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cressidagrey · 2 months ago

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White Horse - Chapter 25: June 2024 - Part 6

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes:

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, mention of the loss of a parent.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

The office was quiet. Soft. Safe.

It always felt that way here �� a small haven away from the noise of circuits and media storms, from the sharp edges of being forgotten and the new weight of suddenly being seen. The window let in filtered afternoon light, and Simone’s office smelled faintly of lavender and old books.

Belle sat curled in her usual corner of the couch, legs tucked under her, hands wrapped around a mug of peppermint tea she hadn’t yet touched.

Simone sat across from her with her notebook closed, eyes kind, waiting.

“I think the worst part,” Belle said softly, after a long pause, “is that I didn’t expect it to feel so loud.”

Simone tilted her head slightly. “The public knowing?”

Belle nodded. “It was quiet for so long. Just ours. Just… safe. But now—one photo, and suddenly everyone’s watching.”

“Does it feel like a loss of control?” Simone asked gently.

“Yes. And no.” Belle looked down at her mug. “I wanted people to know. Eventually. I chose to walk into the paddock. I chose to kiss him. I posted the photo. It wasn’t an accident. But now everyone has an opinion. People I’ve never met are dissecting my life like it’s a press release.”

Simone let the silence settle for a moment, then asked, “What grounded you when it started to feel overwhelming?”

Belle smiled faintly. “Max. He always knows when I’m spiraling — even before I do. He’ll just take my hand or touch my back and everything feels quieter.”

There was a pause.

“I told Arthur,” Belle said, voice softer now.

Simone’s brows lifted slightly. “How did that feel?”

“Better than I expected,” Belle admitted. “He didn’t defend Charles. He didn’t make excuses. He just showed up. And he listened.”

“That’s progress,” Simone said gently.

Belle nodded. “But it’s only him. I haven’t spoken to anyone else.”

“Do you want to?”

Belle was quiet for a long time. Then: “I don’t know.”

Simone didn’t press her. Just waited.

“I think part of me still wants them to reach out. To say sorry without being prompted. To see me on their own. Not because they’re embarrassed or because the media caught on. Just… because they miss me.” Her voice cracked just slightly on that last word.

Simone’s tone was careful, but warm. “It’s okay to want that.”

“I know. I just don’t know if they’re capable of it.”

“And if they’re not?” Simone asked gently.

Belle looked up. “Then I move forward without them.”

Another pause.

“Can I offer a thought?” Simone asked.

Belle nodded.

“If you do choose to let them in again — not now, not even soon, but eventually — it might be helpful to bring those conversations into a neutral space. Somewhere safe.”

Belle’s gaze flicked toward her. “Like here?”

Simone gave a small smile. “Like family therapy. With boundaries. With someone to help hold the structure while you explore whether rebuilding is even possible.”

Belle didn’t answer right away.

“I don’t want to excuse what they did,” she said. “Or pretend everything’s fine because I married someone famous and suddenly they care.”

“I would never ask you to,” Simone replied gently. “You’ve already built a life. A marriage. Soon a family of your own. The question is whether you want to let them try to earn a place in it.”

Belle’s eyes shimmered, but she blinked them clear. “I think I might be open to the idea.”

“That’s enough for today.”

Belle let out a slow breath.

And for the first time since the Parc Fermé kiss and the global chaos that followed, the silence in her chest didn’t feel like pressure.

It felt like peace.

***

It started with a dress.

Just a simple, pale blue linen one — a favorite of hers. Soft. Easy. Forgiving in the waist. She’d worn it to coffee with Emilie two weeks ago and felt fine in it. Pretty, even.

Now, it wouldn’t zip.

Belle stood in the center of the bedroom, barefoot on the rug, hair still damp from the shower, the zipper stuck halfway up her back as she twisted and strained and tried not to cry.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t a flood of hormones and tears and shouting. It was quiet.

A soft, sharp ache of realization.

Her body had changed overnight.

She turned slowly toward the mirror. Pressed a hand to her stomach. What had once been the faintest suggestion now had shape. Curve. Weight. Not enough to scream pregnant to the world, but more than enough to make her clothes sit wrong. To make her feel like a stranger in her own skin.

The zipper finally gave up entirely, and Belle stepped out of the dress with more frustration than grace.

She tried another — a black cotton shift. Still no. Then a flowy skirt — fine at the hips, but suddenly too snug at the waist. A button-down she’d always liked? The buttons across her chest strained so badly it looked like they were preparing for launch.

One by one, the pieces fell to the floor around her.

When she finally dropped into the edge of the bed, she was surrounded by the soft wreckage of what used to fit. A fabric battlefield. Her hands rested on her knees, her breath shallow, her chest tight.

She hadn’t expected to feel sad.

This was supposed to be beautiful — the beginning of something. The miracle. The glow.

But all she could think was: Nothing fits anymore.

And Max wasn’t there.

He’d left for the race two days ago — a back-to-back weekend with media, meetings, track walks. He’d kissed her forehead before leaving, pressed a palm gently over her belly, whispered something about texting her after every session.

But he wasn’t here.

Not now, when her body had changed without warning and she didn’t know how to dress it. Not now, when she just wanted someone to look at her and say, you’re still you.

Her phone buzzed.

She glanced at it without hope — then saw his name.

Max: Morning, Schatje. I just got out of briefing. I miss you. How’s our co-pilot today?

Belle’s throat tightened. Her fingers hovered over the screen for a second before she typed back.

Belle: I miss you too. Co-Pilot seems to be growing faster than expected. Nothing fits. At all. It’s ridiculous. I feel like a puffed pastry with a heart rate.

The reply came almost instantly.

Max: That is the most adorable description of pregnancy I’ve ever heard. And also: please stop being mean to my wife. You’re beautiful. You’re growing our baby. I’m buying you stretchy things. All the stretchy things.

Belle let out a quiet, helpless laugh — one that cracked right through the tightness in her chest.

Another message came in:

Max: Also I demand a photo. Even if you’re in my hoodie with no pants. Especially then, actually.

Belle shook her head, smiling through the sting in her eyes.

She stood, padded over to the wardrobe again, and pulled out one of Max’s hoodies. It swallowed her whole, but it didn’t pinch. It didn’t judge. It just fit — in the way that mattered.

She took the photo. Hair damp. No makeup. Hoodie halfway down her thighs. The bump was there. Soft. Round. Theirs.

She sent it to him with one line:

Belle: This is what “nothing fits” looks like.

A minute passed.

Then Max replied:

Max: That’s my favorite person with my favorite future inside her. Perfect. P.S. I’m coming home the second this race is over.

And somehow, in that moment, even with her body unfamiliar and her closet defeated…

Belle didn’t feel alone anymore.

***

Text Messages: Belle Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Belle: Slightly odd question. Do you remember what you wore when you were trying to hide your pregnancies?

Victoria: Hahaha Has the bump arrived?

Belle: It ambushed me. Overnight. I woke up and suddenly nothing zips and my jeans are threatening to report me to the authorities.

Victoria: God, I remember that phase. I once cried in a Zara changing room because a wrap dress betrayed me. So yes. I remember it well.

Victoria: Okay. Hiding-the-bump tips from a three-time pro:

Flowy dresses

Button-downs + high-waisted trousers unbuttoned and safety pinned

Distracting accessories (big earrings = nobody’s looking at your belly)

Never underestimate a good scarf

Belle: You’re terrifyingly prepared. I love you.

Victoria: We all cope in our own ways. Mine is emotional support designer handbag. Also. You’re glowing.

Belle: I’m sweating and panicked.

Victoria: That’s pregnancy, darling. And when in doubt, steal Max’s clothes, throw on lipstick, and pretend you’re doing it on purpose.

Belle: I’m texting you before every outfit now.

Victoria: I expect nothing less.

***

Text Messages: Belle Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Belle: Everything I own has turned against me. I just tried on five dresses. None of them fit. One popped a button and hit me in the face.

Emilie: i’m sorry but this is the funniest tragedy i’ve ever read

Belle: I’m going to have to start wearing Max’s hoodies exclusively. Like some sort of tiny, emotionally unstable Formula 1 driver.

Emilie: you say that like it’s not THE aesthetic of the season also: pls send a pic immediately

Belle: No makeup. Wet hair. Hoodie down to my knees. I look like if depression bought a scented candle.

Emilie: okay that’s going in your baby book "week 16: mother described herself as a sad candle in sportswear" you’re glowing, aren't you?

Belle: No. I’m sweating and mildly offended by cotton. But thank you.

Emilie: you are perfect and your body is doing literal magic and i will be there tomorrow with snacks, tissues, and an emergency haul of ethically-sourced maternity leggings

Belle: I don’t deserve you.

Emilie: no but you’re stuck with me anyway

***

The house was glowing.

Not literally — though the late afternoon sun poured golden light through the open shutters like a blessing — but in the way old homes do when they’ve been cared for. When someone’s loved them back into themselves.

Belle stood in the doorway, sleeves rolled to her elbows, a pencil tucked behind one ear, as Daniel and Jules stepped inside.

“Mon Dieu,” Daniel breathed. “It’s even more beautiful than I imagined.”

Jules let out a soft, stunned sound and turned in a slow circle, eyes catching every detail — the reclaimed beams overhead, the soft plaster walls in a mineral-washed hue, the original tile floor gently cleaned and sealed instead of replaced.

“I can’t believe this is the same house,” Jules said.

“I can,” Daniel murmured. “Because she did it.”

Belle smiled, cheeks warm. “It’s almost done. A few details left — hardware, window treatments, the stone for the kitchen counters is coming Tuesday.”

“Don’t rush,” Jules said. “We’d sleep on the floor if we had to.”

“No need,” Belle said, leading them deeper into the space. “The guest room is fully dressed. Just in case.”

They passed through the arch into the main living room. The old fireplace had been restored, the stone gently cleaned but still mottled with history. Belle had designed built-in shelves on either side — painted in a soft green-grey that picked up the light without swallowing it — and filled them with old books and ceramics she’d sourced from local artisans.

“Belle,” Daniel said softly. “This is… art.”

She smiled at that. Not flustered. Just pleased.

They moved into the kitchen, where Belle had reimagined the space entirely without losing a single antique tile. A large farmhouse sink had been inset into a custom cabinet she’d designed herself, and the walls were finished in limewash — textured, tactile, alive.

The wide French doors at the back opened onto the courtyard. Once crumbling, it was now a soft, green heart of the home. The old fig tree remained, but Belle had added lavender, herbs, and climbing jasmine that was already threatening to devour the wall.

Jules stepped outside. “You saved the soul of this place.”

“I didn’t want to change it,” Belle said. “Just… listen to it.”

Daniel glanced over at her, smiling. “It’s rare. What you do. Most people walk into old houses and want to erase the past. You made it feel like time had layered into the house instead of over it.”

Belle blinked. Something caught behind her ribs — not pride, exactly, but something deeper. Recognition.

“It’s the first full project I did under my name,” she said quietly. “No firm. No partners. Just me.”

“And it shows,” Daniel said. “There’s nothing generic here. Every choice feels personal. Considered.”

“There are still a few finishing touches. Light fixtures in the guest room, and one of the shutters needs repair. But everything else is… as planned,” Belle explained.

Jules looked around again — eyes slightly glassy now. “It’s more than we imagined.”

Daniel stepped beside Belle and nudged her gently. “You didn’t just design this. You gave it a soul.”

Belle swallowed around the sudden ache in her throat.

“I just listened,” she said. “To what the house wanted to be. And to what you needed it to hold.”

“You do realize this is what great designers say when they’re being modest,” Daniel said dryly.

But Jules only smiled and took Belle’s hands in his. “You made us a home.”

And somehow, that landed more than any award ever could.

As they sat down at the table with lemonade and cheese and fresh bread Jules had insisted on bringing from their favorite bakery, Belle let herself relax into the moment.

The laughter was easy. The compliments genuine. There was no shadow of someone else’s name over her work, no sense of borrowed validation.

Just sunlight, and two clients-turned-friends, and a house that now breathed.

And for the first time in her career, Belle didn’t feel like she was working to prove anything.

She had already done it.

***

Text Messages: Belle Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: wanna tell me what the actual FUCK that was between max and lando????

Belle: Define “that.”

Emilie: THE AGGRESSIVE WHEEL-TO-WHEEL “ARE WE ENEMIES NOW” SLAP FIGHT THE DEATH STARES THE POST-RACE NON-HANDSHAKE I’M SORRY, IS THE BRO MANCE DEAD??

Belle: Ah. That.

Emilie: YES. THAT. YOUR HUSBAND WENT FULL FINAL BOSS MODE AND LANDO LOOKED LIKE HE WAS ABOUT TO BITE HIM

Belle: They’ll talk. Eventually.

Emilie: ARE THEY BREAKING UP DO I NEED TO GET THE DIVORCE LAWYERS DO I GET YOU IN THE CUSTODY BATTLE DOES LANDO GET VISITATION WITH THE BABY

Belle: 😂 You are so dramatic. And yes, obviously.

Emilie: you joke but i’m FUMING i just spent six months convincing myself they were soft-launch brothers-in-arms and now max overtakes like that and lando’s giving “you were supposed to love me” after the race

Belle: It’s called racing, Em.

Emilie: it’s called betrayal he made him crash he gave him a puncture he RUINED HIM i’ve read enemies-to-lovers with less sexual tension than that post-race stare

Belle: Do you want me to ask Max for his side?

Emilie: no

Belle:For the record: Max says he “defended hard” And Lando “should’ve backed out sooner.” He also muttered something about “this is why I don’t have friends.”

Emilie: tell him that’s the most dramatic thing he’s said since “I’m not here to make friends” in 2015

Belle: He is the drama

Emilie: and you married him god i’m proud of you

Belle: Would you and Lando like to come for dinner tomorrow?

Emilie: EXCUSE ME??

Belle: Max is sulking. Lando is brooding. You’re screaming in all caps. I’m fixing it.

Emilie: YOU THINK A CHICKEN PARM IS GONNA FIX A BROKEN BROMANCE

Belle: Yes. That and a homemade lemon tart. Also, you’re bringing wine.

Emilie: oh my god you’re staging a peace summit this is monaco-based diplomacy you’re literally brokering a ceasefire

Belle: We’ve avoided a Red Bull–McLaren cold war so far. I’d like to keep it that way. Also Max gets weird when Lando’s mad at him.

Emilie: i’m bringing rosé and a truce playlist

Belle: Perfect. Tomorrow. 7 PM. We’re serving forgiveness with a side of grilled vegetables.

Emilie: you’re a queen a legend a domestic diplomat

Belle: Good. See you tomorrow. Also, if they refuse to make eye contact, we’re putting on a two-player Mario Kart match and leaving the room.

Emilie: excellent. passive-aggressive gaming therapy. you’re a genius

***

Text Messages: Belle Verstappen & Oscar Piastri

Belle: Congratulations on the podium 🧡 You were phenomenal today. Clean, calm, clinical. (And you looked very smug on the podium. It suited you.)

Oscar: Thank you 😊 It’s always nice when Max and Lando are too busy crashing into each other to notice I exist.

Belle: Speaking of which... Care to tell me what that was?

Oscar: Which part? The wheel-to-wheel drama? The parc ferme tension? The complete emotional collapse of an F1 friendship?

Belle: All of it. I’m trying to prep for tomorrow’s “spaghetti and feelings” dinner.

Oscar: I’d recommend garlic bread. And helmets.

Belle: Are they talking?

Oscar: Define “talking.” Max said “he’ll get over it.” Lando said “he can bite me.” So, no.

Belle: Excellent. Nothing like emotional maturity from two men who drive at 300km/h for a living.

Oscar: Incredible athletes. Emotionally 14.

Belle: We’ve having dinner tomorrow. I’m staging a ceasefire over lemon tart.

Oscar: Bold of you Godspeed Let me know if I need to be on standby for emotional support

Belle: You might. If they refuse to speak, they’re playing Mario Kart until one of them cries.

Oscar: So, normal Verstappen conflict resolution. Got it 👍

Belle: Exactly.

***

Belle pulled the lemon tart out of the fridge at exactly 6:58 PM.

It was perfect. Glazed, golden, topped with thin slices of candied lemon and just enough powdered sugar to look effortless without trying too hard. Not unlike her strategy for this entire dinner.

She heard Max pacing somewhere near the front hallway again. That made lap four. Five, if she counted the loop past the cat bowls.

“Max,” she called gently. “It’s dinner. Not an FIA hearing.”

“They’re late,” he muttered, appearing in the kitchen doorway.

“They’re two minutes late.”

Max crossed his arms, expression unreadable. “Maybe we should cancel.”

Belle raised an eyebrow. “Because Lando didn’t arrive early to apologize like a teenager with flowers and a mixtape?”

Max looked away. Belle handed him the salad tongs.

“Go toss the greens and remember you’re a grown man with three world championship titles and a mortgage,” she said sweetly.

He muttered something in Dutch and obeyed.

The buzzer rang at 7:03.

Belle opened the door to find Emilie in her best peacekeeping sundress, holding a bottle of rosé in one hand and a smug smile on her face. Lando trailed behind her, suspiciously quiet, clutching a bakery box like it was a bomb.

“We brought peach galette,” Emilie announced. “And emotional tension.”

Belle stepped aside. “We already have both.”

Dinner began civilly enough.

The pasta was well-timed. The wine poured freely. The cats were temporarily bribed into not launching themselves onto the table.

Max and Lando, however, exchanged exactly four words in the first twenty minutes:

“Hi.” “Hi.” “Water?” “Sure.”

The eye contact was brief. The fork clinking was aggressive.

Belle and Emilie carried the conversation like diplomats on a sinking cruise ship. They talked about weather, Monaco construction permits, the absurdity of a $400 baby monitor Belle had returned on principle. They laughed. They smiled.

The boys sulked.

At one point, Max stabbed a roasted carrot like it had insulted his ancestors. Lando sighed in a way that could've shattered glass.

Belle met Emilie’s gaze across the table.

Time for the nuclear option.

“Okay,” Belle said, standing up. “Dessert in a bit. But first—living room.”

Lando blinked. “What?”

Max narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Because,” Belle said, already walking, “I’m not hosting a three-course cold war.”

Emilie followed with the wine glasses. “We’re resolving this like adults.”

“In Mario Kart,” Belle added.

Max groaned. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m married to you. I’ve never been more serious.”

Lando slumped onto the couch. “This is ridiculous.”

Belle handed him a controller. “And yet you’re already holding the remote.”

Max hesitated—just long enough for Belle to raise an eyebrow. “Afraid to lose?”

He sat down next to Lando like she’d physically shoved him. “I’ve beaten him in real life. I’ll survive Rainbow Road.”

“Your funeral,” Lando muttered.

By the second race, Max had stopped muttering under his breath.

By the fourth, he and Lando were arguing about blue shell etiquette.

By the sixth, Belle and Emilie had abandoned the couch entirely and were watching from the kitchen doorway, with Emilie sipping rosé and Belle snacking on lemon tart, like it was theatre.

“I give it ten more minutes before they forget they were mad,” Emilie whispered.

“Seven,” Belle said, just as Lando shouted, “That’s what you get for punting me off in Austria!”

Max howled. “YOU STARTED IT.”

Belle smiled. “And… there it is.”

By the time dessert hit the table, Lando was retelling the story of Max drunk in a night club and accidentally running into a wall while sneezing. Max was defending himself with increasing indignation. Emilie was crying with laughter. And Belle?

Belle sat back in her chair, hand resting gently over her stomach, watching her husband finally laugh again.

And she thought — this is what peacekeeping looks like.

A lemon tart. A glass of wine. A video game and a well-timed eye roll.

And love.

Always, love.

***

Max hadn’t meant to wake up early.

The apartment was still hushed in the pale-blue light of morning, curtains shifting faintly with the breeze from the balcony doors. Monaco always felt quieter before eight — like even the yachts were still asleep.

He stretched, one arm blindly reaching for Belle’s side of the bed.

Empty.

The faint sound of running water met his ears, and then the rustle of a drawer, a closet door sliding open.

He sat up slowly, rubbing his hand over his face, and padded barefoot into the hallway.

What he saw stopped him completely.

Belle stood in front of the mirror in the closet, turned slightly sideways, her back to the door. She was barefoot, her hair in a loose braid, wearing nothing but a pair of soft cotton shorts and one of his white tank tops — the thin kind she always stole from his drawer without asking.

And her bump — their bump — was there. Real. Rounded. Glowing in the soft morning light.

Max felt something in his chest shift.

He didn’t say anything. Just watched her. Watched the way she ran her fingers over her stomach, gently, reverently, like she still couldn’t quite believe it.

Like it had finally hit her, too.

Belle caught his reflection in the mirror and startled. “God, Max—say something before you scare me to death.”

But she didn’t move to hide.

Didn’t reach for a robe or yank down the hem of the tank top.

And Max… Max couldn’t look away.

“I didn’t know it was like this already,” he said quietly.

Belle turned toward him, one hand resting low on her belly. “It kind of… popped overnight.”

He crossed the room slowly, his eyes never leaving her. When he stopped in front of her, his hands came up automatically — one to her cheek, the other hovering just above her bump.

“May I?” he asked softly.

Belle nodded, her eyes warm.

He placed his hand against her skin. Warm. Soft. Alive.

A small intake of breath escaped him — almost a laugh, but softer. “You’re really in there,” he murmured.

Belle smiled, tired and radiant all at once. “Surprise.”

He kissed her, slow and steady, his hand never leaving her stomach.

When he pulled back, his voice was a little rougher. “How long until you can’t hide it anymore?”

She exhaled. “A few weeks, maybe. Less if they keeps growing like this.”

Max was quiet for a beat.

Then: “Do you want to keep hiding it?”

Belle leaned into his chest, resting her forehead there. “I don’t know. Part of me likes having it just for us. But… part of me wants to stop hiding. Stop pretending nothing’s changed when everything has.”

Max nodded slowly. “We don’t have to post anything. Not unless you want to.”

She looked up at him. “Would you be okay with the media knowing? With the fans knowing?”

“I’m okay with them knowing we’re building a life together,” he said simply. “They’ll say things. They always do. But they don’t get to have this. Only see it. And only what we give them.”

Belle’s throat tightened. “What if they say I’m just—what if they think this is why we got married? That it wasn’t about us?”

“They can think whatever they want,” Max said firmly. “But I know. You know. And this baby—” he pressed his hand gently to her stomach again, “—will grow up knowing they were born from love. Not gossip.”

Belle nodded, slow and quiet. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I think…” She paused. “I think when it feels right, I want to share it. I just want to do it our way. Not through a headline. Not through some PR leak. Just… something honest. Something small.”

Max smiled. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

She leaned into him again, and he held her there — the two of them wrapped in early morning quiet, one heartbeat becoming three.

***

He didn’t mean to play for hours.

But his hands moved without thought, without permission — soft notes tumbling out one after another, half-finished melodies bleeding into each other, no structure, no rhythm. Just the ache in his chest, transposed into minor keys.

Charles stared at the keys without really seeing them.

Everything since the Spanish Grand Prix had felt like that. Blurred. Half-lit. Shame washing over him in waves until it was hard to tell what day it was.

Fred’s voice still rang in his head.

"He’s not just beating you on track. He’s beating you in every other way that matters."

It should’ve made him angry. Months ago, maybe it would have. But now?

Now it just made him tired.

The front door clicked open quietly.

Charles didn’t stop playing.

Alexandra stepped into the room, keys in hand, sunglasses pushed into her hair. She paused just beyond the piano, watching him. Listening.

He shifted into something sadder without realizing it.

She said nothing for a long time. Just let him play.

Finally: “That’s new.”

Charles nodded, fingers barely brushing the keys. “I didn’t write it down. I won’t remember it.”

Alexandra sat on the armrest of the couch across from him. “That bad, huh?”

He didn’t answer.

Alexandra watched him a beat longer. Then: “You haven’t said anything since Fred tore into you.”

“He was right.”

That surprised her.

Charles didn’t look up. “He was right about everything. About Belle. About Max. About me.”

Alexandra folded her arms, softening slightly. “Charles—”

“I forgot her birthday,” he said, voice flat. “I forgot where she lived. I didn’t know she moved. I didn’t know she quit her job. And I found out she was married with the rest of the world.”

A pause.

“I used to be the person she told everything to.”

His voice cracked on used to.

Alexandra shifted closer. “Do you want to talk to her?”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me.” His hands stilled. “And I don’t blame her.”

“She’s your sister.”

“I forgot how to act like her brother.”

It wasn’t said for sympathy. It was just… fact.

He pressed a key. Dissonant. Hollow.

Alexandra exhaled. “You know what I think?”

Charles didn’t answer, but his silence invited it.

“I think you’re not upset she married Max,” she said gently. “You’re upset she didn’t tell you. Because it forced you to realize how far away you let her drift.”

That landed deep.

Charles looked at the keys like they might offer him absolution.

“She stopped waiting for me,” he said, barely a whisper.

“She had to stop,” Alexandra replied. “You never showed up.”

He didn’t argue. He couldn’t.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” Charles admitted.

“You can’t,” Alexandra said, standing. “Not completely. But you can start by owning that it’s not about you. Not her silence. Not her love. Not Max. You don’t get to demand a place in her life just because you regret not earning it before.”

That hurt more than Fred’s words.

Because it was the truth.

Alexandra stepped forward and kissed the top of his head, just briefly.

“Let her choose if you belong,” she said softly. “But maybe, for once, don’t try to race your way back in.”

She walked out without waiting for a reply.

Charles sat at the piano, still and quiet, and let the silence press in around him like a tide.

He looked down at his hands.

And for the first time, he wasn’t sure they knew how to fix anything anymore.

***

Text Messages: Belle Verstappen & Arthur Leclerc

Arthur: hey just wanted to check in how are you?

Belle: Hi That’s a surprise A nice one

Arthur: yeah well i figured it was my turn to show up you always did that for me even when i didn’t deserve it

Arthur: so you okay?

Belle: I’m good. Quiet days. Work. Sleep. Max. He’s home this week, which helps. I’ve been reading again.

Arthur: you always read when you feel safe i remember that

Belle: I do. Books are still better than people sometimes.

Arthur: not going to argue there i just wanted you to know i think about you a lot even when i don’t say anything

Belle: I know. I think about you too.

Arthur: and I’m sorry for forgetting the little things for thinking you’d always be there whether I showed up or not I hate that it took losing you to notice how much I missed

Belle: You didn’t lose me. You just stopped looking. But you’re here now. That counts for something.

Arthur: thanks for giving me the chance to do better i won’t waste it

Belle: I hope you don’t. Because I missed my little brother.

Arthur: still here still annoying just a bit slower to grow up

Belle: You’re getting there One awkward text at a time

Arthur: baby steps

Belle: 😉

***

They were sitting at the dining table, Belle with her laptop open and a very stubborn government website loading at glacial speed. The overhead lights were low, the cats were asleep on the windowsill, and the apple tart from dinner was reduced to a pair of crumbs and a fork that Max kept stealing bites with.

“I need to go to the town hall next week,” Belle said, frowning at her screen. “It’s ridiculous how many steps it takes to change a last name. I have to book an appointment just to show them I’m legally married.”

Max looked up from where he was balancing a spoon on his finger. “Want me to come with you?”

She smiled. “I think I can survive bureaucracy alone.”

“I don’t know,” he said, mock-serious. “You’re pregnant and emotionally allergic to slow websites.”

“Barely showing and mildly inconvenienced is not the same thing,” Belle replied, nudging his foot under the table.

He grinned, then leaned back in his chair. “We should change your credit card too. It still says Leclerc.”

She groaned. “One paperwork nightmare at a time.”

Max tilted his head, thoughtful now. “And we should probably set up a meeting with our lawyers.”

Belle paused mid-keystroke. “Why?”

He shrugged, casual. “Just to go over everything.”

“Max,” she said gently. “What kind of everything?”

He didn’t answer right away.

His fingers were still playing with the fork, but his gaze had drifted — focused, serious in that quiet way he got when he was thinking too far ahead.

“I want to make sure things are in place,” he said eventually. “For you. For the baby. If something happens to me.”

Belle’s heart pulled.

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” she said softly.

“If something happens to me — if I crash or something stupid happens off-track — I want everything set up. No grey areas. No questions.”

Belle set the mug she was holding down carefully on the table and turned fully toward him.

“Don’t talk like that.”

“I’m not planning on dying,” Max said, managing a half-smile. “But I also know how this works. I’ve seen it happen to other drivers. One second, you’re invincible. The next…” He trailed off. “I don’t want you or the baby in limbo if the worst happens.”

She reached out slowly, threading her fingers through his. “You think about that?”

“Every time I get in the car now,” he admitted. “Not in a panicked way. But it’s there. You changed the way I calculate risk.”

“I’m not planning to die,” he added, a wry smile pulling at the edge of his mouth. “I’m just planning in case. I want to make sure you’re protected. That the house is in your name too. That there’s no confusion. That if I can’t speak for myself, you can. Not my father. Not my mother. You.”

Belle sat very still.

Not because she was scared. But because it hit her, suddenly and all at once, how much he was already carrying — not just the weight of fame and expectation and fatherhood, but this fierce, unspoken drive to shield her from the storm.

“I married you because I love you,” Max said. “But I also married you because you’re my person. And I want to make sure you’re not left sorting through a legal mess if the worst ever happens.”

Belle nodded, throat tight. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

She reached across the table and took his hand. “Let’s make the appointment.”

Max exhaled — a little like he hadn’t realized he was holding his breath.

And Belle, looking at the man who had been so many things to the world — champion, rival, myth — realized that this version of him, the one quietly planning a will while stealing bites of lemon tart, was the one she loved most.

The one who knew the risks. And stayed anyway.

The one who chose her. And kept choosing her.

Even in the fine print.

***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, Lorenzo and Pascale)

Lorenzo: We need to get ahead of this before she cuts us out completely. We’ve let it go on too long.

Charles: What do you want me to do, Lorenzo? I said I wanted to talk to her. She doesn’t answer.

Arthur: Because she’s not ready. You don’t get to demand a timeline for forgiveness.

Pascale: I sent her a long message last week. I said I missed her. She didn’t even react to it.

Arthur: Because she’s hurt. Because for years, we made her feel like she didn’t matter until she disappeared.

Charles: I’m trying to make it right.

Arthur: You’re trying to make it comfortable for you. Not better for her.

Lorenzo: Okay, enough. We need to approach this like adults. Arthur, you said she talked to you?

Arthur: Yeah. Because I apologized without making excuses. Because I didn’t act like she owed me anything.

Charles: So what, we just do nothing? Sit around and hope she decides to forgive us?

Arthur: Or we ask her what she needs instead of assuming we know best. Maybe try that.

Pascale: If she’d just sit down with us—if we could talk properly—I know we could fix it.

Charles: She won’t even look at me in the paddock.

Arthur: You yelled about her being married like the whole grid personally betrayed you.

Charles: Well it felt like that.

Pascale: Can we not assign blame? We all made mistakes. I sent a message. She didn’t respond.

Lorenzo: Because your message said, “I meant to text you, but I sent it to Charles instead.” Which we all know is a lie.

Pascale: It was a white lie. I didn’t want her to feel worse.

Lorenzo: She didn’t need you to protect her feelings, Maman. She needed you to show up. That’s what none of us did.

Charles: I’m trying. But every time I think about texting her, I hear Fred’s voice telling me I don’t deserve to.

Arthur: That’s because he’s right.

Pascale: So what do we do? Invite her to dinner? Send another letter?

Charles: I could try calling again.

Lorenzo: No. No more performing care. She’s not stupid. She sees through all of it.

Pascale: We have to fix this. She’s our family.

Isabelle: You could start by remembering I’m in this group chat.

Isabelle: I’ve seen every message. Every strategy. Every “how do we make her forgive us” as if forgiveness is a button to push, not something earned.

Isabelle: Arthur apologized. He listened. He didn’t make excuses. That’s why I’m speaking to him. Not because he said the right thing. Because he meant it.

Isabelle: The rest of you? You keep asking how to fix me. You never once asked what I need.

Isabelle: So here it is: If you want a relationship with me again, we start with family therapy. With a neutral third party. No justifications. No guilt-tripping. No “but we’re your family.” Just honesty. Hard conversations. Boundaries.

Isabelle: You want me back? You come sit in a room and prove it. Not with flowers or dinners. With work.

Isabelle: I am not your emotional support sibling. I’m not your afterthought. And I’m not going to pretend this didn’t hurt just because it’s inconvenient for you.

Isabelle: Therapy. Or nothing.

Arthur: …I told you.

Lorenzo: Family therapy it is.

***

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missdynamighttt · 4 months ago

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lmao okay... filipina! gf having a petty shouting match with bf! katsuki and cussing each other out in each other's languages.

the argument started over something stupid—so stupid you couldn't even remember how it began. but now? now, you were pissed.

"hoy, ikaw! akala mo porket pogi ka kaya mo kong bastusin?! (hey, you! do you think that just because you're hot that means you can insult me?!)" you snapped, jabbing a finger into his chest.

katsuki, never one to back down, fired right back in japanese. "kimi wa boku o okora seru nda yo, wakarudaro? itsumo sono kawaii kao de ki o magirawasu nda! (you piss me off, you know that? always distracting me with that pretty fucking face!)"

you weren’t even sure if he fully understood what you were saying, and you definitely weren’t catching all his rapid-fire japanese insults, but that didn’t stop either of you from cussing (possibly flirting) each other out in your own languages.

"para kang tangang sakit sa ulo na may abs! kung hindi ka lang gwapo, sinuntok na sana kita! (youre like a stupid headache with abs! if you weren’t so hot, i’d have punched you by now!)"

"ore wa hontōni mendōna sonzaida! demo... kuso, ore wa boku ga imamade deatta naka de mottomo mendōna sonzaida! (you’re such a pain in my ass! but... fuck, you’re the prettiest pain in the ass i’ve ever had!)"

neither of you were backing down. your voices clashed like thunder, both of you stubborn as hell, and honestly? if anyone walked in, they’d think you hated each other.

"oi.-kun ga utsukushīkara to itte, kimi ga itte iru koto o watashi ga rikai dekiru wakede wa nai yo.' (hey. just because youre beautiful, it doesn't mean i understand a fucking word youre saying.)" his jaw clenched, eyes blazing.

"ulol! (idiot!)" you shot back, arms flailing in frustration. "hindi kita maintindihan pero alam kong gago ka! pogi o hindi! (i don't understand you but i know you're an ass! handsome or not!)"

katsuki scoffed, stepping in closer, his voice dropping into something lower, more dangerous. "kuso, `chikatte iukedo, kimi ga nani o itte mo mechakucha shitsureina ndaroukedo, demo, kimi ga boku ni donatte iru toki no kuchibiru wa ī kanjida yo.' (fuck, i swear, whatever the fuck you’re saying is probably rude as hell, but damn, your lips look good when you’re yelling at me.)"

oh, hell no. (whatever the hell that meant.)

"ay, gago, ano sinabi mo?! pakyu! bahala ka dyan! maghanap ka ng ibang aawayin mo! ayoko na sa'yo—! (oh, you asshole, what did you say?! fuck you! suit yourself! find someone else to fight with! i don't want you anymore—!)"

before you could finish, his hands were on you—hot, firm, relentless, gripping your waist and yanking you forward.

katsuki grabbed you, his lips slamming onto yours with an intensity that stole the air from your lungs. you barely had time to react before your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling just as fiercely.

the kiss was all heat, teeth, and frustration—his tongue sliding against yours in a battle neither of you wanted to lose. the argument was already forgotten, who the hell cared what you were fighting about when this was so much better?

you tugged at his shirt, fisting the fabric, pouring all your irritation and want into the way your lips moved against his, biting on his bottom lip. he groaned, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, pulling, tilting your head just the way he wanted.

you gasped into his mouth, and he used that opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue pressing against yours like he was still trying to win.

it was messy. angry. hot.

his hands roamed, gripping, kneading, staking his claim as if trying to prove his point without words. your back hit the nearest surface—maybe the wall, maybe the counter, you didn’t care—and katsuki pressed into you, lips never leaving yours. his breath was ragged, matching yours, and when you nipped at his bottom lip, he growled, gripping your thigh and hoisting you up.

"still mad?" he murmured against your mouth, voice low and rough as you wrapped your legs around him.

you tugged at his hair, making him hiss. “oh, now you wanna use your mouth for something other than yelling at me?”

he scoffed, fingers digging into your waist. “tch. big talk for someone who was just moaning in two languages.”

you scoffed, shoving at his chest (not that it did anything, because he was built like a damn wall). “excuse me?”

he grinned, lips brushing against yours. “nah, you’re not excused.”

and then he used his mouth the other way he knew how—by kissing you stupid.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ used google translate for katsuki unfortunately🤕 lmk if any of the translations are wrong, and i hope you guys enjoyed!! inspired by @ch3rryjampi3's comment in my recent filo fic💜💜

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blueberrybirdsworld · 25 days ago

Text

Out of frame 3/4

Summary : Y/N and Lando Norris have been together for three years. Their relationship is real, steady, and full of quiet love but always behind the scenes. While fans know they’re a couple, Lando has never posted about her, avoids public displays of affection, and never mentions her in interviews. At first, Y/N understood. She believed it was about privacy, about protecting what they had. But over time, being constantly left out of frame has started to hurt.

Genre : angst, SMAU

Pairing : Lando Norris x reader

Faceclaim : @suanbeiii

Main Masterlist

Serie Masterlist

@your_username 📍Côte d’Azur

A very special photoshoot, thanks @your_photograph 🌸

@_user1 she’s literally the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. like??? how is this even real??

@_user2 Lando must be the dumbest man alive I fear 😭

@_user3 girl you’re glowing like someone who deleted his number ✨

@_user4 he said “which gf?” and she said “not me then.” ICONIC.

@_user5 this is exactly what peace looks like after you stop begging a man for the bare minimum

@_user6 no because if they break up for real, I’m shooting my shot 🫡

@_user7 soft girl era activated. and he’s nowhere in sight? suspicious 🧐

@_user8 I just know Lando’s watching this through his tears

@_user9 the flower, the pearls, the PINK , yeah no, he lost

@_user10 if he doesn’t come crawling back after this… I WILL. give me a chance queen 😭❤️

@_user11 she didn’t need to mention him to completely obliterate him

@_user12 you mean to tell me he left this to go party with his friends in Japan? okay clown

@_user13 this looks like a breakup shoot and a Vogue cover at the same time

@_user14 soooo when are you free for dinner? asking for literally all of us

Texts messages :

Lando I saw the photos You look… breathtaking

Lando I don’t even have the words How do you manage to look like that and I act like you’re not the most beautiful person in the world?

Lando Y/N please. You know I’m sorry I’ve been sorry since the second we started fighting

Lando I messed up, okay? I was defensive, I didn’t listen, I didn’t take in how much it mattered to you I thought I was protecting something private and sacred, but I see now I was just hiding

Lando I was scared. And I pushed you away because I didn’t know how to be vulnerable in front of everyone

Lando I see the comments I know what people are saying I know I look like the dumbest man alive Because I was.

Lando I’m not partying, I’m not happy, I’m not okay. I miss you. I miss your voice, your laugh, your constant humming when you cook, the way you curl your fingers in my sleeve when you’re cold

Lando I sent the flowers because I didn’t know what else to do And yeah, anyone can send flowers. But no one can love you the way I do

Lando I’m sorry. For every time I made you feel small, or hidden, or unloved You weren’t. Not even for a second You are everything

Lando Please talk to me. Please. Even if you’re mad. Yell at me. Swear at me. Just… don’t go silent on me

Lando I don’t want to lose you because I didn’t know how to show I was proud of you I am, I’m so proud. Of everything you are

Lando I love you. More than ever

Lando Please come back. Or let me come to you Just say something Anything ?

@_F1Gossip 📍Tokyo, Japan

Spotted: Lando Norris seen out partying in Tokyo after the Japan Grand Prix last night. No Y/N in sight.

@_user1 not him clubbing while she’s not here, be serious lando

@_user2 he’s out here drinking and dancing while the rest of us are grieving their relation??

@_user3 how are you gonna party when you clearly hurt your girl and she’s getting love letters in her comments?? GET IT TOGETHER.

@_user5 I’ve defended him for years but… I can’t do this anymore. she deserved better and we all know it.

@_user6 I know PR team is sweating.

@_user7 he parties like he didn’t just lose the most beautiful woman alive and humiliate her on live TV. delusion.

@_user8 idc what the drama is, I’m just waiting for Y/N to post again. SHE’S the star now

@_user9 literally everyone: “Lando please fix it” Lando: goes clubbing with his shirt unbuttoned

@_user10 “which girlfriend” got him feeling single I guess 😭

@your_usurname

Needed a drink and have the best friends ever for that🥂

@_user1 She’s in her IDGAF era and I’m here for it 🔥👑

@_user2 Oh she’s DONE done. 😮‍💨

@_user3 the crown. the girls. the middle finger. this is the official breakup tour

@_user4 Y/N said “cry about it, I’m busy glowing.”

@_user5 your glow-up is legally blinding. teach us your ways

@_user6 she’s heartbroken but make it sexy

@_user7 I know Lando’s watching this post on repeat 😭

@_user10 She’s too fine to be sad. Lando who???

@_user11 Not to be dramatic but I’d jump in front of a train for her

@_user12 Her friends deserve a raise. Crowned their queen and gave her the world tonight.

@_user13 this is what it looks like when the pretty girl realizes she deserves better 😭👏

@_user15 tell me your bf fumbled without telling me 💅🏽

3:02 AM Texts messages : Lando babe babeee bbabyyy i mean not baby i mean. ugh whatever why u so pretty huh?? like??? WHYYYY

Lando saw ur post n now i’m lying on the floor face down sad pathetic loser man vibes

Lando u look like a literal goddess like Aphro… aphroditty… aphrotiddy?? idk u know what i mean

Lando not even mad just confused hurting too mostly sad after seeing your post

Lando did ur friend give u that crown? tell her i said thanks for crowning the queen of my whole life also tell her to stop commenting “he fumbled” i knooooow

Lando i miss ur laugh ur hands ur eyes ur frown when i’m being annoying miss all of it even ur cold feet under the covers

Lando i shud have posted u every day every hooour every millimillisecond u soooo pretty i wanna scream

Lando come back plsss or lemme come back i’ll be so good. i’ll buy u flowers every hour i’ll post u. tag u

Lando can i call uuuu i wanna hear ur voice just wanna know ur real and not like. a hallucination from my own stupidity

Lando ok gonna go cry in the shower now

Lando iloveyou babyyyy answer plssss i'm not drunk just ok i'm drunk plssss answer fuck i miss u

@landonorris

Mmyyy loove

@_user1 wait… WHO is this girl??? where is Y/N??? 😭

@_user2 why this man do a post at 4 a.m, is he not in a club ??

@_user3 so let me get this straight. he couldn’t tag Y/N, never posted her, but now he’s posting mystery girl like this???

@_user4 he really said “which gf?” and then proved it 😐

@_user5 the audacity of this man is actually insane. like. Y/N was literally still watching his races

@_user6 did they break up and he already moved on?? and posting about it?? bold

@_user7 3 years of silence and now THIS. lando norris you will pay for your crimes

@_user8 hope Y/N is living her best life far away from this nonsense

@_user9 he’s just soft launching a whole new girl while Y/N gets silence. bro what

@_user10 if this is a new gf… he better never talk about privacy again cause this is messy 😵‍💫

@_user11 no way you were gifted the most elegant woman and fumbled her like this

@_user12 someone go check on Y/N cause this?? this is COLD.

5:02 AM Texts messages

Y/N who the fuck is she?

Y/N you seriously meet some random girl ?

Y/N you CHEATED on me??? you really cheated on me and then posted it for the world to see?

Y/N lando what the hell you disappear on me, ignore everything I said, and now THIS?

Y/N you couldn’t post me for THREE YEARS

Y/N is this why you didn’t tag me? because you still flirt with girls in clubs and you didn’t want me to find out?

Y/N you didn’t even have the decency to end things before doing this we weren’t okay, but I still loved you. I will have still showed up for you and this is how you repay me?

Y/N this is LOW. even for you.

Y/N say something SAY. SOMETHING. LANDO !!!!! Answer your phone I'm trying to call you rn

Y/N I swear to god, we’re DONE.

Taglist (closed) : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1, @adynorris, @curlylando, @rebelliousneferut, @justcharlotte, @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies, @emneedshelp, @lando-505, @yukimaniac, @sashisuslover, @f1norris04, @hi26loveie, @bunnisplayground, @nina481, @reallifemermaidprincess, @cars-and-frogs, @delululeclerc, @txmhxllqnd, @lydia-demarek, @destinyg237, @rhaenyrasversion, @sarascabiosa, @readz4u, @tvdtw4ever, @mynameisangeloflife, @teti-menchon0604, @suns3treading, @op814kitty, @prettyboyroseberg, @willowsnook, @ariesandwolves, @clarksgf, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @pinklemonade34, @fat-meh, @tiaajosephin, @landosbabe4, @easy4, @jule239, @mercrussell, @skylandori, @ryuucollapse, @nickie-amore, @fairyjinn, @seonaw, @strawberrylov-er, @linnygirl09, @dilflover44, @bell1a, @f1fantasys, @sillyfreakfanparty, @janonymus0, @taetae-armyyyyy, @charlesgirl16, @angstynasty, @jules-bea2308, @afternoonarchive, @itsbieberxholland, @rexit-mo, @chlmtfilms, @vampgege, @mochimommy2002, @budgetcupid, @lemon-stvrrr, @bell1a, @taebearyoongs, @hazzasmunchkin, @sainz0fthetimes, @didaaa4, @madelyn2000, @il0vereadingstuff, @march32nd, @chlmtfilms, @literallysza, @cheapdocmartens, @wolfstarsimpxx, @pretzelcat4-blog, @larya810, @6-noir, @urfavftoomie, @ficr3ccs, @strawberrylov-er, @wosof1, @behindmygreyeyes, @justheretoreadthxxs, @pinklemonade34, @ninass-world, @landosbabe4, @leclercdream, @perfectsuitcasegardenpie, @flowersandalll, @sagestack, @angxedxtz, @fangirl125reader, @mimisweetz, @mattslovelygf, @taetae-armyyyyy, @guacala, @gothicwidowsworld, @chezmardybum, @virtualperfectioncat, @cherryhazee,@bubble012, @teti-menchon0604

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lovethestarrs · 8 months ago

Text

BEAUTIFUL DISASTER—

ANAKIN SKYWALKER

CONTAINS: nsfw content, smut, small age gap, virgin/naive/innocent reader, fem!reader, y/n used, mind reading kinda, begging dry humping, oral (fem receiving), not proofread (free to let me know about any spelling or grammar mistakes)

my first ani fic !!

ANAKIN SKYWALKER is your master… and you just had to share a room with him.

you’re awakened when you hear labored breathing next to you. panic sets in and you sit up, looking over to the bed next to you. “master?” your voice angelic as it floats across the room.

anakin looks over to you, his chest still rising and falling in fervor. “i’m sorry, padawan. you can go back to bed.” the moonlight shines upon his toned torso as he tries to shrug off your concern.

the tiredness quickly wears off and you pull the covers off of you and walk over to anakin’s bed. you sit on the edge of his bed, you can see his sweat drenched hair that stuck to his forehead. “you can talk to me, master. it’s better than keeping it in, it can make you unwell.”

“i cannot speak to you about this. i don’t want you to think bad of me. i am your superior, your master. i shouldn’t think about these things.” you were confused by his words. his face glowed red as he looked away in embarrassment. you just couldn’t shake the curiosity of it all. “i promise i wont think bad of you. please, tell me.” you leaned forward a bit, but there was still a gap between the both of you.

he sighed, “you promise?” you nod in response. he licks his lips before continuing. “i have dreams,” he hesitated before speaking up again, “and these dreams tempt me— tempt me against the jedi code.” he looked at you, your brows furrowed.

“tempt you how?” you continue to quiz. he thought you would’ve understood by now, but still you were oblivious. “romantically and sexually. both of those are against the jedi code. if i give in— it’ll affect me.” you gasp as it finally clicks.

“oh,” was all you could mutter out, your hands clutching the fabric of your nightgown as you felt a strange warmth in your stomach.

“and now you think i’m horrible.” anakin seethed. “no, master. i just— i’ve never spoken about those things.” you look away embarrassed.

you were so naive and sweet. it was intoxicating just to be by you and anakin was starting to feel those effects. the heat rising in his thighs, to his throbbing cock. anakin leaned towards you, a foot or two separating you.

“never?” his voice was a whisper but it was tainted with lust. you shake your head, “no.” he laughed lowly, his adam’s apple bobbing. “c’mere.” he gestured you to come next to him. you crawled over next to him, now closer than ever. “you wanna know what i think about? what i think about when i’m dreaming at night?” his bright eyes now seemed so dark with lust.

you nod, so badly wanting to know. “i think about you.” your eyes widen slightly, “me?” you look over his face for any signs he was lying or just joking, but nothing. you could feel he wasn’t lying. he hums, “mhm.” he pushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“i think about you. your sweet voice. your sweet face. that sweet mouth. everything about you. it’s intoxicating. so tempting.” he began to close the gap between the both of you, his hot breath against your cheek as he held your jaw between his fingers. your brain was fuzzy by how close he was.

he then closed the gap with a kiss to your lips. softly at first and then it became feverish as he pulled you in closer. you let out small whines as his tongue explored your mouth. you stomach churned with excitement from the thrill of it all. he pulls away as if he snapped out of a trance. “oh no, oh no. i’m sorry, i don’t want to scare you, or make you uncomfortable.” he was feeling the guilt creep upon him. if anyone found out his title would get taken away.

“master,” you take his hand into yours, “it’s okay. please. don’t stop.” you reassure. “y/n, this can affect you too. don’t let me damage that for you.” his gaze softened. you shake your head. “i don’t care, master. please i need you.” you started to become desperate, clenching around nothing.

anakin was a very good and powerful jedi. every movement of yours, he was painfully aware of. he gulps at the sound of your pleading voice. his hands reach to your waist, kneading the flesh. “please.” you say breathlessly. he pulls you in for another kiss, softer than before, careful.

his strong grip pulled you onto his lap, not breaking the kiss. you squirmed against him. instinctively, he gripped you tighter and groaned. “fuck, baby. yeah, keep doing that.” he sounded almost pathetic while he begged for the friction of your cunt. his hands now gripped you hips as he groaned.

you clit was all puffy from stimulation. “oh, master.” you dropped your head into his shoulder. “keep going, baby. keep rubbing against me like that.” his cock had already been painfully hard from his dream but now he thought it would genuinely explode.

“oh my stars.” he was panting and groaning and whining. a complete mess. a beautiful disaster underneath you. “i’m cumming, baby, oh my gosh.” he squeezed onto your hips so tight you were most likely to have formed bruises.

he dipped down from his high and held you in his arms for a moment. “your turn now, baby.” he lifted you off of him and laid you down next to him. you were still needy from your previous exercise.

he moved down to your thighs, kissing and sucking on them. he moved upwards to your hips and peppering his love onto you. he pulled your nightgown up over your belly and continue his kisses. he creeped back down over your clothed mound and licked a stripe over it. “so fuckin’ wet. my good girl.” he hooked his fingers onto your panties and pulled them down your legs discarding them somewhere in the room.

you were embarrassed as he was so close to your pussy and he could tell. “now don’t get all shy on me, pretty.” he smiled at you, calming you a bit to see his fresh gaze. he kissed your slick lips and those kisses turn into him devouring you. your poor sensitive cunt was being bullied by his tongue.

“ani!” you shriek when his tongue strikes your clit. he doesn’t stop, just continuing to eat you like a man starved. your hands thread through his gold locks as he shoves his tongue into you. he moans in delight has he tastes you.

his head was buried between your legs as you moan and whine, your hand going over your mouth to silence yourself. you’ll be dead if anyone caught you like this. a moaning mess with your masters head between your thighs, eating you like a animal.

“oh, master!” you whine as his tongue envelops your cunt. you could feel your lower tummy getting tight, the familiar feeling you felt when you rubbed yourself against your pillow at night, thinking about him. your couldn’t help but grind yourself against his mouth, craving him desperately.

“cum for me baby.” anakin spoke under his breath before continuing. his words melted your brain. right then and there your hips stuttered and you let out an exciting moan, bouncing off the walls and into anakins ears. he ate you through your orgasm. your thighs lightly shaking from the pleasure.

your chest heaved as you rode back onto the shore of your orgasm. you could hear your masters pants. it reminded you of how he sounded after lightsaber practice. “you’re so gorgeous when you cum.” he smiled as he rose up from between your legs. you could see the glisten of your slick on his nose and chin which caused you to blush.

when you two were face to face he places a delicate kiss to your lips, tasting yourself on him. “thank you.” you muttered out. “anytime.. anytime.” he kissed you on his neck, chuckles leaving both of your mouths.

“i think it’s time to get to bed now.” he spoke. you nodded and sat up, expecting to go back to your bed. he stops you by grabbing you. “no, no. you stay here. don’t want you falling on your way back.” he said with a dirty grin. you smiled and laid back down, your master next to you.

he took you into his arms, you on his broad chest. “i’m never going to have to dream again.” he admitted. you placed a kiss to his chest in response. you both soon drifted to sleep, tired from your ‘training’.

you were just glad that you had to share a room with your master.

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sweetdispatch · 7 months ago

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She's making me happy - L. Hughes

masterlist pairing: Luke Hughes x girlfriend!reader summary: Luke never shared his love life with his family until he met you warning: swear words note: i had the idea in my head for quite some time but thanks to request from my sweet @toasttt11, this pushed me to finally write about it

Luke was always a quiet guy if it came to a relationship. He had a girlfriend in high school but he never openly admitted to this. For him, it wasn’t something to share with everyone, being aware that any minute this might end up and he didn’t want to explain why the things ended up. At university, he had situationships and hook ups but it was the same case. He didn’t feel the need to brag about it to people.

Jack and Quinn were confident that Luke is putting his whole focus on hockey because he never said anything about any girl. He hadn’t said a word to his brothers about girls in his environment or asked for advice. They tried to force him to talk about this a couple times but he shrugged it off saying that having a girlfriend is not his priority.

This changed when Luke met you. He bumped into you at one of the bars in New Jersey and spilled his drink on you. He felt embarrassed and wanted to apologise to you. You said it’s nothing but he insisted. Knowing that he won’t let it go, you agreed to go with him for a coffee as a payback. You two spent a fun day together, laughing about the situation.

Luke could swear that he never met such a beautiful person inside and outside. You felt the same towards him. This one coffee turned into weekly dates and after a month, he asked you to be his girlfriend. Happily you agreed. This was a year ago. You two celebrated one year anniversary without anyone from his friends and family knowing that you’re together.

Luke met your friends and parents and they absolutely loved him and saw how much happiness he’s bringing to you. On the other hand, he didn’t meet you with his friends and family. You understood his point of view and never pressed him to do it. You knew that he needed his time and he was grateful for your patience.

After his rookie year in the NHL, Luke moved out from Jack’ apartment. His brother hadn’t seen anything weird in this decision. He felt that his younger brother needed his own space and he understood it. The truth was that Luke was moving into your apartment. Things became serious between you two and he felt that you’re his soulmate.

You and Luke were living together and it was like a dream come true. He felt so comfortable around you and vice versa. This brought you even closer together because every free moment, he was glued to your side. He was affectionate and couldn’t keep his hands from you. He knew that you’re made for him and decided to finally say something about you to his brother.

“I might have a weird question” Luke started talking to Jack while leaving the arena after their final game of the season.

“I’m listening” Jack looked at him with a confused face expression.

“Do you think I can bring my girlfriend for summer?” He asked. Jack froze in place when he heard the word “girlfriend” while Luke was walking to the car.

“Girlfriend” Jack said and Luke turned around to face him. “Since when have you had a girlfriend?”

“Since my rookie year” He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing.

“You’re in a relationship for a year and you didn’t say anything? What the fuck Luke” Jack raised his voice a little bit.

“I didn’t feel the need to announce it and tell you about every girl I’ve been but Y/N… She’s special, living with her made me realise that she’s the one” Jack’ eyes widened.

“You’re living with her? That’s why you moved out from me?” Luke nodded. “Okay, it’s a lot for me… My younger brother was hiding his girlfriend for a year and moved in with her and didn’t say a word to anyone” Jack sighed and continued. “Coming back to your question, of course you can bring her with you, but I hope you’re aware of the fact that me, Quinn, mom and dad are gonna be asking questions”

“I am but I’ll survive it. Y/N also will. We’ve already talked about this” Jack closed the gap and pulled Luke into a hug.

“I can’t believe that you have someone. I’m so happy for you but it would be nice to know about this earlier” Luke laughed at his words.

You two arrived at his family's lake house. Luke was excited that he finally felt confident to show you to his parents and brothers but you were scared. You wanted to make the best impression, knowing how much he cares about his family and their opinion. You stood in front of the door for a minute.

“Ready?” Luke asked you. You took a deep breath and nodded. He grabbed your hand and walked with you into the house. His steps went straight into the living room where everyone was sitting. You were hiding behind his back.

“Luke! We missed you” His parents hugged him and you stood in the entry watching the scene. You could feel his brothers eyes on you.

“I wanted to introduce someone for you” Luke pulled you softly from behind and now, you were standing in front of him. “This is Y/N… she’s my girlfriend”

“Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you all. Luke talked a lot about you” You said and heard Jack’ comment.

“Wish we could say the same thing about you” Luke rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be rude Jack, I’m sure Luke had his reasons to keep her in secret” His mum Ellen replied and looked at you. “It’s nice to meet you” She hugged you.

After meeting everyone, Luke sat on the couch and pulled you on his lap. You sat there, answering questions about your life and how you’ve met Luke. Everyone could see the affection he was giving to you. He was tracing his fingers on your leg and kept you tightly hugged to him. This was new to them, seeing him in this state.

The next day, you, Luke and his brothers went on a boat trip on the lake. They saw how Luke was applying suncream on your body gently like you could break under his touch. It made them happy to see Luke finally having someone by his side. On a boat, you sat on the floor and placed your head on his thigh. He was playing with your hair and Jack saw in his younger brother’ eyes love when he was looking down at you.

When you returned to the house, you and Luke stayed in the garden when his brothers went inside. He placed a blanket on the grass and you two laid there. You two were watching the clouds in the sky and talked about what shapes you are seeing. You spent some time there. Quinn went to tell you that the dinner was ready but before he stepped out, he looked at two of you. You were laying on top of Luke, chest to chest, playing with his curls while he was having his hands on your back. Quinn smiled at the sight and felt bad that he had to break the intimate moment between you two.

For dinner, his mum prepared pasta with sauce and meatballs. You never liked meatballs but you felt bad to decline them. You didn’t want to be rude so you placed them on your place. Luke knew that you don’t like them, that's why he was taking them secretly from your plate. His mum saw this and her heart melted. This was a simple gesture from him but meant a lot to her. It showed that he cared about you deeply and paid attention to your words.

Luke’s dad, Jim, invited you and him for golf. You never tried this sport and was sceptical about his idea but after Luke convinced you, promising that he’ll teach you, eventually you agreed. His dad was far from your and his son’s league but the three of you had fun on the golf course. You couldn’t shoot the ball perfectly and Luke decided to help you. He stood behind you and placed his hands on top of yours, helping you with the move. His dad was watching you two from afar and could tell that his youngest son cares about you.

For the next week, his whole family was watching interactions between you two. They never saw Luke in love but they were delighted seeing him all giggly around you. His hand was glued to you and he never let you from his sight. He wanted to be sure you’re alright and your comfort was his priority. You changed him for the better and they were grateful for his happiness. One night, all of you were sitting in the garden when you fell asleep on Luke’s shoulder. He noticed this and threw a blanket around you so you won’t get cold.

“It’s so good to see you happy” His mum said and everyone agreed with her.

“She’s making me happy” Luke smiled and looked at your sleeping figure.

“We can tell it, we’ve watched you two this week and you’re made for each other” Quinn told him and turned his head to face him. “I’m glad that you finally found your person”

“But I’m still pissed that you didn’t tell me earlier. We’re spending everyday together and you somehow gatekeeped her from my knowledge” Jack muttered.

“I just didn’t want to rush things. I wanted to enjoy time with her alone and see where this will go”

“Nevertheless, we’re happy for you Luke” His dad said and Luke’ smile grew bigger.

Luke was delighted that his family loved you as much as he loved you.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes oneshot #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fanfiction #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #new jersey devils #v' work

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burntheedges · 1 month ago

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Falling For You - Part 1

Joel Miller x f!reader | 7.3k | 18+ | masterlist | fic masterlist | ao3

fic summary: Joel Miller gave up on the idea of a soulmate at least 20 years and one apocalypse ago. But it turns out the universe hasn't given up on him quite yet.

Part 1: Back in Jackson, settling in was both easier and harder than Joel expected.

a/n: here's part 1! I hope you enjoy! we're starting out with Joel stumbling his way through settling into Jackson. Ellie, too. see tags/warnings below and check the fic masterlist for the full tags. Thank you again @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta!! 🧡

tags/warnings for part 1: angst, Joel is having a lot of feelings ok, family vibes, family fluff, reference to (unnamed) David, Ellie has a bit of a dissociative episode (school related), get ready for soulmate lore (for this AU)

Part 1

“She’s the one, Joel.”

Joel didn’t know what to make of Maria at first.

Sure, she didn’t seem to like him much, but he didn’t really expect or need to be liked. She’d definitely heard a few too many stories from Tommy and made up her mind that most of it (if not all of it) was Joel’s fault.

Fair enough.

But that wasn’t what was throwing him off, what was making him feel like everything he’d known had picked up and settled just a bit to the left. Leaving him out of step and off balance, trying to move forward but uncertain where to find solid ground.

Tommy hadn’t told him right away, but once he had him alone, he couldn’t hold it in.

“She’s the one, my one. First time we locked eyes — over the barrel of her gun, of course, didn’t trust me one bit — I heard ‘em. Ours are bells, can you believe it?” Tommy laughed, and Joel knew with certainty he’d never seen a smile quite like that on his brother’s face before. “I froze, had no idea what to do. Couldn’t hear anything but the song in my head, couldn’t see anything but Maria. And then she said, ‘well. Better come with me, then.’” Tommy laughed again. “Got her to smile at me for the first time later that night. Wasn’t easy.”

Joel huffed a single laugh, trying not to frown for Tommy’s sake.

“After… well. After everything, I’d given up. And then there she was, last place I ever thought I’d find her.” Tommy sighed and looked so in love Joel wanted to throw his glass of whiskey across the bar.

He didn’t. He downed it, instead.

“I…” he shook his head. “I’m happy for you.”

Tommy chuckled. “Don’t look it, but I know you, so I’m not offended.”

Joel winced and frowned again. “I—“

Tommy waved his hand in the air. “No, no, I remember. ‘Soulmates? That type of crap don’t matter when the world’s gone to shit. Why bother?’ I’ve heard you say it enough times, Joel.”

Joel hunched his shoulders up by his ears and sighed. “I am happy for you. I know I ain’t… I know how I’ve been.” He glanced at Tommy, whose eyebrows had flown upwards at Joel’s admission, and then back down to his empty glass. “If anyone deserves it, it’s you.”

“Thank you,” Tommy said, voice sincere, if surprised. “I think you’ll like her, though she doesn’t like you much.”

This time Joel did laugh as he replied, “just say it. I know you’re thinkin’ it.” He elbowed Tommy and in unison, they said, “means she’s got good taste.”

Tommy laughed and started telling Joel more about the town and Joel sighed, relieved to change the topic.

Soulmates.

He hadn’t thought about finding his since 2003, and he wasn’t going to start now. They were probably dead, anyway.

Why bother?

…

Joel had never talked about it with Tess. Like so many things, she’d understood him without him needing to say anything at all.

He worried that he’d taken that for granted, by the end.

Tess had lost her soulmate in the outbreak, and she wasn’t looking for a replacement, she said.

They fit together.

(There were stories, rare ones, of people who heard the music after knowing each other for years instead of instantly or after only a short time — usually kids who knew each other growing up and didn’t hear their music until later.

It was even more rare to have more than one soulmate.

Joel only let himself think about that in his darkest, lowest moments. That maybe one day he’d hear it. Maybe it would be nice if that were in the cards for him and Tess.

It wasn’t.)

They never talked about it, but he knew that she always knew what he wasn’t saying — I’ll never find them, they’re probably gone, and I don’t want to know if they are gone.

Who would want me now?

Finding them would be worse.

Tess never pushed, and he never offered.

After everything, looking back, he only wished he had. She had wanted him. She deserved better.

…

Jackson was strange, at first. Joel found it harder than he’d expected to settle in after he and Ellie returned from Salt Lake.

Ellie didn’t take to it easily, either, which made Joel feel both better and worse.

After the first week, the two of them made a deal that they’d eat most of their dinners at the dining hall for a while, if not the rest of their meals. He was pretty sure getting out of the house would be good for her, and even if he didn’t bother to apply the same standard to himself, he’d never say so where she could hear him.

Teenagers loved to call out hypocrisy, after all, and this particular teenager could spot it a mile away.

(He remembered the lessons he’d learned with Sarah, even if recalling them was like flexing a muscle he hadn’t used in 20 years. Getting back in shape wasn’t painless.)

About three weeks after their return, Maria broached the topic at dinner.

“So, Joel, I’ve been meaning to ask. We’ve got quite a few buildings around town that could use some TLC.”

Ellie made a thoughtful noise. “No one’s ever told me what that stands for,” she interrupted, mouth full of potatoes. “Tough… large…” she trailed off, frowning. “Contractors?”

Tommy laughed and Joel couldn’t help but smile.

Maria smiled at Ellie. “In this case, not far off. But it stands for tender loving care.”

Ellie hummed and turned to Joel with the look that he knew meant she was about to say something at his expense that Tommy would probably think was hilarious. “Joel, your hair could use some TLC.”

He sighed while Tommy laughed so hard he looked like he might fall off the bench. Maria chuckled and Ellie grinned.

“Alright, alright.” Joel resisted the urge to shove Tommy the rest of the way off the bench and kicked his brother under the table instead. “What kind of TLC are we talkin’, here,” he asked Maria.

“Some windows that are letting in air, stairs that are worn down. A couple leaks. A few houses that need to be made livable.” Maria started ticking off her fingers. “A roof or two that need a look at.”

“I’ve got a running list written down in the office,” Tommy said. “Come by tomorrow and we’ll look it over.”

“Tomorrow is Ellie’s first day of school,” Joel said, voice mild. He knew Tommy would know what he wasn’t saying — that he needed to be available and easy for her to find. Just in case.

“I’ll point out where the office is after dinner,” his brother said, looking at Ellie. “It’s closer to the school than your house.”

Ellie looked like she would rather crawl under the table than acknowledge she had any idea what they were talking about, so he changed the subject.

“Thought I’d be doin’ patrol,” he observed, and Maria nodded.

“You will. Everyone who can, does, but we have a rotation, so people can actually use their other skills, too. We need it, and that way everyone can contribute what they can.”

Ellie perked up, and Joel sighed before she even opened her mouth. She elbowed him. “Can I go on patrol?”

“No,” Joel, Tommy and Maria chorused together.

“Ugh,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

“Training starts at 16, then actual training runs. Can’t patrol until you’re 17 at the earliest.” Maria’s voice was even and Ellie sighed and nodded. “You’ll hear about it in school.”

After dinner Tommy walked home with them and pointed out the office. “School’s right down the road,” he pointed towards it and Ellie tensed. Joel nudged her with his shoulder. “I’ll meet you there after breakfast, Joel. Have a good first day, Ellie.” Tommy waved and headed towards his house.

When Joel opened their front door and waved Ellie inside, he eyed her tense shoulders and made a quick adjustment to his evening plans.

“Want to watch that movie? The space one.”

Ellie immediately perked up and grinned, leading the way into the living room, and he couldn’t help but smile.

She plopped down onto the couch in such a way that she sprawled over most of it. By the end of the movie, she was leaning on his shoulder and covered in a blanket, half asleep.

“Hey,” he murmured, not wanting to mess up the moment or the ease in her shoulders but knowing he needed to say it. “Come find me if you need me tomorrow, alright?”

Ellie didn’t say anything, but the way she buried her face in his shoulder told him enough.

“It’s ok if you need a break or can’t do the whole day. Just find me.” He nudged her with his elbow. “Ok?”

“Ok,” she mumbled.

“Ok,” he repeated. He nudged her into a standing position. “Time for bed, kiddo.”

She sighed dramatically and stomped off towards the stairs. When she got there, though, she stopped and looked back at him. “Hey Joel,” she said, voice low.

“Yeah?” He stood from the couch and watched as she worked her jaw over what she wanted to say.

“Thanks,” she said, quiet.

He smiled. “Anytime.”

…

Joel saw Ellie off to school in the morning and almost had an anxiety attack at the way it reminded him of sending Sarah to school Before.

In some ways, knowing what school had been like for Ellie with FEDRA in Boston made it worse, this time around.

He stood with Tommy by the office while she walked down the street towards the school. When she got there she turned and looked back. He could tell she rolled her eyes when she found them both looking at her. She waved, but even that felt somehow like she was being sarcastic.

They waved back and Tommy laughed as they watched Ellie go inside the school building. “Can’t believe you managed to find your clone running around Boston,” he mused, elbowing Joel in the ribs. “Did she act like that before you carted her across the country?”

“She comes by it honestly,” Joel said, and Tommy smirked. He couldn’t even pretend he didn’t know what his brother was talking about, and besides, the idea that Ellie was like him was filling his entire chest with warmth. Not that he was going to tell Tommy that.

“Well, your terrifying mini-me will be fine. Let me show you the plans.”

They spent the entire day poring over the various plans and maps Tommy had in the main office, and Joel started to understand the scale of what they were doing in Jackson. There were more residents than he realized, more people who needed a home or needed their home fixed.

“This is a lot, Tommy,” he observed some time in the afternoon. “We need more manpower.”

Tommy nodded. “We have it. I’ve been training some people, and we have a couple more that did some building before.”

Joel nodded. “And supplies. How are we there?”

Tommy smiled when Joel said “we” but didn’t acknowledge it otherwise, which he appreciated. “We’re doing alright. We have a policy to either collect or go back for anything useful when people are on patrol. Got a nice stash, almost like a little hardware store. Can use anything in there for repairs, but you have to barter like normal for personal projects.”

Joel hummed. “I’ll need to go take a look, then.”

“I’ll start prioritizin’,” Tommy said, already rearranging the papers on his desk. “Why don’t you start with that tomorrow – get a lay of the land, stop by Nuts n’ Bolts. See what we’ve got.”

Joel raised his eyebrows at his brother. “Nuts and bolts?”

Tommy laughed. “Ah, right. It’s not official but that’s what we’ve all taken to calling our little hardware store. We even call her Bolts sometimes, ‘stead of her name. The woman who organizes everything and handles the inventory. She should be there tomorrow, she can show you around. She knows it back to front.”

That night Joel told Ellie about his plans once she was done telling him every single thing that had happened to her at school that day.

“So you think it’ll be alright?” He asked her once she seemed to wind down.

She nodded, and he took a deep breath in relief when she looked away. “I might… I don’t fuckin’ know. It was a lot. But it seemed ok. Can I…” she trailed off, and he thought he knew what she wasn’t asking.

“Offer stands,” he said, nodding. “Come find me. I’ll be at the office again, but in the morning I might be over at Nuts ‘n Bolts.”

“What’s that?” She asked, looking confused.

“The local hardware store, apparently,” he explained, stretching his neck. He’d been sitting around a lot more lately and noticed he was getting stiff. “I need to see what supplies they got so we can start fixin’ stuff up.”

Ellie furrowed her brow. “Will you teach me?”

“Teach you what?”

She curled into a ball on the couch with her knees to her chest and propped her cheek on one knee, looking at him. He smiled. “To fix things,” she replied.

“Course I will,” he said, reaching out to push her lightly on the shoulder. She didn’t release her knees and dramatically fell over on the couch with an oof. He laughed and she grinned. “Anything you want to know.”

“Cool.”

…

After seeing Ellie off to school again, Joel took a walk around town.

He kept an eye out for the projects he’d gone over with Tommy the day before and spotted most of them. He could see why they were so eager to get going.

On his way back to the office he swung by Nuts ‘n Bolts. It was easy to spot, since someone had made a wooden sign with a nut and a bolt carved into it and hung it above the door.

It was an old storefront with actual rows of shelving and big windows. It even looked like a hardware store from the outside.

When he stepped inside and a little bell rang above his head, he was almost transported back 25 years. He took a deep breath.

“Morning,” a voice called out from the back. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Take your time,” he called back. “Just lookin’ around.”

“Ah, you must be Joel,” the voice said, and it sounded like they were smiling. “Tommy told me you’d stop by. Alright, I’ll be out there in a bit. Holler if you need anything.”

He sighed, knowing that Tommy had probably told them something ridiculous, and started looking around.

It really did look like a hardware store. There were tools and supplies of all kinds, neatly organized on clean shelves. There were also signs of a meticulous inventory being kept, with numbers updated in pencil on little slips of paper in front of each item.

Joel was leaning over some bins of nails when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

Ellie was walking up the street towards the store, jaw set, arms crossed. In a sudden overwhelming rush Joel felt worry rise and begin to choke him. He turned and speed walked towards the door.

“Gotta go,” he barely remembered to call out. “Another time.”

He heard some kind of acknowledgement, but it was faint and he was already mostly out the door.

…

When he stepped outside, he could see on Ellie’s face that she wasn’t ready to talk about it, whatever it might be. He reached out to squeeze her shoulder and said, “office or home?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment, despite her hunched shoulders and general fuck-off aura.

“Office.”

“Alright,” he agreed, and led the way. She trailed after him silently and he worked his jaw as he tried not to draw any similarities with her silence after Silver Lake. “I’ll show you what we’re working on.”

When they stepped into the office, Ellie’s shoulders relaxed just a bit, and he did not allow himself a deep breath in relief.

He’d learned the hard way on the road that she liked him talking but not asking questions, not when she was feeling like this, so he started showing her the list and the repairs. She eased into a chair and leaned in to look at the town map.

By the time he got to the smaller projects on the outskirts, she had her chin in her hand and was staring off into the middle distance.

When she interrupted him, he stopped talking immediately.

“It was math class,” she said, voice quiet. Joel tensed and then forced himself to relax his muscles. “The teacher here isn’t even a man, isn’t…” she trailed off and frowned, and he could see her wrestling with herself. “But I couldn’t… fucking why couldn’t I—“

Joel was up and around the desk before he even realized he was moving, then on his knees next to her chair. He reached up and ran his hand over her hair and relaxed, just a bit, when she leaned into it. “Ellie, you don’t—“

“I can’t fucking sit through a math class, Joel,” she said, sounding disgusted with herself. She leaned forward and rested her forehead on his shoulder. “It wasn’t the teacher or the school, it was just math, and I ran away like a weak little b—“

“Hey,” he said, voice low and soothing. He cupped the back of her head in his hand and started running the palm of his free hand up and down her back. “Running away does not make you weak. It’s ok to not be ok, baby girl. And look, Tommy told me something.” He squeezed the back of her neck with his hand. “Plenty of the kids here haven’t been able to do school right away. Plenty of ‘em have eased into it.” She started to pull back but he squeezed her again and she settled. “It’s hard… to go from the road to something like school. Turns out they have whole plans here for kids who need more time.”

“Plans?” She asked, finally raising her head and looking at him skeptically. “Like what?”

Joel settled onto one knee and leaned against the arm of her chair. “Like half days, and doin’ some work on their own at home. Or every other day.” He took one of her hands and squeezed it. “I bet we could work out a plan for you to do your math work at home, or here, even.” He waved his free hand around the office. “Seems like I’ll be spendin’ some time here, if you wanted to hang around.”

Ellie frowned as she mulled that over, staring down at their hands. She picked at the seam of her jeans with her free hand and Joel fought the urge to hold that one, too. “Other kids have really done this, too?”

He could hear what she was really asking — she didn’t want to be the only one with a problem. It was a pretty normal thing to worry about, of course, but it was also such a teenager thing to worry about that he couldn’t help but smile. “They have. Pretty sure no one would think you were weird.” He eyed her and took a gamble. “Not for that, anyway. Got plenty of other reasons, like the way you put sugar on grits,” he said, voice teasing.

She rolled her eyes at him and he smiled, fully. “You’re the weird one, Joel. No one likes grits, I don’t care what you say. And Tommy told me no one else actually likes those old movies you told me about, too.”

“Tommy ain’t got any taste,” he said, moving to stand. He stopped when her grip on his hand tightened. “I’ll talk to the teachers, alright? We’ll figure it out.”

She nodded, looking much calmer than she had when he’d found her outside. He pulled her into another hug.

“And we’re in this together, right? We made a deal.” She nodded again, and smiled, this time, the way she did every time he referenced their deal.

When he let go, she started asking him questions about the repairs that needed doing, and he heaved himself off the floor to answer.

They’d be alright.

…

Their deal, as they’d both come to call it, had been hashed out on their fifth night back in Jackson.

Joel hadn’t wanted to rush her, he’d known she was feeling like shit. But he knew he couldn’t let the two of them start up a pattern of never leaving the house. Not if Ellie was going to have an actual life there. And that’s what he wanted for her, more than anything – to have a life.

It turned out she wanted something similar for him.

“How about just dinners, then?” he’d offered, when she’d refused to go out for lunch again. “We can start tomorrow. See how it goes.”

She’d agreed, but their truce had been short lived when she’d discovered he also wanted her to go to school. Not yet, but apparently wanting her to go at all was the problem.

“Why the fuck do I need school,” she’d spat, and he’d thanked his years of experience with teenage anger and discontent for his even response.

“Life here seems alright, don’t it?” he’d asked, and eventually, frowning, she’d nodded. “Seems like we can give things a try, the way things are done here. See how it goes.”

Ellie had frowned down at her hands in her lap on the couch but eventually looked back up at him. “If I’m trying,” she’d emphasized, “you have to, too.”

“Ellie, I don’t need anything, just—“ just you, he’d been about to say. Just for you to be happy.

“No, Joel. You, too.” She’d been implacable. And at the end of the day, all he wanted was to give her what she wanted.

So they shook on it. She would try, and he would try, and they wouldn’t just give up because something sounded dumb or like a waste of time.

They’d try living this new life they’d found, and they’d do it together. And see how it went.

…

The teachers were more than happy to come up with a plan for Ellie, it turned out. So she spent her mornings at school, and her afternoons in the office with Joel or Tommy, doing work they assigned for her to take home.

Joel loved it.

He knew it wouldn’t last forever – eventually she’d feel fine with school, he knew, and he’d lose this time they had together – so he tried to savor it. Tried to find time to teach her about what they were doing, to let her be a part of it. Every time he gave her something to do, she stood a little taller, smiled a little wider.

It turned out actually trying was good for her. And seeing her settle in and start to smile more? That was good for him.

She’d taken to sitting at a little desk Tommy had found god-knows-where in the corner of the office and chattering about what she was doing, which suited him just fine. Sometimes she threw balled up pieces of old homework at him to catch his attention and he always sent them right back, bouncing them off her forehead. It never failed to make her laugh.

About a week and a half into their new arrangement she finished her work early and started rummaging around in office shelves, keeping up her stream of consciousness stories about her new classmates as she went.

“... and did you hear about that new group that came into town? From somewhere west? Turns out one of them is Miss Jenna’s soulmate.” Ellie fiddled with an old broken stapler she found on a shelf, frowning at it as she turned to look at him expectantly.

It took Joel a minute to catch up with what she was talking about, but his mind snagged on soulmate. He knew Miss Jenna was her history teacher. “What?”

Ellie nodded. “Miss Tasha is taking over for her for the rest of the week to give them time to, I don’t know.” Ellie shrugged expansively. “What do soulmates even do? Talk, or some shit.”

He raised his eyebrows at her and smiled. “Or some shit?”

She sighed and flopped the stapler open. “What is this thing?”

“A stapler,” he told her, “but I doubt we have any staples. Used to use ‘em to bind piles of paper together with little metal bits.”

“The staples?” She asked, peering at it and then at him. He nodded. “Weird. Anyway, I don’t fuckin’ know. FEDRA never talked about soulmates. We only heard stuff from the other kids.” She shrugged again. “You hear music, right? In your head?” She looked baffled by this idea.

“‘S what they say.” He stretched his shoulders, settling in to talk about this. “I’ve never heard it myself, but Tommy and Maria did. You could ask them what it was like.”

Ellie leaned forward on the desk, stapler forgotten by her hand. “They’re soulmates?!” She looked intrigued. “Why didn’t you say so?”

He shrugged.

She rolled her eyes at him and flopped into the chair in front of the desk. “Useless, Joel. You’re supposed to find out things and then tell them to me. Duh.” She grinned at him when he huffed a laugh. “I’ve never met soulmates before. Everyone’s music is different, right?”

He nodded again. “‘S what they say.”

She hummed and kicked her feet up on the desk. He reached across and nudged them back onto the floor with a ruler and she grumbled. When she was quiet for a long moment, he looked up, and found her frowning thoughtfully at the ceiling.

“Ellie?” he prompted, and she sighed.

“Did most people, Before,” she started, and then cleared her throat. “Did most people find them? Their soulmates?”

Joel thought about it for a moment before answering. “A lot of people did, sure,” he said, thinking about his parents for the first time in years. “Our parents were soulmates, mine and Tommy’s. And I knew a lot of people who found theirs.” He shrugged. “Not sure of the numbers. One of your teachers might know.”

“Did…” she trailed off, looking hesitant, and he figured she was about to ask about him. “You said you didn’t–”

He shook his head. “Never found ‘em.”

She hesitated again, and he figured she was about to ask about Tess. He poked at her memory in his mind and discovered it didn’t hurt quite as much as it used to.

Still hurt, though.

“Did Tess–”

He shook his head again. “Lost hers in the outbreak,” he said, and he could hear the gruffness in his own voice. He cleared his throat. “We weren’t… we weren’t.”

She nodded, looking thoughtful. “Wonder how many there are in Jackson.”

“You’ll have to ask Tommy,” he said, sighing, “Wouldn’t know.”

Ellie hummed again, but before she could ask him another question about it the man himself walked in the door.

“Howdy, folks,” Tommy said, drawing out his accent a bit more than normal. It made Ellie snicker, which was the point. “What are you troublemakers up to today?”

“You didn’t tell me you and Maria are soulmates!” Ellie accused, and Tommy looked slightly taken aback before he smiled.

“So sorry, ma’am, didn’t realize you wanted to know.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Duh. What was it like?”

Joel figured Tommy had brought this on himself and turned back to his work. After all, only the day before he’d told Ellie she could ask him “anything at all” and he’d answer.

“The music?” Tommy asked, propping himself against the desk. Ellie nodded. “Pretty weird. It’s not like when you have a song stuck in your head, it’s like actual music playing inside your head. Full sound.” He tilted his head from side to side. “And it’s a song I’d never heard, never in my life, which made it even weirder.”

Ellie looked captivated by this information. “And Maria heard the same thing?!”

Tommy nodded. “Yep.”

“And were you, like, instantly in love?” Ellie looked both intrigued and put off by the idea, which made Joel smile down at his maps.

“I was,” Tommy said with a wink, grinning. “Maria took a little convincing, but she’s smarter than me, anyway.”

Ellie seemed to mull that over and then nodded. “Did you hear about Miss Jenna?”

Joel looked up, interested to hear the answer on this one, and found Tommy nodding. “Yep. I was standing right next to them when it happened, too.”

Ellie’s mouth dropped open and Joel smiled to himself – she had a true love of gossip, his kid. “What was it like? Seeing it?”

“Now, don’t go repeatin’ this to all the other miscreants, alright?” Tommy fixed her with a look and Ellie nodded eagerly. “But it looked like it went the same for them as it did for me. Mena was getting down off her horse when she happened to look up and catch Jenna’s eye and, well. They both stared, Mena fell down the rest of the way and landed in the dirt. Jenna helped her up and said something like, ‘did you hear that?’” He smiled. “So there you go.”

Ellie squinted at him. “That’s it?”

Tommy laughed. “What else do you want?”

She shrugged, and Joel smiled down at his maps again. “Guess I thought it would be a bigger deal, or something.”

Tommy hummed. “Well, for them it was. We got enough soulmates here in town that I guess it’s not so novel anymore,” he said, thoughtfully.

“Really?” Ellie asked. “Like, a lot?”

He shrugged. “Not sure what’s a lot. But enough. Not the first time it’s happened at the gates, either.”

Ellie considered that for a minute. “Huh,” she said, sounding surprised. “Maybe mine is here, too. Oh, or Joel’s!” He looked up from his work to find her grinning at him. “Somebody who can fall in love with that grumpy face.”

He frowned at her and she frowned back. “Soulmates–”

Tommy cut him off, and Joel recognized the voice he used as his Joel impression. He sighed as Tommy said in a deep, growling voice, “soulmates? Why bother?” And then laughed.

Ellie looked between him and Joel. “Was that supposed to be Joel?”

“Duh,” Tommy said, smiling as he repeated the word back to her with the same intonation she’d used when he came in. “Heard him say it enough times.”

Joel sighed again.

Ellie frowned at him. “Do you not want to meet ‘em?”

Joel looked at her and fought down his initial response of obviously not and who would want me now? That wasn’t exactly the message about love and relationships he wanted to pass on to his kid, not when all he wanted was for her to be happy. Even if it wasn’t in the cards for him. “Figure they’re not around anymore,” he said, trying to shrug it off. “Been long enough.”

“You are old as dirt,” Ellie said, rolling her eyes. “But they could be here. You never know.”

Joel couldn’t help but notice that she seemed pretty excited about the whole thing, maybe because it was so different from what she knew in Boston with FEDRA. He sighed again. “Maybe,” he allowed. “But I ain’t lookin’. Got plenty of other things to worry about.” Like you, he didn’t say.

“Joel,” she said, frowning. “We have a deal.”

He eyed her and tried not to notice Tommy looking between them curiously out of the corner of his eye. “Didn’t realize soulmates were part of the deal.”

“Of course they are!” She said, raising both of her arms and then letting her hands fall against her legs in exasperation. “Living, Joel. Life, or whatever.”

“Alright, alright, ok.” He worked his jaw for a moment, figuring out what he wanted to say. “If they’re here, somehow. I’ll tell you, alright? And I’ll…” he winced. “I’ll talk to them, I guess.”

Ellie grinned and Tommy looked shocked. “Deal,” she said, looking smug.

Tommy gave him a look that said, you really are wrapped around her little finger, you know, and Joel flipped him off the second Ellie’s back was turned.

…

The soulmates conversation was, thankfully, put to the side after that. Joel was certain Ellie asked Tommy about it more, apparently insatiable in her desire for more knowledge, but she didn’t talk to him about it again.

Considering that his opinion was still finding them now would be worse, despite the recent, more positive changes in his life, he figured that was a good thing.

So Joel settled into a daily rhythm of mornings at work and afternoons with Ellie and marveled at how much he liked this new life they’d found.

Ellie started running errands for them, too, and learning more about the work they were doing. It made him feel proud, which made Tommy tease him, which made him put Tommy in a headlock with a cheering Ellie off to the side.

It was nice. And Joel hadn’t had nice in decades, so it was difficult to trust. Difficult not to wonder when the other shoe was going to drop.

He figured if he kept his head down and did his work he’d stay out of trouble. Hopefully.

“Joel! I’m back," Ellie called, bursting into the office with a box in her arms. “Bolts had everything you asked for except, well.” She snickered. “Except the bolts. She said she’d check the storage area and get back to me.”

This wasn’t the first time Ellie had run over to get something from Nuts ‘n Bolts — she’d mostly taken over the job, in fact.

“She said you still haven’t been over there to introduce yourself. Not very social of you,” Ellie said, repeating what Maria had said a couple nights before, waggling a finger at him. He rolled his eyes and caught it, smiling when she squealed.

“I know, keep meaning to,” he said, releasing her but reaching out to mess with her hair as he stepped back. She swatted him away, laughing.

“Well you can’t have my job, slacker.” Tommy had taught her that word the week before and Ellie had been using it with delight ever since. “You’ll have to go over there on your own.”

He started going through the box and was impressed as always by how meticulously organized it was. Each different item was in its own little box or folded in paper with a tag noting how many were there in neat handwriting. It satisfied something inside of him, to see competence like this on display.

“Still checking her work?” Tommy said, stomping inside. “I told you she knows what she’s doing.”

Ellie nodded, agreeing.

“No, just looking,” Joel said, knowing they probably didn’t believe him. But he wasn’t.

He was more appreciating her work than anything else.

“Well, let’s get going then,” Tommy said, motioning towards the door. “Those stairs won’t fix themselves.”

…

About a month after Ellie started school, Joel did his first patrol.

It was time, but he was grateful for the extra time to settle in and prepare Ellie for him to leave and come back.

Well, for him to try to prepare her, anyway. And attempt to prepare himself, too.

“I want to come,” she said, stomping next to him towards the gate. She’d said the same thing every day since Maria had asked him three days ago.

“You know the rules,” he said, tone mild. “Not—“

“Not until I’m 17, ugh, I fucking know, Joel.” She frowned and crossed her arms. “What if something happens? What if—“

“Hey,” he said, stopping and kneeling next to her on the ground. She looked thrown, like she always did when he put himself below her like that. He hoped she’d stop being surprised by it eventually. “I’ll be with a group, and with Tommy, alright? I’ll be ok. We aren’t even going that far—“

“Just out to the dam, I know.” She finished for him. Her body was coiled as tight as a spring and he reached out to squeeze her shoulder.

He nodded. “Back by sundown. I’ll meet you right there.” He pointed to the tree by the gate. “Ok?”

She worked her jaw for a minute but nodded. “Ok. And you better not get hurt.”

He smiled and stood up, cupping her face gently. “I won’t. You don’t either, alright?”

She sighed, sounding so much like an exasperated teenager he had to hold in a grin. “I’m just going to hang out with Bolts and sort nails. Ooh, scary.” She waggled her fingers at him. He let his hand drop on top of her head and waggled it gently in response. She made a noise in protest and grabbed his hand.

“Alright. Be good for Bolts. I’ll see you later, ok?” She nodded and, quicker than lightning, ducked under his arm into a hug. He squeezed her and let his cheek rest on top of her head for a moment.

He wasn’t going to say so, but knowing she’d be safe with an adult she trusted while he was gone was the only thing letting him go at all.

“I’ll be right back, baby girl,” he murmured, and she squeezed him once more before letting go and watching him lead his horse to the gate. When he looked back after mounting up, she waved.

He waved back and ignored the feeling that he was leaving his heart behind with every step his horse took. He knew it was good for them to be separated for a bit, knew he couldn’t let her live in his pocket forever, even if in the moment all he wanted was to turn around and go home.

. . .

At dinner that night, Ellie sat much closer to him than usual. It comforted him, too, so he didn’t say anything. In between demands for stories about the (pretty boring, all things considered) patrol, he started to notice a pattern in her speech that he was pretty sure had been forming for a while, he just hadn’t noticed.

“Bolts said that Before, people used to put coins in machines and squish them, like, on purpose. And the machine would print a little design on them. That’s fucking wild! I thought money was important? Why would you squish it?”

“Bolts told me that Before people used to do something called glamping. Joel, did you ever go glamping? Why wouldn’t you just go normal camping? And why would you go camping on purpose at all? Didn’t you have a house?”

“When we were checking the storage area, Bolts found a box of staples, those little metal things you told me about! She let me staple some papers but then she said I had to stop because I was helping ‘a bit too enthusiastically and we only have so many staples, Ellie.’”

He knew he could trust her with Bolts, just based on the stories she told and what Tommy had said about her. But he’d never met her. Maybe it was time he made time to do that.

…

In the end, Joel didn’t make it over to Nuts ‘n Bolts for almost a week after he’d made up his mind to actually do it. The patrol had gone well, but Ellie had been more his shadow than ever afterwards, and he spent a lot of time reassuring her – and himself – that everything was fine.

Her teachers had suggested that she start attending the art class that happened in the afternoons at the school once a week on Tuesdays, and so Joel took advantage of her absence to go over and do Ellie’s usual pick up at the hardware shop.

As he walked up to the shop, he realized how strange it was that he’d been in town for so long and hadn’t actually been back there. When he stepped inside, he was again impressed with the meticulous organization and care.

He recognized the handwriting on all of the shelf labels, now, the same handwriting that would appear on the labels in each of the boxes Ellie picked up on her errands.

Must be Bolts’, he thought to himself as he ran his fingers over the words “washers, 4mm” in clear, tidy handwriting.

“Afternoon,” a voice called from the back. “‘S that you, Ellie?”

Joel called back a greeting. “She has art class on Tuesdays, now,” he explained, voice raised a bit to be heard as he continued exploring the shelves.

“Ooh, and how’s she feel about you taking over her job?” The voice was teasing, now, and it made him laugh.

“She warned me I better do it right and be polite,” he said, and he heard a laugh from the back. He turned another corner and found hooks of all shapes and sizes carefully organized and displayed along a shelf. “Said I had a reputation to uphold.”

“She’s right,” the voice called, and he could hear the laugh in it. “It’s an important mantle you’re taking on, you know. And you must be Joel.”

He was grinning at a shelf of caulk, he realized, and blinked. “That’s me. And you must be Bolts? Or should I call you–”

Another laugh interrupted him. “Bolts is fine! No one calls me anything but that around here.”

Joel was starting to feel like he was walking through a maze, looking for the corner to turn that would take him to the back, where the voice was coming from.

“I’ve heard all about you, you know,” Bolts called. “To hear Ellie tell it, there’s nothing you can’t do, you’re the tallest person alive, and you’re old as dirt.” He snorted. “Now, I know that’s not true from Tommy – maybe just old to a teenager, anyway – but I’ve been looking forward to seeing for myself.”

He couldn’t stop smiling. Walking through this maze of a hardware store was starting to feel like an out of body experience. He was pretty sure he was close, though, to figuring out where she was.

“I’ve heard quite a bit about you too, you know,” he said, and the warmth in his own voice startled him. “Ellie thinks the world of you.”

“She’s a special kid, Joel,” Bolts said, voice softer now, but a bit muffled.

“She is,” he agreed, and finally turned the corner to where he was pretty sure she was working. He was right – down at the end of the row, at a makeshift sales counter, there was a woman.

He couldn’t tell if she was shorter than him – she was leaning over a box with almost her entire torso inside of it.

She had a very nice ass, he couldn’t help but notice, and her jeans did nothing to hide it.

He blinked away from it as she started to rise, and his eyes trailed along her spine. He stepped forward, and she must have heard because she turned.

And then his eyes met hers.

In all the times he’d been told about soulmates, either no one had ever said, or he hadn’t been paying attention when they did, that the music that played inside your head was loud.

Or maybe it wasn’t that way for everyone. Maybe it was just loud for them.

He looked into her eyes and just like that, his mind was taken over by the most beautiful music he’d ever heard. Tommy had said bells but theirs wasn’t bells – it was strings. Almost like a symphony inside his mind, rising and falling and swelling together into a crescendo that took his breath away.

He couldn’t move, could barely breathe, staring into the eyes of the woman who was his soulmate.

The song started to fade, and Bolts took a single step towards him, face breaking open with some emotion he couldn’t name.

“Joel?” she said, one of her hands lifting towards him.

He blinked, and felt the space the music had left behind start to fill with panic.

He ran.

...

a/n: I know!! Joel, what are you doing?? find out next Tuesday in part 2! (and this fic has a happy ending, I promise)

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #ffy fic #falling for you fic #x reader #wired4youchallenge

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rafeys-sweetie · 2 months ago

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𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐭. ౨ৎ

(Summary - You always say you love Rafe and he always replies with “I care about you to.”)

There was a time when you thought love would fix Rafe Cameron.

Like if you just held him hard enough, loved him loud enough, stayed patient and sweet and sunlit long enough, the shadows in him would dissolve. The anger, the numbness, the mess Ward left behind. You thought you could kiss away the bruises on his heart like they were nothing more than cuts from falling off a bike.

But Rafe wasn’t broken in the way you understood.

He was twisted. Twisted by a lifetime of never being enough, of being told to toughen up and silence the soft parts of himself until they shriveled into something cold and cruel. And for a while, he let that version of himself bleed into you. The version that yelled when he was scared, pushed when he wanted to be held, ran when he should’ve stayed.

You still remember that night the fight.

It started like most things with Rafe did: soft, then sharp.

He had been distant all week, buried in work, too tired to come to bed, snapping over things that didn’t matter. The dishes. The mail. The way you left your sweater draped over the porch swing instead of hanging it up. You tried not to take it personally. You always did.

But that night, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You were standing in the kitchen, barefoot in one of his old shirts, arms crossed so tight your knuckles turned white.

“You know what I don’t get?” you said, voice quieter than your rage should’ve allowed. “You say you care about me. You say you’re trying. But I don’t think you even love me.”

He didn’t look at you.

Just stood by the fridge, jaw clenched, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets like he was trying to hold himself together.

“I’ve said I care. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah. Physically. But emotionally? You’re a ghost, Rafe. I tell you I love you and you just say I care about you too. Like it’s a fucking business transaction.”

Your voice cracked on the last word. You hated that it did.

Rafe’s eyes darted up to meet yours. There was something in them you couldn’t read not anger, not softness. Just… conflict.

“I’ve never said that to anyone,” he muttered.

You blinked. “Said what?”

“That I loved them.”

The room felt smaller suddenly, like the air had thickened. Your stomach twisted.

“So what, I’m just another girl you’re fucking until you find someone you can love?”

“No.” His voice was sharp now, laced with that familiar frustration. “You don’t get it.”

“Then make me understand, Rafe, because all I see is a guy who takes and takes and can’t even tell his girlfriend he loves her after everything she’s given him.”

Silence. Heavy. Immovable.

And then your voice broke completely. “I love you so much it hurts. And I don’t think you feel anything close to that for me.”

His lips parted. But nothing came out.

And that silence hurt worse than if he’d screamed.

You’d gone to bed alone that night. You heard him outside on the porch for hours, pacing, lighting cigarette after cigarette and never finishing one. You cried until your eyes swelled shut, gripping a pillow that still smelled like him and wondering how long you could keep loving someone who couldn’t love you back.

But something changed after that night.

He didn’t say it not that but he changed.

Therapy became more than just a checkbox. He stopped deflecting. He let the sessions carve into him, dig up all the rot and guilt and twisted wiring. He started talking. Really talking. To the therapist, to you. Not always easily, but honestly.

He started showing up. Not just coming home, but being home.

And he got the job. A real one. Building houses, pouring foundations, laying the kind of bricks he said felt solid beneath his fingers. You used to joke that Rafe needed something outside of his brain to break and rebuild, and construction was just that. Each wall he built was another piece of him coming back together.

The two of you bought a house too big, a little old, with hydrangeas out front and floorboards that creaked when it rained. You called it “haunted cottage core.” Rafe hated that, but not really. He rebuilt the staircase by hand. Repainted the kitchen cabinets with you one weekend, both of you speckled in white and blue paint, laughing until your ribs ached.

But he still hadn’t said it. And some nights, that silence still echoed.

Then came the ring.

His mother’s. Found it in a box from Tannyhill, tucked between old photographs and hair clips. Simple. Silver like center like a piece of ocean frozen in time. He stared at it for hours that night.

He didn’t know what it meant if he was worthy of using it. If she’d want him to. If you’d want him to.

But every time he imagined losing you, the air left his lungs.

And that meant something.

So the night he did it, he didn’t plan anything grand. That wasn’t him. That wasn’t you.

You were on the porch, sitting on the swing, wrapped in a blanket, hair still wet from your bath, wearing the hoodie of his you always stole when you were sad.

He sat beside you. Silent. For a long time.

Then, his voice quiet, almost hoarse. “I know I’ve been… a lot. I know I’ve hurt you.”

You looked at him slowly, heart already racing, but said nothing.

“I used to think love was something people said just to get laid. Or control each other. Or pretend shit was okay when it wasn’t. My parents? Yeah. They loved each other. And they still broke everything they touched.”

You watched him, your heart breaking in slow motion.

“But then you came along. And you stayed. Even when I made it impossible. You stayed.”

You swallowed hard. “Rafe…”

“I didn’t say it before… because I didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like.” He reached into his hoodie pocket. Pulled out the ring. “But now? I get it.”

He dropped to one knee right there on the porch, the light from the windows casting a soft glow across his face. His hands were trembling. He didn’t care.

“I love you.”

You gasped, lips parting like they wanted to say finally, but the words got caught behind your tears.

“I love you so much it scares the shit out of me. And I should’ve said it that night. When you begged me to. But I didn’t want to say it until I meant it. And I mean it now.”

His voice cracked. “You’re the only person who ever made me want to be better. You’re the only thing in my life that’s ever felt real. So I’m asking you… will you marry me?”

You dropped to your knees too, hands flying to your mouth, laughing through your sobs.

And you whispered the only word that ever felt big enough for the moment.

“Yes.”

He slid the ring on your finger, and you didn’t even look at it. You just kissed him like your soul had been waiting years for this exact second.

And in that kiss, in that trembling embrace, in that breathless, beautiful collapse into each other Rafe finally understood what love felt like.

It felt like safety.

It felt like pain.

It felt like home.

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honey-on-your-tongue · 9 months ago

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Kinktober day two

STOP STOP STOP. Sex tape with OLD MAN LOGAN

“You camera shy, sweetie?” he teases as he sets up the recorder, his eyes seeing how you blush and hug yourself.

“I've just never done this before,” you admit shyly, cautiously eyeing the recorder.

“'s okay, baby. You know I'm not gonna show it to anyone, it's just for us,” he assures you as he stands up straight.

When Logan had first suggested the idea, you'd been against it. Mostly because you'd never recorded yourself having sex and it scared you. Then one day, you'd let it slip that you were curious about it, and when he said you two could try it out slowly and stop if you were uncomfortable, you agreed.

“I know,” you mumble. “It's still a little weird. I feel...like I'm being watched.”

“That's the fun part, sweet thing,” he tells you, walking over to you.

He pushes you to lie back on the bed and he kneels on the floor, his head between your thighs. He kisses you softly, smirking up at you when your legs quiver.

You glance at the camera again, eyes uncertain.

“Look at me, baby,” he says, sucking a hickey onto your thigh, just below the edge of your panties. “Eyes on me. Forget about the camera.”

You glance down, watching his dark eyes become fierce with an animalistic desire.

He nuzzles his face against your mound, groaning lowly as he feels you already wet through the thin fabric.

You gasp, eyes fluttering.

“That's it, sweet thing. Relax for me, yeah? Just let daddy take care of you, hm?”

You nod softly, eyes on him. “Y-yeah, I just…what if I don’t look pretty on the camera?” you ask shyly, pretty cheeks blushing a soft pink.

Logan frowns, geniunely perplexed. “What? Baby, why wouldn’t you look pretty? You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and you look even prettier when I fuck you.”

Despite yourself, you giggle. Somewhere between nervous, embarrassed and flattered.

He smiles softly. “Don’t you ever doubt that, baby. You look gorgeous no matter what, yeah?”

“Okay,” you whisper, nodding softly.

“Atta girl. Now just let me take care of you. Ignore the camera, pay attention to me.” He licks your cunt through the fabric of your panties. “Understood?”

“Yes,” you say breathlessly.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, eyes fluttering up to the camera.

He spanks the side of your thigh. “Eyes down here, bub. That camera ain’t gonna treat you how I do.”

You force your eyes down, holding his gaze. He grins, pleased, and gently pushes your panties to the side. He exhales softly. “Look at her, so pretty, so wet…” he murmurs, almost as if to himself.

You swallow thickly, heart racing in your chest. He can hear your heartrate increase and he smirks.

“I know, bub. You’re so eager for me, I’ll give you what you want.” He kisses your pussy. “And then, we’ll watch the video over and over again until you realize how beautiful you look when I fuck you.”

- - -

HEHEHE brain rot about old man Logan is TOO real

Blog masterlist

This has been updated to part of my Logan Kinktober 🫶🏼

Part 2 here!!!

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hyunjinsmuze · 1 month ago

Text

Forget Me, Gently

warnings: Slight smut (one scene), car crash, head trauma, coma, memory loss

contains: Angst, light smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, soft romance

summary: They fell in love deeply, messily, completely. But after the crash… she forgot. And he’s willing to love her all over again, even if it breaks him.

words: 5.5k

pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

It was the sort of afternoon that hung in the air like a held breath—cloud-filtered sunlight and the faint scent of cinnamon and roasted beans drifting through the small café tucked between a flower shop and a bookstore. Y/N liked this one for its quiet corners and how the baristas never tried to rush you, even when you spent three hours rereading the same page of a sketchbook. The café was warm, lived-in, imperfect in the way real places are. Familiar.

She didn’t notice him at first. Not until the crash happened.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

Her world jolted. The warmth of her just-bought vanilla latte spread across the front of her hoodie, soaking through in seconds. She gasped, startled more than anything, blinking up at the tall figure before her. He looked horrified. Apologetic. And annoyingly… beautiful.

“I didn’t see you, seriously, I’m so sorry.” He grabbed too many napkins, probably, but pressed a few into her hands with a desperation that almost made her laugh.

“I—it’s okay,” she said, more out of instinct than truth. “It was an accident.”

He nodded quickly, eyes scanning the mess he’d made, the liquid soaking into her sketchbook on the table. That made her flinch.

“Oh—your book,” he said, frowning like he’d just watched a kitten fall off a windowsill. “God, I’ll replace it. I swear, I’ll, can I… buy you another coffee?”

She raised an eyebrow, half amused. “You want to repay me by getting me another coffee after ruining my first one?”

A beat passed. His lips twitched into a crooked smile. “And I’ll even sit with you while you drink it. If you let me.”

She looked at him properly now—tall, fair-skinned, with soft dark eyes and a mouth that looked like it belonged in a painting. Something about him was too delicate to be real but not fragile. No, not fragile. Something else. Like art that knew it was meant to be looked at slowly.

“I’m Y/N,” she said, voice lighter than she expected.

He smiled. “Hyunjin.”

“Okay, Hyunjin. You’re forgiven. Buy me coffee.”

They stood in line together. Her hoodie was ruined, the sketchbook damp, her day derailed but she couldn’t quite stop the curl of interest low in her stomach. He had this way of being intensely present, even in silence.

As they waited, he glanced at her, then at her sketchbook. “Do you draw?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes. Mostly for myself.”

A soft hum. “I paint. A little.”

Her heart skipped. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “mostly oils or charcoal. But I’ve never really shown anyone. It’s more of a… thing I do to breathe.”

She nodded like she understood. Because she did.

When their drinks arrived, Hyunjin’s phone buzzed. He winced. “I have to be somewhere, but… can I text you? Maybe make up for the sketchbook with a proper coffee?”

She hesitated—only a little before handing him her phone.

He grinned as he typed, “See you.”

And just like that, he was gone, a gust of spring air with a paint-stained soul.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨��˚

It had been a few days since that unexpected moment, the spilled coffee, the nervous apologies, the way his eyes had looked at her like she was something fragile and important all at once. Y/N found herself replaying it over and over, the image of him lingering in her mind more vividly than anything she’d seen in weeks.

The little café had become more than just a quiet refuge; it now held the echo of his voice, the warmth of his smile. Even the smell of cinnamon and roasted beans seemed to carry a new meaning, as if the ordinary had somehow become extraordinary.

She was sketching there again when her phone buzzed, breaking her concentration. She glanced down, not expecting much. But then she saw the name.

Hyunjin.

A sudden flutter warmed her chest. Her fingers hesitated, then she tapped out a reply, the simple act feeling like a bridge stretching between two worlds.

‘Hey, how’s it going?’

His answer came quickly, and she felt her heart lift.

‘I wanted to ask you something.’

She blinked at the screen, a small smile playing on her lips.

‘What’s up?’

‘Would you like to come to an art studio with me? he asked. We could draw together. Just for fun.’

Her breath hitched. Drawing together. The idea was sweet, simple, yet it carried an unspoken promise of closeness. She imagined him, paintbrush in hand, his eyes steady and focused as he captured the light in a moment or the curve of a smile. Somehow, she thought, he would see her in ways no one else did.

‘I’d love that, she typed back, cheeks warming.’

Great. I’ll send you the details. Can’t wait, his message appeared, and a small thrill ran through her.

That night, Hyunjin sat alone in his room, his phone screen glowing softly in the dim light. The thought of Y/N smiling at the idea of drawing with him made his chest tighten with something tender and new.

He wondered how someone could feel so significant in such a short time. There was something about her her quiet strength, the way she looked at the world that made him want to show her all the colors he kept hidden beneath the surface.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

When Y/N arrived at the art studio a few days later, the soft hum of music and the rich scent of oils filled the air. The space buzzed quietly with creativity. At first, she felt a little out of place, unsure about her own drawing skills among all the paint and brushes. But the light pouring through the large windows made everything look warm and inviting, like a safe little sanctuary.

She wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. Hyunjin had only mentioned his art in passing, over texts, but she’d never seen it for real. The idea of standing next to him, sketching together, made her nervous in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

She wandered deeper inside, her shoes soft against the wooden floor. Then she spotted him—sitting on a stool near a blank canvas, pencil in hand, eyes focused like he was already imagining what the drawing would become. His dark hair fell in gentle waves over his forehead. When he looked up and saw her, his face lit up in a way that made her stomach flutter.

“Hey,” he said, standing quickly. “So, you actually came.”

She smiled, feeling the warmth in his gaze. “You invited me.”

He motioned around the room. “This is where I come when I need to get away from everything. It’s peaceful here.”

She nodded slowly. “It really feels like a sanctuary.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, she saw something vulnerable in him—a side he didn’t usually show. “What’s your favorite thing to draw?”

“Flowers,” she said, smiling at him.

“Okay,” he said, a small grin forming. “Let’s draw each other’s favorite flower.”

Her heart jumped. “That sounds perfect.”

She learned his favorite flower was a black rose. She told him hers were tulips.

They sat down, sketchbooks in their laps. Hyunjin’s pencil moved with practiced ease. Every line was fluid and graceful, capturing the delicate beauty of the flowers with surprising depth. Watching him, Y/N felt mesmerized—not just by the art but by the calm way he worked. It wasn’t about being perfect; it was about the process, the flow.

She felt that same calm slowly settle inside her.

“How did you get into art?” she asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Hyunjin didn’t look up right away. His breath slowed, and she saw him gathering his thoughts.

“I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t drawing,” he said finally. “It started as a way to escape. My family was always moving, always busy, and it was hard to find something that felt like mine. Art… it was always there. It helped me breathe.”

Y/N felt her chest tighten. He was sharing a part of himself he didn’t often show.

“That’s why I love it,” he continued, still avoiding her gaze. “It’s one of the only things that makes sense to me. The only thing that lets me really be myself.”

She nodded, unsure of what to say but feeling the weight of his words. “I get that.”

They worked quietly for a while. Occasionally, their eyes met and a soft smile passed between them small, genuine moments that said more than words.

Hyunjin stretched, breaking the silence. “How’s your drawing coming?”

She looked down at her sketch and smiled. “It’s coming along. I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“You’re good,” he said softly, meaning it.

She blushed, her heart fluttering. “Thanks. That means a lot coming from you.”

His gaze lingered on her a moment longer. “I mean it. You have something special, Y/N. You always have.”

After his words hung softly between them, she realized how much she wanted this—this slow, fragile connection that felt like it could break or bloom at any moment.

When they finally packed up hours later, the energy between them had shifted. They were still the same two people who had met by chance, but something new had begun—a closeness that neither could yet put into words.

As they stepped outside into the warm evening light, Hyunjin glanced sideways at her, his expression unreadable for a second.

“Thanks for coming,” he said quietly. “I really enjoyed this.”

Y/N smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Me too. I didn’t realize how much I missed creating with someone.”

He nodded, and for a moment, they just stood there letting the quiet words hang between them like the last golden rays of the setting

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

A few days had passed since their last meeting, but Hyunjin and Y/N found themselves texting and calling more than either expected. It wasn’t planned more like a song that plays unexpectedly, yet somehow stays with you.

That night, they were on FaceTime, their faces softly lit by the glow of their separate rooms. Y/N leaned back against her pillows, fighting the heaviness of her eyelids as the night stretched on. Hyunjin sat on his bed, casual in a plain white shirt, his hair tousled but still perfectly styled.

“I still can’t believe you’re a K-pop idol,” Y/N said softly, disbelief coloring her tone. “Like, that kind of idol.”

Hyunjin chuckled quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… it’s kind of hard to believe sometimes. I don’t really look the part, do I?” His laugh was light but tinged with uncertainty.

She smiled, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “No, it’s not that. You just seem so normal.” She flushed as soon as the words slipped out. “I mean, not that you’re not special—just... you don’t have that superstar vibe. You’re just you. And honestly, that’s nice.”

There was a pause as Hyunjin absorbed her words, his eyes softening. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, thoughts drifting. She had a way of making everything seem effortless. She didn’t try to impress. She simply was. And that was captivating.

“Well, that’s the hard part sometimes,” he said quietly, the playful tone gone. “People expect perfection when you’re in the spotlight. But I’m just me. And sometimes... that doesn’t feel like enough.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the raw vulnerability in his voice. “I get it. You’re more than what people see on stage. You’re a person. And that’s more than enough.”

His smile was soft, almost shy, eyes briefly flicking away before meeting hers again. “Thanks, Y/N. You’re one of the few who makes me feel that way.”

Her chest tightened at the honesty. How much of his life was public, and how little of himself he could share? And here, in this quiet moment, they were sharing pieces of their true selves.

She smiled gently. “I’m glad. You’re really important, Hyunjin. To a lot of people.”

His smile lingered, something unspoken passing between them—tender, intense. He wanted to say more but let the silence hold the space.

As the night deepened, Y/N grew sleepy. Her eyes drooped, struggling to stay open. Hyunjin noticed, his smile deepening.

“Y/N,” he said softly, voice low and soothing, “are you getting tired?”

She yawned, sheepishly. “Yeah... I’m sorry. I just can’t stay awake. You’ve kept me up too late.” She giggled quietly.

His lips curved in an affectionate smile, eyes soft. “It’s okay. You don’t have to stay up for me.”

She shifted under the covers, surrendering to the sleepiness. “I’m fine. I’m just really glad we’re talking.”

His smile softened even more, intimate. “Me too, Y/N. I’m really glad you’re in my life.”

And with that, she finally gave in. Her eyes fluttered closed as he watched her breathing slow. The sound of her soft sighs filled the quiet. She was asleep.

For a moment, Hyunjin stayed still, watching her peaceful face on the screen. His chest tightened with something unfamiliar but familiar all at once.

He reached for the sketchbook beside him, part of his nightly routine when his mind was too full. He hadn’t planned to draw her. Not consciously. But as his pencil met the paper, her image began to form.

He sketched her as he saw her—delicate features, lips parted gently in sleep, soft hair framing her face. There was a beauty in her letting go, a calm he admired. The more he drew, the deeper his feelings revealed themselves in every line and shadow.

He’d never drawn anyone like this before. It was like he could see her in a way words never could. She was warmth, light, and a breathtaking kind of beauty.

When he finished, he leaned back, staring at the sketch as if it held a secret. His heart ached with the truth it showed—his feelings for her, laid bare.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Days passed before they saw each other again. Though they spoke daily, a quiet tension lingered, something unspoken between them.

One afternoon, they sat together on a blanket at the Han River, the city skyline stretching beyond. The only sound was the gentle rush of water. The moment felt suspended in time, just for them.

Hyunjin watched her, a gentle smile playing on his lips, but his eyes held something else a hesitation, an unspoken question.

Y/N noticed and tilted her head. “What’s on your mind, Hyunjin?”

He blinked, shaking off the momentary trance. “I was just thinking about... how much I like being with you.”

Her heart skipped. She smiled warmly. “I enjoy spending time with you, too.”

They sat quietly before Y/N spoke again, curiosity flickering in her voice. “You never really showed me one of your songs. You talk about them, but you’ve never played me any.”

His expression softened. He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Yeah, I guess I’ve been avoiding that. But... maybe you can hear one now.”

He handed her his headphones, their fingers brushing lightly, sending a shiver through her. She slipped them on, adjusting the volume as he pressed play.

Soft acoustic guitar filled her ears, followed by his smooth, tender voice.

The song was slow and full of emotion. His raw honesty felt like it was meant just for her—not flashy or loud, but lingering deep in the soul.

As the lyrics played, Y/N held her breath, her heart quietly hoping the song was about her.

“I don’t need anything but you,

I don’t need anything but you.”

The song ended. She took off the headphones, heart racing, looking at him.

“I... don’t know what to say,” she whispered. “That was... beautiful.”

He smiled softly, though his eyes held a guarded look. “I’m glad you like it.”

Her heart fluttered again. “Is it... about someone?”

He shook his head, brushing hair from his face. “Maybe... who knows.”

She nodded, hope quietly blossoming inside. Maybe it was her—the song, the feelings, the quiet confession.

Later, as the sun dipped and painted the sky pink and orange, Hyunjin drove her home. The car was filled with peaceful silence, heavy with unspoken words.

“I had fun today,” she said, turning to him.

He nodded, eyes flickering between her lips and eyes. “Yeah. I always have fun with you. You’re just... special.”

The silence grew thick, electric.

Neither knew who leaned in first, but their lips met—slow, deliberate, a kiss that didn’t last long but held everything.

They pulled apart, faces still close.

Hyunjin looked at her with a softness that made her heart thud painfully.

“Y/N... I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, voice low and serious. “The kiss... I—”

She blinked, surprised by the apology. “Hyunjin... you don’t have to apologize.”

He bit his lip. “I don’t want to mess things up. I don’t want to rush anything.”

She smiled faintly, voice gentle. “We don’t have to talk about it. It’s okay.”

He nodded, relief flickering in his eyes. Leaning in once more, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Hyunjin.”

And just like that, he was gone—leaving her standing with a full heart and the quiet promise of something beautiful beginning between them.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The next night, the apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner. Hyunjin stood in the center of his bedroom, taking in the scene he’d carefully prepared. Candles flickered along the windowsill, casting a warm glow that danced across the walls. A bouquet of fresh flowers sat on the nightstand, their scent blending with the subtle vanilla from the candles. On the bed, his carefully arranged snacksthe ones he knew were her favorites—waited.

He glanced at the clock. She would be here any minute now. His heart pounded with anticipation, mixed with a flutter of nerves. Tonight was special. He’d planned every detail, wanting to create a safe, intimate space just for them.

When the doorbell rang, he hurried to open it. There she was smiling brightly, eyes wide as she took in the scene.

“Hyunjin, this is beautiful,” she whispered, turning to look at him.

He smiled, feeling a soft blush rise to his cheeks. “I wanted tonight to be special.”

They settled on the bed, wrapped in the warm candlelight, and started watching a K-drama. But Hyunjin found himself distracted by her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled—it all held him captive.

After a while, he turned to her, heart beating fast. “Y/N,” he said, voice a little shaky, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

She looked at him, curious and maybe a little nervous.

“I… I really enjoy spending time with you,” he admitted, searching her eyes. “You mean more to me than I ever thought possible. And I just wanted you to know… I like you. A lot.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was tender, full of everything neither had said out loud. They pulled back slowly, foreheads resting together.

“I feel the same way, Hyunjin,” she whispered.

Their lips met again, this time deeper, more hungry but still gentle. He pulled her close with such tenderness it made her chest ache. His hands smoothed over her back as he lifted her onto his lap, their bodies fitting together like two missing pieces of a quiet dream.

Slowly, he helped her out of her sweater, eyes never leaving hers.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, like speaking any louder might break the moment.

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she reached for him, tugging gently at the fabric of his shirt until it slipped off his shoulders. Her palms traced over the warm skin of his chest, learning him every curve and line.

They kissed again, deeper now. More sure. Hyunjin’s mouth moved down her jaw, over her throat, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses like he was memorizing every inch of her skin. She shivered beneath his touch as his hands roamed her waist, fingers curling around the waistband of her shorts, sliding them down slowly.

Everything about him was careful. Intentional.

No rush. No pressure. Just the quiet rhythm of two people choosing each other.

When they were finally bare, skin against skin, he paused forehead resting against hers, breath shallow, lips barely brushing.

“If you want to stop—”

“I don’t,” she whispered. “I want you.”

He eased her back into the pillows, kissing her slowly, deeply, as he moved over her. His body slid against hers in a rhythm as natural as breathing, every movement slow, unhurried, like they were writing a love letter with their touch.

He stayed still after he bottomed out, holding close, waiting for her permission to move.

She nodded. His thrusts were slow, making sure she felt everything—and she did. Her legs curled around him, anchoring him to her, hands spread across his back as he moved inside her.

“Hyunjin… close,” she moaned, nails raking down his skin.

“Me too… it’s okay, let go,” he whispered, steady and reassuring.

She gasped his name softly into the warm space between their mouths. He kissed her through it, whispering promises how good she felt, how beautiful she was, how much she meant to him.

The pressure built slowly, rising like a tide, until they both unraveled together—quiet, breathless, trembling—holding onto each other like they never wanted to let go.

Afterward, they stayed still.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, brushing her hair back.

She nodded, pressing a kiss to his skin. “I’ve never felt more safe.”

He closed his eyes, holding her tighter.

In that moment, there was no past to fear, no future to chase—just this.

Just her.

He didn’t say “I love you.” Not yet.

But the way he held her said everything.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, the candlelight casting gentle shadows around them.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Their days blended into shared moments cooking together, late-night talks, spontaneous adventures. Hyunjin treasured every second, feeling more complete than ever before.

She loved him. She couldn’t imagine life without him. Even during practice, she would sit quietly in the studio, eyes always on him, watching him dance.

Over time, she grew close to the other members too. They welcomed her with open arms, sharing jokes and stories, making her feel like family.

He loved her more than words could say. She was his world, his muse, his everything.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

One evening, they went out for dinner. Afterward, under the shimmering city lights, they hailed an Uber and slipped into the backseat, hands intertwined.

“I can’t believe how happy I am,” Hyunjin said, turning to her. “These past few months have been the best of my life.”

She smiled, squeezing his hand. “Me too.”

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I love you so much.”

Suddenly, a blinding light filled the car, followed by screeching tires and a deafening crash.

She didn’t understand what was happening—one minute everything hurt, the next, everything went black.

Chaos surrounded him. The world spun. Pain seared through his body. He tried to move, to reach for her, but his limbs were heavy, unresponsive.

“I can’t see her... I can’t move... I can’t hear her...” panic flooded his mind.

Summoning all his strength, he shouted her name into the darkness before exhaustion took over.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the hospital room as Hyunjin slowly opened his eyes.

The lights were too bright. The sheets too white. Everything too clean, too cold. His throat felt like sandpaper, his chest heavy, as if something invisible was pressing down on it.

He blinked slowly, groggy, and turned his head a little too fast. Pain ricocheted behind his eyes and down his spine. A nurse rushed over, her hand steadying his shoulder to keep him from moving too quickly.

“You’re awake,” she said softly, her voice fragile, like she was afraid he might break. “You’ve been unconscious for two days.”

Two days?

Panic thundered through him sharp, immediate.

“The car—Y/N,” he rasped. “Where is she? Is she okay?”

The nurse hesitated. Her eyes dropped, like she couldn’t meet his gaze. “She’s in a coma,” she said carefully. “There was head trauma. The doctors are doing everything they can… but it’s unclear if she’ll wake. And if she does, there’s a chance her memory may not return.”

The words hit him like a punch to the chest. His stomach dropped. Everything blurred the beeping monitors, the cold walls they all tilted around him.

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no. She—she was laughing. She was right there. She can’t—”

Tears came without warning. Hot, violent. His hands trembled as he pulled at the blanket, as if getting up seeing her would make this unreal.

But it was real.

And the guilt blossomed deep in his gut sharp, vile, unrelenting.

He was released from the hospital two days later with a few stitches on his forehead and a bruised rib. But he didn’t go home.

He went to her.

Every day.

Room 413. The numbers etched themselves into his memory, more permanent than any lyric he’d ever written.

She didn’t move.

She didn’t speak.

But Hyunjin did.

He sat by her bedside, holding her hand like it was the only real thing left.

“Hi, angel,” he whispered one day, voice raw. “It’s me again. You probably know that by now.” His voice cracked. “You always said I talked too much—that I’d ramble and never shut up. So maybe this will make you wake up, just to tell me to be quiet again.”

He chuckled through tears. “I’d take anything, Y/N. Anything at all.”

He brought her tulips—her favourite and set them by the window, even though she couldn’t see them. Played their favorite songs. Talked about the café, the night they painted each other’s favorite flowers. Told her their life’s story in color, hoping it would reach her.

One night, he brought his sketchbook and drew her lying there—so still, so quiet. Then he tore the page out and burned it.

Because that wasn’t her.

That wasn’t the girl who danced around his kitchen in socks, laughing until she cried. That wasn’t the girl who teased him about his dramatic monologues or traced his collarbone with sleepy affection.

That wasn’t his Y/N.

So he drew her again. This time as he remembered her in motion, laughing, eyes wide and bright. Alive.

Hyunjin pressed the sketchbook to his chest, exhaling shakily. “The doctors said… they said your memory might never come back. That if you wake up, you might not know me.”

His heart clenched. He’d played the thought over and over, but it still tore him apart.

“I don’t care,” he said suddenly, tears streaming. “You can forget every moment, every laugh, every look. I’ll remind you. I’ll do it all again. Just… stay. Please.”

He leaned over and kissed her forehead gently, afraid even that was too much.

“I’ll forever love you.”

And he meant it.

The day she woke, he almost didn’t believe it.

He’d been sitting beside her bed, head bowed, sketching the curve of her wrist when he felt the slightest pressure on his fingers.

He froze.

Then her hand twitched.

His heart skipped a beat.

“Y/N?” His voice was fragile, barely a whisper.

Her eyelids fluttered. Her lips parted as she took a shallow, shuddering breath.

Then her eyes opened.

Confused. Cloudy. Empty.

“Who… who are you?” she whispered.

Hyunjin’s world cracked in two.

He felt his soul quietly tear apart.

But still, he smiled.

He smiled through the ache, through the heartbreak that tasted like blood and salt.

“I’m Hyunjin,” he said softly. “Your boyfriend.” His heart broke with the words. “I’m the boy who loves you so much…”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

She didn’t remember their first coffee date.

Or the painting studio.

Or the night he lit candles in his room and nervously asked her to be his girlfriend.

But she remembered the feeling of safety when he sat beside her. She remembered how her chest felt lighter when he smiled. How his laugh stirred something inside her something buried beneath the fog of forgetfulness.

He told her everything. Bit by bit.

The café. The way she teased him about his awful sock choices. Their picnic at Han River. The song he wrote for her.

He showed her pictures. Videos. Paintings.

Each one was a love letter.

Though she smiled, giggled sometimes, and leaned her head on his shoulder, something behind her eyes always flickered with sadness.

She was falling for him again.

But she didn’t remember falling the first time.

And that haunted her.

“I’m not her,” she said one day, voice cracking. “I’m not the girl you fell in love with.”

“You’re still you,” he whispered. “You laugh the same. You tilt your head the same when you’re curious. You care. That’s you. That’s always been you.”

“But I can’t remember loving you,” she said. “And it hurts to see how much you love me. Because I’m still trying to learn your name.”

They cried together that day.

Held each other like it was all they had.

She asked him to move on.

He refused.

“I can’t,” he said. “I’ve tried imagining life without you, and it’s just noise. You’re the only melody I’ve ever really known.”

That day, Hyunjin had to go to practice for the first time in weeks. The weight of leaving her alone tore at him, but she smiled and said she’d be fine.

“I’ll be here,” she promised.

He sent her a message before rehearsal: I’ll be at the hospital in 20. Bringing your favorite snacks. I love you.

But when he arrived, Room 413 was empty.

He blinked, stepped back into the hallway, and asked the nurse.

“She checked herself out about an hour ago,” the woman said gently. “She didn’t leave a number. Just said she needed time.”

Time.

Time had already taken so much.

His steps faltered as he returned to the room. He collapsed onto the bed, still holding the shape of her body.

There, on the pillow, was a photograph of the two of them. The one he kept in his wallet—the one they’d taken outside the bookstore, tulips in her hands, his arm around her.

Beside it, folded carefully, was one of the paintings he’d done of her. The one where she was smiling, eyes closed, bathed in golden light.

She took nothing else.

She didn’t say goodbye.

His knees buckled. He sank to the floor, clutching the photo and the painting to his chest as sobs tore through him.

“She left,” he choked out. “She left.”

The walls didn’t answer. The world didn’t stop.

He cried until his voice was gone.

Until his heart felt hollow.

Until all that remained was her scent, faint on the sheets, and the cruel echo of silence.

His love.

His muse.

His everything.

Gone.

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lucydixon · 18 days ago

Text

An Adventure

This is Part 2 of Welcome to Hellfire, which you can find here.

Summary: You offer to stay back and help Eddie clean up and two of you end up plotting an adventure

Once the excitement died down, the little ones had to rush home for curfew after profusely thanking you for coming, and the rest of the boys were stumbling out into the crowd leaving the pep rally, leaving just you and Eddie in the room.

The two of you just stared at each other for a minute, still standing on opposite ends of the table, smiling.

“Thanks for letting me play,” you said finally, looking like you really meant it. “Still not sure I actually understood any of it, but I had a lot of fun.”

“Letting you play?” He scoffed, “Sweetheart, you carried the game.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you felt butterflies fluttering against your ribs.

“Might have to recruit you,” Eddie added.

“I think I’ve got a lot to learn before I’m worthy of your special club.” You chuckled, pressing your thumb to each fingertip on one hand in succession.

“I dunno, I think you’re a fast learner.” He smirked, “Managed to learn enough in an afternoon to beat my campaign on your first try.”

“Beginners' luck.” You shrugged coyly. “Need help cleaning up?”

“You don’t have to do that.” He waved you off, “Bad enough you got kidnapped and held hostage, I won't sentence you to hard labour on top of it.”

“I really don’t mind.” You wondered briefly if he wanted you to leave. “Unless you’d rather be alone. I don’t want to impose on your post-game ritual.”

“No spring break-eve party plans?” He raised a brow.

“Not really,” you admitted, “was just gonna roam the streets, looking for trouble.”

“Yeah?” He huffed out a laugh. “Better keep you busy then.”

You started collecting all the empty cans and candy wrappers while he rounded up the dice and very carefully folded up the map.

“Did you make all this stuff?” You asked, scooping up a little painted figurine.

“Not all by myself,” He shrugged. “The other guys helped.”

“It’s really cool.”

“Cool?” he scoffed. “I think you’re the first girl to ever refer to DND as ‘cool’.”

“I dunno, maybe if they got to actually see it. I’d never heard of it before today.”

“Not a subscriber to the belief of the satanic panic?”

“Nah,” you sighed, “I’m more a live and let live type.”

“I’ve gotta know.” He said after a minute, “What did you whisper to that dice?”

“You’d be surprised what a wholehearted ‘please’ can accomplish,” you smiled, “no secret mantra, just a please.”

Eddie wondered what a ‘please’ could get him with you.

There wasn’t anything else to clean up, and Eddie knew that you had your own car, so he couldn’t offer to drive you home to stretch his time with you.

“Do you really wanna learn?” He asked. “How to play?”

“Is Eddie Munson offering to give me DND lessons?” You gasped theatrically.

“I'd give you any kind of lesson you want if it gets me within ten feet of you this spring break.” Eddie blurted suddenly.

Your lips parted in shock, and for a second, he was kicking himself for believing Henderson and Wheeler.

But then they stretched into a grin, and he felt like he could breathe again.

“Could just ask me to hang out.” You told him. “Ten feet’s a little far for my taste, but baby steps, I guess.”

“Yeah?” He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Kinda only came in the first place cause the littles said you were the Dungeon Daddy or whatever.” One side of your mouth quirked up into a smirk when he made a choking noise.

“You mean Dungeon Master?” He swallowed hard.

You just shrugged noncommittally and watched his cheeks turn pink as he cleared his throat.

“Wanna hang out right now?”

“Pretty sure we’re already hanging out, Eddie.” You laughed.

“You don’t have to be home or anything?”

“I don’t have anyone waiting up for me,” You smirked. “Are you proposing an adventure?”

“I might be.”

“Okay,” Eddie flicked the lights off on your way out of the drama room, “Logistics. We have two vehicles, one destination.”

“One vehicle.” Your cheeks immediately warmed.

“What about your car?” his brows pulled together.

“It was removed from my possession.” You grimaced, “and will not be returned to me.”

“That sounds like the start of a really good story.” He glanced over at you while the two of you wandered down the empty hallways of Hawkins High.

“How’d you know I have a car?” You side-stepped the question and narrowed your eyes.

“Lucky guess.” He answered far too quickly.

“Liar.”

“You know, we’ve got classes together.” Eddie shoulder-checked one of the doors leading to the parking lot, then held it open for you.

“I’m well aware.” You laughed

“I am also well aware.” He muttered without looking at you before opening the passenger door to his beaten-up van. “Like, arguably, too aware.”

“Really?” You paused and looked up at him, so close that you could reach out and touch him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” He countered.

“You’ve got this larger than life personality,” you told him, “It’s intimidating.”

“You don’t seem very shy to me.”

He wondered if you just didn’t want to be seen with him in the daylight. His chest ached at the thought.

“Usually, I’m really not.” You chuckled, climbing into the passenger seat. “But usually, I’m not trying to come up with a reason to go talk to the cute metalhead who sits across the classroom. You’re far too cool for me, Eddie Munson. I had no idea I was even on your radar.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes playfully before jogging around the front of the van and throwing himself into the driver's seat.

“I'm starting to think you haven't got a good grasp on the word cool.” He chuckled, turning the key in the engine.

The van sputtered to life, and you just about jumped out of your seat when Judas Priest started blaring through the speakers so loud that you could feel your teeth rattle.

“Sorry!” Eddie shouted over the noise and rushed to turn it down, taking in your wide eyed, startled took “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You laughed finally. “Jesus, though. You’re gonna blow your eardrums with it cranked that loud. Have you always got it on full blast?”

“Pretty much.” He smiled sheepishly. “Not off to a good start, am I?”

“Would’ve been a better start if you weren’t listening to Judas Priest.”

“You know who that was?” His brows shot up so far that they disappeared in his bangs.

“Unfortunately, yes.” You sighed dramatically. “I can’t take Rob Halford’s screeching.”

“What else have you got?” Your eyes scanned the front of the van until Eddie reached behind his seat and procured a little box of cassette tapes for you to rifle through, still looking a little stunned.

You turned one of them over and smiled softly to yourself before swapping out the tapes.

He was so mesmerized by the way you were fiddling with his radio like you’d been in his van a hundred times that he didn’t bother glancing at what you’d selected for the adventure he’d promised.

“There we go.” You muttered, hitting play.

Ace of Spades, by Motörhead, crackled through the speakers, and you turned it up just enough to be able to talk over it.

“Much better.”

“Eddie?” Your brows pulled together slightly when he just stared at you. “Are you alright?”

“What?” He snapped out of his trance and spoke a little too loudly.

“You spaced out.”

“Oh,” Eddie cleared his throat and shot you a playful grin. “Sorry, I was just planning our wedding.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you beamed back at him.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He scoffed, facing the road as he rolled forward. “That’s top secret information.”

You didn’t argue and settled into your seat, rolling your eyes while he sped out of the parking lot, seemingly unfazed by his erratic driving, which didn’t come as much of a surprise, seeing as he’d watched you tear out of the very same lot what felt like a hundred times.

“You know, I’m not gonna hurt you or like, sacrifice you or anything. Right?” He felt the need to say.

“What?” Your head snapped to the side, and he could only take the bewildered look on your face for a half second before looking away. “Why would you say that?”

“I dunno,” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear, clearly in his head, “I’ve kind of kidnapped you and now I’m taking you to an undisclosed location. That doesn’t scare you? I know what people say about me.”

“Enough with the kidnapping.” You groaned loudly, “If I didn’t wanna be here, I wouldn’t be.”

“I know you’re not gonna hurt me.” You added “It’s fucked up that those assholes made you feel like you have to ask.”

“I’m not scared of you, Eddie.” Your voice softened, and it soothed the ache in his chest.

“Besides,” you said after a couple of minutes had gone by, “I’m pretty sure I could take you in a fight.”

‘You think so?” His voice was laced with amusement, but you could see in the momentary glance he’d shot in your direction that he was grateful for the change of subject. “I dunno. I’ve got a good foot on you.”

“That just makes you slower,” you insisted with a playful glare.

“Yeah, but I’m a wildcard, sweetheart.” He scoffed, back to his boisterous self, “You’ll always be one step behind.”

Again with the pet names.

This man was going to ruin you.

“Lover’s Lake?” You chuckled when Eddie turned onto the familiar, unmarked road. “How romantic.”

His cheeks burned, but he let his hair fall in front of them in hopes that you wouldn't see.

He was having a little bit of trouble discerning whether or not your impromptu adventure was a date. You seemed interested, and he was pretty sure you were flirting with him, but he was still wary of making any moves in case he’d entirely misunderstood your kindness for something more.

“I would have expected more cars with it being the first night of spring break and all,” You muttered, leaning forward to glance around the desolate lake.

“Championship Basketball game, too.” He reminded you, rolling to a stop and shifting the van into park, “Lots of parties tonight.”

As soon as he’d fought his way out of his seatbelt, to your amusement, Eddie rolled into the back of the van and procured a room-temperature six-pack of beer.

“Should we have our own little party?”

Dividers by @saradika-graphics GIF by @cowboylikemunson

Part 3 Masterlist

Tag request: @walleloveseve

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic #eddie munson au #eddie stranger things #stranger things x reader #eddie the freak munson #eddie x you #stranger things #eddie munson fluff #stranger things eddie #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson stranger things

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no-144444 · 1 month ago

Text

always does- i.hadjar

꩜summary: as isack's best friend, you're a little oblivious until you're not

꩜pairing: isack hadjar x fem! reader

You never understood why Isack kept you so close-by (in a metaphorical sense, of course). You were his best friend, yeah. You didn’t wander away from him, even when he moved. You just… worked through the distance and the time differences, and you were as strong as before. You didn’t pull away too much when he had a girlfriend and you didn’t expect him to pull away too much when you got a boyfriend. When you guys were together, you were there to be together in whatever you were doing. It didn’t matter if it was a simple walk, or a day out at a theme park, time together was few and far between, so you had to make it count. Your other friends stepped back for the day, Isack stood or sat by your side, his hand brushing yours until he eventually took it. And you’d stay like that. Sleep in the same bed. Make morning coffee together. Brush your teeth together. Domestic shit, but it didn’t matter. Isack and you weren’t like that, you never would be.

Obviously, you knew he was hot. Anyone with eyes and a brain saw the fact that he was conventionally attractive. But you never had that switch in your mind that your other friends had with their guy friends. They spoke about it like some day they just started seeing them differently. Like it was quick. Like it was a snap of fingers, and suddenly you're in love with him. It wasn’t the same for you. Isack was just… Isack. Your Isack. The Isack who bought you ice cream and held your hand walking down the streets of Venice, and that same Isack who would push you into the bushes in his back garden when you raced each other. He hadn’t changed much, just got taller, his voice got deeper, and he was an F1 driver. You hadn’t changed much either, ass and tits, hair longer than when you were five, and you finally didn’t work on the other side of the world, you were in Paris and he was in Monaco.

“Come to Monaco,” he begged over the phone. “I’m so bored on my own and it’s so weird here.”

“I literally told you so, Isack,” you chuckled. “And anyway, I’ve a date this weekend, so I’m busy.”

He stopped. “A date? Like with a guy?” he asked. “Why do you have a date?”

You scoffed. “Wow, thanks. And it’s just this guy who asked for my number at work. He’s sweet.”

“Seriously?” he scoffed. You didn’t notice the way his chest tightened and his jaw clenched. You didn’t see the way his breath hitched. “Just reschedule, please. I want you here.”

A younger you would’ve given in with the way he pouted, but you had a date. A date you wanted to attend. “No can-do pretty boy,” you shook your head, and he nearly passed out from the pet name. You didn’t see it, but caught a glimpse of the time. “Oh shit, I better go. Work,” you sighed, getting up. You didn’t wait for an answer. “Love you,” you smiled into your phone camera and hung up, knowing he'd say it back.

“You’re so fucked for her, aren’t you?” Liam chuckled, sitting beside Isack. It pulled him out of the small world he created on the phone with you. When he saw your apartment, he just thought of the nights he spent there, the smell of the vanilla candles, the warm lights, the wool blankets, you. Isack groaned, putting his phone back into his pocket and looking at his hands. He didn’t like to talk about it. He didn’t really know what to say about it. “Talk,” Liam shrugged. “What’s going on?” “Nothing,” he shrugged. “That’s the problem.”

“She doesn’t like you back?” he asked, cracking open a can of redbull and handing it to him, then opening one for himself.

He sighed. “She doesn’t. She doesn’t notice me. I’m just her best friend.”

“Have you talked to her about it?” Liam asked.

“How am I supposed to admit something like that?” he questioned. “What if she hates me and doesn’t ever want to talk to me again? What if I lose her completely?”

It was his worst fear. More scary than crashing the car, than losing his seat, than anything. He couldn’t lose you. He refused.

“I think you need to evaluate what you want and whether or not you can keep going like this,” Liam offered. “And I’m happy to listen more, if you need it.”

Since when was Liam so philosophical? He listened to Zach Bryan for god’s sake. He got up, tapped Isack on the shoulder, and left him to ruminate.

He remembered the exact moment he’d fallen for you. You were 15. You had come to visit him at Spa for one of his F4 races, and he’d won. He ran out of the car. You were waiting at the barrier. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. You stood there, looking so proud, so caring, so you. He couldn’t get enough. He’d race the hell out of any car anyone handed him if it meant he saw that look on your face. And you’d hugged him. You’d kissed his cheek. You stayed up all night celebrating and fell asleep beside him. You didn’t question the way he was looking at you, because maybe he’d always looked at you like that. Maybe it was just him realising then.

But you didn’t feel the same, and that was fine. He didn’t care. Well, he cared a lot, but he wasn’t going to make it your problem.

Quali was long and which was good and bad. Good, because it meant he was starting 4th in Monaco, which was incredible. Bad, because it meant he didn’t have his phone on him to track your location and watch your date play out in real time. Which is a totally normal thing to do, right?

He jumped out of the car, searching for Liam, or Ollie, or someone to talk to about how shitty the tires would be the next day, but he turned his head to the left and caught a glimpse of a face he knew all too well.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” he practically squealed. Ollie would have laughed, but he didn’t care. He wrapped his arm around your waist, lifting you up and against him. “Holy shit,” he breathed into your hair. Like he didn’t believe you were real. Like he couldn’t trust his senses.

And it was like your eyes opened.

You liked sleeping in the same bed as Isack. You like brushing your teeth beside him. You like the way he treats you. You liked the way he had kissed you on your 18th birthday when you were both wine drunk in Paris, walking along the river.

You froze for a moment. You didn’t let him go. He didn’t seem to care, though he untucked his head from your neck and stared at you, confused. “Are you alright?” he asked, his face changing to panic. “Y/n.”

“You’re incredible!” you shook yourself back into the moment, as if you hadn’t just had the most insane realisation of your life. “4th in fucking Monaco!”

He chuckled, his panic easing. “I know right,” he smirked. “I might just have to be your favourite driver now.”

“Of course you are,” you rolled your eyes. “Always have been,” he didn’t recognise the way you were looking at him, but he welcomed it all the same. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

“You’re quiet,” he whispered, nudging your arm with his own. The paddock was loud and full of his name, but he still noticed you. Well, it would be hard no to, for him. “What’s up?”

You looked down, seeing where your foot collided with his in a constant, soft game of footsies. “Nothing, the sky,” you listed, stifling a giggle. He rolled his eyes and looked up, sighing. It gave you time to look at him. Notice the way his neck had gotten bigger, see the progress he’d made with his training, observe his bulging biceps and arms. Holy shit you had it bad for him, maybe all your mates were right? No, it couldn’t be. Because it wasn’t fast. You’d slowly fallen for him, over a matter of years. Slowly, you’d gotten used to the small things he does for you, you appreciated the hugs and cheek kisses, the protective arm around your shoulder every now and then, that stupid laugh you’d fallen so hard for. It wasn’t this quick, free-fall. It was slow, like a leaf falling down in the autumn wind. It was different. It was Isack. “I don’t know. This weekend just feels… different. Maybe you’ll get on that podium.”

He chuckled, turning to face you. “I think something’s gone to your head,” he teased. “You sure it’s redbull in that can?”

You scoffed, playfully pushing him. “Never say never. Some things change, even when we don’t expect them too.”

He stared at you, seeing that look in your eye again. “We’re alright?” he questioned.

You nodded. “Always.”

And once again, you walked away, leaving Isack all alone with his feelings. Liam always walked by at the right time, it was disturbing. “She’s in love with you, mate.”

Isack jumped, not hearing his teammate join him on the bench (he was too busy looking at you longingly). “What the fuck-?!”

“She has it bad for you mate, I know these things,” he nodded. “You should ask her out, she’ll say yes.”

“Do you remember any of our conversation from the other day?” He stared at him in disbelief as Liam shrugged. “And, I didn’t even think she was coming this weekend so what has changed between then and now, huh?” he questioned, his accent coming out the more he spoke.

Liam cleared his throat. “Exactly mate, you’re welcome,” he smiled. “Nothing like an unrequited love story in Monaco, anything can happen here.”

“You brought her here?” Isack’s jaw dropped. “For what?!”

“For you, you fucking loser,” Liam chuckled. “Talk to her! Ask her out! Take control of your destiny!” the more he spoke the less Isack knew what he was saying. He stared at him dumbstruck as he walked off, winking at him.

What a strange weekend.

Every bone in his body ached to fall into bed, but he just couldn’t sleep. He’d tried everything. Meditation. Breathing exercises. Tea. that navy sleep technique. Visualisations. And now, walking the dark streets of Monaco. The barriers were up. The fanstands were empty, but by tomorrow morning they’d be full. And he’d be in a car on the second row. Part of him couldn’t believe it. Part of him didn’t want to. He had trouble sometimes with taking pride in his work, maybe because in his mind it was an obligation more than an ambition. He didn’t think he’d be truly happy with his career until he lifted that Championship trophy. It didn’t matter how many races he won, how many people called him the goat, or what people said about him. If he didn’t have that trophy it wasn’t worth it. His life’s work wasn’t worth it. And that scared the shit out of him.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you spoke and he turned his head in disbelief. “Missed me too much already?”

You had gone to bed earlier than him, and he didn’t have a chance to offer you his bed. Which was fine. But there you were, standing there in the streets he knew like the back of his hand (well, the hairpin he knew like the back of his hand), wearing your pyjamas out in the mild Monaco air. You couldn’t have looked more beautiful. He took a deep breath. “Always,” he smirked, walking up to you. “What are you doing out here so late?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Do you always have to be so protective?” you chuckled. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You started walking in step with each other, your hand wrapping around his arm as you spoke. He cleared his throat. “Worried about tomorrow?” he asked, watching your side profile as you kept your eyes ahead.

You turned to him. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

There was humor in your voice but it fell flat against the tension between the two of you. He was close. Too close. So close. You could feel his breath on your cheek, and he didn’t step back. He just kept staring. Staring and staring at your face as if he hadn’t seen it a thousand and one times. Like he didn’t know the layout of it like he knew the layout of the track beside you. The streetlamps illuminated his eyes, the perfect shade of brown. God, you could’ve just gotten lost in that moment, staring at him, when saying nothing truly meant everything.

He leaned over and his lips met yours. Not like it was planned but, not like it wasn’t either. Just simple, passionate, soft, and delicate. His hand cupped your cheek like he’d bruise it if he touched you too roughly. You didn’t mind. You kissed him back, gently running your hands through his hair as you felt yourself back up against a barrier. He didn’t stop and neither did you.

“I love you,” he breathed out against your lips, not thinking clearly. He was drunk off the taste of you, off the moment. “I’ve loved you for a long time.”

You didn’t answer right away, slightly shocked at the confession. People had mentioned it, pointed it out, or blatantly told you that he was in love with you. You didn’t take it to heart. It was hard not to when his hands were on your face as he kissed you against a barrier in Monaco. Your hands fisted his t-shirt, pulling him closer. “I love you too,” your voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard it. He always did.

He pulled back with that soft smile on his face, fixing your pyjamas slightly. He looked at you with all the care in the world, but then again, he always did.

navigation for my blog :)

redbull & vcarb masterlist

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vrstual · 3 months ago

Text

ᯓ .ᐟ ⊹ The Girlfriend Contract

- part one.

ᯓ Pairing: Popular!Karina (Yu Jimin) × Cheerleader!Fem! Reader

ᯓ | When Jimin lies to her mom about being in a serious relationship, the last person she expects to drag into her mess is Y/n–the campus cheerleader she’s spent the last two years arguing with across lecture halls and parties. But now, to keep up appearances over the holidays, they have to fake date through family dinners, long car rides and even in school.

ᯓ Genre: Rivals to fake-dating to lovers, slow burn, college AU, family drama, soft angst, eventual fluff

ᯓ Warning: swearing, argument, a little toxic, family pressure.

ᯓ Content: 7k of words

part one. part two.

Yu Jimin wasn’t in love.

She’d made that clear enough times.

The guy from last week still texted her sometimes — a dumb meme or a photo of his cat — and she hadn’t blocked him, but she hadn’t replied either. Not because he did anything wrong. He just wasn’t what she wanted. No one ever was.

Not that her mom would believe that.

Jimin leaned against the kitchen counter, phone in one hand, a cooling cup of black coffee in the other.

She never understood how her best friend could be so different from her. Where she overthought, Heeseung floated. Nothing seemed to stick to him — not stress, not pressure, not the constant need to prove something. He just existed, unbothered and perfectly content in his own lane.

Sometimes she envied that. Other times, it annoyed the hell out of her.

She scrolled through her texts — mostly her group chat with Heeseung and some old party invites she never answered.

Half a pizza box balanced precariously on a pile of textbooks, a soda can sweated onto the corner of a magazine she never finished reading. The air smelled faintly like old takeout and peppermint gum.

“I swear to god, if Meredith cries one more time…” Heeseung muttered.

Jimin didn’t answer. She was too focused on the vibration of her phone lighting up again. It was her mother

Jimin stared at it for a second.

“You gonna answer that?” Heeseung asked, glancing over.

“She’s just gonna ask when I’m coming home,” Jimin muttered, already standing up. “And why I’m still single. Can’t wait.”

She slipped into her bedroom and closed the door gently behind her, pressing accept as she sank down onto the edge of her bed.

“Hi, Mom.”

Her mom’s voice was warm but clipped. “Jimin-ah. I’ve been calling.”

“I was busy. Sorry."

“Too busy to talk to your mother?” she teased lightly. “Are you still planning to come home on the 23rd?”

“Yeah. I already finished my suitcases."

A pause.

“You know, I don’t like you driving alone. That highway gets dangerous in the winter.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve done it every time to come home.”

“Just… you know I worry.” Her mom sighed.

Jimin nodded, even though her mom couldn’t see it.

“You don’t have to come alone, you know,” her mom said. “Wonyoung is bringing her girlfriend. They’ve been together almost a year now. Very sweet girl. Thoughtful. Studying medicine.”

Jimin didn’t reply.

“And Giselle’s new boyfriend is coming too, he's American. Apparently he’s learning Korean just for her. Isn’t that romantic?”

Still, silence.

“I just think… maybe it’s time you stopped pretending this doesn’t matter to you.”

Jimin blinked. “What doesn’t?”

“This. Being with someone who cares about you. You’re always so… distant. I know you’re busy with school, but you don’t even talk about anyone.”

“It's nothing to worry about, mom." Jimin said quietly.

Her mom sighed again — soft, but full of meaning. “I just want to see you happy, Jimin. That’s all. Not just smart, not just successful. Happy. With someone who looks at you like you matter.

That was the part that stuck. Jimin sat frozen for a beat too long, the lump forming quietly in her throat.

So she did what she always did when emotions got too close.

She lied.

“I’m not alone,” she said suddenly. “I… I’ve been seeing someone.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and for once, her mom sounded surprised.

“Oh? Really?” Excitement was running through her mother voice, she could sense it.

Jimin’s brain stalled. And then, without thinking, she said it.

“It's uh... Y/n."

A pause.

Her mom’s tone changed instantly — from excited to genuine curiosity.

“Y/n? That girl from the cheer team? The one from last summer Giselle's gala? She’s very pretty. I didn’t know you two were close, I thought you hated her."

Jimin forced a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Neither did I.”

“Well, I’m glad,” her mom said gently. “I really am. You could bring her over to Christmas you know!"

Jimin didn’t know what to say. She mumbled something about studying and hung up as soon as she could without seeming suspicious.

She sat in the quiet of her room afterward, staring at the floor.

Y/n?

Out of everyone?

She was so screwed.

Heeseung bit back a laugh, but it slipped out anyway — low and sharp. He couldn’t help it. For two years now, it had been tradition: every time Y/n’s name came up, he and Jimin would roll their eyes in sync, trading sarcastic commentary like it was a sport.

She’d complain about Y/N’s perfect routines, and he’d mock her perfect smile. It was a shared hobby at this point — hating on Y/n from the sidelines. So when Jimin stood in the doorway, looking vaguely shell-shocked and muttered, “I told my mom I’m dating her,” Heeseung practically choked on his drink.

“You’re joking,” he said between wheezes. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not—stop laughing, it’s not funny, Heeseung!” Jimin whined, smacking his shoulder with the back of her hand.

Heeseung doubled over, laughter spilling out now, almost gasping. “No, it’s hilarious. You? Dating Y/n? You’ve literally called her a walking ego devil in a cheer skirt.”

“That was one time,” Jimin muttered, crossing her arms.

“You said she practices her fake angelic smile in the mirror like a villain!"

"Okay, two times.”

Heeseung just shook his head, still grinning. “How the hell are you gonna fake-date someone you can’t even make it through a room with?”

Jimin flopped onto the couch with a groan. “I don’t know. But now my mom thinks we’re soulmates or something.”

“Well, good luck with her."

Jimin had been waiting—maybe an hour, maybe two—just outside the gym, tucked under the edge of the overhang by the side door. Rain slid off the roof in steady sheets, cold and relentless, soaking the tips of her shoes.

She’d run out of things to scroll through on her phone half an hour ago. Now all she could do was stare at the wet pavement and rehearse what she’d say.

“Hey, so this is going to sound insane, but I need you to pretend to date me for the sake of my mom’s sanity.”

No. Too direct.

“I told my mom I’m dating you, and now I might need your help not getting disowned.”

Even worse.

She exhaled, breath fogging in the cold. Practice usually ran late — Jimin knew that. She’d walked past the gym enough times to hear music blasting well past dinner. But it was really starting to feel like Y/N wasn’t coming out at all.

Maybe this was stupid. Maybe Y/N would laugh in her face. Or worse — tell the whole squad. Jimin could already picture it: her name and the word desperate flying through the hallways by tomorrow.

Still, she stayed. Because this was the only way. And if she didn’t ask — if she didn’t try — she’d be walking into Busan with a lie and no backup. That wasn’t an option.

The gym door creaked open. Jimin’s breath hitched.

There she was. Hoodie pulled over her cheer uniform, earbuds in, completely oblivious.

Jimin stepped out from under the overhang, heart pounding.

It was now or never.

“Y/n!” Jimin called out, but her voice barely cut through the rain — or the music playing through the girl’s headphones. “Y/n!”

Still nothing.

Frustrated, Jimin jogged forward, slipping slightly on the wet concrete before reaching out and grabbing Y/n’s shoulder. The other girl flinched, startled, twisting around sharply.

Y/n pulled one earbud out, blinking. “What the hell—?”

Jimin let go immediately, a little breathless. “Sorry. I just— I’ve been waiting.”

Y/N looked her up and down, taking in the damp hoodie, the ruined sneakers, the obvious nerves. Her brows lifted slightly. "Are you okay?"

Y/n didn't cared, in fact she was just confused.

“No,” Jimin admitted, voice sharp and awkward. “I mean, yes. Kind of. Can I talk to you? It’s… important.”

Y/N crossed her arms, skeptical but curious. “Did you really wait out here in the rain for me?”

Jimin nodded.

A beat passed.

“This better be good,” Y/n muttered, stepping back under the cover of the overhang. “Talk.”

“I thought we could discuss this in a café, it’s pouring rain and it’s—uh—cold…” Jimin said, her voice trailing off awkwardly as she realized how lame it sounded.

Y/N rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed, but the edge of a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "You’re gonna drag me out of the rain to talk in a café? What’s next? Do I get a flower and a soft jazz playlist too?”

Jimin rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the heat rise to her face. “No, it’s not like that. I just—It’s a lot to explain, okay?”

Y/N sighed but didn’t walk away. “Fine, whatever. Lead the way.”

Jimin exhaled in relief, hoping the warmth of a café would settle her nerves and that somehow, she could make this mess work.

“Okay, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” Y/N asked, her voice incredulous as they sat down in the café. She crossed her arms over her chest, still soaking wet but visibly irritated.

“It’s the first name that came to my mind, I swear!” she shot back, desperate to defend herself. “I panicked, okay?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Panic doesn’t usually make you pick someone you can’t stand and that can't stand you either!"

“I know, I know,” Jimin groaned, slumping in her seat. “But it just… happened. I thought I could get away with it. But then she—my mom—asked me to bring you home for Christmas.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, clearly thrown off. “What? Me? You want me to pretend we’re dating and then go home with you for Christmas? Unbelievable."

“Exactly,” Jimin muttered, looking anywhere but at her. “It’s not like I want to ask you, but… she’s really pushing it. And I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Y/N just stared at her, blinking slowly. “You’re asking me to fake-date you in front of your whole family… so your mom won’t be disappointed?”

“Please,” Jimin begged, her voice low. “I can’t go back home without some sort of backup. I can’t just let her think I’m this messed-up failure. You don’t know what she’s like.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment, then leaned back in her chair, still processing. “And what’s in it for me?”

Jimin bit her lip, her eyes flickering up to meet Y/n's. “I’ll do anything. Anything you want. Please.”

Y/n exhaled, a small smirk forming at the corner of her mouth. “Anything? Interesting…”

Jimin’s stomach dropped. “Yeah. I mean it.”

Y/N looked at her for a long, hard beat, and Jimin couldn’t tell if she was about to laugh in her face or agree. Finally, Y/n shrugged.

“Alright. I’ll help you out. But just so you know, I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it because I broke up with Jeno weeks ago and this will make him furious.”

Jimin let out a relieved breath. “Deal.”

A long pause.

Then Y/n spoke again, casually stirring the straw in her iced drink.

“So… what’s the storyline?” she asked, eyes narrowing just a bit. “What exactly are we supposed to do? Am I supposed to sell Minjeong on the idea that I fell for you in a night?”

Jimin sank further into her seat, visibly cringing. “I mean… yeah. Basically.”

Y/n snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I didn’t say it made sense!” Jimin shot back, flustered. “It was a heat-of-the-moment, life-flashing-before-my-eyes type of decision.”

Y/n leaned in a little, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Right. So what’s our epic love story, then? Did we bond over our mutual hatred for each other? A steamy hallway makeout after cheer competition?”

Jimin blinked. “…Wait, that’s not bad.”

Y/n raised a brow, deadpan. “You are so lucky I’m bored enough to play along." She sighed. "Let's at least make it romantic."

Jimin blinked at her. “Wait… you’re actually taking this seriously?”

“If I’m going to lie to your mom and sit through family dinners between your family members, yeah—might as well make it convincing.” Y/N shrugged, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “Besides, if I have to pretend to like you, I deserve Oscar-worthy levels of drama.”

Jimin scoffed, but there was the tiniest smile threatening to break through. “Fine. Romance it is.”

Y/n eaned forward, mock-serious. “So? What’s our meet-cute? Something dramatic. I want tension. A little forbidden energy. Give me the enemies to lovers arc.”

Jimin stared at her. “You want me to plot out a fake fanfic?”

“Exactly,” Y/N said with a satisfied nod. “You started this. Now we’re doing it right."

Y/n grinned, resting her chin on her palm as she eyed Jimin across the table.

“Also,” she added, voice almost playful, “I’ve always liked K-dramas with the worst tropes. So please, get creative.”

Jimin narrowed her eyes. “Worst tropes?”

Y/n nodded, unfazed. “Give me a tragic backstory. I want a dramatic rooftop scene. A tension-filled rain fight. Maybe even my jealous ex. I want to suffer.”

Jimin blinked. “You’re unhinged.”

“No,” Y/n said with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I’m committed to the bit.”

Jimin leaned forward, tapping her nails against her coffee cup. “Alright. New story. We met by accident. Late night. Campus convenience store.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“It’s pouring rain,” Jimin said, eyes distant like she was setting a scene in her head. “I was out of ramen. You were there for honey butter chips and cold brew.”

Y/n nodded slowly, already picturing it. “We reach for the same drink?”

“No,” Jimin smirked. “You drop your chips. I step on them. Instant tension.”

“Classic.”

“I apologize, kind of. You roll your eyes, say something smart. I snap back. But we’re both too tired to really argue. So we leave it there.”

Y/n sipped her drink, clearly invested now. “And then?”

“We run into each other again. Couple nights later. Same store. This time it’s late. Like, past midnight late. No one else around. You’re in sweats. I’m in my stupid hoodie. You ask if I always eat instant food this late.”

“And you say?”

"I say, 'Only when I can’t sleep.' And then you pause, just a second too long, and say, 'Same'"

Y/n smiled softly, leaning into the vibe. “So then what, we just keep running into each other?”

Jimin nodded. “Like fate. We never plan it, but somehow, we’re always there around the same time. We start sitting outside together. Talking. Bickering. You offer me your chips. I start bringing an extra drink.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Then something shifts.”

“Exactly,” Jimin said. “It’s three in the morning. We’re sitting on the curb, legs stretched out, talking about family and futures and shit we never tell anyone. You lean your head on my shoulder.”

Y/N blinked. “And that’s when we kiss?”

Jimin grinned. “Almost. But we don’t. Not yet. Just enough tension to make it hurt.”

“Oh, I love this one. It’s giving sad gay indie K-drama energy.”

“Right?” Jimin smirked. “Now we just have to convince my mom we’re emotionally intertwined and have a history that no one else could understand.”

Y/n smiled slowly. “She won’t stand a chance.”

The car ride to Busan started off in near silence. Rain tapped lazily against the windshield, and the highway stretched ahead like it was daring them to speak.

Jimin had one hand on the wheel, jaw tense. Y/n sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, headphones in — but the music was off. She just didn’t want to talk.

Until she did.

“You drive like you’re allergic to speed limits,” Y/n muttered, not even glancing over.

Jimin scoffed. “I’d rather get there fast than be stuck in this car with you for an extra hour.”

“Charming,” Y/n said dryly, turning to look at her. “Remind me again why I agreed to this?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jimin snapped, “maybe because you begged for a dramatic K-drama moment and I handed you one on a silver platter?”

“Right, because nothing says romance like you glaring at me every time I breathe too loud.”

“I’m driving,” Jimin bit back. “I need to focus.”

“You need to unclench.”

Jimin hit the signal light a little too aggressively and merged lanes. “If you hate this so much, you could’ve said no."

“If I said no, I wouldn’t get to witness you crash and burn in front of your family. That’s worth the ticket.”

They were quiet for a beat. Just the low hum of tires on wet road, the occasional flick of windshield wipers.

Then—

“You always think you’re so much better than everyone,” Jimin muttered, not looking at her.

Y/n blinked, taken off guard. “Excuse me?”

“You walk around like you own every hallway. Like no one can touch you. Even now, sitting in my car, doing me a favor, and still acting like you’re above it all.”

Y/n stared at her. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Maybe not,” Jimin shot back. “But you make it really easy to hate you.”

Another beat. The silence this time was heavier. Then Y/n laughed — just once. A dry, disbelieving sound.

“Well,” she said, settling back in her seat, “that makes two of us.”

Jimin’s fingers tightened on the wheel.

They didn’t speak for the next twenty minutes.

But their thoughts were loud.

“I don’t pretend anything,” Y/n said sharply, sitting up straighter. “You’re the one lying to your mom.”

“Oh my god,” Jimin muttered, eyes fixed on the road. “Are we really doing this right now?”

“You started it.”

“You agreed to this!”

“Because I thought it would be funny, not—this.” Y/n gestured vaguely, annoyed. “I thought we’d take a few fake couple pics, smile through some awkward dinners, go home. Not—argue like we’re married in your beat-up Hyundai on the highway to hell.”

“It’s a Kia,” Jimin snapped, glaring briefly. “And you made it personal.”

“I made it personal?” Y/N laughed, incredulous. “You’ve been picking fights with me since sophomore year.”

“Because you’re infuriating.”

“Because you take everything as a personal attack!”

They were both breathing hard now, voices raised, heat building fast.

Then—

“You’re exhausting,” Jimin muttered.

“So are you,” Y/n said, quieter this time, not quite looking at her.

A long stretch of silence settled between them again, except now their breathing had slowed, tension simmering instead of boiling.

Outside, the rain picked up. Inside, the heat from the vents started to fog the windows a little.

“…I didn’t mean to pick you,” Jimin said eventually, her voice low. “Your name just came out. I didn’t even think.”

Y/n looked at her out of the corner of her eye. “I know.”

“I guess,” Jimin continued, “if I’m honest, it’s because… you’re always there. Like, in my head. Whether I like it or not.”

Y/n's brows furrowed, confused. “So you hate me but I live rent-free in your mind?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Jimin groaned, but the corner of her mouth tugged upward anyway.

Y/n bit back a smirk, then looked away. “You’re still annoying.”

“You’re worse,” Jimin muttered.

A small pause.

Then Y/n spoke, softer. “Do I look okay?”

Jimin glanced over, confused. “What?”

“For your family,” she said. “Do I look like someone you’d… bring home?”

Jimin blinked at her, eyes flicking from her face to the slight slump of her shoulders.

And despite everything — the tension, the insults, the years of barely tolerating each other — she answered honestly.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “You do.”

Y/n didn’t say anything after that. But she smiled. Just a little.

And Jimin didn’t admit it, but she saw it in the reflection of the windshield.

That was the first time the silence between them felt almost peaceful.

Y/n was stressed.

She told herself she didn’t care — obviously she didn’t care — but the second Jimin put the car in park in front of the house, her chest tightened like it had something to prove.

It was just a stupid lie. A favor. One awkward week with Jimin’s polished Busan family, pretend to hold hands at dinner, maybe smile for a few photo. That was the plan.

So why did her palms feel clammy? Why did her heart jump into her throat the second Jimin looked over at her and said, quietly,

“We’re here.”

The house was bigger than she expected. Not mansion-big, but definitely expensive. Warm yellow lights glowed from the windows, laughter spilled faintly from inside, and the front door was already cracked open like they’d been watching the driveway all evening.

Jimin didn’t move to get out yet. She just sat there, keys still in the ignition, fingers twitching on her lap.

Y/n swallowed hard.

She was used to pretending.

It was her thing, actually.

Hide her true emotions. No one ever saw past it — not her teammates, not her classmates, not the girls she flirted with when she was bored and didn’t feel like going home.

And for the longest time, Y/n liked it that way.

But something about this felt different.

Maybe it was the way the front door swung open and warmth spilled out — real warmth.

Or maybe it was the fact that the second Jimin’s hand brushed against hers at the threshold — not even holding, just a touch — something inside her chest flinched.

Not in fear.

In recognition.

She was good at pretending. Always had been.

They stepped out of the car, the cold evening air biting at Y/n’s exposed skin. Jimin walked around to the trunk, popped it open, and pulled out the suitcases with a grunt. Y/n didn’t move to help—just stood there, arms crossed, watching with her usual unreadable expression.

Jimin rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

“What?” Y/n said, feigning innocence. “You looked like you had it handled.”

Jimin groaned under her breath, dragging the suitcase toward the walkway just as the front door burst open.

“Jimin, sweetie!” a voice called out, full of warmth and sugar and just a pinch of chaos.

A woman rushed out into the night, arms already stretched wide, face glowing. She wrapped Jimin into a hug so tight it made the younger girl lose her grip on one of the bags.

“I missed you!” she said into Jimin’s shoulder, then pulled back to look her over like a mom checking for battle wounds. “Why do you look skinnier? Have you been eating? I told you to stop drinking iced americanos for dinner!”

“Hi, Mom,” Jimin replied, almost shyly. Her smile softened the edges of her usual sarcasm. She bent to pick up the suitcase again.

Then the woman turned to Y/n.

“And you must be Y/n! I'm Taeyeon!"

Y/n froze like a deer in headlights for a second before schooling her features into something charming — the soft smile she used at cheer fundraisers, the kind that got her free coffees and made teachers forgive late assignments.

“That's me” she said, stepping forward and offering a hand, just a beat too stiff.

But Jimin’s mom didn’t shake it — she hugged her.

Y/n’s eyes widened as the woman pulled her in, warm and familiar, like she’d known her for years.

“You’re gorgeous, oh my god,” Jimin’s mom gushed, stepping back and holding her at arm’s length. “And tiny! Jimin always had a thing for tiny girls, didn’t you, honey?”

Jimin choked. “Mom.”

“What?” she grinned, waving it off. “I’m just saying! When she was younger—”

“Okay, inside, now,” Jimin interrupted, grabbing the last suitcase and brushing past them, ears turning red.

Y/n stood there for another second, a little smirk on her lips, before Jimin’s mom looped her arm through hers.

“Come on, dear. You’ll sit next to me at dinner. You’ll tell me everything about how you and Jimin met.”

Y/n glanced ahead, saw the slight panic in Jimin’s shoulders as she disappeared through the doorway.

She smiled.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

As soon as they stepped into the house, warmth wrapped around them — the kind of lived-in, cozy heat that smelled like soy sauce, steamed rice, and something baking in the oven.

And there were a lot of people.

“Well, well,” a voice called from the hallway, smooth and teasing. “Jimin didn’t tell us she was bringing someone this cute.”

Y/n looked up, caught off guard by the tall boy leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. He looked familiar — must’ve been her brother.

“She did,” Y/n replied coolly, raising an eyebrow. “You probably weren’t listening.”

Sunghoon smirked, clearly amused. “Feisty. I like it.”

“She’s my girlfriend, Sunghoon.” Jimin cut in flatly as she dropped the suitcase by the stairs. “So stop being weird.”

Y/n fought a grin as Sunghoon dramatically clutched his chest. “Girlfriend? You didn’t say she was taken!”

“I said she was coming,” Jimin muttered. “And I said to behave.”

“Jimin,” her father said warmly, stepping forward to hug her. “You should’ve called when you were getting close.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” she mumbled, hugging him back, softer now.

Then he turned to Y/n and gave a polite, reserved bow. “You must be the girl we’ve heard so little about.”

Y/n smiled awkwardly and bowed in return. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.”

“Well I'm Misook, Jimin's father." he said, stepping aside and motioning toward the living room, “Make yourself at home."

The house had already started filling with noise — the comforting kind. Plates clinking, someone laughing down the hall, a pot of stew boiling gently on the stove. Jimin and Y/n had barely finished setting the table when the front door swung open again, snow blowing in with the familiar chaos of family arrivals.

Jimin muttered under her breath, “And here comes the entire circus.”

Y/n looked up from folding napkins, eyebrows raised. “You weren’t joking.”

Aunt Haeun came in first, cheeks rosy from the cold, tugging off her scarf. “Where’s your mother? Oh, something smells amazing—”

Behind her, Uncle Hyunsoo carried two suitcases and a box of mandarin oranges like he was preparing to stay a month. “Why do we always pack like we’re moving in?”

Then came Wonyoung, tall and glowing even in the oversized coat she shrugged off effortlessly. Her girlfriend Yujin followed, already slipping out of her gloves and handing over a small gift bag with a shy smile.

Wonyoung’s eyes scanned the room — and landed on Y/n.

“Oh,” she said. “This must be her.”

Y/n stood a little straighter. “Hi, I'm Y/n.”

Yujin gave her a polite nod. “Nice to meet you.”

Wonyoung, however, looked her up and down without hiding it. Not rudely. Just… observantly. “You’re even prettier than your Instagram.”

Y/N blinked, surprised. “Thanks… wait you stalked me– how?”

“Wanted to know who my cousin was dating, just saying” Wonyoung added, stepping inside. “Jimin usually likes chaos. You look a little too put-together for her.”

Jimin rolled her eyes. “Nice to see you too.”

Before anyone could dwell on that, the door flew open again and Giselle arrived with her usual flair, dropping her weekender bag dramatically in the hallway. Her boyfriend trailed behind, carrying a cake and visibly regretting not wearing thicker socks.

Giselle’s gaze found Y/n almost immediately.

“Wow. You’re the girlfriend?”

Y/n offered a polite smile. “Yes. I think that’s me.”

“You look like someone who gets invited to the cool rooftop parties and never shows up.” Her tone wasn’t exactly mocking — more amused, a little intrigued. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Y/n said, eyes steady. “I do get those invites.”

From the living room, someone called out, “Stop crowding the hallway!”

Soobin appeared then, towel slung over his shoulder like he’d just helped clean something — tall, soft-eyed, and entirely too charming for his own good.

He gave Jimin a quick hug before turning toward Y/n. “And you must be the famous girlfriend.”

Y/n shook his hand, noticing the dimpled smile right away. “Famous really?”

"Well it's been only a week since Jimin told aunt Taeyeon and she kept talking about you. Anyway, I’m Soobin. Jimin’s cousin — sadly still single, in case that wasn’t obvious.” He winked.

Jimin groaned. “Can you not.”

Mrs. Yu popped her head in from the kitchen, apron tied around her waist. “Everyone’s here? Good. Come help me set the soup, please!”

Y/n was about to follow, but Soobin cut in again. “You cook too?”

“I try,” she said.

“She does,” Jimin mumbled, grabbing the stack of bowls. “She’s basically Miss Perfect.” She says trying to show that she knew her–fake–girlfriend.

“Wow,” Giselle said under her breath, exchanging a look with Wonyoung. “So that’s new.”

Wonyoung smiled tightly. “Can’t wait to hear that story.”

And just like that, Y/n felt it — not hostility, not even dislike. Just curiosity. A little skepticism. Like they were all trying to figure out where she fit in the picture. If she was just a visitor in Jimin’s life — or something more.

Jimin passed her a bowl and gave her a look.

“You okay?”

Y/n nodded, quietly. “Yeah. It’s just… a lot.”

Jimin paused, then added, “It always is. But they’ll get used to you.”

The dinner had been… surprisingly pleasant. Y/n couldn’t deny it. The food had been delicious, and as much as she tried to stay neutral, she found herself laughing with Wonyoung and Giselle more than she’d expected. They’d shared funny anecdotes about Jimin’s childhood, embarrassing family moments that made her realize how normal Jimin’s life was outside of the walls of college, outside the walls they’d built up around each other.

Y/n had laughed, genuinely. It felt so… human. Like they were showing her parts of Jimin that she’d never even considered before. She found herself liking it, maybe too much.

But Jimin had been quiet through it all, picking at her food, her eyes darting between Y/n and the rest of the room. It was subtle, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Every time Y/n made a joke or spoke a little too easily with her cousins, Jimin’s smile seemed to falter, just for a split second.

It was like she didn’t want Y/n to get too comfortable. To become too familiar with her family.

To cross a line.

Home.

Y/n thought about that word as she sipped her drink, the weight of it settling in her chest. It wasn’t just where they were sitting right now, under laughter ringing in the background. It was the way Jimin’s face had softened just a little when talking about her mom earlier. Or how her brother, Sunghoon, had cracked a stupid joke and Jimin had genuinely laughed — not the sarcastic kind, but the real one that reached her eyes.

For a second, Y/n let herself consider it — maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I really fit in here. If I could stay a little longer, get used to them…

But then she glanced over at Jimin, who was still sitting at the edge of the table, half turned away from the conversation, looking like she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out. The shift in her mood was palpable.

She didn’t want her to get close. That was obvious.

Maybe she didn’t want Y/n the warmth of home — it was too real. Too personal. And the thought of someone else, especially someone like Y/n, having access to it? That was too much for Jimin to handle right now.

Still, as Y/n looked across the table at her, she realized something else, too. Maybe Jimin wasn’t as cold as I thought. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t hate the idea of being trusted with someone.

Y/n lay awake in Jimin’s old room, the one of her childhood — memories frozen in time. After a long and tiring Christmas dinner with Jimin’s family, everyone had finally retreated to their rooms. But something about the stillness in the air, the way everything seemed to breathe a different kind of quiet here, kept Y/n wide awake.

Her eyes wandered around the room, taking in the familiar yet unfamiliar sight. It was cozy, yet clearly a room from another time. There was a mix of things: an old, dusty teddy bear tucked in the corner, a few scattered school trophies on the shelf, and colorful plush pillows that had been there since Jimin’s middle school days. Her room, untouched by time, told the story of someone trying to hold onto childhood, even in the face of growing up.

Y/n rolled over and glanced at the photos hanging on the walls. There were a few frames of young Jimin, her face so different from the confident, polished woman Y/n had come to know. Here, Jimin was just a girl — a middle schooler, awkward and shy, posing for the camera with her family and friends, her eyes shining with innocence. There were pictures of her grinning with friends Y/n would probably never meet.

The one that caught Y/n’s attention the most was a picture of a much younger Jimin, standing beside a smiling boy who looked remarkably like her brother, Sunghoon. The two were at what appeared to be a family picnic, both holding ice cream cones. Jimin’s smile was wide, carefree — a stark contrast to the guarded look she wore now. Her eyes softened as she studied the picture.

She had never considered Jimin as someone with a life before everything — before the fierce exterior, before the social circle and the reputation. She wondered, briefly, what had shaped Jimin into the person she was now. Who was she before all of the expectations? Before her family’s high standards and the pressure of being in the spotlight?

Y/n reached up and gently traced the edge of one of the frames, her thoughts drifting to how little she actually knew about Jimin’s past. She felt a small pang of guilt, realizing how little she had ever really cared to know. She had always seen Jimin as a barrier, a target of her own insecurities and fears. She had never stopped to consider what Jimin had been through to become the person she was today.

The silence in the room grew thicker, and the weight of everything they had both been pretending began to settle over Y/n’s chest.

Suddenly, Jimin’s voice cut through her thoughts as she opened the door coming back from shower.

“You’re still up?”

Y/n snapped out of her thoughts, looking over at the doorway where Jimin stood, her face partially obscured by the dim light from the hallway. She was wearing a loose shirt and pajama pants, her hair slightly messy as she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“Yeah,” Y/n replied softly, her voice betraying a hint of surprise. “Just… looking around.”

Jimin walked into the room and sat down on the edge of her bed, glancing at the photos the cheerleader had been looking at. “I see you found my middle school pictures,”

Y/n gave a faint nod, feeling awkward for lingering over something so personal. “You were… really different.” Her voice was quiet, as if not wanting to intrude too much.

Jimin let out a small, dry laugh. “I guess. People change.”

Y/n paused for a moment, unsure whether to ask the next question. But her curiosity got the best of her. “Do you ever miss it? The… before?”

Jimin’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, her fingers tracing the edge of her blanket. There was a long pause before she answered, her tone surprisingly soft. “Sometimes,” she admitted quietly. “But I think I had to grow up too fast. I didn’t really have a choice. My mom… she wanted me to be perfect, and I guess… I tried.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Y/n wasn’t sure what to say, not sure if she was crossing a line or not. But the vulnerability in Jimin’s voice felt different from anything she had ever heard from her.

“I think your mom wanted you to be happy, to build your future so you could be happy. She must have done it wrong.... It's a lot.” Y/n finally said, her voice quieter than before.

Jimin shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “It is what it is. You can’t change the past.”

They both sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation lingering in the room like an unspoken truth. It was the first time they had really opened up to each other, even if just a little. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

After a few more minutes of quiet, the two of them, still sitting in the dimly lit room, began to realize just how awkward the situation was.

Jimin shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting to the bed, and then to Y/n, before finally settling on the door as if it might suddenly offer an escape. But of course, there was no escaping the reality of the room. There was one bed. And they were both stuck here for the night.

Y/n, sensing the tension, turned to look at Jimin. Her gaze met Jimin’s for a split second before both of them awkwardly glanced away. It was strange, they were forced into an entirely new situation. They had been at each other’s throats for so long, but now, it felt like the walls were starting to crack.

“Uh,” Y/n began, breaking the silence with an awkward laugh. “I guess we’re supposed to… sleep here?”

Jimin, her arms crossed tightly in front of her, didn’t seem thrilled about the prospect. “Yeah, looks like it,” she muttered, eyes narrowing as she looked at the bed, as though it had personally offended her.

Y/n glanced at the single bed again, then back at Jimin. A thought occurred to her. “So… how do you usually do this? I mean, not like… ‘this’—but… you know…”

“Well,” Jimin started, her voice almost hesitant, “my family thinks we are a couple, one bed is actually normal…” She let out a deep breath, clearly at a loss for words. “This is beyond the usual.”

Y/n bit her lip, her mind racing for a solution. They couldn’t exactly sleep side by side in the same bed. That would be far too strange. The thought made her skin crawl a little, and she saw that Jimin was just as uncomfortable as she was. The idea of sharing such a small space for the night—close quarters like this—seemed impossible for two people who barely tolerated each other.

“Wait!” Y/n suddenly exclaimed, the idea coming to her as she looked around the room. “Pillows.”

Jimin blinked at her. “What?”

“No, hear me out,” Y/N said, her voice gaining confidence as she scanned the room. “We can make a pillow barrier, a—uh—‘fortress’ between us. We’ll each have our own side of the bed, and it’ll be like an invisible wall.” She motioned to the pillows on the bed and around the room.

Jimin paused, staring at her like she’d just suggested something absurd. “A pillow fortress?”

Y/n grinned. “Yeah, it’s genius, right? Just a row of pillows between us, and we’ll have our own little spaces. It’ll work.”

Jimin rolled her eyes but finally relented. “Fine. Let’s build your… fortress.”

Y/n wasted no time. She started pulling pillows from the bed and stacking them between them, creating a makeshift barrier down the middle. Jimin watched her for a second before grabbing the remaining pillows and joining in, her usual sarcasm temporarily forgotten.

When they were done, they stepped back and admired their work. The fortress of pillows between them was not exactly elegant, but it served its purpose—each side was now officially off-limits.

“Well,” Jimin said after a moment of silence, raising an eyebrow. “At least now I have some distance from you. It’s like a little… wall of peace.”

Y/N leaned back against her side of the bed, satisfied. “Exactly. Now we can both sleep peacefully without worrying about invading each other’s space.”

There was a pause. Then, a soft, unexpected chuckle escaped from Jimin. “This is ridiculous.”

Y/n grinned, unable to help herself. “It works, though.”

Jimin shook her head, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I don’t even want to know how long you’ve been plotting this.”

Y/n laughed. “You have no idea.”

And for the first time since they had started this whole fake dating charade, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate, even if just for a moment. The fortress was still silly, still an odd solution to an odd problem, but it somehow brought a sense of lightness that neither of them had expected.

As they lay there in the dim room, the pillow wall between them, they both found it a little easier to breathe.

The apartment door clicked shut behind them, the hum of Seoul’s city noise instantly muffled. The silence between them wasn’t comfortable. It was tense, like a storm waiting to break.

Jimin kicked off her shoes and dropped her bag by the door, heading straight for the kitchen without saying a word. Y/n followed, arms crossed, scowl already forming on her face.

“Where's Heeseung?" Y/n asked earning only a small shrug from Jimin. "So, are you gonna tell me what your problem is?” she snapped.

Jimin scoffed as she opened the fridge, staring inside like it had answers. “My problem? You’re really asking me that?”

“Yeah, I am. You’ve been acting like a brat ever since we got off the car.”

Jimin shut the fridge a little too hard and turned around. “Because my mom wants to invite you to her spring birthday lunch. Because Wonyoung asked if you’d come for Chuseok. Because suddenly everyone loves you, Y/n.”

Y/n blinked. “Okay, and?”

“And now I have to explain why my so-called girlfriend disappears before my mom can start sewing you into the family tree.”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault that your entire family likes me?” Y/n said, voice rising. “You dragged me into this lie and now you’re mad that it worked well?”

Jimin’s jaw tensed. “It was supposed to be a week. A performance. You were supposed to be a cold and indifferent cheer brat—like you usually are."

“Well, sorry for having manners,” Y/n bit back. “Maybe your family’s just desperate to see you with someone who isn’t a Tinder hookup.”

Jimin’s face snapped toward her. “Watch it.”

“No, you watch it. I helped you. I played the role. I met your weird aunt and sat through your cousin’s playlist of EXO dance covers. You’re mad because your lie worked too well.”

Jimin paced, dragging her hands through her hair. She wasn’t yelling anymore—she was spiraling. “They’re already talking about summer. Asking when I’m gonna bring you again. My mom was glowing.”

Y/n leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. “Then tell her we broke up.”

Jimin froze.

Y/n raised a brow. “Simple solution, no?”

“Yeah. Except she’ll want to know why. And how. And when. And then she’ll cry and say it’s because I don’t try hard enough with people and that I ruin everything.”

Silence.

Y/n let out a slow exhale. “Okay. So… what now?”

Jimin hesitated, then sighed. “We fake it a little longer.”

Y/n blinked. “How much longer?”

“Until May.”

“May!?”

Jimin shrugged, already sounding resigned. “That’s when your cheer nationals are, right? It makes sense. We break up after—‘distance’, ‘conflicting schedules’, whatever. Clean timeline.”

Y/n stared at her, baffled. “You really thought this through.”

“No, I’m thinking it through now, because my mom just texted me again asking what your favorite color is.”

Y/n stared. “What is wrong with her?”

“She’s a hopeless romantic. She thinks you’re the one.”

Y/n dragged a hand down her face. “Fine. We fake date until May. But you’re driving me to every practice and buying my coffee. Non-negotiable.”

Jimin rolled her eyes. “Deal. But you’re texting my mom on my behalf until she stops sending me couple bracelets on Instagram.”

They locked eyes, and for a split second, something like amusement flickered between them. But it passed as fast as it came.

The war was still on.

Only now… it had a timeline.

Jimin reached for her phone, already typing a reply to her mom, something about Y/n loving the color navy blue and tulips. Y/n watched her from the kitchen doorway, still not quite sure how the hell this became her life.

“This is so dumb,” she muttered.

Jimin didn’t look up. “You agreed.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t complain about it.”

They locked eyes again, this time without yelling, just the sharp simmer of something complicated brewing beneath the surface.

“Just survive until May,” Jimin said, voice flat.

Y/n nodded, grabbing her bag again and heading toward the spare room. “Easy,” she muttered under her breath.

Neither of them believed that.

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sinsofnivan · 3 months ago

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you write a breeding kink better than anyone i’ve ever seen in my life omg I want to launch myself into another dimension after reading leon & carlos in your RE men x you fic like ????!!! head EMPTY womb FULL TYSM !!!! (humbly requesting more breeding maybe with leon specifically if you can or want to please) thank u love u I hope u have a great night ❣️❣️

temptation. — LEON KENNEDY x YOU! — SMUT!

SUMMARY: "should we have a baby, y/n?" it's a question you never expected from leon. nevertheless your answer is . . .

PAIRING: LEON KENNEDY/you.

WORD COUNT:

TAGS: fem bodied reader, breeding kink duh, established relationship, unprotected sex, overstim, dumbification

A/N: not me pulling a stardew valley you're both so sweet its making me sick GET A ROOM!!

extra: you and leon after 9pm.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

"y, yes, nggggh . . y'feel so good . . "

your words continued to spur your fiancé on, his cock twitching in your pretty cunt while you bounce on his cock. "god, you're s, so . . wet," leon shuddered, carnal embrace urging goosebumps from his skin. he reaches up to grope your tits, feeling them jounce as you ride him; his leaking tip hitting all the right spots that made you scream.

sitting up, his lips latch on one of your nipples, a squeak echoing around the room as he tugged and teased it with his canines. leon seizes your waist, and forces you to keep still, forces you to feel all of his length, tip snugly pressed against your cervix.

"oh . . oh god,"

god, you feel so fucking full.

"mhh . . " leon whined against your nipple, gazing up and seeing how blissed out you were. he lets your bud slip from his mouth, trailing his kiss up, up your breast, collarbone, jaw, lips. "i love you, love you so much," leon whispered, tucking away sweat-soaked hair that stuck to your cheek. "i love you," you reply in between pants and gasps for air.

he kisses you like it's the first time, like he's starved. grunting against your lips as his tongue finds its way in your mouth. you don't mind how messy the kiss is, how spit's leaking from his mouth; you just wanted him. all of him.

leon takes you with him as he lays back down on the bed. he went from firmly holding your waist, to firmly wrapping his strong arms around your waist—and beginning to snap his hips up and thrusting into you. you moaned, holding on to his shoulders as he pounded you from below. much to his dismay, you pull away from the kiss because you can't—for the life of you—kiss him back properly.

"leoooon, oh my gooood," you cried, eyes rolling back from pleasure. "yeah? f, feel good, gorgeous?" he'd pepper your neck with open-mouthed kisses, feeling the rumbles of your cries against his lips. you're lucky he's blessed with almost endless stamina, hips barely feeling tired as he kept pummeling into you, kept shoving his cock deep into you, and him holding you in place just meant that you had to take every bit of it.

"m, mhm, mhm!" simple replies were enough for him, enough for him to speed up and kept rutting into you like a toy. his dark brows scrunched up—whimpers mingling in with yours. fuck, were you squirting? he could slide in and out of you so much faster now. his head was empty, only filled with making you feel good, fucking you the way you deserved.

loosening his hold around your waist, you squeaked when his calloused hands groped your ass, pushing you down against his cock and meeting each 'nd every one of his thrusts. "oh fuck—!" you cried, overwhelming pleasure pooling in your tummy. his thrusts made your toes curl, made your legs fucking weak.

"k, kiss—baby. want a kiss,"

it was the best leon could utter out in his haze, but you understood well enough; leaning down and capturing his lips for a sloppy kiss. he's not stopping—not ever—continuing to bounce you on his cock and continuing to fuck you hard and fast like nothing else mattered. more whines spill from leon's lips, and before both of you could even realize it, he's spurting thick ropes of semen into your fertile cunt. his hips keep bucking up into you, despite feeling overly sensitive and fatigued. he needed to fuck you 'n breed you. didn't matter if he was sore. he needed to get his pretty girl pregnant.

"l, leon—fuck!" you utter the moment you both part. your walls were pulsating so pathetically, and leon's just soooo fucking out of it—could barely fucking think. the way your cervix kissed his sensitive tip just made him sob and mewled, eyes rolled to the back of his head. he doesn't stop fucking you, though, riding his orgasm out with desperate, frenzied thrusts. and he didn't stop—not 'til his muscles burned, on the verge of cramping up.

"more," he whined. "need to fuck you more, please," he begs, slowly sliding out of you. you shuddered, feeling it slowly spill. his cock—covered in your cream and his cum—is still so clearly erect 'nd twitching for more. leon gently trades places with you, and you find yourself on all fours, face down & ass up.

you feel so exposed, so vulnerable—especially when leon's spreading your ass, baring that creampied cunt to him. fuck, you were still gaping 'n pulsating . . without any more warnings, he's back to shoving his cock in that tight pussy, rutting into you relentlessly over and over and over again.

"fuck—oh fuck, your cunt feels so goooood . . " he cried, running a hand over his sweaty, hazel locks. he can't stop, he doesn't want to stop. "fuck me harderrr, pleasepleasepleaseeee," you beg so desperately, and who's leon to resist. his thighs slap against the back of yours a little more harshly now, because he's eager to oblige your request. harder, you said.

now your legs are shaking, you're holding onto your sheets for dear life. your face keeps pushing into the pillow with every punishing snap of his hips. "god, i love you—i love you s, sooo muuch, fuck!" if leon didn't have his hands on you, you're sure you would have collapsed on the now-creaking bed.

a hand sneaks beneath your stomach, fingerpads drawing aimless circles on your clit. and you're still so so sensitive from your mutual orgasm, but so was he! he wasn't stopping for anything. "god, leoooon, you're gonna—gonna make me cum," especially when he brutally pounded you.

the absence of his hand on your waist feels so so cold, and you gasped when it finds its way on your hair, tugging 'til you were nicely arched for him. fuck, you were so pretty writhing and whimpering for him.

"you wanna g, get bred, baby?"

"yes! yesyesyesyes, pleaseeee,"

his balls are aching, aching to creampie you, aching to stuff your womb fucking full. your fiancé can't think properly, he's fucking drooling. it's muscle memory to rut into you, even if he feels the exhaustion running down his spine.

"'m gonna get you pregnant,"

he promises mindlessly, and you're no any better, cunt clenching around him like crazy. "gonna—oh f, fuuuck, you're—you're tightening up!" he sobbed. "knock me up, leon—♡!" he fucks you faster, with the best of his ability, couldn't fucking wait to cum in you a second time. but when he's hittin' all the right spots like that—you couldn't hold your nearing orgasm, body shaking as your legs finally gave out. leon's grip on your hair loosens, just so he can hold onto the headboard while he slammed his hips down on you.

it's messy, and leon could feel your cunt squirt with every push in of his cock, and you're jus' layin there, trembling with overwhelming pleasure. drooling, cockdrunk. just like how he wants you.

with a final thrust, he's filling your cunt again, stuffing that womb full of his cum. you could feel it leaking from your folds, fuuck, leon's cumming lots.

"oh, baby. y/n—," leon whimpers, hips stuttering as he tried to keep fucking you with lazy, tired thrusts. "love you, l, love your pussy," he whispered mindlessly, leaning down and pressing his lips on the back of your head. "i love you . . " leon whispered, fingerpads following the curve of your back. "i love you, " you mutter tiredly.

you giggle when leon starts to kiss along your shoulders and slowly, your neck 'nd up to your ear. "you'd be the greatest mom ever," he whispered. "i just know it. you take care of me so, so well, and our daughters even better," you tilt your head and meet his eyes, chuckling.

"daughters? with an s?" "i mean . . i guess we can have sons too," shifting beneath him, you both groan when his cock slips out from your gaping pussy. your sweat-covered frame's laying on your shared bed, giving you the opportunity to relax. leon's back to crushing you, flopping atop your body.

"i don't really care about gender." "you seriously don't care?" you could feel the rumble of his affirmative hum, and you giggle whilst gently drawing lines on his back.

"well, hey. hats off to you for not seeing gender."

"was that a reference from—nevermind. round three?"

end.

A/N: I STILL FEEL THIS ISN'T MY BEST WORK. i'm very sorry, i think i'm going through a super tough writer's block </3

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