came to it, would you even choose jimin to go with? Probably. He’d help make it fun.

You sigh, still in the darkest of analysis. It’s your best option what else could you say. So, you say your goodbye to jimin who is quick to go off to his game, without a second thought. Rude. Talking to him whilst he’s on his game is setting yourself up.

Back to having a staring contest with your phone. And after a long while of panic, thump fidgeting and dry eyes, you click on his contact (yes you still have it.) and just send the screenshot.

As you wait to make sure the picture is sent you catch a glimpse of the last text from your chat. You were avoiding slipping up and seeing it, but your eyes couldn’t be helped.

Jungkook was the last to text.

Kookie<3: I miss you call me back.

Seeing the text makes your stomach churn. Makes your head spin with all the memories and emotions returning. You don’t want to linger on it. You’re quick to just sending the screenshot like jimin said, you only hope he doesn’t ask too many questions. If he does respond. The little thought in your head surfaces. What if he wants nothing to do with you. What if you’re bothering him? You shouldn’t have sent that text. But it’s too late now.

You’re well aware his message was sent before you had broken up. The only reason you hadn’t replied was because you couldn’t. On the same day you’d called him back and told him how you didn’t think you’d be able to do it anymore.

“Mm?” he hums confused. You can hear it in his voice and it only makes you even more nervous to repeat.

“This long-distance thing isn’t working for us jungkook.” You bite you lower lip hoping to hide some of your emotions that threaten to ruin your speech. Your fingers fidget in the silence waiting for his response. But it never comes and for a moment you think he’s cut the call and you’ve been talking to yourself. That’s when he sighs, showing you, he’s been listening but too shocked to speak.

You calling his full name, no nickname, strains at his heart. “Are you serious?” it’s calm, sad even. Of course he’s sad, you’re breaking up with him. Sad isn’t even strong enough to describe what he’s feeling. Shock is just amongst them, maybe even a little anger. You’ve been going through a challenging period because of the difference in cities. But he never thought it’d come to this. Was it that bad?

“Yeah.” It’s weak defeated. You are, your whole relationship is.

Jungkook is awfully silent, he’s not sure why either. “Is there anything I can do?” he’s aware of the only solution available. But it’s not possible. Neither of your work will allow the other to move.

You shake your head like he can see it. but he doesn’t need to see what your silence has already said.

After not much thought cause he’s not able to, he speaks. “Is this what you want?” his question only serves to add to your confusion.

“You know it’s not but- “you try to speak but the lump in your throat chokes you.

It hurts him that this is happening over a call. Wishes he could’ve spoken about it in person, cause there’s more to it.

More that you haven’t spoken about. Never have, and doubt you ever will or want to.

All this just makes the idea of this trip even more worrying. That’s if he’ll want to go or even respond. You never got to know what he thought but you assume he has some sort of resentment for the way you ended things. You would too. That’s one of the things you feel guilty for.

You’ll say the way things ended was not ideal, and honestly it never made you feel good as you thought it would. It made you feel worse actually. But at least now you don’t argue because you don’t talk. Who are you kidding, you miss the arguments, something to remind he was there.

Guilt hovers but, you console yourself by saying that he probably wanted it too if he didn’t try to fight for it. Which is unfair, but what else can you tell yourself as an excuse.

Your focus is now on your screen. You’re about to exit the chat, but then those familiar popups of bubbles appear. Already?

The bubbles disappear and appear, which only serves to grow your anxiety. Is he about to rebuke you for texting him. Gosh, what the hell would you say after that? He’s about to cuss you out. Suddenly your room feels too small to hold you and what you’re feeling.

But what pops up is even more anxiety inducing.

Kookie<3: I’m in town. We should meet and talk tomorrow.

Why does he sound so professional? Why do you care. Oh- your mind, it’s spinning.

He’s in town, when? Why didn’t he tell you. This would be the first time you see him in a year since he moved. And he couldn’t even just tell you he was in town. The reason to him being here is not unknown to you. It’s the Christmas season and his parents do live in the same city as you. And just like you they were not happy about they’re son moving so far away. But nothing was stopping jungkook. Nothing.

You’re probably not important to him anymore but, couldn’t he have just said, hi. I’m in town. How long has he even been here for? You never thought he’d return to the city even for the holidays.

You shake the thoughts out of your head. You can’t be over thinking this.

We?......meet?.....talk?.....TOMORROW!

Tomorrow couldn’t come any faster (not that you were excited for it.). It’s almost as though it wants you and jungkook to meet.

You both agreed to meet at one of the small restaurants near your place. One you two frequented together, so it holds so much for you. Which only made you more anxious on your way.

When you walked in your eyes unconsciously moved to the table you and jungkook loved to seat at. It was good distance from the kitchen so your food could reach you quicker, and far from others so that jungkook could lean in and say the nastiest thing on earth. It always made you blush even though you’d swat at him. You spot jungkook sat where he usually sat. Coat taken off and hanged on his chair.

“Hey.” You choke out smiling politely as you reach the table and take off your coat, the inside of the restaurant too warm to be comfortable with it on.

You take a sit and allow your body to get accustomed to the environment. And jungkook.

He’s quick to respond to your greeting just as awkward.

When you’re settled you finally get a chance to see just how much he’s changed in a year. The warm light from the ceiling softens his features which would normally be sharp in the dim lights of your bedroom. His hair is cut short. Last time you saw him it was neck length, but now it’s significantly short. Makes him look professional, mature. You like it, really like it. you wish you could just reach over and touch it, it’d probably be just as soft as you remember it and smell like lavender. You notice how he has it styled and gelled back so you doubt he’d be happy with you running your hands in it.

Jungkook spent an ungodly amount of time trying to get it to look like this, which he doesn’t think is perfect enough, but he was running out of time. Something about this meeting had him wanting to go out. He just hopes you like it. he remembers you last saw it when it was longer. It was a big cut, but after your breakup, he felt like giving up the length, considering your hands loved to live in his hair.

You sit hand in lap waiting for your mouth to catch up with how fast your brain is working. Though if you did speak what your brain was thinking, you’d embarrass yourself.

“We should order first.” He says rolling up the sleeves of his navy-blue denim shirt. The action reminding of the inks on his arm. A detail that adds to how attractive he is already. You’re really hating yourself for your thoughts. In your defence you haven’t seen him in the flesh for a year. “What do you wanna get?” he picks up his menu and you do too, stuttering in your movement. He seems calmer than you right now.

But the only thing is that he’s shitting himself inside. when he was sat before you came, his heart dropped every time he heard the door bells chime. Every time he turned it wasn’t you. Only increasing his nervousness. Maybe he was a little to forward with his message. You haven’t seen each other in a while and it’d probably be overwhelming, especially with a certain elephant in the room. He would’ve definitely understood if you didn’t want to show. On the chime of the door that followed his thoughts, he didn’t turn, only for it to be you. In your full glory, making him fidget with his phone more. Which he put aside immediately you sat down.

Clearing your throat you speak, “something soup-y. Today’s a little cold.” And you don’t feel like throwing up what you eat.

Jungkook agrees and his red nose is evidence of that. Cute, you think.

After your orders are taken you turn back to silence. What could you probably say right now? You can feel the distance between you emotionally. And you hate how this is how you are after not seeing each other for a year. Before breaking up you thought of the many ways, you’d hug him once you got to see him. You were definitely delusional over how serious your distance was. Really wanting to believe it wouldn’t be a problem; until it became one, and you just couldn’t do it anymore.

You don’t know how to behave right now.

“So, when did you get back?” you settle on a soft and casual tone.

“Just yesterday.” He speaks sounding a little hesitant. After not knowing where to look you decide to just look at one thing. The table.

After beats of silence, you continue. Can your food come any faster? “you’re staying with your parents?”

“Yeah.”

You lived together, in your used to be shared apartment before he decided to move. So, his only option was to live with his parents for the mean time. He assumed you wouldn’t want or even let him live with you. And it would be fair, you aren’t together anymore.

“I’m Sure they were shocked to see how much you’ve change.” Cause you are. You haven’t seen his parents in the same time that he hasn’t seen them.

“It was a surprise drop in so I’m sure they were” he says with weak chuckle. He bites into his lip before he’s looking at you again, but you don’t stare at him. It’s only when you realize his stare that you finally face him. “How have you been? You look well.” He’s dreading himself right now for not being able to speak to someone who has been, for 3 years, the only person he could speak to.

You do look good, and he can’t take his mind off it. the camera has not been doing you justice. Your skin looks brighter and you generally are just glowing. Gosh he missed looking at you. The way small dainty jewellery serves to compliment your outfit. Your hair done in a way you like, and he loves.

“I try.” You smile. Every chance you get you take a glace at his lip piercing. You’d forgotten just how it made him even the more--. “You look well too. How’s the job going?”

He sucks in a breath, showing visible stress at the thought of his job. “it’s going okay. Easiest way to put it.” he chuckles, awkwardly. You smile, awkwardly too. “I missed it here though, so much stuff I left behind.”

You just hum, nodding. Avoiding how his eyes glancing over you, just for a second as he was looking for where to keep his gaze whilst speaking.

“But I’m sure you’re having fun that side.” That side. He can hear the strength you put on the words. Instead of fiddling on your lap you decide to fold your arms on your chest. Finding it appropriate for the feelings that are sneaking in.

“You can say that, but there’s just something that feels empty y’know.” You do know, but you both choose to leave the conversation implicit.

And right on time, your food arrives saving you from saying anything. What the heck would you say when you can’t even think.

You two are soon digging into your food. Jungkook in his kimchi jjigae and you in yours.

“I missed this- mmm.” He hums making that little angry face he makes when he likes food. You laugh, a little to loud at that causing him to look up at you. You drop your smile.

“Mrs Kim always asks me about you when I come here.” 6 slices of chopped spring onion garnish you haven’t eaten, yet.

He leans back in his chair, unintentionally watching you eat.

He turns his head towards the kitchen where the lady in question usually spends her time. “Where is she anyways?” he’s back to digging into his food. the steam from the food warming his cold nose.

“she’s visiting sung Hoon in the US.” You inform him, taking in how relaxed you’ve become.

He nods at the info, “Ahh- she finally got to got to the US?” he smiles. He remembers how she would come to the table; she’d complain that her son doesn’t want her to visit, which was not the case. But being the dramatic lady she is, she would think that. “ ’m sure she was so excited.”

“no one could hear the end of it.”

He chuckles and you find yourself laughing too. But as much as you’re seemingly getting comfortable (though not wholly.) silence finds a way to wrap it’s long, cold and slimy finger around you two.

After you’re done eating your meals in silence, jungkook thinks it’s time to discuss the reason you’re even meeting. Cause you have nothing more to talk about.

“what’s the plan for the trip?” he shifts in his seat. “Assuming you’d want to go.” He doubts.

You take a deep breath before speaking, looking over at the whole scene of the restaurant. “I don’t know, we’d leave on Thursday. Assuming you’d want to go too.” You would want to go, that’s why you booked the trip. It’s only your situation that makes it awkward.

“Do you?” his question comes out fast and sudden and he regrets how quick it came out.

“Mm?” you mutter like you couldn’t hear what he said.

He clarifies choosing to speak more calmly and composed. “Do you want to go?”

The question takes you aback as though you hadn’t been asking yourself the same thing.

Reaching to play with the little gem on your necklace you stutter out. “I-I mean- yeah we spent money on it.” you shrug your shoulders as if you’re unconsciously saying otherwise, but really, you’re just trying to keep your statement open. In case he doesn’t want to go, and you’re left embarrassed with an extra ticket.

Jungkook instead takes your action as you probably not wanting to go. “I get it if you don’t. It’s a weird situation.” His hands move to touching his hair.

You trying to jump in but end up speaking a little too fast. “No, I do. Plus, I hate wasting money.” You do hate wasting money, truly. And it is just that and the fact that you would love a trip right now, to de-stress.

“But do you want to go with me?” that churning feeling in your stomach is returning, and you’ve just eaten which makes it all the much better.

Biting down on your lip and releasing it you say, “I mean I wouldn’t want to go on my own.” You hate how you feel your throat choking up. “Who else would I go with?” you awkwardly joke. There are some people you’d go with. But you planned this trip with jungkook and he paid the much for the tickets. So, it’s only fair to go with him. If he wants to.

He skips your question, not in bad taste. it’d be weird for you to go on a trip you planned with him with someone else. Maybe he did think of it, that maybe you’d enjoy it more if you weren’t with him. But then he thought it through. Shit doesn’t have to be awkward unless you both make it. so, you can enjoy this trip if you just agree to enjoy it. “I don’t mind going with you, but I don’t want you to feel forced to have me there.”

“I have no problem with you, jungkook.” You saying his name even though it’s not the pet name he enjoys feels like a warm touch to him. “I just want to know if you wanna go.” You find it in you to ask.

“I don’t mind it at all.” He says, relieving you of your fears.

He sighs. After he silence speaks. “I can’t believe I forgot about it. I was so excited for it too.” he reminiscing on the day. It was such a good idea. Is a good idea, if you just agree to enjoy it.

“So? It’s settled right?“ You sit up grabbing your stuff and preparing to leave. Jungkook’s smile falls realizing that the moment is ending. But he will see you soon still.

“Yeah.” He prepares to leave too.

“We leave Thursday, I guess. We’ll stay in touch.”

And that’s it, your conversation ends with you managing to avoid the larger topic at hand. It’s like a game.

You throw your clothes in haphazardly. You’re in a panic, which is not necessary cause you have enough time, the whole day to be precise. Your flight’s tomorrow. But the whole airport thing has always found a way to make you panic.

You grab some essentials, but in frustration. Maybe you just want to get it over with. The packing, not the trip. Honestly it feels like it’s already started. Is this how you’re going to be.

As you search through your closet you land on a sweater, one you remember too well. It’s green colour and fluffy soft texture makes it the warmest thing you own. A very memorable sweater, for the warmth it brought you and its origin. You can still smell him on it. You dread packing it and resort to shoving it further in your closet. You’ll think about it.

You stare at your zipped up suitcase for a bit before your eyes gloss over to your phone that buzzes on your bed. For a split second you wonder if it’s jungkook. Could he have changed his mind. you sigh relived when you see it’s just jimin.

Who chooses to say nothing of value and just tease you. “Honestly why do I tell him these things.” You throw your phone on your bed.

Jungkook stands over his already packed suitcase. He just has to zip it closed and seal this trip. He sighs rubbing his lower lip. Before you two broke up he had so much planned for this trip. So much he wanted to say and do. But it's different now and it’d be weird and wrong to say those things. Not before talking of course.

Is he looking forward to this trip? Yes-wait- maybe. The trip in itself is fine, a great and good idea and opportunity to enjoy a holiday and relax. But your presence entails something more something he has to deal with (in a responsible and good way) and that he's been running away from.

"You're excited huh?" his mother smiles leaning against his door frame, watching. He's not sure what about his facial expression, body language or general demeanour would make her think that he's excited. It’s not like he’s dreading or regretting it. it’s more like excitement is the last thing he’s feeling cause of all he’s thinking of.

He doesn't say anything before she's speaking again.

"You need this trip. you've been so busy." He has. Too much at that. So much that he forgot you two had even broken up and was about to go to your place first when he arrived. He’d been so excited to surprise you, then it dawned on him. His tires were quick to turning. His thoughts are cut short by his mother. "it'll help you spend more time with yn."

"I guess." he replies unenthusiastically. Though it’s the same idea they’re both thinking of it in a different context. Something that his mother doesn’t know yet.

He doesn't stare at where she stands only at his suitcase analysing what he's packed and what the heck is actually going on. "Plus, it would be a perfect place to propose." She enthuses, joyous at the thought. He seems to have slightly forgotten about that detail too.

When you were planning the trip, he made a plan to propose to you on it. It honestly is the perfect place to and he felt like it was the right time. Of course, you'd be arguing but it wasn't something that was holding back your relationship. Plus, he thought you'd talked it out well enough. So, he spent his free time after planning the trip, shopping for rings and looking proposal ideas and even asked some of his colleagues for advice. It’d be a trip where you got to spend some time after being away for so long.

But that's when you called and honestly kicked him in the balls. Too confused he just went along with it.

"Switzerland is such a good choice, you kids are so good at these things." She says probably imaging herself there too. It’s not long before his eyes are staring at the black velvet box on his dressing table, and his head is spinning all over again. He knows how excited she gets about this and she won’t stop. “You could take a walk and then pull out the Ring with those mountains in the back and-"

"Eomma!" His deep voice stops her, not harshly but whiny. Not telling his parents about the breakup is honestly the most overwhelming thing because of how his mother adores you and finds a way to bring you up in every conversation. she could go on but the tired look on her son's face makes her stop. She wants to pry on why he looks more drained that ecstatic but she chooses against it.

”Is something wrong?”

He realizes just how carried away he’s getting with his emotions. He shakes his head. “no. I’m just stressed.” He finally looks up at her to give a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes but she returns.

"Sorry, you know how I get carried away. I'm sure you have your own plan let me not stress you."

She leaves and he sighs

No. He has no plan of his own. He has no plan at all.

Your suitcase handle is firmly clutched into your hand as you walk into the airport.

Your eyes scan the crowd. Every face. Each bag too, because you know which one he'd probably be carrying with him. Seeing it again is gonna be triggering cause the last time you saw it was the last time you saw him off.

You and jungkook agreed to come separately and since his parents lived closer to the airport he'd be here first and wait for you by security. But now that you're there you can't see him. Maybe he's a little late but why wouldn't he tell you.

You told him you had just arrived but he hasn't even seen that message. Has he changed his mind? is the first thing that pops up in your head. If he has that's a shitty way to do it. Just ghost you?

So, you pull out your phone to call him. “Pick up." You mutter under your breath.

No answer.

You feel stupid. It honestly feels like you're on a Lifetime show or even worse TLC.

Your annoyance bubbles over as you glance around the busy security area. "Where is he?" you ask yourself.

Though you think he has, you doubt jungkook would just ghost you. It's not what you know him to be. You tap your foot impatiently and try to call him again. Still nothing. Your heart finally relaxes when you spot him already walking to you. "Seriously?" You say a little upset when he finally reaches. "Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"Oh. I didn't hear it." He says pulling it out of his pocket. "Must be on silent. I’m sorry." He looks at you genuinely so. And you can’t bring yourself to be as mad as you want to be. It’s not a big deal, he’s here now.

“it’s okay, we should get going, we’re almost late.” You say frustrated with how traffic delayed your arrival. Jungkook just hums agreeing and surprising you by taking you suitcase. You’d tell him it’s fine and you can manage but he’s already walking ahead of you. Probably not wanting to hear it.

A tense silence stretches between you two as you wait to board your plane. Sitting side by side has never felt so awkward, like the space between you is miles wide. You scroll through your phone, pretending to be so into it. You don’t notice Jungkook stealing occasional glances at you. Or rather, at the sweater you’re wearing—the one he gave you (more like you took.) just before he moved to another town. The green complimenting your skin. He loves how it just melts to fit you. He’s glad to know that you’re warm, he’s aware of how incredibly warm it is.

He wonders if you’re wearing it deliberately, or if it’s just because it’s the warmest thing you own, and today’s even colder than yesterday. Probably no meaning behind it. At least, that’s what he tells himself. Though it’s not enough to stop him from developing a smile on his face, one he covers with his hand.

The low hum of voices and the faint crackle of the airport announcements fill the silence. Someone walks past, dragging a squeaky suitcase, the airport noises the only thing between the two of you.

“I know this is awkward.” He starts randomly, at first doubting he was talking to you but then you move your attention to him, when you realize it’s only you he can be talking to. It’s not like you were looking at anything on your phone. “I want us to enjoy it. I want you to enjoy it.”

“I want you to enjoy it too.” You find yourself speaking before your brain can process.

He smiles and turns to meet your eyes. All of a sudden, he feels so close. “So can we just pretend.” His eyes don’t move, if possible, they stare even deeper into yours. Yours don’t move as well. “Pretend like everything’s okay.” He speaks low as if he doesn’t want others around to hear. “Agree?”

You haven’t said much, instead just let him speak. “Agreed.”

You don’t mind pretending. You’ve been pretending you’re okay all this time, so why can’t you do it now.

You watch Jungkook sliding the bags into the overhead storage above your seats. He notices you approaching and nods for you to have the window seat.

“You sure?” you ask only because he called dibs when you planned the trip that he’d be getting the window seat.

He nods. “Yeah. I know you like it more than I do.” You do. He only called dibs because he was trying to ‘one up’ you like everything’s a game.

You squeeze passed him get comfortable in your seat and he’s soon sitting next to you. You’re glad it’s just two seats.

You sit in silence for most of the flight, each pretending to be too absorbed in your own activities to notice the other. Jungkook watches you out of the corner of his eye as you scroll through your phone, then switch to reading a book. This trip can’t be that bad, you tell yourself. Of course, you two haven’t talked about your breakup, but it doesn’t have to come up. You’ll just enjoy the weekend and go back to normal, like he said—pretend---if either of you even knows what that means.

What are the boundaries of pretending.

At some point, you shift in your seat, leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder. You’re asleep, of course, but Jungkook glances down at you, momentarily startled. He considers waking you but decides against it. Instead, he leans back slightly, letting you stay there.

As the plane hums softly and moves through the sky, Jungkook can’t help but wonder if this trip could be his chance to fix things. How does he want it to happen? Does he even know? All he knows it that you do eventually have to talk about things. Do you even want to talk about it, because you seem to be avoiding it.

But there’s only so much avoiding you can do.

As soon as the plane lands, you stretch in your seat, surprised you managed to sleep for that long. Glancing at Jungkook, you watch as he pulls the luggage from the overhead bin. He looks like he didn’t get any sleep at all, you had been sleeping on his shoulder for most of the time. You exchange a brief look—just acknowledging each other and your present moment—before heading off the plane

The crisp Swiss air hits you as you step outside the terminal, and you follow Jungkook as he gets into a cab and it drives confidently toward a car rental area, which you’re confused about but don’t ask. Jungkook picks up keys from the reception and you walk through the parkin lot looking for what you don’t know. You’re just following. You stare at him puzzled as he dangles the keys. He’s been quiet, and you hadn’t even expected to rent a car. Public transport seemed like the plan, but now that you think about it, you remember how Jungkook feels about it.

“You rented a car?” you raise a brow.

He nods, “yeah, it’d be easier. Thought you’d approve.”

He catches a glance of your face, like you’re trying to figure something out, but can’t.

“Hmm.” You only hum.

“You look cute when you’re confused”. He takes you by surprise. “Come on.” He says walking and not letting you process his words. You just try to shake them out of your head.

You don’t admit it, but you're impressed. He thought ahead. And you’re honestly glad he did—something you feel he’s been lacking the past year.

Once he’s done packing the luggage into the car, he closes the trunk and slides into the driver’s seat. You’re not sure why you’re shocked to find out it’s a Mercedes-benz g63 amg. You’d always known he had an obsession with luxury cars, especially ones like this. The fact that his job pays so well certainly helps, you guess moving out of town must’ve been worth it.

The car is great-- so comfortable, and the heater works perfectly, keeping you warm against the cold.

As Jungkook adjusts the mirrors, you scroll through your contacts, trying to figure out what to call the person you booked the cabin with, “what do I call them a host?” You mutter under your breath before dialling the number.

Jungkook glances at you as you speak to the host in quick tones. "Got it, thanks," you say, giving a quick wave of your phone toward Jungkook. With the directions noted you can now get to moving.

"Okay, so we head north, then take-“

“North?" Jungkook interrupts, starting the engine. "Are you sure it's not west or whatever?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You glare at him. He glances at one map and thinks he knows his way around Switzerland.

"I just talked to the guy," you say flatly.

Jungkook smirks, recalling a past trip. "Remember last time we travelled, and we ended up on a dead-end street?" he says with a cheeky smile on his face. he’s teasing you.

You roll your eyes at the memory. You had been driving through the outskirts, and your GPS got wonky, causing you to go down a deserted road.

“If you’d listened to me, we wouldn’t have gotten lost,” you reply.

You stop bickering, finally following the GPS. Jungkook decides to follow the directions, and the tension eases as you leave the city behind.

The atmosphere shifts, replaced by a sense of awe at the breathtaking scenery. Low-capped mountains stretch into the horizon, Swiss chalets dot the landscape, and the sun reflects off the lakes. You’re glad you arrived during the day; cause nighttime would not have done the view justice.

You watch out the window, your voice filled with awe. "Oh my gosh, it's so beautiful." Jungkook glances at your direction before returning his attention to the road. "Yeah, it is," he agrees, equally mesmerized by the view.

"Can you grab my camera from the back?" he askes. Recalling his passion for photography, you can’t be surprised he has it with him.

You pull out the camera from his bag, noticing it’s larger and more expensive looking than the one you had gifted him. "Do you still have your other one?" you’re curious.

He knows what you’re hinting to. "It fell in water during a fishing trip with my team, but I'm getting it fixed."

“Do you still have the pictures.” You’d hate to lose them, even though they are null and void now, you still like how happy you looked in them.

“Yeah. They’re in my SD.” He informs you and you’re glad.

You fumble with the new camera, struggling to operate its buttons, he notices. "There's a button just there," he directs. Though you aren’t much of a photographer, you manage to snap some decent shots of the scene. You take a lot to make sure you have options.

Feeling playful, you turn the camera to jungkook and snap a pic of him. You had always admired his model-like features and often joked he should pursue modelling instead of his current path, which kept him 218 miles away. But now you realize modelling would only take him even farther.

He never agreed to the idea but never argued either. He preferred to appreciate beauty rather than be the centre of attention.

"Did you just take a picture of me?" he asks, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Yeah, just one," you reply.

He doesn’t respond, leaving you to wonder what he’s thinking. Is he upset? Did you cross a pretending line?

"Wanna stop and take pictures," he grins, "y’know for your Instagram."

It’s not a bad idea, but you don’t want to be late and have the host waiting for too long.

"We won't be long." he looks over to see if you’re considering. He smiles when sees that you are. You don't post much on Instagram, and he knows that. But it wouldn't hurt to have some pictures from this trip.

"Let's be quick," you accept.

He pulls over to the side of the road and when you’re out he’s approaching you to take the camera. "Let me take some of you first," you insist. He isn’t so keen on it though.

"Just a few," you whine dodging him trying to take it from your hands.

"We're supposed to be quick." He reminds you. "And you know I'm not a fan of pictures of me."

You not wanting to bicker. You hand it over to him. "But I will take pictures of you eventually," it’s a promise.

You quickly get posing on a spot you like, and he snaps several pictures. Some you were prepared for, while others were candid of you looking up a bird flying over, like you’ve never seen a bird before. or just in awe of the scene behind. Why do the birds seem so majestic here?

Jungkook smiles as he continues to take photos, forgetting the time. "I think that's enough. We're going to be late," you say, running out of poses to do.

You start walking to the car and he snaps one more picture of the scene before getting back and starting the car. Whilst adjusting to the warmth he hands you the camera.

"These are so pretty," you bulge your eyes out at how good jungkook is at taking pictures. You can definitely see the difference. Jungkook can’t help but feel a sense of pride. You scroll through the camera, admiring more pictures.

Then you scroll a little too far and notice a series of photos featuring a friend—someone he seems to be close to. In one, she leans on his shoulder, a gesture that causes some type of discomfort or irritation. You couldn’t be sure, you’re too busy scrolling. She smiles too hard, you judge.

gosh you're pathetic. Why are you acting like this. The man is not your boyfriend he can do whatever. The statement causes an unwanted sour taste to form over your taste buds.

You continue to scroll, analysing the photos, each one deepening your insecurities.

"Careful, you're gonna damage the buttons," Jungkook jokes when he notices your rushed movement. He wonders what has you that way.

When he speaks, you’re brought back to reality. Though you’re brought back with an attitude. You switch off the device and lay it back where you found it, sitting back down with a scowl on your face and jungkook wonders the cause.

You had been fine just a moment ago. He doesn’t say anything and focuses fully on the road ahead. The silent drive to the cabin feels anything but aesthetic.

You sigh as the car slows, leaving behind the snow-covered path. When you approach the cabin, it’s instantly recognizable from the photo. At least you weren’t lost or scammed. The place looks serene. It’s blanketed in snow. It’s not like those huge family ones. It’s small just to fit you and jungkook. You’d have no money to buy anything or activities if you booked those larger ones. And they’re unnecessary cause it’s just the two of you.

Jungkook parks the car, and as you both step out, the awkwardness that’s shadowed the trip returns. It had been there from the beginning, lingering beneath exchanges and strained silences. Brief moments, like taking pictures earlier, had been relieving, but even that had soured quickly. Now, neither of you had much to say.

The cabin’s host, a kind older man with a thick Swiss accent, greets you warmly, showing you around the cozy interior and pointing out the back patio before leaving. Once alone, you both quietly bring in the luggage. The silence is deafening, broken only by the crunch of snow you step on.

Due to your irritation that some how still lingered you step a little too hard on the icy ground, and in an instant, your foot slips. You land awkwardly in a mix of snow and dirt, the impact cushioned but still hurting.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook calls, his voice tinged with concern and amusement. He’d drop the luggage to come check on you if you hadn’t brushed him away with your hand.

Still irritated, now cause of the fall, you dust yourself off and move yourself inside. You drop the luggage in bedroom and start taking off your sweater, only to have Jungkook walk in moments later.

“One bed,” he states, looking at the large, centred piece of furniture. “Looks comfy.” You seem to have forgotten the cabin was lover’s themed, so it did only have one bed. The host had asked you if it was a problem when he saw the look on your face but you just brushed it away at you being tired.

You glance at the bed, then at him. “Yeah. Guess you’ll have to take the couch,” you joke, though your tone comes out flatter than intended.

“Nope.” He flops onto the bed, which creaks under his weight, making him pause to check if it’s broken. When it holds, he relaxes. “I’m sleeping right here.”

You sigh, deciding it’s not worth arguing. You’ve shared a bed before—it shouldn’t be a big deal so many times at that. But those times are not now and you have to deal with your new circumstance.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you announce, expecting him to leave the room. Instead, he sprawls comfortably on the bed.

“Knock yourself out,” he replies casually.

Groaning, you grab your toiletries and head to the bathroom. The hot water feels like a gift, relaxing your tense muscles. If only the whole trip could feel this peaceful.

When you return, Jungkook is gone, though his shoes by the door confirm he hasn’t gone far. You search through your suitcase for a sweater, only to realize you packed just one sweater—the one now wet and dirty. Frustration bubbles as you grab a thin, long-sleeved shirt. It’ll have to do, though you doubt it’ll keep you warm in tomorrow’s outdoor activities.

Meanwhile, Jungkook in the kitchen has immersed himself in exploring the layout of it. whilst on his expedition his attention drifts to a tiny blue bird minding its business outside the window. He leans into it but carefully not to scare it away. Thankfully it doesn’t seem to find him a bother. “Got any advice for me?” he murmurs, taking a peek behind him. The bird doesn’t react, oblivious to his internal conflict. He’s unsure—about you, about himself, about what this trip is supposed to accomplish.

When you enter the kitchen and done talking to his new friend who doesn’t present him with anything viable but his company, he’s quick to point out the lack of groceries. “We should go shopping. It’s on your itinerary, right?” he teases lightly.

You nod, unsurprised he remembers. You’d always been the planner, the one who thought of everything. Maybe that’s why the breakup hurt so much—it came so suddenly, leaving no time to plan how to feel or move on.

As he’s about to suggest leaving immediately, he notices you rubbing your arms. “Aren’t you cold?” he asks, gesturing to your thin shirt.

“I’m fine,” you reply dismissively, though you clearly aren’t.

“Put on a sweater before you get sick,” he insists. His boyfriend instincts linger, even now.

You hesitate but eventually admit, “I forgot to pack an extra one.” The way how stares at you is so embarrassing for you.

Jungkook chuckles softly, though not unkindly. “Of course you did.” You roll your eyes. He moves to grab a sweater from his suitcase and hands it to you. “Here. Borrow this.”

You take it, the faint scent of his cologne that seems to be on everything he wears no matter how much he washes, invaded your senses. “Thanks,” you say quietly, slipping it on and hoping not to ruin this one too.

By the time you return from the store, exhaustion settles in. You both sit in the living room, cups of hot cocoa in hand. Jungkook flips through the channels while you sit quietly, the warmth of his sweater and the fire calming you.

“You’ve made a lot of friends in Jeju,” you say suddenly, your tone sharper than intended.

Jungkook pauses, confused. “What friends?”

“Colleagues, maybe? Customers? I saw the pictures on your camera,” you admit, staring into your cup instead of at him.

He leans back, waiting. He knows what you’re referring to and could explain that the woman in the photos was a client a little too excited and touchy about her wedding rehearsal photos, and had wanted photos with him. But he wants you to ask.

Instead, the silence stretches, filled with unspoken questions—questions about Jeju, the photos, the breakup, and even yourself. You sigh, pushing them aside.

“is there something you wanna ask?”

“There’s nothing I want to ask,” you finally say, though the bitterness in your voice betrays the truth.

Jungkook laughs softly, shaking his head. “I thought we agreed on pretending.” His voice is still soft.

“I know. Just don’t want you pretending if you’ve got other things going on.”

Jungkook chuckles taking a sip of his cocoa.” I’m good.”

“I’m good too.”

“Good.”

You watch him stand a sly smirk adoring his face. “let’s go back to pretending now, okay?” he says looking at you.

You mumble a sure and he walks off. Probably to sleep.

Sleeping the same bed is even more awkward. After spending some minutes you’d decide you were too tired to be awake, you came the bedroom.

Jungkook was still awake staring at his phone, and for some reason shirtless. He likes to sleep shirtless and the tension between you two isn’t going to stop him.

Jungkook tries to keep his eyes to himself as you change into your pajamas. You didn’t want to be childish so you just changed right there. It’s nothing he’s never seen before. He won’t act like the action doesn’t cause a rise in memories and he holds himself to not thinking further. Soon you’re crawling into your side and laying facing away from him. Jungkook chooses to lie on his back, the bed big enough for you to keep your distance. He turns off the lights but your eyes remain open staring into the dark.

As the night continues, none of you are able to fall asleep. Jungkook tries to make himself comfortable, his shifting cause you to think he might be moving closer, but he doesn’t. why do you feel sad. Your brain is used to being close to him and him holding you in situations like this. And he too is used to wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer into him. But there’s none of that.

“I can’t fucking sleep.” he groans frustratedly sitting up. He runs his hands in his hair. He looks over at you thinking you’re asleep, the darkness preventing him from actually knowing. He’s jealous at the idea of you being able to sleep, but when your frustrated voice sounds, he’s relieved. Relieved that he’s not the only not able to sleep.

“Same.” You mutter remaining on your side.

Jungkook huffs and puffs contemplating on asking what he’d been debating. Your bodies are probably used to sleeping closer to each other, so maybe that’s’ why it’s hard. You surely won’t mind if it means you get to sleep right?

He looks over to you and how far you seem from. He doesn’t like, hates the reality of it. “Can I sleep closer to you.” His words and the fact that he actually said takes you aback. You freeze. Your silence is killing him, he shouldn’t have said it. he should take it back, well—but he’s already sai-

“Okay.” Okay? Well, that was easy, he thought you’d be looking at him weird. but no, you just lay on your side waiting for him.

When he said closer you never thought he meant this close. You’re the closest you can be. But you don’t mind it, it actually brings you that giddy feeling, like it’s your first time cuddling. You realize just how much you missed it. He nuzzles his face in your neck and this is when he’d kiss your shoulder and neck but he doesn’t and the detail is gravely missed. He has to hold himself from not doing it.

“We’re going to move to the middle of the bed, darling.” It’s only then that you realize how much at the edge you were. You shuffle yourselves and move into the center and get comfortable in the position.

“Are you comfortable?”

So much you hate to say it. You can’t even bring yourself to be angry. “y-yeah.” You can barely respond coherently with how his voice is so close sending goosebumps all over you.

“Can I put my around you? It’s the only place I can put it.” he tries to explain, but you were actually hoping for it.

You nod for him to go ahead and he wraps his arm around you. Honestly, he should’ve just asked if he could cuddle you, because this is basically what you’re doing. He didn’t have to mask it; you’d have said yes either way. He doesn’t know that though.

Now that you’re close to him and him to you, you both weirdly fall asleep, very quickly at that.

First thing on your itinerary was to visit the Lindt home of chocolate you’d been drooling at the thought of it since you planned this trip. It would honestly be a crime to visit Switzerland and not visit the Lindt factory. Being a lover of chocolate no activity on your list will be as good as this.

“I don’t know why they have us putting our bags away.” Jungkook whines taking off his jacket, as required and placing it in a locker. “How am I supposed to carry my chocolate.” His speech is almost childlike. You just chuckle.

” That’s why they do it.” You inform him, with a soft smile and start to walk ahead of him. Jungkook walks behind you, watching how you look around with wonder.

Did he mention how good he feels right now. The sleep he had last night was the best he’s had in a while. And it only serves to tell him how much he’s missed your presence. Just you as a whole. Being away from you for so long has had an effect on him too. It’s only now, that he’s not able to do all the things he used to do, that he realizes how much he’s missed it. And how much you mean to him.

“Oh my gosh.” Jungkook watches how you take in the aroma of chocolate. It invades his senses and when you’re turning around to check on him, he’s nodding. You want him to enjoy this just as you are.

You gasp and it’s when you spot the huge chocolate fountain that you pull Jungkook’s attention to it by his arm. “it’s so fucking huge.” You say still holding onto him.

“that’s what she said.”

You roll your eyes. “Grow up.” You both laugh. and it’s when you’re lost in laughter and admiring the fountain that jungkook looks down to see you still holding his arm. So, in a swift action of no thought, all instinct he moves to hold your hand.

Your head sharply moves to look at him then at his hand holding yours and then back up at him. He’s got this innocent smile on his face and you can’t help but warm up into his hold. You don’t mind the action of holding hands but you fear what it implies. Is he for real or still pretending?

For the first minutes you stay holding hands, until jungkook is pulling away to grab his camera. You rub you hands together to try and regain your sense of independence. What the heck are you doing, holding hands? This pretending thing Is a good idea, but it’s definitely messing with you in some way. All ways. He’s giving you things that you’ve been craving. The cuddle at night, the holding hands, you’ve missed it all. But you don’t know where it’s coming from, does he miss you too or is he pretending. To think of it you never really discussed what type of pretending you’re doing. Are you pretending to still be together or are you pretending to be good friends. Gosh this is so stressful. And confusing. You wonder if he’s stressing like you are. He seems calm. He’s handling this so well.

“Wait—I need a picture of you. Stand still.” He points the camera to you and you’re quick to turning your head away.

“it’s fine you don’t need to-” snap.

He doesn’t give you the time to object and just snaps. “Jungkook stop taking pictures of me.” He doesn’t. you’re embarrassed to be doing this in public. But he seems thrilled. “Okay wait-” he doesn’t so you choose to reaching for the Lense. But jungkook doesn’t mind filling his storage with pictures of your palm. “Kook, wait.”

“Kook?” he questions smiling. You realize your mistake. Honestly you didn’t mean to call him that, it just came out naturally for you to get him to stop. And it worked. Though now it shifts the air.

You groan. “I didn’t mean it like that.” You roll your eyes. You don’t even know what you’re saying.

He doesn’t linger on it more, which honestly helps your case. The blush on your face is deserving of a picture. Snap.

“Stop that before I revoke your privileges.” You threaten. He doesn’t want that.

He raises his hands in surrender. “won’t do it again.”

You ignore him and turn to keep walking.

“Can take more later though?”

You don’t answer, but he takes it as a yes. You’ve always been his muse, it’s not gonna stop now. His camara is now getting some action.

This place is actually so beautiful, smells amazing too. The pictures you saw did not do it justice.

“Look at the strawberries, the nuts. Ah—I’m in heaven.”

Jungkook smiles as he watches enjoy and pointing for him to look at the large container, of everything that goes well with chocolate. He’s really just happy that you’re including him, by telling him how much you freaking love this place or how you want to stay here forever. It makes him feel like things aren’t all that bad between the two of you and it can be fixed.

“Why are you looking at me like that.” You narrow your eyes at him. Gosh he forgot how long he was looking for. You’d been telling him something but he zoned out.

“Oh-nothing.” He clears his throat.

You just brush it off, cause if you linger on it, you’ll melt. Jungkook looking at you has been a weakness for you, there’s just something about him focusing on you and having only you in sight. “Anyway, I was saying try this.”

He doesn’t regain his consciousness before you’re bringing a spoon full of chocolate to his lips. he takes it, tasting the sweetness of it.

He licks the chocolate off his lips when you pull away. “Mmm….so good.” You nod glad that he likes it. Though way he’s looking at you makes you think he might not be talking about the chocolate. You choose to ignore your thoughts with a cough.

As you go on you learn facts about chocolate and the factory and jungkook takes the pictures. When walking around you make sure to not forget to collect little pieces of chocolate from the dispensers. And it’s not long before your hands are getting full.

When your expedition is over, you’re returning to your bags to stuff them with your treasure.

“This is a lot of chocolate.” Jungkook states.

You shake your head. “it’s not that much.”

“Yeah of course an addict is telling me that.”

You gasp. “I’m not an addict.”

“Tell that to all the money I’ve spent buying you chocolate.” Money which it didn’t mind and loved spending.

“Honestly that’s all on you.” You say raising your hands. He chuckles.

Getting tired you both decide to go by the café inside the factory. Whilst there you both order some food to eat which is not chocolate, except you. For your beverage you picked to drink the famous hot cocoa. Which tastes like heaven made it themselves.

“How do I take this home with me?” you say motioning to your drink.

“Just stay.” He meant to say you both could just stay, but his tongue tripped.

You nod, thinking about it. “I could.” Moving to Switzerland and living here would be a dream. But unfortunately, things aren’t that easy. Finding a job would be hard, plus the language barrier would kill you.

“don’t.” he’s almost pleading. “I don’t know how I’d tell your family I lost you to Switzerland.” More like he doesn’t know how he’d fix things.

“Honestly it’s no competition.” You say in deep thought and analysis.

“What? you would leave me for Switzerland?” He says it not realizing causing you to chuckle. And when you look at him, he gets it.

The conversation doesn’t go farther after that. Jungkook just stays in his thought. When jungkook had made the decision to move. He honestly thought it wouldn’t be that bad. He’d plan on maybe moving you out to him when he settled down, but your job was a very hot topic. At the time he hadn’t realized how serious it was. But now he does.

If it was you moving, he’d be just as hurt. And it pissing him off that he hadn’t realize the impact.

For your second and last activity for the day, cause of the way time just flies by; is the largest indoor flea market.

You spend your time there; just looking around, eating, and buying stuff. During your move you make it a mission to take pictures of jungkook. And you do manage to take some good ones.

He also finds an opportunity to ask about your work and how it’s going. And if that co-worker that bothers you is still around. He’s glad to learn that she did get moved to another department. He’s happy with whatever makes you comfortable.

As you’re talking, you’re approached by a couple, older but not old and tourists as well. They ask you to take a picture of them and jungkook is glad to assist. When he’s done, they’re happy and offer to take a picture of you too, jungkook wants to decline the offer assuming you wouldn’t want to but you’re quick to accepting.

“you two look so lovely together.” The lady says and you have no clue what to say apart form an awkward thank you. You wouldn’t blame them for thinking you’re a couple, not with the way jungkook is smiling at the picture.

“Grow up kook.”

“What?” he whines. “It’s a good photo.”

You roll your eyes before walking away. He follows behind you, smiling.

-----

Soon your day on paper comes to an end and you’re returning to the cabin.

You did not know what to expect of your day in the morning. Your night was okay but would the rest of the day go the same? those were some of your thoughts. But to your pleasure the day went well, great even. You just hope it’s the same for the rest of the trip.

Jungkook is on cocoa duty (not assigned but he took the responsibility.) and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t do a good job at it every time.

Leaning against the counter holding your mug and watching him finishes up with his own, you watch.

“How’d you like the Lindt factory?”

He takes a sip before answering. “Great. Honestly enjoyed it more than I thought.”

“What? You don’t trust my judgement?” you watch as he leans on the counter opposite from you.

“it’s not that. Just never thought I was that big of a chocolate fan.”

You hum. Silence fills the kitchen as you’re just enjoying the drink. Why does the air feel so thick, is it the way he just leans there. Pajamas not doing a very good job at hiding his physique. Why the hell does he look buffer. Gosh, his arms look like they’d lift and lay you to your demise. In the morning you caught a glimpse of his shirtless torso, and you were about to lose your cool. To add gasoline to the fire he had just stepped out the shower and had not completely dried. Geez, if it wasn’t for your ability to leave the room, you don’t know what you would’ve done or said.

Jungkook has always had a keen eye for your little frustrated looks, the way you don’t blink, the way you wrap your hands around yourself or how you cross your legs. He knows. It’s the details he’s aware of. No one knows you like he does.

“I like this sweater on you.” He says pointing to the green sweater you’d just gotten back from the dry cleaners.

You look down at it. “Because it’s yours?” you raise a brow as you take a sip of your cocoa.

He shakes his head looking your body up. “no. because you look good in it.” He’s biting his lip, then his playing with that little lip ring. Yn, hold yourself.

You choke out a chuckle. “Jungkook.” It’s a warning for him. But he doesn’t take it.

“What? It’s not my fault you look good in all my clothes.” gosh you’re gonna die choking on this liquid. “Makes me want to just hand over my closet to you.” He’s coming closer to you, gosh what the fuck, he approaches but it’s the sink you’re standing in front he wants. You move. He rinses his mug, tired of the drink.

“Well, that won’t be necessary.” you say sliding away from his towering figure. Just to catch your breath, cause you’ve been holding it. Jungkook laughs at the movement. Just after, you’re rinsing your cup and placing it in the cupboard. You’re not gonna die choking on cocoa, or jungkook as a matter of fact.

“Think I’m going to bed.” You state thinking the bedroom will be your only place of solace away from him.

“Me too. I’m getting sleepy.”

You’re stiff as he walks behind you. You hope you’ll be able to sleep on your own tonight. Cause if jungkook just as much as touches you, you’ll turn into a puddle.

You’re quick to moving to your side and facing away from him as to not see him taking of his shirt. You know because you hear it drop.

“Goodnight.” He says turning off the light.

With all your might you mumble a goodnight to him too.

Tonight, you manage to fall asleep without cuddling. You sleep back-to-back close enough to feel the heat radiating off the other.

Jungkook wanted, so badly to go skiing after seeing an advertisement for it and saw some people do it on your way to the cabin. You’re not one for these intense sports but since he went with you to the Lindt factory, you thought it’d only be fair to go as well. Just accompany him.

Though his won’t be sweet and rewarding.

“You wanna go with me?” he asks teasingly and you shake your head, as soon as you process his words.” come on.” He whines.

“I’ll just cheer you on from down here.” The process of skiing looks terrifying. What do you mean you had to go on those zip line things, and slide down. Not you. Nope.

“it’s not that bad. You’ll be with me.”

Though it sounds comforting it doesn’t change anything. “I’ll just stay here looking around and taking pictures for you.” You smile hoping it convinces him.

He chuckles, his bunny smile on show for you.” baby what are you so scared of?” the pet name comes out smoothly, catching you by surprise. But it does seat itself in and warm your heart.

“it’s just scary.” You wrap your arms around your body.

He sighs watching you closely. “Fine, but can we do something as exciting, later.” He stares at you scattering your brain for what he could be referring to. “Like ice skating.” Oh—he was thinking ice skating. Last night has your mind in a whirlwind.

“That sounds better.” Jungkook laughs cause it’s basically the same thing, but he won’t get into it.

“Okay then.” He says walking to the register. “we’ll do that later.” It’s a promise.

Jungkook is off skiing and you’re sat in doors, still able to watch the outside activities, landscape and events thought the large window. You don’t mind not going skiing, it’s not like it was on your list.

While you’re sat you decide it’d be a good time to call jimin and let him in on your trip so far.

“it’s not as awkward, anymore. It was at first. But then we just agreed to just enjoy the trip for the sake of our money.”

“The sake of your money?” he mocks.

You choke out a laugh. “Yes, for the money.” Is it? “he’s been nice and all. It’s actually not bad.” Jimin hums as he listens, this time at least you have his attention.

You’ve shockingly enjoyed the trip more than you thought, so far. If you just keep on, the whole trip could go well and you’d be back to your normal lives. You hate the sickness you feel at the thought. The trip will end, it is gonna end and you’ll be back to what you were before. Gosh.

“Sounds like the trip is going a little too well.”

You scoff. “it’s not that, we’re both just chill.”

“No fucking or kissing.”

You gasp and look around like someone could’ve heard that, but your phone is to your ear. “jimin! Oh my gosh.” The thought of it has you blushing still.

“Just sayin’. Jungkook’s probably dying. ”

You roll your eyes. He’s fine, you’re fine.

You go on talking but soon you have to end the call. Immediately you cut the call and stuff your phone in your pocket a figure sits next to you. Male, not jungkook. You pay no mind to him. you’re on a public bench anyone can sit next to you. He’s just in his own business. Is what you think until he’s reaching over to talk to you.

“Exciting isn’t it.” when he speaks you catch his foreign accent, not Swiss. Must be a tourist like you.

You awkwardly furrow your brows. “Huh?”

“Skiing.” He points.

Then it clicks that that’s what he’s talking about.

“I presume.” You say modestly. Why the heck is he talking to you.

“Presume? Haven’t you gone?”

“no.” You shake your head chuckling. “it’s not for me.”

“You can’t say that. You haven’t even tried.” You internally roll your eyes. Why does he seem to care so much. “Plus, why come to Switzerland in the winter and not try skiing.”

You don’t know why you carry on this conversation, but you feel like justifying yourself. “Honestly I just came for the Lindt factory.” You say shamelessly causing the stranger to laugh. he doesn’t seem like a weirdo or creep, but you can never know. He’s probably not talking to you out of pure interest. So, you try to keep your distance.

“you’ve been?”

“Yeah. Yesterday.”

He hums sound interested and you know this conversation isn’t ending anytime soon. “How was it?”

You scoff internally. “It was fun. Would recommend you’ll love it.” You don’t even know him; how would you know he’d like it. And to be fair you’d add that Jungkook’s presence made the place more exciting to be at. You assume he doesn’t have a jungkook. Speaking of jungkook, how long is he going to be? You should’ve just gone out on a walk instead.

He nods. “Well maybe you can show me.” You pause, okay now you’re starting to get uncomfortable. “I’m sorry I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that I came alone and it would be nice to have someone show me around.” He justifies but it doesn’t make you any more comfortable. “I’d pay for your ticket if that’s the issue.”

You chuckle. “I’m a tourist to, there’s not much I can show you.”

“I mean you’ve visited the Lindt, so you know more than me.” Gosh he’s so adamant.

You smile awkwardly wishing jungkook would just pop up.

“you’d be better off going with someone else.” You’re looking around as if you’ve lost something. The man catches on to the action.

“Am I making you uncomfortable.” Yes. very.

“No-” before you can finish your lie of a statement, Jungkook’s interrupts, voice anything but kind.

“Yes, you are.” He says firmly, body not open for discussion.

The guy turns to look at you, then jungkook, then back at you. “Do you know him?”

Hesitantly you respond. “yeah” you debate on what to say. “He’s a friend.” He is isn’t he?

Friend? Jungkook chuckles internally. “Excuse us.” He spits out to the man.

The guy is taken aback, but just stands. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” You just nod and give him an awkward smile as he walks away.

You sigh relieved that he’s gone.

You and jungkook share a glance before he’s sitting down.

“Friend?” Jungkook asks when he sits next to you.

You raise a brow. “What? you wanted me to lie?”

“Lie?” he says even stronger. You don’t know what he’s pointing to right now.

“Are you parrot?” You chuckle trying to get smart with him.

Jungkook scoffs at how you avoid his eyes. “You couldn’t have said I was your boyfriend.”

“But you’re not.” You spit out a little quickly.

When you turn to look at him you catch how his jaw clenches. And if you weren’t arguing right now, you’d think it’s the hottest thing. “But you could’ve just lied so he leaves you alone. Now he’s probably going to try to approach you again.”

“he’s not going to.” You say naively.

Jungkook is getting frustrated with this, a little more than he should. “I know guys like that, he’s going wait for a time when I’m not around and attack.”

“Attack?” you laugh at his word choice. Your laughter only serves to his anger. “You’re being dramatic”

“I’m not being dramatic, I’m being serious” his statement comes out a little strong and louder than you’d like

“don’t yell.” You warn him and he apologizes. “I get you feel like you need to protect me, but relax.”

He laughs at the way you think. You thinking he’s feeling like he needs to, no, he needs to. He wants to.

“I don’t feel like, I need to, I want to.”

You don’t say anything, he knows he’s got you, what more could you say. There’s nothing. Jungkook is the protective type, has always been. He’s shown you that many times in your relationship. And then, it made sense but now you feel like he shouldn’t have to bother himself with it. You’re not his responsibility anymore. “We should get ready to go for lunch.” you stand walking away.

Jungkook follows after you, knowing you’re now gonna give him attitude. Your folded arms are evidence of that. He’d normally just kiss the attitude away but for obvious reason he can’t.

“you’re not gonna ask how skiing was?” He tries really hard to open the air for conversation. He hates it when you argue. So, he tries to everything he can to lighten the air.

You stare down at your food. Your eyes not meeting him once. “How was it?” you don’t even sound interested which you hate because you are. You love to hear jungkook talk about things he loves.

“It was great.” He explains not into going into much detail like he wanted to. Your energy demoralizes him. “I’m sure they’re still open if you still want to try. He suggests but you’re quick to shaking your head.

When he’s about to say something, he’s getting interrupted. It’s a girl, the one he met when skiing. She showed him around some routes since she’s a local.

“Yn, this is Lena. I met her whilst skiing.” He says introducing you. “Lena this is yn, my friend.”

Fuck now you know how bad it stings.

“Hey yn. How are you liking you trip so far?” she asks politely in an accent.

You stare her up, taking in her features. She looks about your age, and gorgeous. Why is your body so rigid. Speak. “Umm- hi-I’m liking it well enough. Thanks.” you can hear how stiff and awkward your speech is. Gosh yn she hasn’t done anything to you, chill. Smile.

Jungkook breaks into your awkward encounter. “I’m gonna be seeing you at the ice rink, right?”

He says and she smiles a little too hard. You roll your eyes. What does he mean he’s gonna see her there. Is the a you and him trip anymore? Your food doesn’t look as appetizing anymore. “Yeah. I’m there often during the holidays.”

The way her voice rings in your head is jarring. Make it stop.

Soon your prayers are answered and she’s leaving. Though unlike her your heavy heart stays.

Jungkook turns to you, still staring at her route of exit. “You, okay?” your eyes return.

You shift your eyes to your hands. “Yeah, I’m just tired.” You stand from the table choosing to leave. “I think I’m gonna stop by the cabin.”

Jungkook is confused. But he just takes you as you are.

“Sure, let me get-” he threatens to stand.

“no. I’ll just take a train.”

He sits down. If you want to be alone it’s best if he lets you be.

When you get to the cabin, all alone. You find yourself falling into deep thought.

The pretend play you and jungkook are playing is good for you to enjoy the trip, but you won’t deny how much it only covers your true feelings. You play pretend and feel all these feelings as though you’re still together and then the trip ends and you’re sucked into being apart. And it’s him leaving all over again.

You’re getting sick of it. There’s only so much pretending you can do.

Jungkook: ice skating later today?

He wants to be sure you haven’t changed your mind.

Not matter your emotions you still want to enjoy the trip.

You: sure. Meet you there.

When you make it to the ice rink, your mood is still tense from lunch, which is your fault for holding on to the emotions for so long. To only sour your mood more, you spot jungkook talking to the Lena girl from lunch.

You roll your eyes and watch how she giggles a little too hard at something he says. Jungkook is a funny guy, but she shouldn’t be laughing, whatever he’s said can’t be that funny. This is so irritating. Why the hell is she even here.

When jungkook spots you, he has on a huge grin, but the sour look on your face has him dropping it. He thought maybe you wouldn’t be still upset by now. But he’s wrong. “Yn you’re here.” He says it like he wasn’t expecting you and you weren’t meant to be here, or that’s how you hear it.

“We made plans, didn’t we?” your tone is nothing more than flat and irritated.

“We did.” He turns. “You remember Lena?” He turns to point at her, like you can’t see her. Why’s she looking at you.

Oh, could you forget her. “I do.” You jeer.

“Hi.” she with her perfect smile. You’d liked to punch it in—your of course—you’d never actually so it.

“Hey.” It comes out awkward and strained. Wanting to get things over with you turn to jungkook immediately. “what’re we doing now?”

“Um. We’ll have to get the skates.” He turns to Lena for some type of consultation, you scoff.

“Yeah, this way.” she says turning to lead the way.

Jungkook turns to you, your folded arms the first thing he sees. He stands next to you. “You get here okay?” you didn’t arrive together which means you had to take public transport, which he knows you don’t mind but he just wants to check on you.

“Yeah.” You mutter before walking ahead of him. Do you even know where you’re going?

You want to enjoy it, but the emotions that are ahead of you block you from doing so completely. And of course, Lena is a pro at skating.

Jungkook is fairly good, for someone who’s just taken it up. You’d attribute that to his quick learner personality.

You on the other hand are struggling, and it’s pissing you off. You hold on to the half wall and glide. There’s a good amount of people around and honestly, it’s embarrassing. -like- there are even small kids better at it than you. It’d be better if you just stopped. There are probably other activities you could do. Ice skating (or skiing) is not the end all be all of Switzerland.

Jungkook would probably enjoy skating more with Lena, seeing that they skied together earlier. You question why jungkook even ever liked you in the first place. You’re not cool like Lena or even as adventurous, you do try but you don’t feel it’s enough. He’s better off with someone like her. It’s good you broke up so that he can be free to do whatever. The thought stabs at your heart.

Jungkook spots you from where he is walking out. The look on your face anything but happy. He’s swift to skating to you, making sure not to bump into anymore with how fast he’s moving. “Where you going?”

His concerned and soft voice only intensifies your frustration. Could he not see how irritated and bad at this you are. He was probably too busy to notice. He’s always busy.

“You haven’t even travelled the while ring.” He chuckles awkwardly as you step off. He follows.

“I don’t know, I’m just not feeling it.” You don’t even dare look at him, because you know if you do your frustration will win and you’ll end up yelling or crying. And both are too embarrassing to do in public.

Jungkook scoffs. Jungkook can’t tell what’s going on with you but it’s definitely disturbing your ability to enjoy anything. He wants you to enjoy. But what’s irritating him is how you don’t want to communicate what you’re feeling to him. He’s always made himself a safe space for you to open up. But you never take it. Ever since he m0ved you’ve been distant, physically and emotionally. It’s frustrating cause all he wants is to be close to you in all ways. “You were not feeling skiing and now you’re not feeling this?”

Is he blaming you for not enjoying this? It’s not your fault you feel this way. You don’t even want to be feeling like this. You do want to enjoy skating, gosh you want to, so bad. But there’s just so much you’re holding on too that pretending can’t solve.

“Jungkook I’m not any good at this.” You gesture around eyes starting to sting when you watch how other people have fun while you argue. “You just go have fun with your Leni or Lena whatever.” You act like you aren’t sure of her name.

It’s the way you say it, the force and strain in the word. The way you look to the crowd in a jittering stare looking for her that let’s jungkook know what this is all about. Did it come off like that? She’s just a girl he met whilst skiing, he honestly never thought that far. Never thought you’d be thinking of it.

“Is this because of her?” he questions eyebrows furrowed trying to look at your face that’s staring down. Why the hell are this shoe laces so hard to untie. you just want to cut them off, but you’d probably have to pay for damages. Shit

Your frustration is replaced with another type of embarrassment, when jungkook is on his knee to replace his hands with yours to help you take the laces off. You just want the ground to swallow you right now. Unlike you Jungkook’s calmness is able to take the laces off. He tries to help you into your other shoes but you just brush him off. He moves.

Standing up and looking at you he asks. Voice calm like usual. “Is it?” you’d even forgotten his previous question. Do you have to answer him?

“I don’t know how it would be when you two are off to the other side of the ring. I’ve barely talked to her.” That’s exactly the problem why the heck do you feel like this when you haven’t gotten to know the girl. You barely know her intentions.

“It is.”

You groan rolling your eyes. “If you want help skating, I can help you. I’m sorry that I got carried away.” It’s probably one of the things you’re mad about. He just fucking left you like you didn’t make plans to come here together. Yeah, maybe your attitude made the distance between you, but he should know how to deal with it by now. Gosh you’ve been together for a good 3 years. He should know how you are.

And he does. That’s why he insists you’re acting like this cause of Lena. well, she’s probably just a catalyst and there’s something deeper that you two have to address.

You stand looking up at him, but he’s towering figure doesn’t make you as intimidating as you want to feel. “You don’t have to be sorry about anything, why? Cause you always know what you’re doing.”

“You know it’d be better if you just said it directly.” Whatever it is, because he wants to know. You want to walk past him but his hand around your wrist stops you. You look at it then at him. He’s not smiling, but not mad. Just concerned.

“I don’t--I’m not saying anything.” You snatch it form his grip and he lets you.

Jungkook’s face scrunches up in frustration. “That’s what you always say, then pull shit like this.”

You pause and stare at right in his--round eyes that are now, siren. “Shit like what?”

“This. Your fucking attitude.” He almost loses his tone but remembers that you’re in public, which is so fucking embarrassing. “You never want to talk about things.” He looks around for any watching eyes.

You just glare at him. Maybe you don’t like expressing yourself to him anymore. You’ve noticed it too. It had been hard for you to express yourself to him over a call, and sometimes shitty network. There had been days where you wanted to cry on his shoulders but only had the screen to rely on, so guess what you did. Nothing. You didn’t cry, you didn’t tell him anything. You’d just cry on your pillow after the call ends. “Maybe I don’t cause I know you won’t listen.”

That’s a hit to his ego. To him as a person.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I always listen to you.” The blank look on your face has him questioning himself. “of course, I’m not perfect.”

You chuckle bitterly.

“Just go off to your little girlfriend.” And there it is, a confirmation of what he already knew.

You start walking to the entrance. And he follows. Shoes on. He’s not going to be able to skate with the heaviness in his heart. He’d end up sinking into the ice, which doesn’t sound so bad right now. “Come on.” He swiftly moves to standing Infront of you. He blocks you from moving and you just give up and just decide to look at his jaw, not wanting to look directly at him. Which was not a good idea, cause of how he clenches it. You look up into his eyes. “you’re jealous?”

“Who?” he’s a parrot and now you’re an owl, he wants to say but finds it inappropriate for your mood.

“You are so jealous.”

“I’m no-”

“don’t lie to me.” You try to push at his chest for him to move out of your way, but your plan backfires giving him leeway to hold your hand firmly to his chest. Hard as a rock even through he’s sweater. “Tell me why you’re jealous.”

Instead of answering him directly you try to change the topic. You swear you can feel his heart beat through his sweater.

“Don’t act like I couldn’t see you jealous too when that guy approached me.” You try to one-up.

“I was jealous.” His confession has you wanting you dig a hole and hide yourself. It’s so easy for him to say, you weren’t even enjoying your conversation with that guy. “Difference with me is that I can say it.”

Shit. Shit. What do you say now. Get angrier, that always works, well not really.

“Whatever. I’m not jealous.” You look away from him. Are you really doing this in public. Jungkook doesn’t look like he gives a fuck right now, he just wants an answer. One which he’s not going to get.

“Tell me what you’re so jealous about?” his voice lowers

“How many times do I have to say I’m not jealous.” Till you can’t deny it anymore, the thought runs through Jungkook’s mind. “Just go have your fun.” You finally decide you’re tired of feeling his heart beat perfectly.

“you’re so ridiculous y’know.” He watches you move slight away, anger not faltering one bit. You’re determined to being upset. “can’t we just talk about this. It seems to be bothering you.”

It is. It’s fucking gnawing at your heart, your lungs, your mind.

“Nothing’s bothering me, I’m fine.” You breathe in, relaxing and calming down just a bit. “I just don’t want to be out there all on my own, while you’re having fun with some else.” Jungkook licks his lip. He doesn’t have anything else to say. What he has to say can’t be said here or whilst you’re unable to hear.

“I’m going home.” You pass by him and he doesn’t bother turning to watch you walk out.

“Korea?” it’s possible for you to want to leave. And the thought causes him to bite down hard on his bottom lip. Cause if you leave on these terms, nothing’s gonna change and he’d never get another chance. You’d avoid him like the plague.

“No, the cabin.” You state and he’s relieved. “Have fun.”

“Everything okay?” jungkook is startled by Lena’s voice who walked around to find him after she noticed he was gone.

“Yeah.” You force a smile. “I’ll just get going.” He informs her. He already has his stuff so there’s no need for him to go back inside. “Thanks for getting us in, though we didn’t even stay long.”

“No problem. It was fun, wish I got to talk to her.”

“Yeah, she isn’t normally like that.” Cause you aren’t.

“I understand.”

You don’t immediately go to the cabin. Instead, you go to the sauna you had been eyeing. It could probably be the only way to relax you. The sweat dripping down will mask the real tears falling down your face. You’re glad you’re alone right now.

You have your head leaned back thinking about what had just previously happened. The thoughts not wanting to leave you.

You hear the door open but you don’t bother looking, you’ve got a lot to think about. “hey stranger..” the familiar voice speaks just as shocked. You sharply open your eyes. Wondering if it’s you he’s speaking to but you’re just the two of you in here.

You’re just the two of you.

“didn’t expect to find you here.” He says setting himself down just in front of you and you looking at him oddly. Do you have bad luck?

“hmm” you chuckle awkwardly. You make a plan to gradually scoot yourself to the door. Being with him here does make you uncomfortable but you try to stay to enjoy what’s left of your time. You expect silence but the man doesn’t see on the same level. “Went to the Lindt factory like you said. Was honestly the best of everything.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” you say like you’re a worker at the factory or care.

“It would’ve been better if you came too.”

You awkwardly chuckle and finally decide to sit up. You came here to think and relax but this guy couldn’t be more of a bother. “I’m sure I would’ve just made it worse.”

He chuckles and smiles your way. A smile you do not reciprocate “I doubt.”

“Is your friend around?” Now you should fucking leave.

“Mm?” you ask like you didn’t hear. Fucking sirens are blaring. He’s not giving off I’m gonna leap at your vibe. It’s more of his inability to give up that bugs you. “Oh- ahh yeah. He’s gonna be here.”

He turns to look at the door like Jungkook’s about to walk through the door, but he doesn’t. gosh you wish he would. “isn’t it hard to have male friends like him.” You look at him brows furrowed, confused. You wait for him to elaborate and he’s quick to it. “Protective.” He says.

“how?”

“makes it hard for you to live your live and get to know people.” You laugh. it’s not like jungkook has his hands on you and pulling you away from people who want to talk to you. He’s actually for it but he just has a good discernment of creeps. As you sit here you reflect on his words from before when you initially met the guy. Gosh you should really start listening to jungkook. Makes you realize how right he is—sometimes--

“no.” your tone is sharp that the soft one you’d been giving him.

He shakes his head. He lifts his hands in defence saying, “I think he’s doing too much.” Now you’re getting upset, visibly so, which is not lost to the man. Who the fuck does he thinks he is. He’s the one doing too much, “I’m not some weirdo, I promise.” He hasn’t shown any signs of it yet, but you don’t give a fuck and you’re not gonna wait around for him to show it.

“I think you’re doing too much.” You snare abruptly standing up. He can tell the irritation on your face and is about to defend himself but you’re quick to cutting in. you’re not about to have it.

“I don’t know how your long your trip is but if you see me around, please don’t speak to me.”

“Wait.” You don’t.

Sauna time done you decide to go back to the cabin, feeling anything but relaxed. Daylight already lost.

Today has honestly knocked you out, as though you’ve done anything energy straining. It’s more of an emotional strain. When you walk in jungkook isn’t anywhere to be seen. So, you just assume he never got back. Makes you wonder where the hell he is and why he didn’t tell you, but you’re in no place to convict him cause you never informed him of your sauna endeavours as well. You’re both grown adults and can move around Switzerland without the other—but—why do you feel entitled to know where he is. You lost those privileges when you broke up and now when you left him at the rink.

Maybe a steamy shower will do what the sauna didn’t finish cause of you interruption. After that you decide to end your night early, you’ve got nothing to do after all.

you toss and turn in bed, barely able to get a linear sleeping time. Everything just feels so weird and off. Even worse than in the beginning. It’s all a different type of awkward, which you hate. Jungkook isn’t sleeping next to you which prompts you to checking the time.

1:39am your phone tells you.

Where the hell is he, you’re starting to get scared. You’re not worried about his safety cause jungkook is very capable in that sector, --well unless he got shot—shot? Why are thinking of that. Who’d fucking shot him, let alone in Switzerland. He’s never been in any trouble with the law or anyone. You’re getting paranoid, if you don’t see jungkook in the flesh, well and not wounded, you’re gonna lose your mind.

Putting on the sweater that has been a staple and carried you through the trip you walk out the bedroom to the open floor living room. you sigh when you don’t spot jungkook. You won’t be able to go back to sleep even if you wanted to. Cause you don’t feel like it and are losing your mind. As you’re standing in the living room like an anxiety ridden mom waiting for their teenager child at midnight, you hear it. It’s wood chopping sounds. Harsh and fast. You do have some cabins around you so it could be your neighbours—but no--the sound is closer to yours, like it’s just outside. So, you curiously walk to the door which would lead you closer to the sound. Maybe you aren’t as afraid cause you assume it’s jungkook. And it is.

You relax when you spot his figure well and healthy.

He doesn’t notice as you stand watching him. bottom lip chewed down on. Why the hell is he chopping wood at 1 in the morning.

You want to say something. You need to. Maybe apologize about what happened at the rink, you have a fair share in the argument. Since waking up or maybe after the sauna you realized how childish your behaviour was. You ruined the moment. When you could’ve just asked jungkook to help you and he would’ve been there, hadn’t you chosen to give into your irritation. Irritation of seeing him with a woman. There you said it.

His muscles flex as he moves to drop the axe down on the wood.

This is not what you want for you and jungkook. Arguing and not able to talk or share air. It’s not what you want. Even if things do officially end, you’d want to end it on calm and friendlier terms.

As you watch him you notice how his jaw tightens. He’s not just chopping wood. You start to worry for him when his movements grow harsher, of the larger chunk of wood.

“What did the wood do to you?” you try to be neutral.

He didn’t notice you behind him. So, he’s startled by the sound of your voice. Turning to look at you holding yourself in the door way, he chooses to take a break. He got so carried away he forgot he was cutting wood for the fire place and had cut too much. He drops the axe into snow. “Ditched me at the ice rink.” He says going to pick up some pieces of wood to bring inside.

Fuck you feel so bad. You stay silent watching him until he’s brought all the wood in and finally closing the door. Which allows for the warmth from the now blazing fire to fill the house. Now in warmer climate, jungkook takes off his large sweater and you drop your arms that were still wrapped around you.

“I’m sorry about that.” You mumble softly. He stands at the sink, you assume to make himself something warm.

“it’s okay, it’s not like I went all the way to stay in touch with some girl so she could get me—us--a good deal at the ice rink. Then I take you there and you ditch the thing entirely.”

You do feel horrible about to, but his tone irritates you causing you to respond as just that. Which you immediately regret.

“I left you with her, weren’t you happy with that.” You have an interesting way of saying things that bother you.

Jungkook pauses his actions and stares at you with a seriously confused face. He scoffs. You’re not making sense. “You know that’s not what I wanted.” He returns to his mug. “I wanted to spend it with you.” His voices calms.

Fuck. Uhm what do you say. You should probably say you’re sorry. “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook just listening. He just doesn’t understand, he wishes you could just be straight forward. Frustrated and tired of hiding behind a task, he drops the cup to give you, his attention.

“Did I say something wrong?” you stand where you are but jungkook moves. To you. You panic but he doesn’t walk closer than a few feet from you. You don’t know how you’d handle yourself if he came any closer. At the rink you almost died. “At the rink?” he clarifies like you’re not fully aware. He just wants to make sure that you’re on the same page. Cause you can think of other times he might have feared he’d said something wrong. “I honestly shouldn’t even have started talking to her.” He rubs a hand over his face.

Jungkook has never been malicious to you in your friendship before or relationship. Or even now. He’s been cordial. He’s the only man who’s treated so well and calmingly. Of course he has his imperfections, you both do. But it doesn’t take from how well he’s treated you. He never crosses a line.

“it’s not even that.” You’re looking off to the side and holding yourself again,

Gosh, he’s really holding himself right now. He bites his lower lip and clenches his jaw to hold himself back from just walking up to you and making you look him in the eyes. “Then what’s wrong. Please talk to me.” He pleads.

“I don’t know,” you whisper still looking beyond him, your voice is barely audible.

He’s begging, really for you to just tell him something. “Please don’t say that.” He responds, his tone a mix of frustration and pleading. He steps closer just a few centimetres away, if you unfolded your arms you’d probably bump into his chest.

“I don’t-” you start but your voice cuts you off, “it’s the way you-” you aren’t able to finish. What are you going to do with yourself. This is embarrassing, you can barely form or organize your thoughts and your mouth can barely move to speak. You’re not even going to talk about how hard it is for you to look him in the eyes. You just settle with staring at his other supporting features. His hair, his ears (that are red from what you assume is frustration—it’s not--), his eyebrows and then you skip to look at his nose--

“was it me talking to that girl?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You push away slightly.

“But we have--you know what--I want to.” He moves to block your action of walking away. You thought you were strong enough. You thought you’d manage to talk about this. But you can’t. not when it makes you want to cry. “I want to talk about it.” His voice is stern but not harsh. It’s just strong enough to let you know he’s not letting this go. It’s funny how something so insignificant can cause you to be in this situation. Forced to express and confront your emotions, the one’s you’ve been running from since the trip began, the one’s you told yourselves you’d pretend didn’t exist. You fooled yourselves by dodging the topic.

Now you’re here. “While we’re at it we can talk about why you broke up with me.” He’s not asking if you can talk about it, he’s telling you it has to be talked about and he’s not gonna let it go by. Not this time.

At his words, all your emotions unite to form a single unit of defence. “me? you agreed too.” You point at him face scowling.

“I only did cause it’s what you wanted, and I didn’t want to hold you back.”

You stare confused. “Hold me back from what?” what the fuck does he think you’ve been doing. You hope he doesn’t think you’ve been out and about since breaking up, that’s been the last thing on your mind.

“From living the life, you wanted to, without me.” His upset at the thought leading his voice to come out a little passive aggressive.

He does think that, you can see it. “Without you? I don’t want that.” You state. “But how can I live a life with you when you’re miles away, always busy. And can barely visit.” You just talk. Finally, your gears are moving. But the problem is that so are the tears. “You moving away is you choosing to live without me too.” You choke on your words a little. “Even I didn’t want to tie you to me or hold you back from your dreams that’s why I tried to li- live with it, but it got so unbearable kook. I couldn’t take it. it felt like I was alone. In fact, I was alone.”

Jungkook feels sick hearing that you felt alone.

“You know I did try.” His voice is soft, moving himself into your circle. You let him. He can’t help himself but cup your cheek. The action feels comforting, almost relieving. At least he’s here and you’re not talking over the phone, makes it much easier for you to sink into his touch.

You hold the wrist that’s caressing your cheek. Gosh you want to keep his touch here forever. “I know that’s what hurts more you tried but it still wasn’t enough. I really did want it to work. I still do.” On your last sentence you look up at him and he’s already staring at you, the thump of his other hand coming swiftly to wipe your stray tears. You sniffle. “Cause honestly I’ve missed you kook.” You feel comforted playing with the end of his sweater. “So much. I miss how we were before you moved. When it was easier for us to be together.” your fingers take a journey from the bottom of his sweater to the neck.

Your palms lay flat on his chest and his hands move to softly hold your wrist, not to move you away but you keep there.

“I know we said we’d pretend. A-and I thought I could. But I can’t kook.” On cue with his name, you look up at him. “fuck- I never knew how much I hate seeing you talk to other—" you can’t finish your sentence, but it’s okay cause he’s finished for you in his mind. “I’m sorry for attitude.”

He glides his hands from your wrists down your arms until they are both on your waist. “I’m sorry too.” He’s pulling you closer, your hands still on his chest, but now for stability. “I’m so sorry I was too distracted for you. You didn’t deserve that. You don’t serve that.” He’s caressing your back. “okay?” you have to answer but you can only bring yourself to nodding. All he’s ever wanted was to know. Know what was wrong and how he could fix it.

“I’ve missed you too.” He smiles lightly bringing his nose to brush against yours. The action has you tilting your head upwards. His lips itch to touch yours, but they don’t they just hover, he still has more to say. And he wants to say it close enough for you to feel it. “If only you knew how I dreaded every morning and realized you weren’t next to me. Every time I just wanted to fly back home.”

“So, what stopped you.” You’re looking at his lips. his rosy and moist lips from how hard he’s been biting and licking on that. You wanna do that. You wanna kiss him, wanna be the only biting down on his lips. you wanna do a lot of things right now. You wanna run your hands through his hair remind yourself of its texture, you wanna lift that sweater off, that holds his cologne so well, the earthy lavender scent, that crawls its way through your system. You wanna take that sweater off him, --feel, see—just how much that gym membership as proved itself valuable. You know you won’t be disappointed, jungkook loves the fucking gym.

“I don’t even know. But all I know is that it’s not gonna stop me anymore.” Him nudging his nose closer has you tilting your head to meet his lips. the air between you feels heavy. The feeling pulling your lips to meet. And when the do, it’s fervent. His kiss is urgent but slow, not wanting to be apart from you for a second.

Your bodies are hooked together as Jungkook is moving you back into a wall. The kiss intensifies when he leans your head back with his hand around your neck. You’re gripping onto his sweater for support and breathing him in for life.

Jungkook clings onto your lips for life too, even if he needs to breath he doesn’t stop. You moaning into his mouth will suffice. He doesn’t know where to keep his hands. Should he use them to tilt your head back to deepen the kiss, (if he goes any deeper he’s gonna sink.) whilst he uses the other to pull you leg up by your thighs, his grip surely leaving crescent moons as decorations. He doesn’t know what to do with them. For the moment he uses them to pull he sweater over his head. You’ve been clawing at it to come off.

Now shirtless you can feel his skin for what you remember it to be silky-smooth. So delicate that you fear leaving scratch marks on him, but jungkook encourages it, he begs you to do it. Your hands roam his body, first his large back, muscles flexed, then down his firm chest then down to his defined midsection. “What am I to do with all this.” You say breathless.

“You tell me. It’s all yours.” Your lips are meeting again. Tongues tagging at each other. For some reason the rich, sweet and completely irresistible taste of chocolate lingers on your lips, but he loves it and is drinking it up.

Jungkook finds that his hands are better at gripping your thigh and lifting it to wrap around his waist. His core moves into you and you feel how hard he is against you. You’re thankful for his thin pajama pants.

Your hands pull at the root of his hair, though it’s shorter you make it work, making him groan into your mouth. You both can’t fucking breath at this point, which is the only reason you’re pulling away. Your heavy breaths brushing against each other.

“jungk-” you’re moaning for him to take you to bed but he’s steps ahead of you. Your feet don’t have to fret cause he’s lifting you by the thighs to lay you on the edge of the bed.

You lay back on the bed but legs on his shoulder, he’s kneeling between your legs. Your pants are still on but not for long. In a swift motion you’re left in your plain black panties. The ones with the little bow. He chuckles at the detail. When you see what he’s laughing at you get self conscious. Jungkook looks up at you confused why you’re closing your legs.

“I didn’t know we’d be in this position, so these are the one I brought.” You try to explain yourself cheeks blushing red. He doesn’t know why you’re so insecure about the detail. He loves them.

For a quick kiss he’s on his feet hovering over you. “it’s okay, I like my gifts wrapped in bows.” He smirks and the comment has you calling out his name in shock. peck. He’s back on his knees staring at your core. The bow is a detail he’ll miss but he’d gotta take them off. Fuck is all he can think when your cunt is right in front of him, wet. Is this where he’s meant to die, right in your cunt from suffocation cause he won’t be able to detach himself from you.

Your legs are planted on his shoulder, your ass just at the edge of the bed. When he first swipes his tongue through your folds, it takes you by surprise. Gosh you missed him being right there.

“fuck” you whimper the sound not being able to be masked. Your slick, probably mixed with his saliva, drips down your cunt, down his chin. His nose is so deep in it that some of your juices run up his nose. Is this how fucking cocaine sniffers feel? He can’t wait till his cock is buried snuggly it. He sniffs in, on purpose this time, takin git once more. You grind on his face making him suck harder at your clit. You’re getting dizzy and gripping hard at the sheets. His nails dig into your thighs harshly, the pain causing pleasure.

Everything is so intense you can’t tell apart your orgasm. Fuck you can’t be coming this fast from just his tongue. Shit. “Jungkook. Don’t stop” You whine the intense feeling approaching quick, your walls tightening and fluttering around his tongue. Jungkook’s so carried away he only realizes you’re coming when your legs are shaking. He drinks everything that leaves and it’s only when you’re pulling his head back from overstimulation that he realizes he should take a breath. He’s starved can you blame him?

“you’re so gorgeous baby.” he says peppering kisses on your thighs. “Wanna do that again for me.” He’d absolutely would eat you out for a second time in a row. And you’d love that but you just want to feel him.

You’re moving up the bed and he’s hovering over you kissing your jaw. Your palms meet his ass in a teasing smack.

“Missed this ass.” You smile under him. jungkook just chuckles. you want to add on but his finger stuffing your tight cunt has you silent, gasping for air.

Jungkook smiles down at your pleasure strained face. “mm? not so talkative now?”

He thinks he’s got you. Then you slide down your hand down his abs, he knows where your hand travels and though it’ll destroy his ego, he lets you do it. “so big” you bite your bottom lip as you start stroking him, using your own juices as lubricate. He’s walls are falling. Your hand wrapped around him, has him burying his moans in the croak of your neck.

It’s a competition huh? he loves those second and fucking your cunt first.

You’re stroking him in his pants and he’s pumping his fingers in your cunt. He’s kissing you to hide his moans. It’s a fucking competition and he’s losing. He can’t lose. His hand leaves your cunt to grab at your wrist. You stop. He pulls you away from him. if you went on any longer, he’d be done for and the night wouldn’t end the way he wants. He hasn’t been touched in a year, unless it’s talking about those times you sexted, but it doesn’t count. It feels different when it’s your hands.

“why’d you do that?” you whine.

“If you did that you wouldn’t have gotten the orgasms I have left for you.” You don’t respond. you won’t argue, you do want them.

His fingers are back to pumping and even sooner than before your climax approaches. He wishes he could count just how much you flutter around his finger but he’s too busy looking at your face, pleasure written all over it. and its pride that fills him, knowing he’s the one giving it to you.

Jungkook moves away and you watch how he licks his fingers clean. The way he smiles at you after, is disgustingly hot.

“Take off your pants.” You tell him.

“You take off your shirt.” He reciprocates, you’d forgotten you’d even been wearing anything.

Jungkook is spoiled by the sight before him, your chest sprawled out for him to taste. So, he leans down and wraps his tongue around a nipple. His hand lost at the other side. You love all the foreplay, really, but you want him. you’ve been thinking about it for forever.

“Jungkook.” You call. He hums saying you have his attention. “I want you.”

There’s nothing more he wants.

“Want you too baby.” He says grabbing his cock and aligning it with your entrance. Then he remembers.

“fuck” he whispers. You sit up and wander what has him holding back.

“what?”

“I don’t have a condom.” He knows he doesn’t have one, it’d be weird, it’s not like he was coming on this trip expecting to fuck you.

“Why?” he stares at you confused.

“I didn’t expect fucking to be on the itinerary.”

Oh yeah, you laugh at himself.

“Do you?”

“Nope. Why would I have them.” He just shrugs his shoulders.

He’s gonna lose it. “Are you on the pill?” it’s his only option.

That’s when you shake your head. “Got off when we broke up.”

Okay so what is he gonna do, his cock hard and your cunt right in front of him.

“Jungkook come on you can pull out.” You whine pulling him forward.

She shakes his head. “god no. I almost lost my mind from your hand. It’d lose it in your pussy.” You smile, you shouldn’t be laughing cause you won’t be able to fuck. But you just can’t help but smile at the fact that he almost lost himself just from your hand. You’ve got no clue on what to do. You really need to fuck him.

“Wait--” he looks at you. “This is a lover’s cabin.” You say but he waits for you to elaborate and make sense.

“wouldn’t they have condoms in the cupboard or something.” He didn’t think of that.

So, as you stand you walk over to the cupboard roughly open it almost tipping it over. “Bingo!” you celebrate pulling out a long string of condoms. Your saving grace.

You carefully pull out one and toss it to jungkook.

“Relax aren’t they the one’s you usually use,” you say when you see the look on his face. They do look like they’ve just been purchased and placed. He’s so thankful right now. He leans against the head board and you watch how he gracefully he strokes himself and slips it on, your mouth drools but you’re too needy. You’ll do that another day.

“Come ride cow girl.” He welcomes you when he’s all done. You stretch your legs over him, centering yourself. His hands are quick to spread across your ass, landing a light tap.

He helps you centre himself at your entrance. His brows scrunch together when he feels your tight warmth slide down him. he definitely isn’t going to last long, maybe he’ll hold on till you come but after that is not promised.

His hand loosely holds at your throat, just enough to tilt it back slightly and leave wet kisses and marks everywhere on your skin.

You sliding up and down him feels great but he couldn’t help himself but move his fingers to touch your clit. In pure pleasure you’re wrapping your arms around him and kissing him. you love this position, how he nudges at your back, how intimate it feels, the way you’re so close after being so far away. The cold is barely in mind. Jungkook can’t express how much he’s missed you.

You love it.

But what you love more is how he pulls at your hair, just softly. “Love fucking my cock huh?” he asks but you’re unable to answer his hips jutting up into you with great speed. Jungkook could get carried away with the way your boob bounce but he chooses to say focus. “You like that huh?” he smirks but your eyes are closed, the pleasure of his intense strokes taking you out.

“Yeah, love fucking you kook.” You whimper out.

He’s thrusting harder and you’re moaning louder. “you look so pretty taking me baby. Wanna fuck you forever.”

You wish you.

Your body melts into his as you’re coming again, jungkook fucking into you for his own high which follows after yours. When he catches his breath, he’s laying you down and beside you just after throwing the filled condom.

“I’m gonna get the bath started.” He says planting a quick kiss on your shoulder.

You’re too drained to stand so when he’s back to come get you you’re dozing off. “come on baby I’ve got to get you cleaned up.”

You groan. “Then after a I can make you cocoa.”

“I’m so tired kook.” You whine.

“I knowww.” he coos. Next thing you know he’s lifting you, bridal style. “it’s okay I’ve got you.”

“Hmm. Don’t move.” Jungkook whines when you threaten to stand and start your day. You two have already slept in because of your late-night endeavours.

“I have to kook. We have so much for our day.”

“Ugh! Fine. But first give me your hand.” He demands the action has you confused but you give it to him. when he has it, he’s giving you a billion kisses. “I love you.” He doesn’t think it’s too soon cause—well he doesn’t know it just felt right to say.

“I love you too now let me go.” He makes sure not to unhand you until you say it more ‘meaningfully’ according to him.

---

You and jungkook decided to retry ice skating (you were hell bent on not going skiing.)

As you’re skating jungkook slides to the half wall, after telling you he has to take a call. You shoo him away after telling you’ll be fine alone (for the meantime).

“Any news?” jungkook was nervous when he got the call from Namjoon. This is a very important call from him, it determines what the hell he’s gonna choose. Quit or get transferred.

“Yeah. it’s been approved.” Jungkook is still for a moment.

“Seriously?” it almost feels like a dream.

“Yeah, had to do a lot of convincing but they agreed.” He’s so grateful for Namjoon. He’s gonna miss him. Jungkook looks over to you, gliding not great but better, and you’re smiling this time. So, he’s happy. You’re happy.

“Thank you, man,”

Namjoon smiles, he knows how much this means. “No problem.” The call cuts.

This just seals a lot “kook look out.” He pockets his phone and as he’s turning to you, you slam into him. You haven’t gotten to the knowing how to stop just yet. Maybe next time.

“You okay, baby.” He says holding onto you by your waist

You let out a dramatic breath that has him smiling. “Yeah, but I’m getting kinda tired.” You say out of breath and letting your weight fall into his arms.

“I’m getting hungry too.” You’ve spent a good amount of time ice skating so you decide to leave it for next time.

“what’s the plan for tonight.” He asks as you eat.

“Hmm. For the first time I don’t know.” You both laugh. “We could go out for dinner—ohhh the hot tub--.” You forgot about it cause none of you ever wanted to use it, honestly you didn’t even expect the place to have a hot tub.

“I like the sound of that.”

The steam of the hot tub hovers lazily on the surface of the water. The steam curls around jungkook as his gaze locks on you. Body dry cause you haven’t gotten in yet. You walk onto the deck, the dim but still bright enough lights radiant off your skin, as though the sun has come to pay him a visit at night.

His breath is caught.

The bikini hugs you in all the ways that made his thoughts falter, the curves of your body illuminated by the soft glow of the light. He swallows hard, his mouth dry despite being surround by water. You make him weak, so much that he looks only at you, even though your attention is else were. You try to find a place to hook your towels.

And then you turn around to smile at him in victory of finding a place to hang them. He nods acknowledging but no paying attention.

He leans back slightly, the water lapping at his shoulders as his eyes roam you, mesmerized. There’s some thing unworldly about you, something he can’t quite put into words. It wasn’t just the way you looked, that made him trip for you. It was the way you carried yourself, the way your body swayed as you moved closer to him.

His arms immediately reach out to envelope you. “Enjoying the view?” you tease, your voice relaxing into the tub and his warmth.

The chuckle he releases is low, “you know I am.”

Your giggle like a melody. You wrap your arms around him and he loses his stability for a second before regaining it. “careful.” He murmurs to you, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I might drown.”

“I wouldn’t want that.” you peck his lips.

You relax for a while just taking in the night and each other presence.

Jungkook has been meaning to ask, the question eating at his mind. “Do you want to go back to Korea with me?” it sounds like a dumb question, you came together so you will be leaving together.

But the double meaning lies within and he’s desperate to know your answer.

“What are you saying?” you coo at him. “Aren’t we already going back together.” You’re talking about the tangible stuff, the tickets, the plane, the flying, even the landing and going home. But he doesn’t mean that.

After pecking your shoulder water sticking to his lips, he explains. “I don’t mean physically.”

You stare down at him eyes softening. “kook” you realize the seriousness of his question. And for a second jungkook senses scepticism. So, he panics.

“If it’s bout my job, I’m working on it.” His voice is quick.

That was a fear of yours, even more that he wouldn’t want to move. Jungkook has thought about it, the move was a rush decision he never spoke to anyone about it to ask their opinion or whatever. And honestly the move didn’t bring him much joy, besides the opportunity to adventure Jeju. But apart from that he was away from his family, his friends and you. Everything that made his life.

“Seriously?” you say more shocked than anything else.

“Yeah, Namjoon called me. My transfer got approved.”

You gasp the water swashing from your movement. “don’t lie to me”

He laughs. “I’m not.”

“I thought you said getting it approved is hard.” You’re finding this so hard to believe.

“It is, I guess I got lucky.”

You squeal moving in to hug him.

“When did you start all this.” It’s along process so he had to start early.

“Honestly before we broke up. I wanted to surprise you if it got approved. But then-” you shush him from going on further.

“So, what would have you done if it didn’t get approved.” Your tone drops.

Jungkook sighs looking around in thought. “would’ve fucking quit.” it’s funny how easy the idea is for him, former him would have struggled with the question. “I’m tired of being so far from you.”

“Same.” He places a longer and soft kiss on your lips.

“So, you wanna go back with me?” His voice is playful, as he looks up at you through wet lashes.

“Mhm.” You smile, leaning slightly closer to him, your fingertips tracing lazy circles on his shoulder. “I wanna go everywhere with you.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, warm and intimate, as his lips lifts into a small, boyish grin. “We can arrange that.”

Jungkook doesn’t mind being patched to your side like a little purse dog. In fact, the way he leans into you now, his hand slipping around your waist as if it were second nature, says he’d prefer it. His thumb grazes your hip absentmindedly, a small gesture that feels both possessive and endearing.

“I’m gonna miss it.” you say leaning into Jungkook's shoulder with a pout. You wait patiently for your flight. “Feels like we just started the trip.”

Jungkook reaches over to cup your hand in his. He then interlocks your fingers and brings it to his lips; the action causes you to smile softly. He really likes to do that. It’d never been a trait of his before, so you’re intrigued, to why he does it all of a sudden. “We can come back one day. together.”

“Yeah together.” You reassure. You like this. Like having him with you.

[3 months later]

“Jimin if you’re gonna wear that to my fucking wedding you’re not coming.” You announce to a jimin too focused on the light blue suit he’s in. in the mirror you can spot his cheeky grin. He’s not gonna wear a freaking light blue suit, it’s not on the colour scheme, plus he doesn’t like how it makes him look.

He turns to look at jungkook who’s standing on his own pedestal looking into the mirror. Touching and teasing at the suit. “Jungkook you’re not gonna let her do that right?.” Jungkook just shrugs his shoulders at jimin. He’s not pleased with the answer. He knew the dude was down bad, but not this down bad. “Bro!”

“she’s the boss.” Jungkook raises his hands in surrender and you smirk in your seat.

“Come on man…standup.” he fists at Jungkook who just laughs. As Jimin is stepping out to get out of the suit (he stayed so long in it you thought he might actually want to wear it.) and get changed, you swat him with a magazine and he’s quick to running out not wanting you to land another hit.

Now alone in the dressing room you walk up to jungkook. You lean your chin on his shoulder, your hands finding there way to his chest. He welcomes them with his own. “You look so handsome.” Your voices hums sweetly by his ear. Jungkook lifts up both of your hands to place soft and warm kisses on them. The action has you blushing red. The ring on your finger and indication of why he liked to do it before. Plus, now, he just enjoys it., it makes you blush and he likes that.

“Mhm.” He hums against your wrists. “You like it?”

“I love it.” You take a hundredth glance at a preview of what he might wear at your wedding. If he chooses it’s what he wants. You love the cut on him. the colour complimenting his skin, and the style shows off his physique, not too much, but not too little. But all the buttons on the vest and shirt are gonna give you some trouble undoing.

Jungkook stares at you completely enamoured at the way you’re looking at it. You should be looking at him like that. “I think you might love the suit more than me.” He turns abruptly causing you to fall into his chest. He catches and keeps you stable with his firm hand on your lower back.

You place one hand on his chest and the other around his neck, bringing you much closer. “I might just.” Your lips could meet easily with how close you are. But you don’t move them and jungkook pouts at how you deny him the opportunity.

“I’m gonna take it off, not gonna let you love it more.” He nudges his nose with yours.

“Take it off.”

“Jeon Yn! I forgot how freaky you are.” You roll your eyes at how he’s already given you his last name, you like the sound of it though. Reminds you of how real this is, you’re not dreaming.

Trying to tease him more you move by his ear to whisper, “Not here though.”

Jungkook is biting his lower lip. “We should hurry then.” he moves to kiss your shoulder, your off-the-shoulder top giving him leeway to kiss your skin directly. He peppers more kisses from your shoulder to your neck before you get carried away you’re prompting for him to turn around. He does, though reluctantly.

You giggle.

“Do you like it though?” your voice turns serious, as much as you like it and how you just want to see him in it the whole day. If he likes it matters.

“Yeah, it makes me look so…husband.” He smiles boyishly as he winks at you in the mirror.

“Oh-gosh.” You push yourself away from him to get back to your seat. You’re not gonna be here all day.

He turns to face you. Still standing on the pedestal. “When do I get to see you in your dress” His teeth play with his lip ring as he asks curiously. The thought of you in the gown exciting him.

“When I walk down the aisle.” You stare blankly, no room for discussion. And he doesn’t, you’ve been quite stern about him not seeing you in any bridal wear until the wedding. Which he doesn’t mind, he can wait.

“Make sure it’s a ball gown so that I can slip under and hide.” He gestures his hands to elaborate what he means.

You shake your head. It’s not your style, maybe when you were a child, but you’ve grown. “I’m not wearing a ball gown.”

Ditching the jacket, he places it next to you and stands closing your legs between his. He lowers himself so your nose is touching his. His arms trap you between him and the couch. You didn’t think he was not gonna get that kiss right? He kisses you softly, then again. Then a little harder the third time, this one lasting seconds longer. You hold on his waist for stability. He kisses you once more just for the sake.

“I’m very sure you’ll look divine in whatever you pick, baby.”

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A/N: so that's that. I hope I've fixed your broken heart from I-redo. there are scenes that i couldn't fit in. Yes of course there are other activities they did, but if i wrote it all it would be boring and too long and would probably be pushed to next month. i wish i could've written more fluff but idk.

i will allow for story drabble request if you guys want that.

but yeah thanks, for reading, liking and commenting. much love. wishing you a happy new year.

story idea copyright of keen-li, 30.12.24

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