#One small step for man and all that bull

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Clone wars headcanons about everything and nothing

Ahsoka has a decent amount of allergies but only a handful are actually life-threatening and no matter how much she tells Anakin that it never stops him from treating them all the same

And by treating them all the same I mean he’s slapped some snacks out of her hands because he knew she was slightly allergic to it

In his defense the clones are really bad at keeping track of her allergies and because of that they have fed her a couple of things that were lethal to her and ever since then Anakin’s never really trusted them with food

Also in his defense Ahsoka once ate something she was highly allergic to on a dare (the poor clone didn’t know she was allergic) and all she did to remedy the situation was hand said poor clone her EpiPen before passing out

Unfortunately the clone didn’t know how to use the EpiPen so Ahsoka ended up passing out and Anakin and Rex had to rush her off to the med bay because they didn’t know how to use the EpiPen either 

Because of this incident the clones weren’t allowed to give Ahsoka food and there were a couple of signs that said “blue to the sky orange to the thigh” around the ship

I feel like everyone in Clone Wars is simultaneously touch-starved and tactile which is a very fun mix especially when I think about Ahsoka and everyone else because I like to think whenever Ahsoka asks for a hug 9.5/10 she gets one 

Master Plo is the most used to this cause Ahsoka’s been like this since she was a child and he’ll admit he’s spoiled her with hugs 

If you were to ask her what his hugs feel like she would say they feel like childhood or that feeling you get when you smell something that you could only find in your home when you were a kid

Obi-Wan is an interesting can of worms because he’s as tactile and touch-starved as the rest of them but he’s also incredibly touch-adverse which results in him declining hugs 5/10 because he just can't fathom touching someone in that moment

But when he does give Ahsoka a hug she’ll say there’s nothing like it and she would often describe it as a breath of fresh air and very soothing on stressful days 

Rex is most likely it give Ahsoka a hug bro is simply the hugger™ and she would describe his hugs as comforting if not a little awkward but grounding none the less kind of like hugging a weighted blanket just out of the drier 

She doesn’t get to see Padme nearly as often as she would like which means she tries to get a hug whenever she can and Padme will never decline her hugs if anything she initiates most of them

Ahsoka doesn’t remember her mom or her hugs well but if she had to give an example of what a hug from her mom felt like she would say Padme’s 

Anakin honestly isn’t comfortable with touching people he doesn’t know well but when he does feel comfortable with someone he’s clingy 

Ahsoka will never admit this half cause it’s embarrassing and half because she fears it would hurt the other’s feelings but Anakin’s hugs are easily her favorite something about the all-encompassing hug makes her feel safe and secure like nothing else 

But the funny thing is that sometimes he doesn’t really have the energy to hug Ahsoka so he’ll just put all of his dead weight on her which usually results in one of two reactions from her 

one. Is usually her saying “Hug me like you love me” or something along those lines to which he will squeeze the everloving force out of her or two. “Hug me like a normal person” which usually gets the smartass response of “Who said I was a normal person”

So it’s pretty obvious that Anakin and Ahsoka have their bigger competitions but they’ve also got little ones like who can make the funnier face when Obi-Wan is trying to do his work which normally ends with the duo hunched over laughing and Obi-Wan finding another place to work 

The: “Who can accurately make the noises Obi-Wan makes while stretching” challenge which just usually results in the clones worriedly checking in on them cause it sounds like they’re in pain

The: “Who can eat more ice cream” challenge always ends with Anakin regretting his life choices and Ahsoka doing the dishes because she feels bad 

Long story short they’ve got a lot of challenges cause they’re competitive little weirdos but the funniest part is they rarely keep score of who the winner is so they’re in an endless cycle of useless competitions 

Obi-Wan has slowly collected mugs for everyone he’s close with and they have a nice little home in his otherwise empty mug cupboard 

Anakin and Padme have matching from Naboo because Obi-Wan took them shopping when they were pretty young 

Padme can’t drink tea with them as often as she would like but when she can schedule a small tea break Anakin makes sure to smuggle all their mugs out of Obi-Wan’s kitchen

Ahsoka’s mug is possibly one of Obi-Wan's favorites it’s a good size and practical but’s also got nice intricate color-changing details because they both thought it looked cool

Cody and Obi-Wan’s mugs are pretty similar but their main difference is the childlike handwriting on the bottom of one that says “to: Obi from: Ani”

Rex doesn’t get a mug until later and it’s the most unconventional and inconvenient mug in all of creation the poor dude has to hold it from the sides because his hands don’t fit in the handle

And its design pisses Obi-Wan off every time he sees it the only thing that’s stopping him from smashing it into hundreds of little pieces is that Rex picked it so in the cupboard it stays 

Sometimes the group forgets that Ahsoka isn’t human which leads to very funny circumstances 

Like Rex losing a decent amount of credits trying to call Ahsoka’s “bluff” of being able to bench twice his weight 

Or at the fact that Obi-Wan was once hiding from Ahsoka and Anakin because he didn’t want the duo to see the extent of his injuries from a solo mission 

But he forgot that Ahsoka could smell and hear better than the average being so she was able to track him down pretty fast (she was also freaked out cause she could hear his erratic heartbeat and smell the blood so that wasn’t a pleasant experience for her) 

Or the number of times when she’s eaten an unholy amount of food just for Anakin to wake up at 3 am to find her scavenging for more cause she’s still hungry 

And let me tell you seeing some small hunched-over little creature with reflective eyes at that time of night would make even the chosen one screech like a banshee

[sophisticatedswifts]

I had two different men accost me on the sidewalk today when I was just trying to buy groceries 😑

[alltheirdamn]

Rotten | cowboy!joel x f!reader

Part II

Summary: Joel just can't leave you alone, and you hate it. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: No-Outbreak AU, banter and arguing, mentions of guns/violence, smoking, explicit language, sexual tension, brat taming, mild dubious elements, spanking, slapping, choking, rough unprotected piv sex, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, squirting, facial/cum eating, joel doesn't really take no for an answer, lots of angst A/N: I just couldn't get enough of these two. all my love to @lotusbxtch and @mermaidgirl30 for squealing over the filth every single day with me. ride that cowboy girlies, it's worth it ;) Part I

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Your fingers were wet from the condensation rolling off your glass of sweet tea, the steady stream of droplets splattering against your bare thighs. The day had been exhausting; the cattle were abnormally restless and decided to drift too far out in the fields. Hours riding Mac left your legs sore, and honestly, you just wanted to smoke your Marlboros and sip on your tea. With your boots kicked up on the porch railing and a cigarette between your lips, you were blissfully content. 

That is, until your peace and quiet were shattered.

Dirt kicked up in the distance, and the steady rhythmic hum of an engine grew louder as it drifted closer to your house. You groaned in frustration, already knowing who to expect. Dear God, was Joel Miller relentless. You reached behind your porch chair, fingers curling around the shotgun propped up against the wood. You warned him. 

His beat-up Red Chevy stopped beside your home, and you tracked his movements as he opened the door. Lifting the gun to your eye level, you aimed the barrel toward his truck. Your finger hovered over the trigger, steady and calm. Joel stepped out of the driver's seat, adjusting his belt buckle against his stomach. You wouldn’t kill him; you weren’t that mean, although it was tempting. 

One quick pull of the trigger and you sent a warning shot into the side door of his truck, rupturing the metal with a resounding bang. Joel ducked down, letting out a startled grunt before turning his head to inspect the damage. Whipping head toward you, Joel stared you down with narrowed eyes.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he huffed. “That how y’welcome all your visitors?”

“Only the ones who piss me off!” You shouted.

Joel ran a hand down his scruff, swaying in place as if deciding whether to approach you. Do it, you thought. He made one cautious step, and you rewarded him with another cock of your shotgun, the barrel loaded and ready to fire. 

“Take it easy, darlin’. I only wanted to come talk,” Joel cautioned, his hands raised in defeat.

“S’nothin’ to fuckin’ talk about, Miller,” you said, your eye squinting down the barrel line.

Each step of his cowboy boots crunched the earth below, slow steps progressing forward. Joel walked to the edge of the porch; his shoulders hiked to his ears and arms still raised as if he were approaching a wild bull. Serves him right to be scared of you. You may have let him get the best of you the first time around, but you wouldn’t let that happen again.

“Can y’put the damn gun down, darlin’?” He barked.

“Can y’take your ass back to your side of the pasture?” You tossed back.

The closer he got, the clearer his features became; the scruffy graying beard with small bare patches against his jawline, the worry lines deeply etched into his tan skin, and those damn brown eyes that plagued your thoughts night and day. You still thought about how soft they were when he looked at you before he left the stables, a kindness that flickered through the amber specks and filtered out that rage. It was truly unfair that such an insufferable man could be so damn handsome. 

Joel’s boots knocked against the first step of the stairs, and your grip tightened around the shotgun. His eyes tracked your fingers as they flexed around the metal, your knuckles tense.

“I ain’t take you for the murderin’ type,” he said cooley.

“Reckon you don’t know much ‘bout me to be assumin’ that. Who knows, maybe I got myself a pile of bodies lyin’ in the grass behind my house.”

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest as he advanced another step, still testing the waters with you. You rocked back in your chair, propping the heel of your boot on the railing for stability. 

“Wanna show me all them dead bodies then, darlin’? Prove that you’re not all bark and no bite?” He smirked.

You angled the shotgun past the side of his head and sent a shot flying out into the yard. Joel flinched hard enough to knock himself into the stair railing, his weight jostling the porch. With a coy grin, you lowered the gun an inch and shrugged your shoulders.

“Can’t show ya’ if you’re dead,” you grinned.

Joel lunged at you, ripping the gun from your hand and tossing it feet away from you. He gripped the back of your chair and drew his face closer, his pupils dilating the longer he glared at you. Rolling your tongue across your teeth, you raised your hand to his neck, drifting it up the scruff under his jaw. A shallow breath exhaled from his lips, and he stared at you in anticipation. Oh, he thought you were going to kiss him? Cute.

With a quick snap of your wrist, you smacked your hand across his cheek before shoving him out of your face. Joel barely moved an inch, your hands smacking into solid muscle that wouldn’t budge. All that softness in his eyes was displaced with an unmistakable sense of rage, his friendliness shattering away as his cheek flushed from the impact. 

“Now y’done pissed me off, you fuckin’ brat,” Joel snarled.

His hand shot out to your throat, yanking you from your porch chair and to your feet. His grip was hardly as tight as last time but still forceful enough to render you powerless. Your eyes flickered toward the gun across the porch, so far out of reach and unattainable. You should have shot him when you had the chance. 

“Be a good girl and invite me in,” Joel ordered, nodding toward your front door. 

You wagged your head back and forth, your lips curled up and ready to spew venom. Joel only brought your face closer, his upper lip twitching under his mustache. 

“Do it. Now. Or I swear to God, I’ll make last time look like a goddamn walk in the park.”

“Surprised y’got any sex drive left in you, old man,” you gasped, his fingers tightening around your neck. 

“Christ, you fuckin’ infuriate me,” Joel grumbled.

He used his grip on your neck to propel your feet backward, guiding you toward your front door and over the threshold. The heel of your boot snagged on the lip of the door, sending you flailing back, only for him to grab you by the waist and yank you forward into his sturdy frame.

Even with his hand wrapped around your throat, Joel had never looked more gorgeous than he did at that moment. Swimming through the rage inside his eyes was a hint of worry, as if he genuinely thought you’d stumble to the ground. The reaction time of his arm circling your waist and the small exhale of breath off his lips, a quiet I got you in his own way. 

The moment dwindled as fast as it came, a flickering flame extinguished somewhere between the threshold and the entryway of your tiny farm home. Joel reverted to his aggressive tendencies, manhandling you onto your worn-down floral sofa. The springs beneath the cushions squeaked under the weight of your bodies as he pinned you down, his face a breath apart from yours. 

“You ready to play nice, darlin’? Or am I gonna have to ruin that pussy again just to shut you up?” He questioned. 

Your hands grazed over his torso, tracing the outline of his soft stomach and over the buttons traveling up toward the collar of his shirt. You watched Joel’s eyes flutter closed for the briefest moment, only to fly wide open as you sunk your nails into the hair at the nape of his neck. You tugged hard on his salt and pepper hair, enough so that his neck strained back. 

“Get the fuck off me, Joel,” you seethed, the words snarling out between your teeth. 

“We both know that ain’t fuckin’ happenin’.”

Joel wrangled you over and onto your stomach, his hand still firmly clasped around your throat. He quickly caged your legs in between his muscular thighs, molding your body into the sofa cushions. Half your face was smothered into the dingy couch, your hair tossed in streaks over your eyes and clouding your vision. With his free hand, Joel cupped the curve of your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh that peaked out beneath the cut-off of the denim. 

“Y’still got my handprints branded into your ass, darlin?” Joel asked.

He didn’t care to know the answer as he smacked his hand down, the bite of his skin against the fabric sending electric jolts of pain up your spine. Truth was, the bruises he left were still there—yellow, horrid welts that were a ceaseless reminder of last time. You wouldn’t ever admit it, but sometimes you found yourself in the mirror tracing the outline of his fingerprints, fantasizing about his hands on your body. 

“Answer me,” Joel commanded.

“Fuck you,” you said, your voice muffled into the couch.

“Always gotta have an attitude, don’t you?”

Joel’s hand connected with your ass again, this time hard enough to elicit a small whimper from your lips. You could deny it all you wanted, but it was making you unbearably wet. You squirmed under his grip, finding some sort of relief within the friction of your shorts. Joel caught onto your movements and chuckled at your lost efforts.

“Got you all riled up, huh? This sweet lil’ pussy need takin’ care of?”

He cupped your sex through your jeans, the roughness of his hand spurring you on even more—stupid body for responding the way it did to this man. Joel pressed his fingers against the seam of the denim, finding your swollen clit hidden beneath. You exhaled loudly, your body sagging further into the cushions as he rubbed rough circles over the aching bundle of nerves.

“Right there, darlin’? That feel good for you?” Joel taunted. 

“Mhmm,” you whined.

“You wanna cum for me?” 

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, holding back the plea for release. Joel knew what he was doing; he knew you wouldn’t beg. You were too stubborn and too defiant to ever beg for it. At least, not again. But his fingers worked faster—harder—keeping you on the edge of ecstasy the longer you stayed silent.

“C’mon,” he urged. “Ask nicely, and I’ll let you cum.”

You turned your head into the sofa, burying your face into the cushions as you let out a frustrated cry. Fuck this man. Fuck his ability to turn you pliant and easy. Your body bucked against his hand as he worked at you in tantalizing movements, the friction of his palm against your sex becoming dizzying. 

“Please,” you muttered, your voice muffled and quiet.

Joel’s hand unwound from your neck, taking its place within the tresses of your hair. A swift tug back, and your eyes strained to meet his as he loomed over you. 

“I didn’t hear you,” he growled.

You swallowed thickly, trying to form another plea, but you couldn’t make a sound. Joel tugged on your hair harder, enough to make you cry at the pain. Your nails dug into the couch, and you managed a small please through a strangled moan.

“Too bad, darlin’. Bratty lil sluts don’t get to cum. I just wanted to hear y’beg for it.”

He released his grip on your head, shoving you back down. You groaned in frustration as his hand vanished from between your legs. The couch shifted beneath you as Joel rose to his feet, wandering around your living room and into your kitchen. 

“Where’s your smokes?” He asked, rifling through the drawers as if he owned the place.

You lifted yourself, stretching your neck and detangling your hair with your fingers. Your clit painfully throbbed against your panties, your core still fluttering from the phantom orgasm that never came. Joel continued his search, slamming drawers shut and opening cupboards without a care in the world as if he didn’t just have you pinned down and begging for release. The temptation to run out and grab your gun was thrumming inside your veins; just one shot and you’d be free of him. Joel glanced up at the exact moment you shot to your feet, gunning for the door. 

“Don’t even think about it, darlin’,” Joel warned.

“You expect me to let you roam ‘round my house uninvited?” You questioned. 

“I expect you to be a good host and find me a damn cigarette,” he snapped. 

“Well, they’re on my porch. So, if you’ll let me leave for a damn second, I can bring you one.”

Joel leaned against the kitchen counter, considering you with eyes narrowed. You folded your arms over your chest and stared at him, both of you in a silent showdown. With a lift of his chin, he motioned for you to go ahead and retrieve them. Disappearing out onto the porch, you scooped up your pack of reds and lighter, lingering an extra moment as you considered the gun lying on the ground.

“I’m waitin’!” He called from inside.

“Christ, I fuckin’ hate you,” you said, walking back into the house.

Joel had made himself all too comfortable on your couch, his legs spread open and arm lazily draped over the back cushion. You immediately noticed the bulge in his jeans, a telltale sign that he was just as worked up as you were. Tough fucking luck. If he wouldn’t get you off, you wouldn’t help him either. 

“Y’ hate me, huh?” Joel asked, his lips curving into a smug grin.

You didn’t respond as you smacked the bottom of the cigarette carton against your palm. Joel flicked his fingers, urging you closer, yet you stayed planted to the ground. 

“Gonna give me one of those, darlin’?”

“Why should I?” You huffed. “Y’come into my home uninvited and act like you own the damn place. Actin’ all demandin’ and rude.”

Joel let out a low whistle, rolling his neck back and forth. You continued smacking the carton, your lips set in a firm line.

“What’s rude is tryna kill someone who only came to talk. So, come here and sit.”

“And if I don’t wanna?”

“For one goddamn minute, can y’just not be so fuckin’ stubborn?” Joel huffed.

“Fine.”

You strode toward the couch, aiming to sit beside Joel, only to have him wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into his lap. Your thighs pressed against his as you settled into his body, the rugged muscles of his legs flexing beneath you. You were too close to him, too aware of the way his eyes sparkled with rich amber flecks in this nearness. Joel studied you without an ounce of anger as if none of what had happened between you ever existed. It made it terribly hard to continue hating him when he looked at you that way.

“Y’gonna be a good girl and give me a smoke now?” Joel asked.

Rolling your eyes, you removed a cigarette from the carton, offering it to him. Joel only shrugged, parting his lips ever so slightly to invite it into his awaiting mouth. Your fingers brushed against the scruff of his jaw as you placed it between his lips, his mouth quirked up in satisfaction. 

“You trust me with a light?” You questioned.

Joel squeezed your waist softly, his other arm still thrown across the couch. You twirled the lighter between your fingers, your thumb rolling over the sparkwheel haphazardly. One good flick of the lighter, and you could send him up in flames—burn your whole house down with him inside, and you’d finally be at peace. He was a ceaseless man with little regard for you or your damn peace, and you were growing tired of entertaining him.

“Light it,” he ordered, the cigarette hanging between his teeth.

You sparked the flame, letting the heat of it ripple over your skin as you brought it to the butt of the cig. The tip ignited with a flicker of embers, the cherry end burning bright as Joel took a long drag. He lifted his hand from the couch—still keeping one firm on your body—and situated the cigarette between two fingers.

“Wanna tell me where y’learned to shoot like that?” He asked, his head tilted to the side.

“My parents. They taught me everything I know,” you admitted.

“Everythin’ aside from manners,” Joel countered.

“Shut up,” you snapped. “I ain’t gonna sit here and let you speak of my parents like that.”

You didn’t like talking about them; the reminder of their absence was sometimes too much to bear. You had so many responsibilities thrown onto your shoulders when they died, and although you took those responsibilities willingly, it didn’t quell the grief still lingering. You didn’t have your parents anymore, but you had their land to care for and their wishes to uphold. 

Joel took a sharp inhale from the cigarette, letting the smoke plume between your faces. The stench of smoke was something comforting to you, always had been, but coming from his mouth, it pissed you off. 

“Hey, now,” he said softly. “Was only kiddin’, darlin’. Didn’t mean to strike a nerve.”

“Your entire presence strikes a fuckin’ nerve, Joel. Why are y’even here?”

“Like I said, I came here to talk.”

You pulled the cigarette from his lips, taking it to your own and inhaling a long drag. Joel arched a brow, watching as you hollowed your cheeks around it, the flicker of the butt burning brightly in his face. 

“Then talk,” you hissed, tilting your head to exhale the smoke.

You leaned back, discarding some of the ashes against the tray on your coffee table. Joel’s hand urged you back to his chest, pinning you closer than you wished to be. You adjusted yourself on his lap, absentmindedly, shifting your body over his hardened cock. Joel choked on a breath, his fingers digging into your waist. Oh. Funny how you had all the power now. 

“Talk,” you repeated, grinding your body down against his again.

“I know what you’re doin’,” Joel grumbled.

“Y’gonna talk or what, Miller? I’m waitin’.”

Joel cursed under his breath, grabbing the cigarette from your fingers and returning it to his lips. His eyes never left yours as he drew in a breath, letting the smoke linger inside his mouth a second too long before exhaling. The smoke billowed around your face, and you scrunched your nose in annoyance. 

“I wanna negotiate,” Joel offered.

“No.”

It was a quick response, one without a second thought. You wouldn’t even entertain the idea of negotiations. Why? Because there was nothing to fucking negotiate. This land was yours, passed down through generations, and would remain that way. No amount of bitching and moaning from Joel would make you reconsider. 

“Y’didn’t even let me finish,” Joel remarked. 

“I don’t need to listen to you. I ain’t negotiating my land.”

You reached for the cigarette again, yet Joel suspended it in the air and out of reach. You glared at him, trying to grab his hand to drag it toward you. Joel’s strength outweighed yours, and he had you beat every time you tried aiming for it again. Shoving at his chest, you moved to swing a leg over his lap and climb off, but he dragged you right back to his chest. His hand roamed up your side, curving along your hip and over the swell of your breast. Cupping your face with one large hang, Joel squeezed your cheeks together and forced your lips to part. 

You struggled against his grip, your eyes full of rage as you watched him take another drag of the cigarette. With your mouth partially open, he leaned close and blew the smoke over your lips and into your mouth. The fragrant odor of the smoke licked up your nose as you inhaled, your lips inches away from his. You didn’t like it. You didn’t want him close. Joel’s eyes bounced between your eyes and lips, the temptation of drawing you closer palpable in his body language. The nicotine buzzed inside your head, and you pulled away from his face right at the same moment he leaned closer. 

“Don’t,” you warned, smoke exhaling from your lips. 

Joel dropped his hand from your face, a clear shift in his mood arising as you watched his eyes flicker with disappointment. It was all over his face: the furrow between his brows, the downturn of his lips… He wanted to kiss you. You wouldn’t let him, though; that was too much. If he wanted to manhandle you and fuck you however he pleased, that was fine. You welcomed it, actually, because you knew one taste of his mouth, and you’d be ruined. You didn’t want intimacy with Joel, not when your family’s land was hanging in the balance. He’d reel you in with false pretenses and have you aching for more, only to tear it all away.

He cursed under his breath as he pressed his body to yours, leaning forward to discard the cigarette into the ashtray. The bulge beneath his jeans prodded your sex at this angle, eliciting a ripple of pleasure up your spine. A small gasp bubbled out of you as Joel readjusted himself beneath you. 

“You don’t wanna talk?” Joel asked, raising his voice. “Fine. Better not say a damn word unless it’s my name while I fuck you.”

In a millisecond, Joel had you pinned down to the couch again, your hair splayed around you and your breath whooshing from your lungs. His fingers worked at the zipper of your jeans, yanking them down your legs and discarding them over his shoulder. Propping a knee onto the couch, Joel undid his belt buckle and freed his cock from the confines of his jeans. Precum glistened on the tip, and he stroked himself slowly as he pulled your legs apart, molding you into the position he desired. 

“Only wanna hear y’scream my name. Y’understand that?” He growled. 

Joel coated the head of his cock with the slick covering your folds, pushing himself in with one deep thrust. You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as your body adjusted to his size. This angle was so much different than last time, and you could feel every vein and ridge of his cock rub against your fluttering walls. You focused on your breathing while he plunged deeper, breaking you open and fucking into you with hard thrusts. 

Caressing the back of your knee, Joel drew your leg up and over his shoulder, bending you in half until he was spearing into your core. 

“Look at me,” he ordered. 

You shook your head, whimpering at the sensation of his cock splitting you in half. Searing pain bloomed across your face as Joel’s hand connected with your cheek. Your eyes shot open, tears welling on your waterline, the sting of the pain churning into a wave of pleasure through your core. You forgot how addictive his touch could be when he was angry. His pupils swallowed the entirety of his eyes, a dark, endless abyss staring straight back at you.

“Do. You. Understand?” He grunted between thrusts.

You didn’t respond, a tear slipping down your cheek. The phantom touch of his fingers on your skin lingered still, and your clit throbbed with a sudden flurry of arousal. Joel’s hand wrapped around your jaw, forcing your mouth open. He leaned down, pressing his weight into you as his face neared yours. A trail of spit fell off his tongue and crashed into the back of your throat, and you flinched away from Joel as he pressed harder. 

“Swallow, brat.”

You struggled to swallow it; your throat constricted as his grip around your jaw tightened. He plowed into you, drilling your core with violent strokes until a gargled wail left your mouth. His spit slid down your throat, and he hummed in approval. 

“Good girl.”

He stretched your other leg up and over his shoulder, your ass lifting off the couch. You wanted to beg him to stop, yet nothing would leave your lips. Not even a sound as the noise of his hips slapping against yours filled the air. The thrum of your heartbeat vibrated through your chest, the pressure inside your stomach growing stronger as you propelled closer to the edge of your orgasm. Every muscle in your body grew taut, your clit aching to be touched…aching for relief from the violent flames lapping at your spine. So close. It was so close you craved for more. 

Maybe you didn’t want him to stop. 

“If you ain’t gonna listen to me in a normal conversation, then you’re gonna listen now,” he gritted. 

You flexed your jaw under his hand, trying to shy away from his piercing stare. You didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to listen… didn’t want anything but the opportunity to seek release. You could handle the pain—you welcomed it. The harder he fucked you, the less you had to think. And if you kept thinking, you’d drown in the consequences of your doubt. Keep him angry, you thought. Keep him the enemy. You couldn’t let him be anything more. 

“I don’t want your land,” Joel punched out through clenched teeth. “Keep it. I don’t give a shit.”

The buzzing inside your skin dulled out at his words. It was so hard to focus on what he was saying when your mind was melting from the inside out, his cock driving into you with brutal speed. He didn’t want…

“What?” You choked out.

Joel’s hand clamped down on your mouth, muffling your words as he bottomed out and kept himself seated inside you. The rhythm of his thrusts stopped, and he let his hips press into yours as he stared down at your tearful face. You were so fucking full of him you couldn’t breathe.

“Listen,” he snapped. 

You muffled out his name, the sound slipping through the space between his fingers. He only pressed harder, your body folded in half beneath his weight. You clenched around his cock, rocking your hips slightly to quell the need curling inside your stomach.

“I ain’t gonna take your land from you, ‘kay? All I’m askin’ for is permission to come ‘round without you tryna kill me.”

No. The word was lost inside the palm of his hand. You wanted your land, and you wanted Joel gone. You didn’t trust him when he said he didn’t want your land. How could you trust him when he had you pinned to the sofa? 

“This is what’s gonna happen,” Joel offered, snaking a free hand down between your legs. “You’re gonna agree with me and let me come and go as I please. Then maybe I’ll let you cum.” 

Calloused fingers circled your clit, forcing a cry from your mouth. Tantalizing, slow draws over your sensitive bud pulled desperate sounds out of you, each one of them stifled against his warm hand. Joel worked himself into shallow thrusts, pulling out to the tip and driving right back into you. You couldn’t fend off the orgasm bubbling under the surface, the nerves inside you lighting on fire. 

“Please!” You screamed between his fingers.

Joel’s lips twisted into a sneer, beads of sweat rolling down his temples as he pressed his fingers harder against your clit. Your eyes glossed over with fresh tears as you fought off the impending release rolling through your body.

“Say it.”

Your back arched off the couch as you chased the strokes of Joel’s fingers. Circling and circling… You were so close to the threshold of ecstasy, and you knew he’d tear it away from you if you didn’t relent. 

Joel ripped his hand from your mouth, tangling in the hair at the crown of your head. He forced your eyes down to where your bodies connected, your focus on his cock as it disappeared inside you. 

“Y’wanna cum on my cock, darlin’?” Joel taunted. 

“Fuck! Please, Joel!” You gasped.

With your chin tucked into your chest, your legs dangling over his shoulders, and his cock spearing into your core… you couldn’t hold back your orgasm any longer. 

“Say it!” Joel commanded.

“Okay!” You sobbed. “Just let me cum, Joel! Please!”

Joel assaulted you with a repetition of thrusts, each stronger than the last, until your orgasm exploded through your body. His name tore from your lips as your back curved off the couch and your legs squeezed around his neck. He kept his thumb circling your clit, your orgasm never ceasing to end as the inferno burned inside your core. Wet, hot arousal gushed out of you, splattering onto Joel’s navel and staining his denim shirt. His eyes flicked up to yours, a wicked grin splitting his face. 

“Look at the mess you’re makin’. Just drenchin’ my fuckin’ cock.”

“Joel!” You whined, squirming against his hand.

“Nuh uh, darlin’. Wanna see how messy y’can get. Keep goin’.”

He released his grip on your hair, forcing your head to fall against the arm of the sofa. Shuffling his knees forward, Joel continued his brutal thrusts until your arousal sprayed around his cock and dripped down the seam of your ass. There wasn’t enough air in your lungs as you alternated between screaming his name and begging him to stop. 

“Since y’wanted to cum so goddamn bad, you’re gonna keep takin’ my fuckin’ cock ‘til you ruin this damn couch,” Joel grunted. 

You were crying… hard. Your mind was on the precipice of hysteria as waves of your orgasm bolted through your veins. Lewd sounds of his body slapping against your wetness echoed through the room, the cushion beneath you soaked from your arousal. You attempted to claw yourself backward and away from Joel, but his grip was violent, and he only yanked you closer. 

“I can’t—I can’t anymore!” you sobbed. “Please, Joel…please.”

“Gimmie one more,” he demanded. 

You shook your head in protest, your sobs hiccuping inside your chest. Your core was too fucked out, your clit was painfully sensitive, and you were sitting in a pool of your arousal. How did Joel manage to turn the events of the day around in his favor? You had control at the start—you had the gun— but now he had you folded in half and strewn out in a heap of tears. 

“I can’t!” You wailed. “Too much—too much…”

“Poor thing,” Joel taunted. “Always beggin’ for it but can’t take it.”

You writhed beneath him, your body twisting and bending to alleviate the painful sensations rolling through your nerve endings. This was it; this was how you died. Drunk on pleasure and torn apart by the man you wanted to hate. 

Another orgasm tore through your body, consuming you from the inside out. Your scream pierced through the air, and you collapsed into the cushions, soaked with sweat and tears. Joel made a strangled noise above you as your sex clamped down around his cock, no doubt pulsating harder than it had the last several orgasms. His cock slipped from inside you, leaving you hollow and aching to be filled again. Your body craved the fullness, yet you sagged with relief knowing he stopped.

“C’mere,” Joel grunted. 

He slung your legs off his shoulders and yanked you down the couch by your ankle. Positioned over your face, Joel stroked his cock above you, his fingers glistening from the arousal that stuck to his velvety skin. 

“Open that fuckin’ mouth, darlin',” Joel urged. 

Your head was so hazy you hardly registered his words. Parting your lips, you whined softly and stared at him…waiting. Joel’s eyes connected with yours, that deep furrow in his brow more prominent than before. Rage still sparked behind his eyes, but in your delirium, you saw more. You saw right past his facade, just as he saw right past yours. Whatever terror etched itself into your features, it caught his attention, but he was painting your lips and face with his release before he could decipher it. Hot ropes of cum spattered against your lips, the salty taste covering your tongue as it trailed into your mouth. Remnants of his release coated your chin and neck, warm reminders of his futile efforts at staking his claim.

He hadn’t claimed you, no matter how hard he fucked you. You wouldn’t let him claim you. And you most certainly wouldn’t let him claim your land. 

Joel slid his finger through the mess along your neck, scooping his cum onto the pad of his finger and dragging it across your lips. 

“So fuckin’ pretty all covered in my cum,” he praised.

“Fuck you,” you whispered, though your words meant shit, as you rolled your tongue over your bottom lip.

Joel gave you a soft grin, smoothing down your hair and cleaning the mess off your face with one hand. The same hand that had inflicted pain just moments ago, the hand that brought you to release more times than you could physically endure. 

But now the touch was soft—caring, even. And that frightened you more than the violence he showed when he was provoked. It was this side of Joel that made you scared, and you wanted to run as far from it as you could. 

“Let’s get you up, darlin’,” Joel said, hoisting you by the shoulders until you sat under his shadow. 

He massaged your legs as you swung them over the couch, attempting to relieve the tension within your muscles. You shrunk away, standing on unbalanced limbs, and distanced yourself from his wandering hands.

“I need a shower,” you decided. “Y’can see yourself out.”

“I ain’t done talkin’ to you.”

“Well, I’m done fuckin’ talking!” You argued. 

You spun on your heel, your hands clenched at your sides. Joel’s eyes stayed focused on you as he worked at stuffing his cock back into his jeans. Half-naked before him, you felt a million times smaller than you had when he arrived. 

“Why are you so hateful?” He questioned, rising to his feet.

Your lips curled up, a slew of spiteful words dancing on the tip of your tongue. But Joel wasn’t finished. 

“This is your land,” he said, stepping closer. “I ain’t gonna argue that anymore ‘cause it’s a lost cause. And I ain’t tryna steal it from you. I can promise you that.” Another step closer. “So, why do y’hate the idea of me comin’ around?”

“Because I hate you,” you responded. 

“You hate me, huh? Is that how y’feel ‘bout me when I’m pullin’ orgasms from your body? ‘Cause I think you fuckin’ love it. You love bein’ fucked by me. You get me all riled up ‘cause y’know what’s comin’ for you.”

“I hate you,” you repeated.

Joel lifted his hand to your face, cupping your cheek with a featherlike touch. You wanted to shy away, but you were too tired to move.

“I don’t think y’hate me at all, darlin’,” he whispered. 

He leaned closer, placing a kiss on your forehead. You squeezed your eyes shut, holding off another round of tears brimming over the surface. Pushing your hands against his chest, you shoved Joel away, your body staggering back with the force of your action.

“Get the hell outta my house,” you cried, no longer keeping the tears at bay. 

Joel stared at you with a pained expression, his eyes searching through your glassy eyes for the falter within your words. He didn’t budge; he didn’t move an inch. You shoved at his chest again, but it was no use as he wrangled you into his arms and lifted your chin to meet his eyes.

“When are you gonna quit fightin’ me?” He asked softly. 

It was a sincere question; you saw it swimming behind the rich chocolate of his irises. Pleading. Begging. He wanted the truth, but you wouldn’t give in. You couldn’t.

“I’ll quit fightin’ when y’learn to leave me alone.”

“What if I don’t wanna?”

He was a breath away from your lips, the rich scent of farmland wafting off his skin as it mixed with the smell of sex. It was intoxicating being this close—close enough to wonder what his lips would feel like on yours. While your body ached for him in one way, your heart ached differently. It was an ache you wanted to keep fighting because the moment you lost that battle, you’d lose everything. 

“I don’t want you comin’ here anymore, Joel.”

“Why?” he pressed. 

Silence blanketed over you, weighing down the words lodged in your throat. The rapid beating of your heart matched his as he kept you tight to his chest. You were suffocated by the emotions you couldn’t say, and you were slowly sinking further down. 

You struggled against the arm that bound around your waist, helplessly trying to break free of his hold. He finally relented in defeat, letting you shuffle back until there was a healthy gap between your bodies. Running a hand down the scruff on his chin, Joel gave you a simple nod and retreated toward the front door. 

“Until you can give me a reason, I’m gonna keep comin’ back.”

He left without a glance over his shoulder, the room around you shrinking in size without his presence looming over you. Searching for your shorts, you quickly dressed and hid behind the window curtains as you watched his truck rumble to life and speed down the dirt roads. There was no goodbye between you, and you knew there wouldn’t be. Joel wasn’t giving up, no matter how hard you pushed him away, and eventually, he’d win. 

And you hated knowing the truth. 

**

Behind the billowing dirt trail of his truck, Joel watched as your house faded from view. His knuckles were white around the steering wheel as he thought about the way he left. He was doing this for fun; at least, that’s what it felt like at the start. Getting on your nerves, pissing you off, seeing you completely unraveled underneath his hands, Joel loved it. He loved the thrill of having you tamed down and quiet, compliant to anything he asked and did. 

Then he had you pinned underneath him, and he saw the fear in your eyes. You weren’t scared of him. You were scared of the emotions electrifying between the both of you. Then you pulled away from him, denying him any affection, and he fucking hated it. 

He couldn’t understand why you got under his skin the way you did, nor why he cared so much. It wasn’t supposed to end up this way, yet Joel wanted to keep tearing down your walls. He wanted to hear you tell him the truth.

He wasn’t going to stop until he got it.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

In The Minotaur's Maze

Male Minotaur Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Violently painful noncon, mild bleeding from sex, size difference, belly bulge from massively huge dick, mild mention of musk, stalking, kidnapping, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 980 (Tried to make a drabble, failed again with a mini-fic instead. Oops. This is one of my very few works, so far, that is technically fanfiction as Asterion is the canon name of the Minotaur in Greek mythology.)

You were a talented explorer seeking ancient relics for fame and fortune.

You used a combination of minor magic to speak to the dead and serious investigation to discern the location of the fabled Minotaur labyrinth.

It was deep within an enchanted cave system that in many ways served as an extension of the maze hidden away within.

You carefully navigated the treacherous caves until you came upon the secret entrance. You placed your hand in the middle of a smooth wall and uttered the magic incantation.

The wall dissolved in a flash of light, and you stepped through the entrance as the stone reformed behind you. This was it. You were in the maze proper. What secrets lie ahead?

Of course, you knew the legends of Asterion the Minotaur, but he had been slain in them. And nothing could live so long anyway, especially without food.

You navigated the stone corridors easily. Despite their age, they still looked brand new. As you continued on, you occasionally heard what sounded like hooves plodding along behind you.

You pushed it from your mind. Your imagination was playing tricks.

As you stepped around a corner, you came to a wooden door and opened it. When you stepped through, gone were the twisting stone paths filled with the scent of earth.

Instead, there was an ancient style dwelling overlooking some farmland growing a variety of trees, bushes, and vines.

The door you had come through was still behind you, you closed it and from this side it looked like a door to a shed. So the labyrinth had pocket dimensions… You had heard about them in passing. You wondered how large it was. The realm may look like an idyllic farm on earth, but if you went far enough away, you'd surely hit an invisible wall.

Perhaps the door to the house would lead further into the dungeon.

As you got closer, you realized how large it was. When you pushed the big door open, it actually was a house. Albeit with furniture that was made for someone very large.

Suddenly, you felt a hot breath at your neck. You turned to find the very large, naked Minotaur staring down at you. He was a hairy wall of muscle. One with the head of a bull, complete with metal tipped horns. His legs were covered in dark fur and ended in large hooves, and his full nutsack dangled beneath a frighteningly large prick.

Before you could react, the Minotaur grabbed you and pulled off all your clothing.

You had no idea how Asterion could have survived all this time. He had been killed!

But apparently, he hadn't gotten the memo.

In the past, he had consumed most humans that wandered into his labyrinthine prison, but you were bravely entering his home, his nest.

You weren't cowering like the old sacrifices. Well, you weren't before he grabbed you anyway.

That, combined with him being in rut and driven insane by thousands of years of isolation, made him not consider you as a meal for even a moment. You were firmly in the mate category in his brain.

So small and cute.

You writhed and fought to get out of his grasp but he ignored your greatest efforts as if they were nothing.

Asterion licked at your face as you pleaded with him to let you go.

He couldn't understand your language but he could guess at their meaning.

But he had no intention of ever letting this new mate of his go.

He tossed you down on the bed and you now saw what he intended to do.

His hard cock now at full arousal, as large and thick as a man's arm.

"No no no! Pleasepleasenono!!!" Your words blended together in a garbled panic as his musk hit your nose, sharp and dominating.

The only preparation your entrance received was a few gobs of slimy Minotaur saliva before he slammed inside you.

You shrieked.

It felt as though your entrance was on fire. As if it was being ripped apart.

With every thrust you shuddered in pain and sobbed. Nearly incoherent cries for mercy dribbled from your lips and fell on deaf ears.

You felt so warm and tight around him. This was just what he needed. Surely you had been sent to Asterion in his time of need by the gods. They finally, after eons, granted him mercy in the form of your insides.

So pliant to his girthy cock. Every time he dove back into you the outline could be seen in your stomach.

Tears streamed down your face as you silently wept, no longer able to scream or even babble your silly little pleas for it to stop.

Asterion wished he could tell you how well you were doing. That you were such a good cow for him. That you fit his cock so perfectly.

But he couldn't, so instead settled for licking and nibbling at your neck before wiping your tears away with his broad tongue.

With a final thrust he filled your belly visibly cum.

When he pulled out a torrent of his seed rushed down your thighs, it had noticeable streaks of pink from bleeding. You were such a fragile little thing compared to him.

He hadn't been able to hold back since that was the first time he had ever sought release inside of someone before, but he made note to be more careful.

Even though the breeding had stopped you were helpless. Broken. At least for the moment. You still cried silently, feeling utterly invaded and defiled.

Asterion took the time to lick you completely clean before laying down beside you and holding you close, spooning you with his mighty arm as you shook beneath it.

You came here to explore the deepest reaches of the maze... but had your deepest reaches explored instead...

[fangirl-dot-com]

Drive To Survive

key:

indented italics - flashbacks, display other than interview, screen changes

February 14, 2025 

The screen is dark as the newest episode of Drive To Survive plays. 

The title read “The Rookie.” It was finally time for the episode that everyone had been waiting for since the 2024 season ended. 

The opening scene starts with multiple flashes of cameras. If people watched the 2023 season, they would know exactly what circuit it was. The Elvis impersonators would give it away as well. 

Standing in a circle was the current world champion, two Ferrari drivers, and the Papaya duo. They smiled forced smirks for the cameras. Yet, they dropped them once they realized the cameras were not pointing to them. The Netflix camera filmed them all turning to face the front. Most of the drivers had confused looks. 

“I didn’t know Checo was a Cars fan,” the microphone picked up the words from the red clad Spaniard. 

Max smirked, the camera zooming in on the Dutchman. 

“He’s not.” 

The camera angle changes to the back of a young woman, blond hair bouncing with every step. A red scarf flowed behind her, white body suit sparkling under the flashes of all the cameras. 

The screen flashed the title before a producer chair was put in a spotlight. The camera angle switched to a back view as a driver walked around and sat in the chair. Their face is completely nonvisible from the camera angle, but people know who it is. 

The lights dim before brightening, and the camera angle is back on the chair with the driver. Blond hair reflects the lighting, as well as a nice smile. The episode clapper is in her hands.  

“Please state your name and team for the camera.” 

The woman in the chair took a breath. 

“My name is Y/n L/n and I drive for the Italian team, Scuderia Ferrari.” 

She clapped the black and white box. A loud beep sounded in the studio as the camera crew started to laugh. The girl in the chair started giggling as well, before acting serious again. 

“Yeah, that was a lie. I drive for the best, the Honda RBPT Oracle Red Bull Racing Formula 1 team. Red doesn’t look the best on me. I prefer navy.” 

She smiles, trying not to laugh once more. 

The camera quickly cuts to black and then fades into a clip, that looks similar to a home video. A young girl is smiling for the camera, tiniest helmet in her hand.  

“How old were you when you started karting?” a voice sounded over the video. 

The blond cocked her head in thought. She smiled at the nostalgia that was running through her mind. 

“I was five.” 

The same little girl was now in a kart, doing donuts on a driveway. 

“My parents had gotten me a kart as a present. They had been talking about starting me as soon as possible. I mean, I had toy cars before for practice. My first one was a bright pink Barbie car and I got that when I was 3.” 

The clip changes to a different scene. This time, it was of a karting circuit. Multiple kids were aiming for the first place spot, but a singular pink kart was going around the outside, taking it from them.  

“I remember my first time winning. It was 2008, a few months after I got my kart. All the boys there looked at me weird when I showed up with my hot pink helmet.” 

“Where you scared?” the interviewer leaned in, awaiting the answer. 

“Of the boys? Not one bit. They should have been more scared of me.” 

It was now a black screen, but multiple voices shouted over it. 

“Y/n L/n wins her first feature karting race. 

“That is another win for the female karter! 

“Y/n L/n wins the European Division for karting in 2010! 

“L/n takes the 2012 Italian Karting Division Championship!” 

“Karting will always be a part of me.” 

“Who kept you going?” 

The girl gave a sad smile to the camera as she looked down at her hands. She knew she had given them permission to talk about the subject. She just didn’t know that they’d go right off the bat. 

“My godfather, Lorenzo.” 

The screen changed to a clip of the small girl running to a taller man. The man was knelt down in the grass, arms open wide to catch the running girl. A gentle smile was on his face as he looked at the trophy in the child’s arms: almost too big for her to carry on her own. 

“I believe that without him, I wouldn’t be in this chair. I owe it all to him.” 

The scene changes once again, to multiple clips of an F4 and F3 car crossing the finish line. 

“Y/n L/n wins her first F4 race of the season! 

“Is she going to take home the championship today? Yes she does! Y/n L/n is the 2018 Formula 4 Champion!

“It is a new year and we are seeing a lot of new rookies in Formula 3. Hold on, is that Y/n L/n? Ah it is! So glad to see the girl here today especially after last year! 

One of the regulars on the show, Will Buxton, was now in the seat. 

“What are your thoughts on L/n’s rise in Formula 3?” 

Will leaned in, getting focused. 

“You have to have such a good foundation in your family and close friends, to be supported, to be good like that. Because without good support, a driver cannot be a good driver.” 

“L/n is across the line to take home her first F3 race win. We were seeing her looking a bit down earlier, so I hope this brings her spirits up because she is making history today.” 

“So, I was disowned right before that race that I won in F3.” The blond shrugged. “I really never had any good support other than like three people. At the time, two of them were just staff too.” 

She giggled at the revelation, knowing what Buxton had said beforehand. 

“Another win for L/n, making her the 2019 Formula 3 champion. Ladies and gentlemen, you do not want to miss watching this racer ever again.” 

Somber music now plays in the background. 

“How nervous were you when you made the jump from the Formula 3 division to Formula 2.” 

The girl gave a nervous scoff. “I was terrified.”

Clips of pictures filled the screen. 

“I had just lost the only person in the world who I know still cared for me.” 

“Heir to the Alessandrino Fortune Has Died” 

“Former Italian Karting Champion Lorenzo Alessandrino Has Passed Away” 

“Lorenzo Alessandrino, 2001 Formula 2 Champion, Is Dead” 

“Y/n L/n Makes Motor Sport History as the First Woman To Start in Formula 2” 

“L/n Takes the Formula 2 Feature Race” 

“Y/n L/n, History Maker: First Female To Win a Formula 2 Race” 

The headlines fade into a video of the podium. A 25-year-old Max Verstappen is visible, holding the 1st place trophy. He is seen watching the 17-year-old Y/n L/n shed some tears during her national anthem, while pointing to the sky when it finished. He gingerly stepped out and handed it to her when cued. She graciously took it from his hands and offered him a wide smile. Max stepped back, watching the young girl openly cry in front of thousands. On the inside, he wished he had that strength. 

“I could tell something was off that day.” 

A new driver was in the chair. Male, blond, and in the same team uniform as the female was. Anybody who’s anybody knew exactly who that was. 

He sucked in a breath. “Obviously, I didn’t know her or what she had been through at the time. Now knowing, I wish I had given her a hug.” 

Max let out a chuckle as he reminisced on that day. 

The screen flashed and the woman was back in the chair.

“I knew who he was. Everyone knew who he was.” Her hands waved around. “Max Verstappen, probably one of the greatest drivers to grace the grid. No one just skips most of F3 and all of F2. You have to be great. And that was Max.” 

“Was he your favorite driver on the grid at that time?” 

She let out a snort. “Oh gosh no.” 

Everyone in the studio laughed. 

The scene changed to you sitting next to Charles at one of the debriefs in Las Vegas. You had no clue why they put you there, because last you knew, you weren’t driving. However, they had said something about wanting the pole sitter and you (who had done the fastest lap in FP1) to talk for a bit. 

Your cheeks were a bit heated as you were truly sitting next to your hero. Charles could only smirk at your very shy nature next to him. He watched you rattle off about some part of the car and the balance. 

The Monegasque cut in. 

“See, this is why she is perfect to be Max’s teammate. They could talk all day.” 

Everyone around them laughed, along with you who gave some quiet giggles. You rolled your eyes. 

“Let’s not talk about the fact that you have your own ‘Leclerifying’ hmmm?” 

The girl smirked at the camera. “There was a certain McLaren driver that always tried to get the attention of a select Spaniard. If Lando was obsessed with Carlos. I was obsessed with the other Ferrari driver. I tried to get his attention on Twitter, er, well now X a couple of times. It was still Twitter when I was using it.” 

“Of course I noticed her tweets.” 

A new driver was now in the seat once again. This time, he wore the iconic Rosso Corsa team polo.  

Charles smiled as he looked down at the multiple rings on his finger. His hand came up to his neck to fidget with a certain necklace. His smile grew as he thought on the memories. 

“I thought it was sweet. A young driver was trying to keep up with the big leagues. I’m pretty sure I responded a couple of times. And Sebastian had put in a good word for her.”

“Sebastian?”

Charles’s eyes widened as he smirked. 

“Vettel. He’s known her for longer than anyone here has.”  

The scene changed again. 

The girl was back as she clapped her hands.

“Charles made my day whenever he responded. To me it was probably like if Harry Styles responded to a fangirl’s tweet or Instagram. I always hoped that I’d make it to Formula 1 and could maybe drive beside him.”

“We were told that you know retired driver Sebastian Vettel.” 

The blond smirked, not nervous but confident. 

“Yeah, I know him. He was really good friends with my godfather.” 

She leans forwards and fixes her shorts. 

“It’s kind of how Max was close to the Schumacher family. Lorenzo worked with Seb multiple times in the very early 2000’s when Seb was still in karting. I want to say probably even before I was born as well. He was a little bit older than Seb, more like a mentor. I was able to catch up with Sebastian around 2020 and I got to meet a few more people.”

“People such as?” they prodded. 

“Kimi, Nico, Mark. I’m pretty sure I met Lewis like once though when I was pretty young. Like probably around 2015. I got to watch a couple of Formula 1 races with them in 2020.”  

The camera cuts to a man wearing the Mercedes logo on his polo. His braids are kept nicely as he smiles at the camera. They hand him a picture of you and him in 2015. His eyes are wide as he keeps looking at the photo and then to the camera. 

“This was her?” Lewis questioned, letting out a small laugh. His eyes squint as he tries to get a closer look in the dark room. 

The scene changes once again, the female driver back in the seat.

“Were you nervous that you might not have made it? To Formula 1 after what happened in 2020?” 

The blond looked down at her hands. 

“There were a few years where I was convinced that I wouldn’t.”  

The screen fades to more headlines. 

“Y/n L/n enters a second year of Formula 2 with PREMA” 

“The Future for F2’s Only Female Driver is Uncertain” 

“L/n Is Out of the Last F2 Race of the Season” 

“PREMA Drops L/n for Her F2 Final Season?” 

A clip of a meeting of some sorts flashed on the screen. You were looking quite down as you picked at the end of a table as someone read off a paper. You didn’t even want to pay attention as they were nailing the final nail into the coffin.

“Prema Racing has decided to let go of driver number 89, Y/n L/n. After the 2022 season, she will no longer race for or have any affiliations with Prema and will be replaced by Ollie Bearman.” 

You spoke up. “But I have a contract until the end of 2023.” 

The representative glared at you, before looking back at the page and kept reading. “Since driver 89 has underperformed in the past 2 years, Prema has decided to break contract. Compensation will be sent at a later time.” 

Vito had silently grasped your shoulder to offer you some comfort, but the hurt had already been done. You were going into a season for the first time since F4, you didn’t have a secured future in the sport. 

Ollie was sitting on the other side, watching you sadly as they basically read your death sentence. The camera zoomed in on you playing with a pen. If one were to look closely, they could see tears streaming down your cheeks. 

Will was back in the seat. 

“A driver without a contract or team cannot drive.” 

The scene changes back to the driver. 

“I mean. I had other options. On the side I was talking to Sebastian and even Nico. I was trying to keep my eyes open for something, anything. Except, it turned out that I didn’t need to.” 

More headlines flashed.  

“DAMS To Sign Both Leclerc and L/n for 2023” 

“Y/n L/n Wins First Two Races of the 2023 Formula 2 Season” 

“L/n Wins Her Third Race with Teammate Arthur Leclerc Behind Her” 

“Y/n L/n Makes History Once Again: First Female To Win Formula 2 Championship” 

“Y/n L/n: Youngest Driver To Win F2 Championship” 

The girl is back in the chair, the spotlight on her. 

“I didn’t know that I’d get the championship my final year. I was skeptical. I really thought that I wouldn’t be able to, since it was my final year, I had been dropped, and I had a new teammate. But I had a really good teammate and a better team. They really put everything into me being the best driver.” 

“What did you think would happen after everything was over? You had won the championship with 1 race to spare.” 

The girl swallowed before speaking. “Obviously, I thought I didn’t have many options. At the time, it seemed as though every door was closed. I kept talking to my manager about it, and every time he said he would come back empty handed. I even talked to him that morning, and he just had a sad smile on his face.” She paused. “I knew that even though I could be the champion, I had nowhere to go after that.” 

The person in the chair changed. 

“So, that was all a lie,” Vito spoke to the camera, a smile on his face. 

The scene had changed. Vito Accardi, Y/n L/n’s manager, was seated in a chair. It looked like he was stressing over his laptop. Stella, L/n’s  race engineer at the time of 2023, was seated across from him. He was silently tapping a pen on the table as he looked over the words on the screen.  

“Too many junk emails?” she teased, settling into her chair. 

The male shook his head. 

The screen showed multiple contracts up at once, lines upon lines were highlighted. The headers at the top of each contract showed very recognizable logos. 

He smirked as he looked directly at the camera. “I couldn’t tell her anything until I knew that there was something for certain.” 

“How many teams wanted her?” 

“All of them.” 

The scene changed to a past driver’s get-together: one that no one had seen before. The group consisted of Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, Fernando Alonso, Daniel Ricciardo. An odd group, but they were just waiting around (or hiding on a Wednesday). 

Charles was looking down at his phone, while Max was watching him closely. The Monegasque’s fingers were typing at a lightning speed. 

Lando was the one to point it out. 

“What’s got you in a tizzy?” the Briton asked, pulling Charles out of whatever fog he was in. He quickly turned his phone off. 

“Ferrari is wanting to sign someone else, but wouldn’t be able to do so until 2025. Except her manager insists on a seat for 2024.” 

Lewis had his interest piqued. “It is Y/n L/n?” 

“Yeah. My brother has put in great words for her, along with Sebastian. Pierre also says that Alpine is thinking of options too.  She’s,” he huffed, “very good. Almost a little too good.”  

The other Mercedes driver took a sip of his drink. “Toto was just talking to me about that, but he said the same thing. There aren’t any seats available until 2025. But he wants her.” 

Lando rolled his eyes. “So we’ve all gotten the talk about how all the team principals want to sign her. Even McLaren is speaking about how to get her a seat somewhere. Testing driver or something like that.” 

The older Spaniard spoke up. “It would be foolish not to. She has generational talent. Stroll is looking at her as well.” 

“So are we. Except there aren’t any seats,” an Aussie added. 

Max was quietly reading almost every article he could get his hands on about her. In the back of his mind, he knew that Checo was going to retire after this year (especially after what happened at Mexico). He quickly sent one to Christian, only getting a thumbs up. 

Daniel bumped Max. “You’ve been quiet over there. What are your thoughts on the potential rookie?” 

The Dutchman looked up. “What rookie?”

The scene changed back to the Italian man. 

“I’ve been her manager for years. I knew exactly what she needed at that moment. Sure, I could have told her, but I knew she wanted to race in 2024 and not wait. I’m not her manager for nothing.” 

“How did you get in touch with Red Bull’s Christian Horner.” 

The man adjusted in the chair. “Well, even though she wasn’t on their junior team, the actual brand Red Bull was one of her sponsors in karting.” 

The scene changes once again, this time the Team Principal of the currently reining team was now in the seat. 

“Vito had gotten in contact with me when she first started F2,” the older Briton said. “But we wanted to see what would happen. We took a chance at Max, way back then. But this was a bit different.” 

The interviewer asked, “Because she was a girl?” 

Christian shook his head. 

“Because she was 16 at the start: younger than Max was by two years. Sure, she turned 17 at the end of the season due to a later birthday in October. But, we took a step back to see what she could do, especially now that they changed the age rules after Max. She was dropped by PREMA, and we almost took the chance then to maybe bring her in as a development driver. But, Vito was adamant about her wanting a championship. She wanted records broken, and she did.” 

“How did everything go down? Before she knew.” 

He smiled.

“I called him right after I got the article from Max. Youngest to win an F2 Championship and a female on top of that.” 

“Was everything pretty smooth sailing?” 

He shook his head. “I was advised not to sign her, but I was told ‘no’ for Max and you see where that got me. I wasn’t going to let her go to a team that wouldn’t let her shine.” 

The scene changes to the RB19 being driven out at the mock track for training. The girl’s white helmet was a stark contrast against the deep navy of the car. The camera panned to the mock pit wall. Multiple people pressed buttons as they watched you take lap after lap. 

A much older man just looked on with pinched eyebrows, not really interested in seeing what the girl had to offer.

After the final testing times had been clocked, he stood up and slammed his papers on a table, before he left the pits. Christian smirked as he watched him stalk off. He knew he made the right call for the second time. 

“How did it feel being in the seat for the first time?” 

The girl, back in the seat, responded, “It felt surreal.” 

She kept talking as the screen faded into clips of the car. 

The aerial view watched as the car look several laps: getting close ups and shots of the car going around the corners.  

“I went from having the door slammed into my face to the door being blown to bits.” 

“Did Vito ever tell you that he was talking to multiple people at once?” 

She looked at the camera. “He did. But he knew what I needed. That’s why he’s been my manager since 2018.” 

The scene changes to multiple flashing cameras as the girl walked into the paddock for the first time in Vegas. The cameras followed as she straight up walked to the group of older guys, introduced herself, and followed Max as he walked away. The rest of the guys watched her animatedly talk to the man who hated every second of the Las Vegas Grand Prix. 

“The beginning of your season was filled with a lot of highs,” 

The screen flashes to multiple clips of you raising trophies, especially highlighting your podium in Bahrain. 

“And lows.” 

The female’s eyebrows raised. “No kidding.” 

The scene changes to your car flipping in Suzuka before panning to people’s reactions. Many people immediately stood up. Others put their hands over their mouths. Many stayed sitting, frozen in shock over what they just saw. 

The screen fades to black, but radio messages can be heard. 

“Kid, you have to answer me.” 

“Tell me you’re ok. You need to respond.” 

“I can’t lose you too.” 

Charles was back in the chair. Tears could be seen in his lash line as he exhaled a shaky breath. He closed his eyes, trying to get over his emotions. 

“A crash like that doesn’t happen every day. It was awful, just waiting to hear back from her. Really took me back to 2014. Reminded me of Jules. On the same track. Rain. I don’t think I would have finished the season if she hadn’t made it.” 

The scene changes to multiple marshals standing around the car, trying to get to you. Except, you were trapped. They didn’t want to start cutting, just in case there was a fuel leak. They did not need for the car to catch fire.  

“I remember watching Lewis just turn around,” George said, now that he was in the seat. “He kept shaking his head and muttering. I couldn’t stop crying.” 

“Y/n is a driver who was shy at the beginning, but then got more comfortable with you as time passed. She became precious to everyone on the grid.” Oscar offered a smile, but it fell short as he remembered Suzuka. 

“There hadn’t-” Lewis began, but cut short. He swallowed before he kept going. “There hadn’t been a crash like that since 2014. And the last time it happened, he didn’t make it. I was honestly preparing myself for the worst.” 

Max shrugged his shoulders, trying to be nonchalant. Yet, anyone could see that his hands were shaking just a bit, his fingers picking at his skin. 

“She just wouldn’t answer. And then they got Arthur Leclerc on the radio, thinking that he could get to her. Even then, she didn’t respond for what felt like hours. We were all waiting, on the pit lane, just hoping that she���d start talking soon.” 

“What did it feel like for you in the car?” 

The female was back in the seat. 

“All I really remember was seeing the sky and the grass as I rolled, and then nothing. I had totally blacked out. When I was coming to, I just remember hearing so much through the radio, I didn’t know what to make of it. I think I laughed as I answered. I was just happy to be alive.” 

“We know that was your first DNF. Thankfully the second wasn’t as bad.” 

“No kidding,” she laughed. “My car just doesn’t have very good balance.” 

“You’ve had lots of podiums. Which one was the most fulfilling?” 

The girl looked up in thought. Her eyes narrowed, truly going over her options. She didn’t want to have to talk about certain matters, but she didn’t want it to be brought up later. 

She answered, “Imola.” 

“What was so special or daunting because of it?” 

The blond harshly inhaled, before smirking a bit. “Well, lot of people knew how it ended.” 

The scene changes to multiple police cars around the paddock. The camera barely caught a glimpse of two people being let away in handcuff before panning over to the group of drivers. The lens zoomed in on your face, a big bruise forming by your eye. Max was standing protectively near you as Christian was still yelling at the people in the car. The other drivers can be seen hovering around the scene. 

Max gulped before he sighed. 

“I knew it was bad, but not this bad. I’m just glad that I had gotten to her in time.” 

The female stretched. “Except I got a trophy out of it, so, I wasn’t too sad.” 

The scene changes to the next race, where most of the drivers were waiting for the parade. They could tell that someone was missing. Except, right when Lando was about to bring it up, you walked in. Sunglasses were on your eyes, trying to hide the ugly yellow and purple blotch on your face. Except, it didn’t do too much to actually hide it. 

“Afternoon,” you said, sipping on a drink that you brought. Your fingers took off your glasses, multiple drivers wincing. “It’s not that bad.” 

Lando rolled his eyes before muttering, “They shouldn’t have been allowed back in.” 

Max handed you an icepack, which you grabbed immediately. Logan brought you into a side hug and let you rest against him.  

The Dutchman let everyone know that you had finally gotten your restraining order approved. Smiles adorned the rest of the drivers’ faces at the news. 

An older Aussie was now in the seat. 

“I wasn’t there when she met everyone. But I watched Max let her follow him, in Vegas. It was cute, ‘cause I’ve never seen Max act like that before. But she’ s been a good teammate to him. Not trying to be rude, but I’m also putting myself down when I say this: she has been the best teammate that Max has ever had.” 

The scene changes to you and Max in a car on the way to a race. The two of you are seated next to each other and phones are in your hands. A sudden gasp from you has you reaching over to Max, your hand smacking his chest. 

The Dutchman winces. “What?” 

“Taylor Swift broke up with Travis Kelce. Fernando has his chance.” 

Viewers would have thought that Max would seem uninterested, but his eyes widened and he was suddenly leaning over, trying to get a good look at your phone. 

“You’re lying.” 

“No I’m not. See?” You just handed your phone over and Max was instantly enthralled with the device, fingers scrolling quickly. 

“It’s definitely like they have a competitive sibling relationship.” 

Max watched as you were talking to Oscar, the afternoon after you hit his car. Max smirked as he walked past and bumped you on purpose. Your head whipped around, trying to find who did that. Once you saw Max’s shoulders shake as he walked away, it was over. You quickly said goodbye to Oscar before running up to Max. 

What he did not expect was for you to jump on his back, almost sending him face first into cement. He stumbled but his arms were quick to grab your legs. Your giggles were loud next to his ear, but Max guessed that he’d let you stay. 

“I know for a fact that it’s been good to see Max a bit more carefree. Y/n really brings out the good in him. She really does that to everyone though.” 

Rain was pouring down in Brazil, due to a hurricane in the area. The race had been canceled and Max was just chilling in the garage. His eyes caught your figure walking out into the downpour. He watched as you just stood there, getting drenched. That was until you started dancing to no music at all. 

Max got up from his seat and walked over to a manager. 

“May I?” he asked, the manager nodding his head. 

He plugged his phone into a jack and clicked on a specific playlist that the two of you had made together. Normally, it would be playing while the two of you warmed up to get ready in the car. But now it was playing as you continued to dance. 

Max quickly joined you and bumped you with his hip. The cameras caught you looking up at your older teammate, whose body was quickly getting drenched. Before long, the two of you were dancing in the rain. 

And very possibly, the other drivers joined in too. 

“She really cares for him. It was like they met and clicked right away.” 

Clips of you and Max filled the screen. Walking together in the paddock, signing things for fans, doing stupid things for media day, congratulating each other after races. 

It showed you checking on him after a DNF, wanting a legitimate answer if he was okay or not. Once Max gave the thumbs up and Mitch told you that he was, the cameras in your car showed how your body visibly relaxed after know that he was ok. 

“Sure, they’ve had their troubles.” 

The scene changes to Max passing you in Monaco. 

Your voice was heard over the scene. “What an asshole.”

The scene changed to you not letting Max pass and him hitting the back of your RB20 in Belgium. 

“That was a rookie mistake.” 

The viewers knew that they had deliberately cut a certain action out of the scene, but it was something that they were actually thankful that Netflix cut. 

“But they always apologize and get back to it. I think that’s how she got her first win. She needed to know that they could truly work as a team.” 

The scene showed you and Max giving each other a big hug in The Netherlands after Max won the Dutch Grand Prix. 

The scene changes once more. 

“How was it? Winning in the city of red.” 

“Words cannot express.” 

The screen showed you walking in on that fateful morning, bright orange car in the background. You waved to the crowds, who seemed to get louder with your attention. Your smile brightly shone as you kept walking, only stopping momentarily for a few autographs and pictures. 

“Y/n L/n On Pole in Monza – Youngest Pole Sitter in F1 History”

“There she goes! Y/n L/n has won the 2024 Italian Grand Prix. She was starving, but now she’s been satiated. The youngest pole sitter and turned that into a win.”  

“Y/n L/n – First Female To Ever Win a Formula 1 Grand Prix” 

"Y/n L/n Hailed as 'The Long Awaited' by Italian Fans"

The camera pans to the girl standing on the nose of her car, hands stretched up reaching for the sky. Max, who had DNF earlier, came over. She grasped him tightly, legs around his waist. Christian was behind them, joining in the celebrations. Soon, the entirety of the crew got over the barrier and flooded the area. The two Ferrari drivers, in a respectable P2 and P3, watched as the female driver was almost covered by people. If it wasn’t them, then they were glad it was her. 

The blond returned back to the seat. 

“Let me tell you, the after party was probably my favorite part of the weekend. Well, besides the winning part.” 

“After Monza, how did the rest of the season go.” 

“Well, I did go on to win 3 more races.” The girl smirked. 

Clips of the number 89 car crossing the finish line cover the screen. 

“Y/n L/n takes her second win of the season after Monza in Mexico! 

It showed you waving to the crowds of Mexico, flag draped over your shoulders with a sombrero on your head.. 

“A homecoming of sorts, Y/n L/n wins a third race under the lights of Las Vegas! 

Your fists were clenched as you shook them while your knees were bent. The while Elvis suit kind of glowed against the night sky. 

“L/n wins her fourth race of the season in Abu Dhabi. Ending a perfect rookie year on a high!” 

The crowds watch you get on your hands and knees before your car. Your hands outstretched in almost a mock bow to the machine. 

The scenes show the you hoisting up three more trophies, all while pointing to the sky after each one.  

The interviewer looked down at their questions, before glancing back up at the girl. 

“What was your worst race? One that you didn’t DNF.” 

The girl didn’t even hesitate. “Qatar.” 

“Why is that?” 

She shrugged. “I thought it would be cooler.” 

The screen goes black, but then changes to a very busy scene. People could see medical personelle holding onto a driver by their arms. Their legs all but dragged along the concrete. Lights flashed around as they brought her to a makeshift cot. Her helmet was ripped off along with the cloth under it. You gasped as you tried to catch your breath. Your cheeks were red and your hair matted with sweat. 

“I need an IV and cooling towels now!” 

“Her blood pressure is dropping, she’s going to pass out again.” 

“Hey, you need to stay awake. Do not close your eyes.” 

“Her breath is more shallow, she needs to cool down. Get buckets of ice and water.” 

It changes to a podium, but only two drivers are present. It was supposed to be a Papaya sandwich after Oscar had gotten his first actual race win. They looked worried and barely stayed for the celebrations. 

The cameras followed as the orange drivers as they ran to the Red Bull garage once the podium was finished. They expected to see you still unconscious, since that was the last they heard before the podium. Yet, they were surprised to see you upright and smiley. An IV was connected to your arm, but you were awake. 

Oscar ran, before wrapping his arms around you. 

“Do not do that again. I can’t believe that you kept racing.” 

You smiled up at him and Lando. 

“What can I say? I’m indestructible.” 

“She’s impressive.” A German voices his opinion now that he’s in the seats. “I don’t wish to say it, but I’m glad she’s at the different team. I don’t know if we would have been able to give her the car that she needed.” 

The interviewer looks a Toto for a moment, before continuing. “You think she’ll leave Red Bull at some point in her career?” 

The Mercedes Team Principal shakes his head. “No. She’s going to stay until she retires. I’m sure of it. But who am I to talk about staying with a team forever.” 

The scene changes to you and Max, both casually hanging out. You sighed as you looked down at your phone. Max quirked an eyebrow, but stayed silent, giving you the go ahead to spill. 

“They’re asking again if I’m going to be staying past 2026.” Your arms waved around before you huffed and they fell at your sides. 

The Dutchman rolled his eyes. “Are you wanting to stay past that?” 

You grinned at the older driver. “Can’t go anywhere when I have the best here.” 

The scene changes to the blond female Red Bull racer, back in the chair once again.

“Do you think you’ll ever move teams?” 

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think I will. It seems that every racer’s dream is to drive for the team in red, but not mine. I’ve always wanted to just race for the team that will get me places, and I think that Red Bull can stay on top for many years to come.” 

The interviewer continued. “What do you think you’ll do after Formula 1.” 

She smirked. 

“After, I want to collect. I’m thinking the triple crown. Probably go to endurance racing and then 1 year of Indy. I know I’ll be able to do it.” 

“If you could have your dream team for Le Mans, who would it be?” 

“Either Leclerc in addition to Max. I don’t think I could be anyone else’s teammate ever.” 

Clips of Charles, Arthur, Y/n, and Max showed on the screen. They might look like an odd bunch, but they worked somehow. Arthur had been promoted at the end of 2024 to actually drive for Porsche in the 2025 Qatar endurance race. Late in the editing, they were able to sneak in a clip of the four of you celebrating after he podiumed.  

“So, we heard that you and Max were able to sign new contracts at the end of 2024. How long are the both of you going to stay.” 

The girl thought for a moment, trying to think of how to word it correctly. 

“Well, we both have kind of open ended contracts like Charles signed in early 2024. Christian said that he’ll do his best to keep us there, but we aren’t bound. I plan to stay for a while and so does Max if they keep giving us good cars that can still dominate.” 

“Do you plan to break any more records? You sure had a lot in the past season as well as early years.” 

“How many do I have?” she asked. 

The interviewer counted. “Five.” 

She smirked for the final time for the episode. “Five? That’s hardly enough. Let’s make it interesting and get 6.”  

Everyone in the room laughed at her joke. 

The screen cut to black and the episode ended. Yet when the female racer retired, they went back and added one more thing. 

“Y/n L/n went on to be the most decorated racer of all time. She ended up breaking 22 records in the duration of her entire motorsport career, that no one has been able to touch since.” 

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[kneelingshadowsalome]

I know we're all focused on Satyr/Faun König but that bull comment... I'm quite partial to minotaur's and whats better than a darling who isn't from the area. Oh yes she's innocent of the crimes against König because she was not raised there.

Some foreign little creature just running blind in a maze trying to see where there might be a way out. It's been days after all and the screaming has gotten quieter and she wonders if she's the last one left alive. He takes his time eating his meals... this can be stretched out for such a long time as she hides herself in a dead end just a short rest... the darling is so tired unaware of the horrifyingly silent steps moving closer to her little haven. It's just her left now.

@kit-williams I've wanted to write for Minotaur!König for ages!

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Word count: 5 k oneshot Tags/warnings: Sexual tension, threats of violence and rape, implied cannibalism, power imbalance, moral ambiguity. Predator/prey dynamic, Beauty and the Beast elements, Ancient Greek religion & lore. 18+ MDNI A/N: The Minotaur in this story is not an actual hybrid. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Merry Christmas y'all! <3

EDIT: PART 2 HERE

The screams are the worst part.

They echo through the Labyrinth while you wait and wait and wait.

Even the very stones seem to cry and wail as you place your hope on Theseus who descended to this hell along with you and the human cattle. Seven young men and seven unwed women, meant to satisfy a beast...

And judging by the screams alone, it sounds like the monster is satisfied. It sounds like it's having a ball.

Fourteen lives have been lost, their blood swallowed by the earth as if Hades himself is drinking the crimson of Athenian youth in His feast. The flesh is the beast’s to devour: an underworld demon born of tainted lust.

Half bull, half man, you always thought the stories were only tales told by the fire to scare children. Turns out that the stories, for once, are true. There's something even worse in this maze, something cursed and foul... Hecate herself would shiver if She were here, in the womb of the earth, witnessing what you’re witnessing now.

You don’t actually see the Bull of Crete cut or hack or slash anyone, and you can only imagine what the monster does to the bloody, gutted corpses of the young. The only thing you see are the hollow, dark walls carved out of soil, sand, and clay, the intestine-like route dug deep into the earth. And you don't have to see the massacre: the screams tell you enough. The silence that follows betrays even more.

Your only light is flickering, waning: the candle will hardly last an hour. If the hero from Athens won’t arrive soon, you will have to leave this place. 

And oh, how you want to leave… You were a fool to follow him here. Blinded by love and hope, you thought Theseus of Athens would be your way out of Crete, but it’s clear that the only thing the young hero is capable of loving is fame. The only time his eyes turned to yours was when you said you might be able to help him with a small bundle of yarn.

Red as the setting sun or spilling blood, the thin woollen string is your only way out now. It’s ironic how a heap of twine is the only thing that can help you out of this hellhole, but the Fates always did possess a cruel sense of humour. Your silly daydreams might’ve cost your life, and even if you’re sworn to the dark goddess, you would rather die anywhere but here. In the darkness, all alone, with nothing but eyeless worms to keep company to your decaying bones.

The sudden draft from the outside world is warm but threatens to blow out your candle. It’s a sign from Apollo: if you don’t leave now, you’re dead. Theseus has to manage without you because you’re not dying in this underworld prison because of some man’s stupid lust for fame.

There's only deafening silence in the maze as you scurry up, taking support from the wall as your sight darkens for a moment. You rose too soon: you can’t even remember the last time you ate. And it appears that even the sun god has abandoned you because there's a faint echo of steps in the tunnel, and they don’t belong to a man. They’re too thick, unduly heavy, and it’s not a pair of sandals that are thumping against the soil.

So, Theseus is dead...

So much for the legend, the myth, the demigod.

Heart thumping in your chest and in the hollow of your throat, it threatens to drown the sound of approaching footsteps. They’re all dead, the people who descended here with you. The only thing you are right now is prey. You're being hunted; whether the Minotaur knows you're here or not, you know you're being hunted. You can feel it in your gut.

You cover the candle with one hand, hoping that the flickering light doesn’t reach around the bend. The falling thump of the footsteps stops, and you still your breath, hoping that the beast would turn around and search the other way.

You hear it sniffing behind the wall. It's trying to catch your scent in the air, the smell of dread and terror, sweat so thick it must reach his nostrils and make them flare with lust. Your heart is thundering in your chest, and the tunnel is so quiet that that you’re certain the creature will hear that, too. (Your heart always betrays you.)

And your luck is cursed.

The beast shifts. 

You can’t see him yet, but you can hear it: the scraping sound underneath his feet as he aligns himself anew, choosing the path that leads straight down to you.

“Hecate save me,” you whisper into the air that seems to grow denser as he approaches, loud thumps of feet now accompanied by metal grating against clay. 

“Hear me, flame-bearing guide... Darkness, protect me…”

He’s dragging bronze against the wall, announcing that he’s carrying a weapon with him, the strength of a bull apparently not satisfying enough if he wants to break your bones with metal.

Don’t blow out the candle... 

If you blow it out, you’ll die.

It’s a clear message, a knowing voice in your head that says it. It’s not young, it’s not old: just knowing. Alert. Wise beyond ages. 

So you still your breath and wait.

Shadows fill the curve of the tunnel just before he emerges: thick like thunder, a darkness so deep that even the name of the twilight goddess escapes your tongue. 

And he’s big. Bigger than the bulls you used to dance with, bigger than kings, or heroes, bigger than even Theseus, the man you thought was a myth walking. His head is enormous, bigger than the rest of him, awkward and rough like it’s not quite part of him even though he’s supposed to be half ox. 

The gigantic, horned figure stops when it sees you. Vast shoulders tense; the fat, double-edged sword falls to his side when he settles to loom between you and your only way to escape this place. You’re oddly thankful that the horrible screeching stopped, but then you notice that his blade is drenched in blood: actually, his torso, thighs, even the buckskin loincloth – the only garment this monster has chosen to wear – is spattered with red dots. 

The bronze tip drips with crimson, and the earth drinks it all. Hades is never satisfied: this beast is never full. Everyone who was sent down here is dead: everyone else has met their doom except you. You wonder if your mother would cry if she heard her only daughter died because she fell in love with a fool.

“I killed your hero,” the walls of hell boom. 

His voice is thick like tar, dark and foul like it’s the God of Earth himself speaking.

The flame in your hand quivers from fear, and you slowly remove your palm, the tiny candle illuminating the beast with warm homely yellow, making the prominent muscles of his chest even bigger. 

He’s carved like the statues in Athens, only, this giant is far hairier than the painted marble heroes of the city. The hair on his chest is thick and wild; it shoots down his abdomen and disappears underneath the loincloth, spreads over his inner thighs, even covers his shins in dark mats. He looks like a wild man, a beast indeed: sweaty, filthy and thick. But you never knew a beast like him could talk…

“A coward, that one,” he snarls, the voice reverberating oddly like it’s a human man speaking from under a wooden mask or inside a clay jug.

And you believe every word he says.

Theseus was strong and able-bodied, but he had built his strength just to show it off. This man’s body speaks of pure, ripe survival.

A hulking shadow with shoulders that barely fit the tunnels of the Labyrinth, with palms nearly twice the size of yours, he’s the myth walking instead of the hero whose blood now adorns that dull bronze blade. The Minotaur who survived his father’s wrath, his mother’s absence, these bleak surroundings, and all the heroes sent down to get his head… His weapon isn’t even sharp anymore, and still, he managed to cut through the sacrificial humans like butter. And what a horrific death it must’ve been to be hacked to pieces by a dull blade.

Is it evil of you to hope that the death of your ��hero” wasn’t a quick one…?

Theseus was a fool and a coward, rotten to the core, but you saw all of that too late. He never cared about the human sacrifices or the king’s wrath; he never cared about digging into Pasiphae’s sorrow. He only cared about getting his face depicted on a pot or having his deeds played out in amphitheatres, his name uttered in song, accompanied by harp and flute.

“I know.”  

Your voice gets sucked into the earth: it doesn’t echo from the walls like his. It’s thin, damp, and frail, just like everything else meant to walk under the sun instead of stand buried under the earth.

But the beast before you tilts its head a little. It’s curious. 

Why would you say that? 

Why don’t you cry from hearing the news...? Why don’t you howl out your hero’s name and beg the gods to heed your grief? Why don’t you run away from a monster?

The candlelight is puny and weak, but it’s bright enough to bring out the eyes of an animal. You draw breath in the dampness of the earth when you finally see it: the bull’s head is devoid of eyes, and yet, the beast still has them. Blue as the summer sky, stern as the death grip of winter just before spring.

There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion. 

There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass. 

“You’re a man,” you say out loud, earning yourself another shift of the colossal head.

“...What?”

The muffled echo confirms it: he’s speaking from inside the bull, moving only slightly to get a better look at you. 

“You’re not a monster. You’re just a man.”

His eyes are wild but intelligent; they pierce you from inside the inanimate shield. The large chest heaves, his ribs flare like sails as he draws air through what must be the foul stench of a long-dead animal.

He takes a step, and you shrink, almost dropping your candle and the roll of red yarn.

“You think talking will save you, female?”

He speaks like a man, walks like a man, but his moves are an animal’s. Shoulders slightly hunched like he’s a bull about to attack, you recognize the way his muscles quiver from the times when you used to do bull leaping. You don’t dance with Rhea’s oxen anymore: your tasks at Hecate’s temple are more suitable and less wild for a maiden your age. Back when you were younger and more agile, you used to jump from the back of one bull to the next, clouds of dust swirling around you as you showed your prowess to the priests.

But you can’t charm this ox by dancing. This one can’t be tricked or fooled: he will pierce you with those horns or his brazen sword if you take even a step.

“I can get you out of here,” you wet your lips, noticing that the blue eyes shoot straight to your mouth when you do that. “I know the way out.”

“What makes you think I want out,” he says, so tight and tense that you fear he’s either about to leap at your throat or plunge his sword into your chest.

And you should be concerned about your own safety, not about his sensibilities – if he even has such things – but hearing this beast man’s reply is like drinking bile. 

Why would anyone want to stay here?

You don’t know if he eats human flesh; you don’t know if he had to in order to survive. Everyone knows why his father threw him down here, but no one knows he’s not half the things the people above say he is. And if half of it isn’t true, what other lies have been told about the Minotaur? 

Even most prisoners see the sun, yet this man has been deprived of that, too. He’s been robbed of mother’s love, of father’s mercy, of friends and foes, of mentors and guides. He’s been robbed of life, of stars, of fires and summer skies, of women’s giggles, of fistfights with fellow men. Of songs and plays, of festivals and games, of bull dances, and maidens that leap…

“Have you ever been up there…? On the surface?”

You turn your voice into soft water on pebbles, a soothing pour of persuasion and goodwill. His pecs contract, strong abs under thin hair and body fat bunch like you’re about to hit him there. You take a step, and now it’s his turn to shun away. It’s only half an inch, but he actually moves away from you. 

“I can take you there,” you offer gently. “Have you ever seen the sun…?”

It’s like talking to a starved predator, trying to entice them to follow you with a fresh steak in hand, hoping that the fanged mouth won’t take more than was promised if it decides to accept the offering.

And the beast accepts. 

“As a boy,” he grunts, a tad more softly. 

Those eyes are fixed on you, reminding you of horses when they’re slightly afraid. The glint of white and blue behind the carcass is fiercely alive, quite unlike the hollow, disinterested stare of the Athenian hero who was only interested in himself.

But this beast is interested. Oh, the Bull Man of Crete is wildly, fiercely curious about you. 

“You’ll take me to the sun,” he repeats, an affirmation rather than a question.

“Yes. To the surface. I promise.”

He moves. Like an animal who learned long ago to drive others into the corner so that he wouldn’t get forced there himself, he’s primal, sensual in the way that oracles in a trance are sensual.

Approaching you in silence that’s almost eerie, the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end by the time he’s only an arm’s length away. Why announce his coming earlier if he can move so quietly?

“You’ll lead me to my father.” 

His gaze bores into you, and not even the warm draft from the tunnels can prevent you from shivering. He’s distrustful, and it’s no wonder. It must be odd that some girl with a candle and a bundle of yarn is suddenly waiting for him around the bend, and doesn’t even flee. He’s a behemoth, but he’s not stupid. A stupid man would not have been able to survive, let alone thrive in this place.

And why should he trust you? Who is he supposed to trust in this maze when every person he has seen has either run away from him or tried to kill him? His father will slaughter him if he ever escapes the Labyrinth, so what else is a priestess in his kingdom but a squealing mouse, trying to feed him lies and then guide him to the surface and into a forest of spears? 

“No,” you shake your head slowly. “No, I promise I know the way. There will be no soldiers–”

You shut your mouth just before a huge palm closes around your throat. 

Gods, but he moves fast when he wants to… 

The candle and the yarn drop the instant his hand seizes your neck, strong fingers nearly meeting at the back as he squeezes your windpipe ever so slowly.

And he’s so close now. The carcass reeks of death, but the man underneath stinks of plain human sweat. His musk is a peculiar mix of blood, earth and soil, something both stale and invigorating, the thin sheen of sweat and dirt covering his muscles making him look like a common builder. It’s strange that the bull’s head hasn’t yet decayed in this place, that the man doesn’t reek of bodies and bones that must be scattered around like debris further down the tunnels. 

Another thing that’s strange is that he doesn’t seem to want to simply silence you.

He also wants to touch you.

A wide thumb strokes the underside of your jaw as he studies you. It slides down the column of your throat, the blue eyes gleaming with fascination when you swallow against him.

He drinks in the sight of you: the lips that part with fear, the frail collarbones that breathe against the side of his palm. The promising crevice between your breasts, the enticing softness of your teats. 

You can hear his breath grow heavy under ox skin and bone, the rugged, vicious helmet he has chosen to wear. What lies under, you can only imagine, wherein he has little left to the imagination when taking in the curve of your breasts, your nipples rising to peaks under the thin white linen only temple virgins use. 

Seeing your reaction to his touch makes him growl -- he actually growls like an animal, a deep, low rumble of approval rising up his throat when he sees how different your body is from his. How supple and cushy it is, soft and plump like a peach, covered only barely as if to tease a best like him. You wonder if he ever took pleasure in the maidens sent here by the king… If he ever thrust the sword between his legs into their weak bodies before giving them the mercy of his actual blade. Would he even know what to do with a woman, having lived here for so long?

“Please,” you whisper, bringing his eyes back to yours, the ice in them now liquid sapphire of pure want. 

Gods… You need to bring his attention back to your offer of help before he sees it more compelling to just stay here and play with his new, plump little mouse. Virgin or not, you wouldn’t survive a mating with this man. 

“I swear on Hecate’s torch that it’s not a trap. You have my word: I’m a priestess soon to be.”

He’s entranced. Hypnotized by your lips. You lick them to confirm your fears true: the man grunts with pleasure, out of instinct, absentmindedly like an animal who reacts to the sight of a fat, meaty bone. 

Oh, he might not know what to do with a woman… But he would try his best to find out. 

“Priestess…?” He rasps.

“It’s a holy woman,” you explain. “I serve the Goddess of the Crossroads.”

He snorts, either because he’s not impressed or because he’s downright amused by your vocation. The eyes, warmer, more demanding now, are far from the eyes of a bewildered beast.

“Little female of the crossroads... You will take me to the king. And then, I will kill him.”

He puts weight into his words, tries to make you understand. 

He wants you to guide him to his father. 

To the King who claims his son is half bull, to the husband who claims his wife was adulterous with an ox. To the King who demands tribute as virgins so that he can send them down to hell. The dark goddess screams justice, but you're at a horrible stalemate.

The gods will curse you for this… They will smite you with a bolt of lightning or drown you next time you cross the great sea if they see you’ve helped this half-beast escape. If you guide him to Minos, you’re a participant in kingslaying, and the gods never forget things like that.

“He’s your father and the king of Crete,” you whisper in fear. “The gods will strike you down–”

“Gods?” He spits. “I piss on the gods. I fuck their corpses and leave them to rot.”

You almost choke on the blasphemy levelled at you. The shadows creep closer, the stare behind the black fur is dark and amused, burning with the crooked wrath of a thousand years. 

“Perhaps I’ll fuck you too.”

It’s unnerving that you don’t find the threat wholly unappealing.

If anything, your eyes drift down to the hairs of his chest, to the two big muscles that resemble the work of the best sculptors in Athens. 

“Are you a virgin, female of the crossroads?”

His eyes search for your response: they want to see your fear and disgust. You swallow again, arduously against his hand, both caressing and testing you. 

The beast leans forward, as if weighing if he could somehow insult the gods by pillaging you. The rough hair of his chest meets the white cloth, it brushes against your nipples as he bends down to have a good sniff of you.

“You smell like a virgin,” he growls.

The hand leaves your throat, only to travel down your sternum. He grabs your breast nonchalantly, a little too roughly, the hot palm closing around the teat and squeezing it like it’s a toy. When you don’t react, he squeezes it again, this time hard enough to coax a whimper out of you.

“Sound like a virgin…”

Without warning, the hand dives straight between your legs next, palm forcing its way through your thighs and curving to cup your sex, moulding around it with barbaric thirst.

“Feel like a virgin, too.”

It’s thick, hot, and heavy, how he simply tries you through your dress. Fingers testing your folds, he’s clearly enjoying the subtle wetness he finds down there. You can hear another hitched grunt pushing up his throat, rugged and whiny this time, a broken groan that dissipates because of how dry his throat is. 

No man has ever dared to lay his hands on you... Many have wanted, but none have tried. Even drunkards and fools respect women who belong to the dark goddess.

But he doesn’t care about the wrath of Hecate. He doesn’t give a shit about the gods. He simply takes what he wants, what falls into his lap. The fifteenth offering, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in devouring your flesh. 

How easily he could simply yank that loincloth aside and drag your dress up. Force his cock into your tight, wet heat without uttering a word. You doubt that he would even take the trouble of laying you down on the ground for taking... Beasts rut when they want to: this man could fuck you against this wall if his loins demanded so, guttural groans being the last thing you hear before the candle goes out. 

You don’t know if you have to spread your legs for him before this is over, but you reckon you will do even that if it means you’ll see the sun again. You’ll endure every thick thrust, and gods be cursed, you wouldn’t even be solely disgusted if this half-animal chose to breed you... As shameful as it is, you would somewhat enjoy having him rut you like an animal in heat.

And you’ve gone mad, surely. 

You want to touch him too, just to test another theory. 

Deciding that it's a good idea to stick your hand into the maw of hell, your fingers lift. They meet his bicep, and the lewd panting stops.

He’s not even breathing… He’s just drowsy and drunk, looking at you with a mixture of soft sleepiness and awe in his stare. Like a dog who has never been petted, even his eyes drift half closed when he forgets to threaten you, now focusing solely on your hand. 

And you start to caress him, slowly, so slowly… Tracing the muscle all the way up where it meets the shoulder, you stroke even the thick cord that leads to his neck. The rest of him disappears under the bull, but the man behind it already shivers under your touch. He even bends his head a little in hopes that you would go under the mask and touch him there, and the gesture reminds you of an animal exposing its vulnerable areas, baring its very throat in submission. 

Braving a quick peek down, you notice that the buckskin cloth is stretched high and wide. His whole body is tense and immobile: you could cup him through the soft animal skin and he would probably shoot his seed from a single stroke of your palm. 

If this is not a virgin, you don’t know what is...

In a way, it would perhaps be wise to shove your hand down and disarm this man. That way, you would be safe for a few more minutes. Instead, you lay your palm over his chest, right over where his heart should be. 

“So do you, Bull of Crete...”

His gaze flickers.

The darkness hesitates, widens, nearly swallows the azure pools whole. But he doesn’t look irate or wild... Only shocked.

It’s an impasse. A thicket. His hand on you, your hand on him.

He surrenders first: the underworld budges before the utterly pure. You bless him with grace the instant he withdraws his hand from between your legs – slowly, reluctantly, like leaving a place that belongs to him. Or to which he belongs…

“I promise I’ll help you, Minos Tauros. But I need you to give me something in return.”

You remove your hand too. Softly, slowly, like a horse master who trains and tames wild things. All words seem to have escaped his tongue: he only grunts, unsure of what a beast like him could give you in return for your help.

“You must promise to be kind to me.”

“Kind...?”

“I need you to behave,” you explain. “No bad things on the way up... No fucking.”

Everything else, he seems to accept, but during the last sentence the Minotaur blinks at you, utterly confused.

“But... You smell like you want to fuck.” 

Your jaw drops open a tiny bit. Then you remember that a priestess of Hecate doesn’t gawk.

“I don’t–How would you know that…?”

The beast only shrugs. Then he leans forward and takes another sniff as if to prove it’s true that you want his cock inside you.

“You smell good,” he grunts. “Different... Female, not afraid.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to…”

He even raises his hand to inspect the slight wetness there. Fascinated by the thin film on his fingers, he rubs his thumb in it, probably thinking about bringing it under his mask to get a good sniff of your juices too.

You grab his wrist without thinking, mortified to your core by the prospect of him getting high on your slick. 

“Look. We need to leave before the candle burns out.”

The obsessive stare threatens to swallow you once more, so you let go of his wrist and steel your resolve. Scooting down to grab your things, you try to ignore the violent erection still pointing straight at you.

Hecate keep you from offering yourself to this man out of your own free will...

And you don’t have a torch, only a candle and a skein of blood-red yarn, but you know the way out, so there’s hope. There’s always hope.

“I need you to promise me,” you turn at the mouth of the tunnel, seeing that he’s still standing there, in the place where he almost took you like his first whore. As if waking up from a thrall, he straightens to his full height, picks up his sword and looks like a half-human, half-bull once more.

“I promise,” comes a booming voice from under the animal skull. “No fucking… I’ll behave.” 

You nod. There's a sense of trust in the air. A promise of hope... It's mutual, invigorating -- life-giving, like the sun and blood in your hands.

You don't know if the son of Minos has ever smiled in here, but from the quick glint in his eyes, you suspect that he's smiling right now, the man under that animal mask. Somehow, it reminds you of the stars in the sky.

“Lead the way, maiden.”

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Jealous!Toto Wolff with wife reader. He trust her. He just doesn't trust people who were flirting with her and getting her uncomfortable. With their son, Jack, both of them team up to protect her and become her knight in shining armor. Thanks!! :))

Hii I hope you enjoy this request :)

Race day buzzed with a palpable tension around the paddock, especially in the Mercedes garage. Despite it being the Red Bull Ring, it was a crucial race for Toto. The fact that you had volunteered to show the celebrity guests around the garage only added to the strain.

Envy gnawed at Toto, a rare emotion for the composed team principal. He knew you were just being your warm, welcoming self, but it didn’t ease the discomfort seeing how close one of the guests, a towering basketball player, was standing next to you. The flirtatious jokes flew over your head, but they didn't escape Toto’s notice. The closeness, the laughter – it was too much. And it seemed he wasn't the only one feeling the sting of jealousy.

"Dad, when will Mom finish with the guests? I want to show her something," your son Jack asked, his eyes mirroring Toto's unease.

Toto bent down, placing a reassuring hand on Jack's shoulder. "She’ll be done soon, buddy. Why don’t we go get a drink and then come back?" He tried to keep his voice calm, but his heart pounded with a mix of protectiveness and irritation.

Jack pouted slightly but nodded, trusting his dad’s words. As they walked toward the hospitality area, Toto couldn't help but glance back at you. The basketball player leaned in closer, his laughter annoyingly loud. You, engrossed in showcasing the car, seemed oblivious to the man's intentions. Toto's protective instincts were at an all-time high.

Jack tugged on his hand, snapping him back to reality. "Dad, do you think Mom likes that guy?"

Toto chuckled, though it sounded strained. "No, Jack. Mom’s just being nice. She’s always kind to everyone, remember?"

Jack nodded, his young face still clouded with worry. "But he’s not nice. He keeps trying to make Mom laugh. I don’t like it."

Toto ruffled Jack’s hair, his smile softening. "Neither do I, kiddo. Neither do I."

Back at the garage, you were wrapping up the tour, finally noticing the basketball player’s increasingly bold attempts to monopolize your attention. You smiled politely, trying to steer the conversation back to the car and the race, but he was persistent.

Just then, you felt a familiar presence behind you. Turning, you saw Toto and Jack approaching, both wearing matching expressions of determination. Relief washed over you.

"Excuse me," you said to the guest, stepping away to greet your husband and son. "How are my two favorite guys doing?"

Jack ran to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Mom, I want to show you something! Can you come now?"

Toto smiled, though his eyes still held a flicker of irritation. "Yes, love. We need you back. There are some… adjustments we need to discuss."

Sensing the underlying tension in Toto's voice, you placed a gentle hand on his arm, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Of course. Let’s go."

As you walked away with your family, the basketball player called out to you, but Toto shot him a look that silenced any further attempts. With his attention fully on you and Jack, Toto felt a surge of triumph.

In the relative quiet of a private area, you knelt down to Jack’s level. "What did you want to show me, sweetheart?"

Jack grinned, pulling out a small, hand-drawn picture from his pocket. It was a simple but charming drawing of the three of you, with a race car in the background. "I made this for you, Mom. It’s us winning the race!"

You smiled, your heart melting at the sight. "It’s perfect, Jack. Thank you so much."

Toto looked at the drawing, his heart softening as well. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "We’ve got the best team here, don’t we?"

You leaned into him, feeling the love and support from your family. "We sure do."

[hotgirlssupportlando]

"...i swear to god there will be a bodybag and not an ambulance waiting for you at the next race"

pairing: protective!max verstappen x fem!f1 driver!reader summary: y/n taking a lot of shit from her bullying teammate causing them to crash into each other during a race. her being in bad condition after the crash making max protective and angry wanting some justice for y/n. fluff end after a whole lotta angst warnings: bad crashing, angst, threats, almost physical abuse? notes: can't get angry and protective max out of my head so just had to write something!! teammate is made up but faceclaiming estiebestie (sorryy) wc: 2,6k

y/n saw red. the anger inside of her bubbled up and if she hadn’t had the willpower of steel the volcano inside of her would’ve erupted. the man in front of her, her so called teammate was once again acting like a total asshole. y/n couldn’t even keep count on every name she had been called, every false accusation he had stated and every attempt of getting her out of the team he had tried since they both became teammates. she was drained, deeply and utterly drained. it was getting harder and harder to try and ignore the abuse she was faced with every day around this man. but once again she was stood in front of him, taking all the shit he had to say, staring blankly at him knowing that this argument would only fuel her racing ability this weekend. 

as the pair stood outside the alpine garage argumenting, max could from a distance see y/n’s eye roll at her teammate. he felt a flame start in him as he saw that the situation began to go out of control, rapidly max started walking over to the alpine drivers to get y/n out of the situation. as he reached the pair he glanced at the man before turning to y/n, gently asking her to come with him. she nodded and they walked away in silence. max put his arm around her shoulder knowing that the girl beside him was in a fragile state and as the arm landed on y/n she felt like every hidden emotion was about to burst out of her. the tears were on the verge of falling and the built up anger made her wanting to hit something, or someone. 

slowly they approached max’s drivers room and without yet exchanging a word with each other they both knew this situation from inside and out, as it had happened the last five race weekends. as max shut the door behind them to his room y/n turned to him and every held back tear started to fall as a waterfall. he opened up his arms for her to be embraced in and y/n crashed into him. trying to keep herself on her feet she desperately grabbed on to the back of max’s fireproofs to have something holding her up. max put his head on top of hers, holding her tightly whilst stroking her hair. 

”i just hate him so fucking much.. ughh how can a person be that much of an asshole?” y/n cried out.

”shh i know y/n, i hate him too. and i swear to god if the team doesn’t do anything about him, i sure will” max whispered.

y/n sniffled as she tilted her head up facing the red bull driver. their eyes locked and a small smile cracked on y/n’s lips knowing max would do anything for her. max smiled back, still stroking her back trying to get her soothed. 

”you know i would fight him for you?” max smiled to the girl.

”thank you, i would too if my contract didn’t say otherwise” y/n chuckled drying her tears with her sleeve. max chuckled too, taking her once again into his embrace and held her head against his chest. y/n felt at home in the arms of her dear friend. or situationship. wherever their relationship was at the moment she always knew he would be there for her. 

__

one day later during the race

y/n had gotten a pretty good start of the race and felt that her first podium was about to become reality for her. of course max led the race so the first step of the podium was ruled out already. she was p3 and five laps remained of the race when the side mirrors revealed a car approaching in familiar blue and pink colours. ’fuck’ she muttered. while getting team orders that the pair of teammates were allowed to fight for the podium position, she started playing up all the comments her teammate had dropped during the last weeks. this lighted a fire in her willing to do anything to outperform the man behind her. she just couldn’t let him win, she couldn’t let him have another reason to bully her.

her teammate and her were fighting at any given chance, y/n defending like her life depended on it. with only one lap remaining the pair were side by side on a long straight approaching a tight corner when all of a sudden y/n felt her car was out of control and crashing into the barriers. the whole situation went in slow motion and she couldn’t grasp what had happened as she had went into the corner leading of the alpine drivers. while trying to figure out what just happened she suddenly felt another big crash into her car making her unconscious. 

max’s pov

the checkered flag was waving in front of him, taking yet another victory. smilingly he looked up at the leaderboard looking for y/l/n knowing she was third last time he checked. confused he saw your name rapidly dropping down the leaderboard while seeing a red flag being waved. his gut wrenched. he tried asking his team why the red flag was waved but was only met with ’big crash in turn 14’. max slowed down his car significantly and as he approached the fourteenth corner he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. 

two alpine cars had collided, one of them side by side with the barriers with the other car piercing the side of the first car. when realizing that the car that was a total wreck belonged to y/n max let out a scream revealing the pain he felt. in pure chock he went against team orders and drove off to the gravel beside the collision. he unfastened himself, releasing his steering wheel as fast as he could jumping out of the car to run over to y/n. he stopped a couple of meters away from the medical team that was already there trying to get y/n safely out of her smashed car. in all of his years in formula one he had never seen anything like this crash and max felt his body freeze seeing y/n’s lifeless body being carried over to the ambulance. he was so chocked from everything that had happened during the last couple of minutes that he couldn’t move or speak, he just kept staring at the ambulance’s door getting shut before driving away. 

after a while max felt a gentle tap on his shoulder and somehow got the strength to turn around and walk over to the safety car which was there picking him up. after this his body just moved on autopilot, in a blur he finished interviews and podium celebration with his thoughts in a completely different place. 

__

y/n had been moved from the medical center to the nearby hospital where max now was sitting in the waiting room. he had gotten the news of y/n being in critical condition but also that with the right treatments she would be fine after some rehabilitation. this had calmed his mind a bit but all he wanted to do now was to meet her. 

a nurse approached max as he was sitting with his head in his hands ”are you family of y/n?”. 

”yes! or something like that.. a friend.. or boyfriend..” max hesitantly answered.

”well either way, my bad f1 skills tell me you are max verstappen and y/n has been saying your name since she woke up so i think it’s time you can go and see her. just try to stay calm, she’s in a fragile state and cannot handle any extra stress now” the nurse informed max while he nodded understandingly. 

the nurse pointed to the room y/n was in and max approached the door and slowly opened it. inside the room he saw the girl peacefully sleeping with monitors silently beeping around her. her hair was messy and you could still see strands of hair with blood on them. the whole scene was a bit too much for max to handle and he couldn’t help his tears from falling looking at the girl he loved most in such a state. 

y/n’s eyes fluttered open trying to adjust to the bright light in the room. the first thing she saw was max at the end of the bed looking at her with tears in his eyes. 

”am i dead or am i seeing max verstappen crying for the first time?” y/n tiredly smiled. max smiled and chuckled while drying his tears ”shh don’t tell anyone”. 

”…but seriously y/n/n i’ve never been so scared in my whole life seeing you in that crash. i thought i-” max cried ”i- thought i’d lost you forever. and there was so much that i hadn’t told you and everyth-” y/n interrupted max’s intense crying to tell him to come and lay down with her. sobbingly he lied down feeling y/n clinging onto his body. the pair held each other tightly, wiping away the falling tears before falling asleep in the hospital bed. without any further words exchanging they both knew that the feelings they shared wasn’t only on a friend level, it was something much more.

__

hours later max was getting a drive back to the paddock for some debriefing before heading back to the hospital. at this point his chock had settled and on the drive over it had instead turned into anger against the one who caused the collision, y/n’s teammate. he couldn’t stop thinking about how that mans stupid thinking almost turned into the death of one of his favourite persons. the audacity that alpine driver had to make such a bad mistake, if it even was a mistake. taking out y/n would mean replacing her spot in the spotlight. with all these thoughts running around in max’s mind he only got angrier and angrier until he reached the paddock. 

once the car stopped, max firmly opened the passenger door and headed out, walking with a certain location in mind, the alpine quarters. his assistant tried getting his attention as the whole team was waiting for him in the red bull meeting room but he just ignored this as he was determined to make some justice for y/n. 

he stormed in to the alpine area angrily asking for y/n’s teammate. after a few directions he saw the man he was looking for. at a distance the two men got eye contact, max’s eyes being pitch black of fury while the other mans eyes widened as max rapidly moved towards him. 

all the staff around them paused what they were doing seeing that there was no way of preventing max from the target he had set eyes on. as max was approaching y/n’s teammate the alpine driver tried explaining himself, acting like a victim in the situation but max had heard enough of the bullshit. he had had enough with y/n holding back her tears during every race weekend because of her teammates bullying. this was it.

without a word max answered the drivers explanations with a firm push in the chest causing him to back off a bit, putting his hands up in the air as surrendering. but max wasn’t done. the red bull driver harshly grabbed the alpine drivers collar shoving him up to the wall behind him. he was met with terrified eyes at the unexpected move. max’s face moved close to the other mans giving him a look that could’ve killed. 

”if you ever talk bad about y/n or even look at her in a bad way, i swear to god there will be a bodybag and not an ambulance waiting for you at the next race” max threatened. the man before him nodded eagerly ”i swear, i swear, it will never hap-” in a moment he was harshly put down. max turned around and calmly walked away from the scared man hoping this would prevent y/n from breaking down every weekend. the surrounding people were in chock of what they’d witnessed and before max left he made sure that the other staff at alpine would prevent anything from happening y/n ever again. 

__

back at the hospital a nurse had recently visited y/n’s room giving her some medicine for the night. max and y/n were lying in bed next to each other talking about everything and anything, max noticing y/n slowly falling asleep in his arms. he looked at the girl who looked so at peace even though everything she had been through this day. he slightly readjusted his position when he heard a painful groan from y/n. he was quick to try and jump off the bed to let the injured girl sleep in a comfortable position but this only caused y/n to groan even more, not wanting to sleep without him. 

”okay, but promise me you tell me if i’m hurting you even the slightest. i don’t want to cause you any more pain” max said with a concerned voice.

”i promise max, i just want you here” y/n answered as she found a somewhat comfortable position clinging onto his body. she couldn’t escape the pain her body was causing her but the feeling of max’s warm body against hers and his hands carefully stroking her hair numbed the pain she was feeling. even though her physical body was in the worst condition it had ever been, she wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else than in this man’s arms. she could finally find some peace now and fall asleep. 

”i love you” 

y/n was almost asleep when hearing the words max expressed. she felt a butterfly in her otherwise sore stomach and smiled. was she high on morphine or did she really just hear that? she tilted her head upwards scaring max a bit as he was sure she was deep asleep. 

”i love you too max” y/n said as the pair smiled brightly at each other. 

without hesitation y/n leaned in and crashed her lips against max’s, sharing a sweet and longed for kiss together. max removing his hand from y/n’s hair to instead cup her cheeks deepening the kiss. ’ouch’ y/n complained making max to quickly removing his body from hers not wanting to cause any pain. ’it’s okay, sorry i scared you, i have a bruised bone there’ she explained. ’oh i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to-’ max said concerned but y/n waved it away interrupting his talking with another kiss. max smiled and returned the kiss.

soon after they were lying next to each other again, both filled with love ready to fall asleep after the longest day in history. a weight had been dropped from both of their shoulders after finally revealing their feelings to each other and no one could be happier. as y/n fell asleep max looked at her for the last time before falling asleep too, he felt peace knowing that the girl in his arms was finally safe now, and would always be. he was never letting anyone hurt his girl again. 

[vetteltea]

Max Verstappen and Secret Santa [no warnings]

Day 2 of the Vetteltea Advent Calendar

“Is this my one?” Your voice carries through the small barrage of producers and videographers, a camera transfixed onto your face as you lift the package, attempting to figure out what content was inside of the box.

You were exhausted; despite wrapping up the championship a month ago, simply focusing on obtaining more and more points for Red Bull Racing’s reputation, the tracks had been tough and jet lag increasingly aggravating. Abu Dhabi was the end of the road, one step closer to falling back home into your own bed. However, you could not hide the elation which fell onto your face as the Formula One media team had pulled you aside, letting you know it was time to film the reveal. 

You had been so excited to purchase your present this year; Yuki was always a fantastic pick, having selected him a set of chef knives and a hat, printed with a photo of himself and Pierre. Now, as the deep blue box was handed into your grasp, you couldn’t help but feel your heart race, gently shaking the box, determined to figure out the content.

“It sounds…heavy?” You try to give the best description possible to the woman standing behind the camera, urging you to unwrap the present in your hands. The temptation overrides, slipping your fingers through the silky bow and beginning to unwrap the formal packaging. “Whoever wrapped this…” you trail off. “Got it wrapped professionally. I don’t think any of us could wrap a present this good.” 

The paper eventually falls away, the camera adjusting as you place down the box upon the table, lifting the lid. Immediately, your eyes furrow together, and then soften in confusion, grasping around the item which you had been gifted. 

There, laid upon a pile of soft purple tissue paper, rested a Polaroid camera. It was small, coloured an off-white and was almost identical to the previous one you had owned. 

“What did you get?” The woman behind the camera had prompted, urging to get the content required for the Secret Santa video. Your trance upon the item is snapped away, blinking rapidly and looking up the lens trained on your reaction. 

“It’s a Polaroid camera and a bunch of film!” You lift the camera, showing it to the team, the smile on your face ever-present. “I bring a Polaroid to every race and take a photo but…someone broke it.” Your mind flickers back to your teammate, how he had insisted he could take a photo for Zandervoot; it was his home race after all. He had been nothing but apologetic, though that wouldn’t bring back your camera. 

“Who do you think got it for you? It must be someone who knows you well?” The woman prompts you to continue whilst your fingers trace over the device, elated that somebody must have understood the importance and value held to the memories you capture. 

“I mean…” you trail off. “A lot of us are close. It has to be someone who knows I do it…Daniel, maybe?” You think about the smiley Australian; how the two of you had bonded over your love of taking photos during global travels. The synchronized shake of the team signified you must have been wrong. It wasn’t Daniel. “Maybe Pierre?” He was almost always insistent on being in your photos, after all. 

“Think closer to home.” You misunderstand the woman for a moment, thinking of your neighbor in the city of Monte Carlo.

 “Valtteri?” Though, you’re almost certain he wouldn’t have got you this. You’re so certain it’s time to give up, lifting the camera out of its box, your attention being drawn immediately to the small Polaroid card being left underneath the device. 

There was a photo, a photo of a man holding up a white piece of card, his scrawling hand-writing undeniably recognisable. In lettering, he had spelt out one word, ‘date?’ 

There’s two more underneath, one with the driver holding a thumbs up, the other a thumbs down. You can’t help the grin returning to your face as you look up from the box, seeing his figure sitting a mere meter away from you, eyes trained on you, a smile on his face at the realization you had finally clocked. 

“Max.” You finally solve the problem, subtly slipping one of the Polaroids into your hand as the team take a few establishing shots, thanking you for being part of their marketing and turning their attention to your teammate, adamant on filming his segment next. 

Before they can, you subtly slide past his table, tracing his knuckles and resting the Polaroid in his lap, moving away before he can realize what has happened. Instead, he focused on the photograph in his hand, seeing his own figure staring back with a thumbs up. 

The last thing he sees is you turning the corner, still clad in Red Bull Uniform, a subtle wink thrown in his direction as you leave him to unwrap his own present, undeniably thinking of unwrapping something better later.

[hamiltonells]

pieces of us~max Verstappen

pairings:max verstappen x reader

warnings: pregnancy,swearing,smut,max bring a simp, time skips,bad writing, please note that the time it takes place is kinda everywhere. literally bad bad bad smut writing

summary: you always wanted to become a mother, now the time has come.

also, please request any dad!max universe ideas:)

side note: I hate my writing so much, I think I need to do it from different pov, but it’s horrible, so enjoy this crap writing

you always dreamed of becoming a mother, watching your own mother doing such a good job probably didn't help, you would always find yourself daydreaming about what it would be like to have a mini you running about.

you met max through Daniel, max was and still is everything you looked for in a man, you don't think you met anyone quite as prefect than him, that was five years ago.

now, your eight months heavily pregnant and let's just say you didn't think pregnancy or motherhood was going to like this, you can't walk, you waddle, half of the time your confused on what your feeling with you hormones messing you about, moodiness, also the constant hunger.

still saying that you loved it, nothing comes close to the feeling if you little of kicking around inside you and let's just say max? he more than loved it.

~

“fuck” max grunted as he rounded the corner of your living room “fucking stupid wall” he grunted again as he hit his toe on the wall, he could hear your laugh when he finally reached you.

“you won’t be laughing if I dropped you ice cream would you” he sweetly smiled at you sarcastically as you smile dropped as he passes you the bowl of different flavours of ice cream.

it was incredibly hot, too hot for you liking as you was spread out on the sofa in maxs shorts and a crop top, showing your belly the heat was killing you let’s say hot weather and pregnancy didn’t go together,the small fan max found in your guys loft pointing at you.

max sits down next to you, in nothing but his shorts his shirtless body showing each of his little freckles that he has.

“hello you” max puts his his hands on you bump, your little one immediately kicks, maxs leans down and kisses you stomach, his beard rough against you belly and you let out a giggle as he kisses all the way up you body, untill he gets to you lips and double kissing them.

“don’t forget we have the red bull party this week” you hum to your love as he drops his head cuddling into you bump, max sighs “ we don’t have to go, your eight months y/n/n, don’t want you to be on your feet long and get tired” he explains, “max we’re going” you laugh as you put your hand through his hair.

~

“Je ziet er prachtig uit”max says while wrapping his arms around your waist, soothing the silk dress you have on.

(you look beautiful)

max has a all black suit on, the white crisp shirt underneath his tie around his neck he looks handsome as always, you have a dark deep blue silk dress on perfectly hugging your stomach.

“can you do my tie for me please love” he asks as you turn yourself to face him, you reach around his neck to do it, you smile widely when he smothers kisses all over your face.

“please don’t tell me you wearing them” he sighs as he sees the stiletto heels on your bed you just smile at him.

max doesn’t seem to understand why you wear heels while pregnant they hurt you and you always complain that you feet ache without the stupid heels but to you, heels make you feel beautiful still and that you can show people you not actually letting you self to while pregnant.

“don’t complain please max” you state not wanting to get into another argument about the heels.

“we’re going to be late” you rushed and you slipped you heels on ans done then up and around you ankle.

~

“max y/n welcome” Christian welcomed you as you step in to the restaurant, it was only supposed a small party get together, friends and family but Christian had rented out a fancy restaurant.

you greet him, giving him a side hug, you belly slightly getting in the way, “not long to go now eh” he glimpses at your stomach.

“hopefully, can’t wait to meet the little guy” max chuffed, your head spin around to him “sexiest, how do you know it’s a boy?” you joke with him, you wanted it to be a surprise, you wanted a home birth with just you and max and midwife you trusted deeply.

the music was quite loud, you could see Daniel rushing to get to the two of you “there you are” he expressed as he went in for a hug “my favourite verstappen” he said as he presses a kiss to you cheek, “aye” max snapped “what about me” he said.

“close third” Daniel mumbled, to impressed and busy rubbing at your stomach “my favourite is really the little one” he said as he bent up straight again, going over and giving max a brotherly hug.

“let’s get you sat down” max said when you winced at the aching pain in you feet “zei dat je die verdomde dingen moest dragen” he rants to himself as he guides you with an arm around you waist, to you seat at the table, seeing you names on the nicely decorated table.

told you not to wear the fucking things

he softly sat you down on the chair, bending down to undo you heels “mmh you need a haircut” you softly speak as you dive your hand into his hair, he carefully slipped you heel off “I wanna keep them on” you mumble to yourself and max “and I want you to listen to me” he grunted, max always knew what was best for you and what you wanted it.

you hum when he starts to massage you swollen and aching feet, “max no, people are here” you say embarrassed “I don’t care, if people have a problem then fuck them” you smiled as a warmth spread through you.

he slipped them back on “keep them on for a bit while we are sat down” he looks up at you and smiles you give him a peck on the cheek, “I love you”

truth be told, even though you always wanted a baby and experience motherhood you and max didn’t plan it, at time max won his second world championship you both agreed that it wasn’t the right time, but in reality it was the perfect time.

you remember the night it happened as it brings a smile to your face “what you smiling about” you hear maxs rough but soft voice next to you snap yourself out of your memory, you laugh “the game room” those three words out a devilish smirk on your lovers face.

“the night this one happened” you could hear the smirk through this voice as his hand goes from your thigh to your bump.

Y/N pulled away, a string of saliva connecting them as she looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. max picked her up and held her on his hip, pinching her thigh.

"What did I tell you," dropping her on the small sofa max had put in the room,and crawled on top of her, "about being a brat?" His eyes were wild with anger and lust and love.

you had been teasing him all night while he had been streaming, “neuk me, je bent zo mooi” his dutch coming out of his naturally while his hand goes don’t your thigh and pushing himself down so that he’s between your thighs.

fuck me your so beautiful

groaning when his fingers hovered over the damp material of your underwear, pressing lightly against it as he inspected how wet you were, pressing a kiss to them then removing them roughly.

your hands went flying to his hair for something to pull when when he licked up your folds without warning chewing on you lip to hold the moans, he added his finger teasing your cilt, curling his fingers then max’s mouth covered your clit and you trembled.

“this for me baby?" Y/N nodded, her lips parting, "Tell me who's it for “know you can do it." your back arched, “yours, you max”

“that’s my girl”

“Need you maxie“ that’s all he needed to hear, pushing himself so he can reach you, burying his mouth against your neck as he reaches between you, guiding his thick cock into your heat.

“oh mijn verdomme”he bites down on your shoulder,he mutters a few curses, you once again arch your back running your fingers down his back your nails drawing blood on his back.

oh my fucking

his thrusts became more rough grasping your waist for support he deeply pushes him self into before your both come undone at the same time, his hole body dropping down onto you.

“that was a good night” his smirk growing wider, you lean so your side so that your head lays on his shoulder, your arm wrapped around his, you had finished you meal and was just chatting.

“come and dance with me” he whispered into your ear you looked at max surprised “max babe, I’m eight months pregnant and I waddle when I walk I also struggle to hug you” you said while sniggering.

“shush stop complaining”he got up and pushed his chair out of the way while bending down to undo your heels for the second time this night and leaving them on your seat.

he pulled you up to the little dance floor where the soft music was playing. a couple of familiar faces smile at the two of you, you felt the little squeeze he gave you as he held the way stoping when he pulled you into him your arm immediately going around his waist and your hand slotting into his”can’t wait for our little family” you hear him whisper into your ear,you smile up at him “we love you so much” you speak for yourself and you little one, you can’t wait this is what you dreamed of when you was a little girl.

you give him a look when he slightly stretches his arms out making you do the same, he gives you a twirl and pulls you back into him and his hands land in you hips to pull you up so you give him a kiss.

“it’s been a long night let’s go” he says when you both pull apart, him directing you though the crowd of people to get your stuff and heels, you say your goodbyes to everyone, max puts his jacket over your shoulders, heels in his one hand while you walk out of the restaurant, the first thing you expect to hit you was the chilly air but you was far wrong, the first thing that did hit you was bright flashes, max moves so your behind him, covering you.

when you do finally make it home you sit straight down onto the sofa, you noticed a slight pain in your stomach your hands go straight to your bump.

yell for max who comes rushing down stairs with a pair of his shorts and shirt in his hands “what’s happening” he looks so panicked, “think we’re going to have this baby” as you explain about the contractions “oh my, fuck,shit” he looks around for his phone, he’s now in a comfortable pair of shorts and a black shirt.

he helps you get changed in to your well his comfortable clothes.

your walking around the kitchen while max is on the phone to the midwife, Eva,saying that your contractions are now six minutes long.

you look at him, as he smiles you looks down just as the same time he does to feel a wet feeling down your legs.

max is there though quick to rush down and take his shorts of you and clear the mess that’s on the floor.

“awe okay” you say breathing heavily “it’s hurting a lot more now” leaning on the kitchen side, max comes behind you slightly rubbing and giving you back a relief “she’s on her way, won’t be long angel”

“whooh that one hurts” as you lean back into him, holding the side.

max guides you to the living room and onto the sofa “you ok, you comfortable” you completely ignore him “you look handsome” you softly express “thank you” he laughs and pulls you into a kiss.

the door bells pulls you both apart as max rushes to get the door “see how quick that was”

is little while later, max is behind your on your bed,sheets underneath you with everything that your midwife needs around you.

“oooh I can’t do it” you half cry and half whine as you push, “ don’t talk stupid, your the strongest women I know baby, let’s meet our little one yeah, you need to push” max softly strokes your cheek.

“attagirl, that’s good” the midwife explains.

you push you everything you have, as you grip maxes hand, you groan in pain.

your met with a cry, the relief comes over you,, “she’s perfect” the midwife tells you both.

you look up at max, a little girl.

“oh my god, a little girl, my little girl” max speaks as he kisses the side of your head.

your little girl is placed right on your chest.

“got both of my girls now”

[hemmingsleclerc]

is it possible to have olivia meet charles daughter?😭 dad driver fics are my favorite! don’t worry if you can’t, love your works!❤️

The beginning of a friendship┃C.L M.V

summary: where emma jules and olivia verstappen meet

I'm back!!! So so cute this new duo!🥲💗

It was a hot day of racing in the Formula 1 paddock, the sound of cars accelerating filled the air. Charles, the Ferrari driver, walked hand in hand with his pretty daughter Emma Jules. Emma, with her eyes shining, held on tightly to her father's hand as they walked through the place.

Meanwhile, Red Bull Racing driver Max was also accompanied by his 6-year-old daughter, Olivia. Liv, with her blonde hair bouncing as she jumped alongside her father, was eager to explore the thrill of the race.

When they arrived at the track, Olivia's eyes widened with excitement at the sights and sounds of the racing world. But her attention quickly changed when she noticed a girl who appeared to be the same age near her, along with a man in a red suit similar to her father's.

With an excited sound, she waved her father's hand to get his attention.

¿What happend angel?

¿Who's that girl over there daddy?

!Oh, that's charles with his daughter, do you want to say hi to them?

!Yes, yes¡

Max smiled and walked towards Charles with Olivia by his side "Hey, Charles! How are you?"

"Hey, Max, great, you?" Charles responded with a warm smile. "This is my daughter, Emma. And I see you have liv with you today."

Max nodded and his eyes sparkled. "Yes, this is Olivia. She's been dying to meet your little girl since she heard that she would be in the same race as her and would have someone to play with."

Emma, sensing the attention directed at her, peeked behind her father's shoulder, her small hand clutching Charles's shirt.

"Hi, Emma! I'm Olivia Verstappen!" Olivia chirped, taking a step closer, her enthusiasm palpable.

Emma's response was a timid movement, her cheeks flushed with shyness as she buried her face against Charles's chest.

Charles laughed softly, rubbing Emma's back to reassure her. "It's okay, Emm. Olivia is just excited to meet you."

Max crouched down next to Olivia and put a hand on her shoulder. "Emma's a little shy, Liv. Why don't you show her your toys?"

Olivia's eyes widened with excitement as she reached into her small backpack and pulled out some dolls. "Look, Emma! Isn't this great?"

Faced with this action, Charles took Emma out of his arms but she was still a little shy, so she hid behind her father's leg.

Peeking out from behind her father's leg, Emma cast a curious glance at the dolls before tentatively reaching out to touch them. Her fingers touched the pretty dress of one of them and a slight smile appeared at the corners of her lips.

Max and Charles exchanged a knowing smile as they watched the two girls join tentatively over the dolls. Slowly but surely, Emma's shyness faded, replaced by a new sense of curiosity and excitement.

They discovered a shared love for the color pink, and from that moment on, they were inseparable.

Try as they might, Max and Charles couldn't keep the girls apart. Olivia's boundless energy and Emma's newfound confidence kept them attached at the hip all day, much to the amusement of the racing teams and fans.

As the sun began to set on the circuit and the race ended, Max and Charles exchanged bewildered glances. It seemed like their daughters had formed an unbreakable bond in just a few hours.

"Looks like we're in for a long road," Max laughed, as he and Charles resigned themselves to the inevitable play date.

That night they met at Charles's house, where Charles's wife Y/N warmly welcomed Max, his wife, and Liv. The girls wasted no time raiding Emma's collection of costumes, transforming themselves into princesses with joy.

Over a delicious dinner prepared by Y/N, Max and Charles shared stories of their own childhood pranks, marveling at the unlikely friendship blossoming before their eyes.

As the night came to an end, Max couldn't help but smile as he saw Olivia and Emma fast asleep on the couch, wrapped in a tight embrace.

That day, a new friendship was made at the paddock.

[asahicore]

all i see is gold - pjs (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. jay x fem!reader

synopsis. Pretending to be your number one's rival girlfriend to please his parents isn't how you would usually spend a Thursday night, but you really owe Jay a big one this time. You'd sworn this was just a one-time thing - and yet when his parents ask you to come again, the word 'yes' is out before you can stop it. Before you know it and much to your dismay, your feelings for Jay start to change, and you're in too deep to backtrack.

genre. college au, academic rivals to lovers, fake dating au, rich rich millionaire ceo's son jay x poor ass scholarship part-time job reader

warnings. heeseung is a mega asshole sorry to this man, slight violence like the girls are fighting, these two are pathetically in love w each other it's laughable actually, rich people being annoying slightly and also y/n's friends having way too much knowledge about fanfiction tropes... i like my fourth walls broken

word count. 27.1k

a/n. hi sisters user asahicore is back with another repost because she can't be asked to come up with anything original... sorry! i did add a new scene to this fic for.. character development. hope you guys enjoy it, as always let me know your thoughts otherwise i will find you and hold you at gunpoint, have fun love you stay healthy keep slaying bye bye!

“Actually, I think what you just said is complete bull.”

Jay rolled his eyes for the thousandth time in an hour and a few sniggers were heard around the room.

Your tutor sighed and, in an exhausted tone, asked you to “keep it polite, please. This is still a classroom setting.”

“Right, sorry.” You cleared your throat and sat up straighter. “I completely disagree with your statement, Jongseong. Just because a movie has young teenage girls as its target audience doesn’t mean it is completely insipid and has no value, like you’re insinuating. If you look at Mean Girls, for example-”

Jay scoffed. “Oh please, you’re not actually going to use Mean Gir-”

“Ah, would you look at the time? Class is over,” your tutor interrupted. “You can all go home and ponder the riveting discussion Jay and Y/N led today.” 

You were pretty sure you heard a general sigh of relief from your classmates. After all, you couldn’t really blame them: it was only the first tutorial of the semester for that course and Jay and you were already at each other’s throats, having something to say about every idea the other put forward, no matter how small.

“Oh, and Jay, I do have to side with Y/N here. There’s a surprising amount of things that can be said about that film,” your tutor admitted with an apologetic smile. You, however, were harboring a triumphant expression. Nothing better than having the tutor agree with you against Jay. 

As you packed your stuff away, mentally patting yourself on the back, Jay approached you, looking visibly annoyed. “Seriously, Y/N? Symbolism in Modern Cinema? Since where do you even care about movies?”

You gasped dramatically and put your hand over your heart, feigning shock. “Why, I’m offended that you think you’re the only one who’s allowed to love cinema, Jongseong.”

“Yeah, it’s my thing!” he whined like a child, and you gave him a look that hopefully made him reflect on what he’d just said.

You started walking out of the room and he followed, a step behind you. “I mean, there’s no way you didn’t know I was taking this class. Are you like, obsessed with me or something?”

“Yes, Jongseong, that’s exactly the case. I’m sooooo obsessed with you, I took this class just to see you.”

You were obviously joking, but he looked at you with a smirk and said, “I wouldn’t put it past you. I wouldn’t put it past anyone, to be honest; I mean I am the most good-looking, smartest, richest guy on camp- Ouch! That hurts!”

You had just punched him in the shoulder, not wanting to listen to his self-indulgent ramblings. “Get your head out of your ass, Park. I just thought it would be an interesting class. Why are you even taking it, anyway? I don’t think a cinema course is gonna teach you much on how to run daddy’s company,” you asked him, a smirk teasing your lips.

He rolled his eyes (you thought they might stay stuck at the back of his head, with how often he did that) and took a tone one might use to speak to a child. “You see, Y/N, I also major in Visual Studies. I’m not a single honors Econ major like you. Loser.”

He’d added the last word with a playful smile on his face, purposefully trying to rile you up. You were about to reply with an equally petty remark when you heard your name being called out. 

“Y/N! Wait up!”

You could recognize that voice anywhere. Your heart started beating a thousand times a minute and you felt your hands get clammy. As you turned around, you forced a relaxed smile and told yourself to stay calm, but as soon as you made eye contact with the boy, all rational thought left your brain.

“H-hi, Heeseung.” You heard Jay snort behind you but were too entranced by Heeseung’s presence to tell him off.

Clearly enjoying your nervousness, Heeseung smiled at you and bent down so that he came directly face to face with you. “It was nice seeing you last Friday. You should come to our parties more often, not many people can set fire to the dance floor like you did.”

Your cheeks had already turned bright red when he’d called your name, but now you probably looked as crimson as a fire extinguisher. Over the weekend, you’d tried so hard to forget about that party where you had gotten black-out drunk and made a fool of yourself on the dance floor. Sure, you’d had a lot of fun, but when you remembered that Heeseung literally lived in the frat house that had hosted the pre-start of term gathering, you’d felt so embarrassed and wanted to never have to face him ever again. Yet here he was, and he had obviously seen you.

“O-oh, right, haha. Um, I was pretty drunk, but, yeah, um, it was f-fun.” You cringed at yourself. Where was the Y/N that had torn down Jay’s every argument just moments prior? You were usually self-assured and confident, but whenever you were around Heeseung, you didn’t know how to act.

Heeseung stood up straighter and patted your head. You thanked yourself for having washed your hair that morning. He chuckled and said, “That’s good to hear. Guess I’ll see you around, then?”

“Yeah!” you replied with a tad too much enthusiasm. 

“Great.” As he walked past you, you didn’t need to turn around to see the nasty looks exchanged between Heeseung and Jay. 

“Jongseong.”

“Heeseung.”

The venom with which they had spat the other’s name would’ve sent a chill down your spine any other time, but right now, you were too busy mooning over what had just happened. Like many girls on campus, you’d had a crush on him since freshman year; but unlike most, you’d never actually tried to do anything about it. Realistically, you could probably bag him - Heeseung could be seen with a different girl at every party and didn’t seem to be too picky about who he finished the night with. But you also couldn’t stand the idea of being just another drunk fuck to him. So, you’d never revealed your feelings to him, although he could most definitely see the effect he had on you.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Jay burst into laughter. You turned around and looked at him, arms crossed, waiting for him to be done with an impatient look on your face. When he finally caught his breath, he had tears pooling at his eyes and was holding onto his belly.

“H-hi, Heeseung,” he breathed, trying to imitate you by making his voice higher in pitch but laughing too hard for it to come out properly.

“There’s nothing funny about this, Jongseong.”

“Oh, but there is, Y/N. And you know what the worst part is? You could do so, so much better than that guy. I mean, he’s a Business major, for fuck’s sake.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” you asked hotly, starting to get defensive.

“You’re studying Econ, Y/N. Dating a Business major, that’s like, the highest betrayal possible.”

You rolled your eyes at his stupid values and started walking towards the exit of the building, bumping into his shoulder on the way. He started following you again and added, “It’s not even just about that, Y/N. You know his reputation, he’s clearly bad news. There’s no point in liking a guy like that.”

Because you knew how much he hated it, you always made sure to call him Jongseong instead of Jay. But right now, you didn’t feel like joking around. You turned around abruptly, Jay almost bumping into you, and looked at him pointedly. “Look, Jay, I know you and Heeseung have this weird competition between the two of you of whose dad can make more money. But that doesn’t give you the right to tell me I shouldn’t like him.” And with a mumble, you added, “I can’t help liking him, okay?”

You went on your way again and Jay caught up with you so that the two of you were now walking side by side. Sighing, he said, “Whatever. When he inevitably hurts you, though, I’ll say I told you so.”

—

After flipping off Jay as your way of saying goodbye, you joined your friends in the cafeteria. You told them about your encounter with Heeseung, and as much as they wanted to support you, they couldn’t help but think your behavior at the party on Friday was hilarious. 

“I wasn’t gonna show this to anyone, but I can’t hold it in anymore…” Sunoo said, pulling out his phone.

It wasn’t hard to guess what he might be hiding in there, so you quickly protested, “It’s been three days, Sunoo. I’m sure you can hold in whatever it is longer than that.”

He looked at you with a sheepish smile and said, as if he didn’t have a choice but to show everyone, “It’s so funny though.”

Sieun and Keeho were urging him to show them, so you just hung your head as Sunoo pressed play. You didn’t even need to look at the video to know what it was: even in his drunken state, Sunoo had had the foresight to film you as you danced like there was no tomorrow, knowing this was a special occasion. Your friends tried to reassure you that you didn’t look that bad and you just seemed to be having fun, but the sniggers they tried to hold back in vain told you otherwise.

Keeho seemed to take pity on you when seeing your defeated expression. “Y/N, I promise you it’s not that bad. You were very obviously drunk, and so was everyone else. If anybody remembers this, they’re probably thinking that you were fucking awesome. Can’t you see how everyone is cheering you on in the video?”

With an exasperated sigh, you replied, “I don’t care that everybody saw me. I care that Heeseung did. I only started drinking that much because I thought it’d help me relax and talk to him. I didn’t think I’d go wild on the dance floor.”

Your friends exchanged a look and immediately burst into laughter. You wanted to get mad at them, but even you had to admit the whole situation was pretty funny. You let them make as much fun of you as their hearts desired, then, to change the subject, told them about the tutorial you had in the morning with Jay and how much fun it had been arguing with him.

Sieun was looking at you thoughtfully, until she said, “You know, I think it’s…” she paused for a second, trying to find the right word, “interesting, how much effort you put into getting into the same class as Jay when you could’ve directed that energy towards getting into one of Heeseung’s class.”

The sudden statement took you aback. “Well, I wouldn’t say I put that much effort into it…” you stammered in an attempt to defend yourself.

“Y/N,” Keeho started, an accusatory tone to his words, “you literally asked Jake to tell you what courses he was taking this semester and when his tutorials were, and when you somehow managed to be enrolled in a class that’s supposed to be reserved for Visual Studies students, you emailed the tutor to make sure you’d be in the same group as Jay. I’d say that requires some effort.”

You huffed, mildly offended. “I- Well- I just thought it’d be fun to argue with him about something else than economics, you know. There’s only so much to say about that.” Your friends didn’t look very convinced. “Plus, there are no classes that Heeseung’s taking that seemed interesting, and even if they were and I managed to get into them, I just would’ve stuttered trying to answer easy questions. At least if I’m in a class with Jay, I know it’ll be fun.”

After that last sentence, Sieun looked at you like you had proven her point. What a smartass, you thought. What was she even trying to prove? 

“Is no one gonna say it?” Sunoo asked, bewildered, looking around at your friends. “It sounds like you like him, Y/N.”

Oh.

Your automatic response was to go, “Pfffft,” but when Sieun and Keeho didn’t disagree with Sunoo, you looked at them, wide-eyed. “Are you guys serious? I don’t like Park Jongseong, that’s ridiculous.”

Sure, you liked arguing with Jay, that wasn’t a secret. That didn’t mean you liked him, or anything like that. Just the thought made you shiver. Dating Jay had never even occurred to you; as soon as you’d met, you had taken on a rival-like relationship, arguing about everything and anything. Sure, he was smart, and not too bad-looking, and he was really rich, and when he wanted he could actually be quite nice - but that was not the point! Most of the time, he was just annoying and argued with you for no reason other than to rile you up, and had the most unreasonable opinions you’d ever heard. He took his wealth for granted and sometimes came across as so privileged it made you want to puke.

Sieun took your hands in hers and tried to convince you with her eyes, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. “But think about it, Y/N. It’s the enemies to lovers trope!”

You snatched your hands out from her grip and gave her a pointed look. “This isn’t Wattpad, Sieun, this is real life. And Jay and I aren’t enemies, we’re merely rivals.”

“Even better!” she exclaimed.

“I completely agree with Sieun,” Sunoo said. “Y/N, you’re such a rivals to lovers type of gal.” You rolled your eyes, but Keeho was fervently nodding his head in agreement.

“By the way, did you guys hear about his parents’ company throwing a fundraiser?” Keeho said. This piqued your interest, but after your friends’ accusations, you couldn’t look too excited about anything Jay-related, so you nonchalantly asked him to go on. “It’s for some charity, they’ve invited all the big names, and apparently it’s gonna be huge so they need some people to waiter. I’m thinking of applying. It pays really well and it’s gonna be so fancy. It’s not like I’ve got much else to do that night anyway.”

“When is it?” you asked, still trying not to sound too interested.

“Friday in two weeks.”

“Well, if it’s a Friday, I’ll be getting wasted, so count me out,” Sunoo replied.

“I’d come, but the idea of serving rich people as they give out ten thousand dollars when they could give a million and it wouldn’t even affect them in the slightest, not to mention having to do it with a smile on my face, makes my skin crawl, so no thanks,” Sieun said. She wasn’t wrong, but this was also Jay’s parents you were talking about. Not only would Jay be there, and your presence would surely piss him off, but his dad’s company was one of the top of the country and being introduced to their world, maybe even getting to know some people there, even just as a waitress, could really benefit you in the long-term. You’d never admit it to him, but you’d been dreaming of working there ever since you’d first heard of it. Nothing might come out of this, but it was worth trying.

“What about you, Y/N? You in?”

You looked at Keeho and said, “Yeah, let’s do it.”

—

The next time you saw Jay was for your Economics of Cities and Regions lecture a couple days later. As appropriate of the top students, you two always sat at the very front row along with only a few other brave students. Keeho was always bugging you to sit with him at the back, but you liked being able to look the professor in the eye so they could see how much attention you were paying to them. You listened carefully to the whole lecture, and when it ended, you turned to Jay and called his name in a sickly sweet voice, smiling as warmly as you could. He turned to you with a horrified look on his face.

“Please never do that again.”

Your smile instantly dropped. You should’ve known there was no point trying to be nice to him. “So, I’ve heard about your dad’s firm’s fundraiser…”

Before you could even finish your sentence, he interrupted you. “No. No way. You’re not working there. Nope. Not happening.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because this is an important night for me to make myself known as the CEO in line and I can’t have you distracting me.”

You didn’t question why he considered you a distraction and just pressed further. “C’mon! I promise I won’t be in your way.” He looked at you as if to say I don’t believe you. “I need the money.”

“Then get a part-time job.”

“I already have one! And it doesn’t pay very well.”

He looked at you and crossed his arms over his chest. No, you didn’t notice how his shirt tightened around his biceps. Shut up. Exasperated, he asked, “Do you even know what this fundraiser is for?”

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Why did you need to know what it was for? All you needed was to work there and make some money. You just shrugged “No.”

He rolled his eyes at you. “You’re unbelievable. It’s to help students in need of scholarships. You know how my parents sometimes pay for students’ tuition fees? Well,” he sighed, and started to pack up his stuff. “This is to encourage CEOs of other companies to do the same. They’ve invited a few students to talk about why scholarships are important for them.”

Interesting, you thought. It’d have been nice to be one of those students, but being a waitress was already good enough. You’d have to be quicker to get the role next time. “I’ll be part of the waitering team, so I won’t embarrass you, don’t worry.”

After a beat, Jay asked, “Why are you even telling me this? I can say no all I want, I’m not the one deciding on the staff. I’d just really, really appreciate it if you didn’t come.”

You eyed him for a second until realization hit you. Right. It wasn’t like Jay had any say in this, so why were you trying to get him to agree? It had just seemed natural to you that you’d talk to him about this.

You shook your head and said, “Well, I’m gonna go anyway. I just thought I should let you know. That way you know you’re gonna need to bring your best game to impress me.”

You noticed Keeho waving his arm impatiently at you, waiting for you to leave the lecture theater. Jay watched you walk away, and he couldn’t stop the smile spreading on his face. 

—

“So… Y/N will probably be working at the fundraiser,” Jay said, looking down at his notes. As on most days, Jake and Sunghoon were over at his place, half-studying, half-messing around.

The two boys in front of him groaned in unison. He raised his head and added defensively, “What? I’ve barely said anything yet.”

“Yeah, but you’re talking about Y/N. Again,” Jake said, as if stating the obvious.

“You know, I’m actually surprised he’s managed to not mention her for that long. It’s been what, fifteen minutes since we got here?” Sunghoon half-joked.

Used to his friends’ teasing, Jay ignored them and continued. “On any other occasion, I’d be more than happy to have her around” - cue another groan from Jake and Sunghoon - “but I really have to impress my parents and all the guests that evening. If I don’t, I’m gonna have to work twice as hard.”

Indulging his friend’s rant, Jake asked, “What’s wrong with her being there? She’s not gonna go around and tell everyone you’re a little shit as she hands them champagne glasses.”

Jay rolled his eyes. “No, of course not, but I’m gonna be hyper-aware of her presence and I don’t want it to distract me.” A third groan. “Plus, I don’t like the idea of her being there as a waitress. She should be with the students who talk to the guests, she deserves it more than anybody I know.”

After a beat, Sunghoon, with gracious subtlety and tact as always, added, “You know, if you had just manned up and asked her out in freshman year when you still had the chance, maybe you could’ve taken her to the fundraiser as your girlfriend and not have her go there as a waitress. Just saying.”

“It’s 2022, Sunghoon, nobody says things like ‘man up’ anymore.”

“You dumbass, is that all you’re hearing from what I just said-”

“What I think Sunghoon is trying to say,” Jake cut in, “is that this could have been avoided had you had the guts to tell her how you feel. But rest assured, my friend, it can still happen. No such thing as too late.”

“You always say that, but how the fuck am I supposed to ask her out when she’s only ever seen me as her rival? Plus, she’s head over heels for that prick.”

Sensing that Sunghoon was getting ready to deliver another one of his punchlines, Jake quickly replied. “Who cares about Heeseung? It wouldn’t be hard to make her see what an asshole he is. And once that’s done, you can just give her the Park charm,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Sunghoon fake gagged at the thought of his friend trying to flirt, and even Jay had to admit he hated how Jake had formulated his sentence. “That’s all I do though. As soon as we met, we got into arguing, and that’s just how we communicate now. She wants competition, so I give her competition. I don’t know what else to do.”

His friends sighed, unsure what to tell him after having had the same conversation hundreds of times. “Did you ask her why she took that cinema course? I thought it was weird she asked me for all that info. She wanted me to keep hush-hush about it, too,” Jake asked.

Jay thought for a second, then answered, “I did ask her if she was obsessed with me.” A fourth, deserved, groan. “She just said she thought the class seemed interesting. She didn’t even know I was a double major, by the way.”

Jake and Sunghoon chuckled, both thinking but not daring to say that, indeed, no one knew Jay also majored in Visual Studies. The three boys continued chatting for a while until they fell into silence and finally started getting some work done.

Jay managed to get you out of his head for a couple hours, but when his friends left and he was alone, his thoughts immediately drifted back to you. When the two of you first met in freshman year, you had become instant rivals, both top of your class, and always disagreeing on everything. He hadn’t minded the dynamic at first: he thought your ideas and the conversations that stemmed from them were always interesting, and he had a lot of respect for you. He wanted to know why you thought that way or what made you say certain things, and soon enough he wanted to know everything about you. He’d noticed things like how you chewed on your pen when you were in deep reflection, or how you’d look intently at anyone who was talking, as if you were making mental bullet points of their arguments only to break them down afterwards. When he finally realized his feelings for you (not without help from Jake and Sunghoon, who thought he couldn’t get any more obvious), he felt like your rivalry-almost-turned-friendship had gone too far, and you’d think he was stupid for liking you. It didn’t help that your confident attitude always broke down in front of his arch nemesis Lee Heeseung, making it painfully clear that you had a crush on him.

That night, he kept tossing and turning in his bed, trying to fall asleep. He hated the idea of you having to be there as a waitress, handing out drinks and mini toasts to entitled guests who probably wouldn’t even look at you. There had to be a few strings he could pull, right?

—

In all twenty years of your life, you had never been to a place like this. As soon as you’d entered the lobby of the building in which the fundraiser took place, you’d been overwhelmed by the sheer extravagance of the room. Every surface was shiny marble, the ceilings were at least fifteen meters high and the whole place was lit up by tiny wall lamps. You were almost scared to see what the actual ballroom would look like.

The fundraiser started at 8:00 p.m. but the staff had been advised to come earlier to prepare everything. You went further in, and now that you had somehow acclimated to your surroundings, you noticed how busy everyone was. People were running around, going from the kitchen to the back room to the main hall in quick strides. You tried getting one woman’s attention, hoping she could direct you to where you were supposed to go.

“Sorry, hi, where do the wai-”

She stopped dead in her tracks and barely looked at you as she whipped out a sheet of paper from her blouse pocket and asked for your name.

“Um, Y/N-”

She checked something off and looked up at you and smiled. “Great, follow me.” You had no time to ask anything else before she swiveled on her heels again and marched towards another room, you in tow behind her. “We’ve got a script ready for you. You just need to learn it in time for tonight and then use your charm on the guests. Oh, and don’t worry about your outfit and all that, we’ve got it covered. Good luck!” And with that, she was off. 

Script? Outfit? What was all this about? You panic-texted Keeho, telling him some lady had dragged you somewhere and told you to learn a whole script. When he didn’t answer after five minutes, you assumed he must be busy helping out, but it made you panic even more. You looked around the room and noticed a girl you thought you recognized from one of your classes. You walked up to her, and after saying hi, asked her what the hell was going on here.

She looked at you a bit oddly, as if it didn’t make sense you didn’t know where you were, but clarified things nonetheless. “Basically, the six of us are going to be wearing these tags so that the guests know who we are, and we’re gonna give them a pity story about how we’re so poor but also so smart and able to change the world if only they give us money. That’s what the script is for, it just makes it a bit nicer.” Right, that’s what Jay had told you. But why were you here when you had signed up to be a waitress? It was what you had wished for, but it made no sense whatsoever.

Registering your still confused expression, the girl went on, “They’re also gonna give us nice outfits and make us look more presentable. But not too much, you know, cause a thousand dollar gown wouldn’t really fit with the scholarship kid aesthetic.” You laughed with her. You had to admit the whole situation was a bit ridiculous, but if it could help you out, you would take it. You had needed to take out a loan when you started studying, and the enormous debt you would be in as soon as you stepped out of college already stressed you out.

You learned your script, which was actually just more like detailed examples of the things you should say and what direction your conversations with the guests should take, until somebody called out your name, telling you it was time to get you ready. You were led to another room which was full of clothing racks holding fancy dresses and suits. Your immediate thought was that the clothes in this one room were probably worth more than your entire house. 

You could only admire the room for a few moments before a stylist threw a dress in your arms and practically pushed you into a dressing room. You took a good look at black dress before putting it on. It wasn’t overly fancy; the girl you had talked to was right, it wouldn’t make sense for you to look like you were the richest person there. With its modest cleavage and mid-thigh length, it was what you assumed to be formal enough for this type of event, and surprisingly fit you like a glove. It made you look put-together and accentuated your features in the subtlest way. 

When you walked out of the dressing room, the stylist eyed you up and down, adjusting the dress here and there, then stepped back and mumbled absent-mindedly, as if thinking out loud, “Wow, he does have good taste.”

You didn’t have the time to ask her what she meant as she had already turned away, looking for jewelry to finish off your outfit. The earrings, necklace and ring she gave you weren’t huge 20 carat diamonds, but you’d never worn such delicate jewelry before, you were almost too scared to move with them on you in fear of breaking them. The stylist, however, didn’t seem too fussed, and as soon as she was done, said, “Well, that’s all for me. Off you go to hair and makeup now!”

Hair and makeup? You were going to get your hair and makeup done by professionals? You felt like a celebrity. Your whole life, your mom had cut your hair, and you bought your makeup at the drugstore. 

While they didn’t make you look like a Hunger Games Capitol citizen, when they were done with you, the reflection that looked back at you in the mirror was uncanny. You were still you, there was no doubt about that, but you looked like a perfect version of yourself, which only makeup expertly applied could create. Although they’d never seen you before, the makeup artist had managed to accentuate or make disappear lines you had never noticed on your face before, and the hair stylist had done your hair in a simple but very flattering manner, letting it cascade naturally down your shoulders.

The stylists let you admire yourself for a few moments, knowing you probably weren’t used to such pampering, but soon ushered you out to the ballroom; the fundraiser was just about to start, and you needed to be there for the beginning of it. You were made to sit at a table with the other students at the front, close to the stage. An organizer came to see you and explained how the evening was going to go down. Most of the evening would be spent standing, chatting to the guests and persuading them to donate, except when the main course was served. There was no fixed seating chart, so you could go with whomever invited you to sit with them. All in all, your goal was to be as likable as possible, and get guests to understand why scholarships were important without sounding desperate, just like the script indicated.

Tapping your foot nervously, you watched as more people trickled in, each looking richer than the previous. Soon enough, the whole room was seated, and a man you recognized as Jay’s dad arrived on the stage, welcomed by polite applause. You listened intently to his welcome speech, and you could see Jay’s presence and charisma in him; every word of his seemed to be thought out and to have purpose. He did a spectacular job at kicking off the fundraiser, and you were clapping enthusiastically when he was done, not expecting what he was about to do. 

With an extended hand, he pointed at you and the five students you were sitting with. “Of course, this wouldn’t be possible without these six brilliant students whom we have the honor of welcoming tonight. Would you all come up on stage with me?” he asked warmly, although you knew it wasn’t really a question. You all looked at each other bemusedly, but you didn’t have much of a choice, so you all got up and walked up the stairs to the stage.

You hadn’t realized how many people were attending until you were standing right in front of them. The bright spots lighting the stage made it hard to distinguish anyone’s face in the crowd, which only made your position more intimidating to you. Thankfully, you didn’t have to introduce yourself; Jay’s dad did it for you, and after a few minutes, you were free to walk off the stage and start mingling with the guests. Whew.

As soon as the six of you stepped off the stage, guests started approaching you, engaging you in conversation right away. You were a bit taken aback, but remembering you needed to be perfect tonight, you put on the most genuine smile you could muster. Them coming to you was better than having to chase after them. 

An hour and a half passed, and you had been engrossed in so many conversations that you hadn’t noticed so much time had already gone. The only time your attention had been pulled out was when Keeho came to your group, offering you toasts of caviar and bubbly champagne, and discreetly (or at least as discreetly as Keeho could be, which wasn’t very) gave you a wide-eyed look, which you returned. You had no idea why you weren’t working like him either. 

When somebody announced the main course would soon be served, a lot of guests went to sit down, so you were now stuck with the most pretentious man you had ever talked to. All the other guests, no matter how rich or famous or successful they were, had managed to stay somewhat humble and not flaunt how much higher they were in society than you, but it seemed that it was all this man knew how to do. You knew you needed to stay polite even in front of scum like him, but it was hard giving him your undivided attention when he was going on and on about basic economic principles you had learned in your first year of college. Your eyes started drifting around the room, until they fell on a certain someone.

Lee Heeseung was here. Of course he was; his parents, although they were rivals to the Park family, were still huge names in your country’s economy, and they couldn’t not be here tonight. Heeseung’s presence wasn’t required, but you imagined it couldn’t hurt his image to be seen by many adults at a gathering like this one. He was standing by the bar, talking to a girl who was clearly trying to flirt with him, but he didn’t seem to be into her. You hadn’t meant to stare, but his eyes soon met yours. You immediately felt heat rise to your cheeks. He didn’t break eye contact, even when he replied to whatever the girl was saying. His eyes started drifting down from your face to your body, as if he was undressing you with his gaze. You opened your mouth and let out a small gasp at the sheer indecency of the way he was looking at you. The sound you made made you snap out of your daze, and you turned your attention back to the man in front of you, who hadn’t even noticed you weren’t listening to him anymore, so enthralled he was by his own conversation.

You excused yourself, not wanting to be in Heeseung’s sight anymore. You weren’t sure what to make of the interaction - you loved the idea of Heeseung paying so much attention to you, but there was something about the setting and the fact that he was talking with another girl the whole time which made you a bit uncomfortable. Disheveled, you sat down at the nearest table, not paying much attention to who was there.

“Everything alright, miss Y/N?”

That voice was too familiar. Of course, you just had to sit next to Jay’s dad, a.k.a. one of the richest CEOs in the country, a.k.a. the man behind this fundraiser. You changed your expression from distressed to spirited, not wanting him to think you weren’t handling tonight well. Before you could say anything to reassure him, he added, “Not easy, is it, entertaining so many people? I’m sure you’ll get used to it.”

Relief immediately washed over you. You looked down and said, “It hasn’t been too bad, just depends on the person you’re talking to.”

He chuckled. “I thought I saw you talking to CEO Jung. Or rather, CEO Jung talking at you. Sorry about him, he’s just the kind of person you have to learn to deal with.”

You continued talking to Mr Park, and he even invited you to stay at his table when the main course was served. He was surprisingly easy to converse with; he intently listened to you, even though he probably met infinitely more interesting people than you every day, and bounced off of your words naturally. You wondered how such an easy-going man could give birth to an argumentative boy like Jay.

You suddenly wondered where Jay was. You hadn’t seen him all evening, and he wasn’t sitting at his dad’s table either. You assumed he’d be busy with other people, but you couldn’t help being curious about his whereabouts. Not wanting to look around the room searching for him and appear disinterested in his dad, you just asked him directly if he knew where his son was.

Mr Park quirked an eyebrow and asked, “Oh, you know my son?”

“Yes, we’ve had a lot of classes together since freshman year,” you explained.

He seemed deep in thought for a second, until he started slowly nodding his head as if he’d just figured something out. “Of course, you’re Y/N. I knew that name was familiar.”

Why would your name be familiar to Jay’s dad? “Oh, did Jay mention me or some-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Mr Park said, “Ah, there he is,” gaze directed behind your shoulder. And indeed, as you turned around, you saw Jay coming towards your table.

 “Dad, mind if I steal Y/N for a second?”

“She’s all yours,” he replied, sending a wink his son’s way. You looked at Jay and he seemed just as confused about his dad’s words as you. But then his eyes found yours and he motioned for you to get up and follow him with a tilt of his head.

“It was really nice talking to you, Mr Park, thank you so much for your time.”

“Of course. It was lovely meeting you, Y/N. I’m sure we’ll see each other soon enough,” he said with a knowing smile. 

You didn’t even try figuring out what he meant, and just walked with Jay as he took you to a quieter area of the ballroom. Most people had finished eating and had stood up again, so you’d needed to weave through them, and Jay put a hand on your lower back to guide you better. You ignored the warmth that spread on your skin where he touched you, blaming it on the glasses of champagne you’d had. 

When you’d reached a spot where you could talk easily, he turned towards you with a smirk. “I can’t believe you’re already charming your way up to my dad. You’re definitely ambitious, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes but then remembered where you were and thought it might be best to not give in to Jay’s taunts here, so you kept your voice low when you replied. “I didn’t even do it on purpose. I just sat there, and he happened to already be at the table.”

His smirk only grew wider. “Right.” Then he stepped back a bit, and took a good look at you. Unlike Heeseung’s gaze earlier, the way Jay looked at you in that moment, like you were the only thing worth looking at in this beautiful ballroom, made butterflies erupt in your stomach. God, you really had had too much champagne. “I knew that dress would look good on you.”

You should’ve been flustered by the compliment, but you were too confused by Jay’s words: how could he have known about this? Why did he make it sound like he had chosen the dress? The stylist’s words from earlier suddenly pop up in your mind: “he does have good taste.” There was also the fact that you had applied to work as a waitress tonight but ended up as one of the scholarship students. Slowly, things started piecing together in your mind, and you looked up at the well-dressed, smirking boy in front of you in disbelief.

“Jay. Did you do this?”

“Do what?” he said, an innocent tone to his voice, but a mischievous look in his eyes.

Your eyes widened and you lightly slapped his arm. “You did! I- You- Ugh. Thanks, I guess,” you muttered, looking down at your shoes. You were beyond grateful, but your ego stopped you from being too showy about it.

He smiled at you, and you ignored how much you loved it. “It was no big deal. Just had to change your name from the waitering group to the student reps. Took me two seconds,” he said, following your gaze down, bashfully admitting to helping you out.

“Why’d you do it?”

Because you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and the world should know about it, was his immediate thought. But of course, he’d never say that out loud, so he opted for, “I just felt bad for you, really. I know you like to think of us as rivals, so I thought the least I could do was to put us on equal footing tonight.”

Although you had a feeling he wasn’t telling you everything, you weren’t going to press any further. You chatted for a bit longer, the both of you enjoying a relaxed conversation after hours on being on your best behavior, and your ability of talking normally to Jay and not wanting to claw his eyes out surprised you, not to mention the fact that you were… enjoying yourself.

“Anyway, I’m doing the closing speech soon. I’m gonna be awesome, so look closely, yeah?” You knew he wanted to look cool, but you thought he sounded like an excited kid who was about to put on a show for his family. How cute, you thought, and immediately chased that thought away from your brain. That damn champagne must’ve been laced with something.

You both went back into the crowd, and quickly your name was called out by someone you had talked to earlier who wanted to introduce you to someone else. You quickly waved goodbye at Jay, a smile on your face. If anybody had seen him, they would’ve noticed how his cheeks fired up and how he waved excitedly back at you.

And indeed, he had been seen.

His dad had been talking with one of his business partners, but tried to keep some of his attention on you and Jay. He couldn’t help but be curious as to why his son, who had previously never expressed any romantic interest in anyone, was suddenly making sure you attended the fundraiser as a student rep and not a waitress, and why he’d even gone the extra mile and chosen your dress for you. He hadn’t missed the way his son’s face lit up when he was talking to you, and how his gaze lingered on you as you walked away. But he also hadn’t missed how you’d followed Jay without hesitation, and how relaxed you’d looked talking to him. He thought the both of you acted as if it was just you two in a room full to the brim with people. When his wife joined him at the table, he’d told her about their son’s unusual behavior, and she said that she had noticed him looking around as if searching for someone a few times during the evening. They exchanged a knowing smile.

Heeseung had also noticed Jay leading you away from the crowd, and had intently watched your interaction, not even trying to make the girl he was talking to think he was still paying attention to her. He knew you had a crush on him; you couldn’t make it any more obvious. But he also knew how comfortable, how yourself you were around Jay; he’d seen the two of you banter around campus, always arguing about something, whether it was the new law that was being put into place or whether pineapple belongs on pizza or not. Heeseung wasn’t stupid, he’d seen enough rom-coms to know that the girl always ended up with the friend she joked around with and not the hot popular guy that made her feel nervous.

Jay and him had been rivals since he could remember, and not rivals like you and Jay, but proper rivals, who actually had to fight for something. Well, technically, it was their fathers who were competing as CEOs of some of the top firms in the country, but since they were bound to take their place at some point, it had felt like their competition as well. Nothing was off-limits when it came to their rivalry, and you were most definitely not an exception, not to Heeseung. He couldn’t stand seeing Jay have something he didn’t. At that moment, he made up his mind.

Heeseung had to have you.

But before that, Jay needed to give his closing speech. As soon as he’d stepped on the stage, the chatter started to quiet down, and everyone turned their attention to him. Much like you earlier, he hadn’t realized how bright the lights were when standing onstage. He could only see over a hundred people staring right at him, and his confident demeanor from moments ago crumbled at his feet. He scanned the crowd for your face, desperately needing something, or rather someone, to anchor him. When his eyes finally found yours, he felt strength regaining his body. His mother followed his gaze and found you looking right at her son, sending a reassuring smile and thumbs-up his way.

Jay’s speech went very smoothly, and everybody congratulated him for it as they left the room.

—

Back home after a stressful but rewarding evening, all Jay wanted to do was take a shower and pass out in bed. But his parents had other plans.

“So…” started his mother, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“So?” Jay asked, already fearing whatever his mom was about to say.

“Y/N’s a nice girl,” she simply stated, hoping Jay’s reaction would give her more to go on.

And oh boy did it. He immediately started blushing and stuttering at the sudden mention of your name. He knew you’d spoken with his father at the fundraiser, but he hadn’t thought his mom would bring you up.

“Y-Y/N? Yeah, I guess. But what about her?” he said, looking away and trying to sound uninterested, but blatantly failing.

His parents exchanged a look. “C’mon, son,” his dad picked up, “you don’t need to hide something like that from us. We’re very happy that you’ve found a nice girlfriend like Y/N.”

A nice… girlfriend? Had Jay heard that correctly? His parents thought you two were… dating? 

As he stared at them wide-eyed and mouth agape, they just chuckled softly at him. “It’s okay, Jay, really. She made a dazzling impression on all of the guests tonight, and on us. She’s exactly the kind of person you should be dating, so don’t worry about us getting in your way of anything. We approve of your relationship.”

Jay started laughing in disbelief, and his parents just took it as a sign of his relief. If only they knew. “Right,” he said between chuckles, “thanks, guys.”

Why he didn’t deny what his parents were saying was beyond him. A part of him didn’t want to disappoint them by telling them the truth - his mother had always urged him to get a girlfriend, saying he wouldn’t have the time for dating later on in his career, that he should enjoy his college years as much as he could. Another part of him loved the idea of dating you, and it hurt him too much to shatter that thought.

So he just nodded along, saying he was glad they liked you.

“We really did,” said his father. “In fact, you should bring her over for dinner sometime this week. It’d be nice getting to know her in a less formal setting, don’t you think? Ask her what she likes, I’ll ask the chef to cook it specially for her.”

“S-sure,” Jay said, already panicking - he’d either have to come up with an excuse as to why you couldn’t come to dinner, or with ways to convince you to be his pretend-girlfriend for a night. If he actually did ask you, he’d have to be very careful about it, otherwise it’d end up with you trying to pull his hair out.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

—

At 10:43 a.m. the next day, you were waiting for Jay in front of the library. Right when you were about to turn your bedside lamp off, you’d received a text from him, asking to meet. Apparently, there was something he needed to tell you, and whatever it was, you were absolutely dreading it. Jay always had a lot of things to say, but he’d never felt the need before to warn you in advance that he needed to tell you something. Those kinds of messages were never very pleasant, and even less so when they came from Park Jongseong. Rereading the messages, you really couldn’t figure out what was so important that required you to take a break from your weekly Saturday morning study sessions.

00:44 archnemesis: Hey Y/N

00:44 archnemesis: Are you still up?

00:44 you: do NOT fuckboy text me jongseong

00:44 archnemesis: Sorry

00:45 you: go away im trying to sleep

00:45 archnemesis: Not trying hard enough obviously

00:45 you: shut up

00:45 you: what do u want

00:45 archnemesis: I need to tell you something.

00:45 archnemesis: Can we meet up tomorrow morning?

00:46 you: wtf

00:46 you: what is it ???

00:47 you: cant u just tell me now??

00:49 you: jay ???

00:49 archnemesis: Um.

00:49 archnemesis: I’ll tell you tomorrow!

00:49 archnemesis: :D

0:49 archnemesis: library 10:45?

0:50 you: ughhhhh

00:50 you: yeah whatever

00:50 you: this better be worth it istg

00:51 archnemesis: Good night Y/N &lt;3

00:51 you: EWWWW

You’d stayed awake for a while after that, trying to figure out whatever it was he needed to tell you, but the only thing you were sure about was that it had something to do with the fundraiser, since he’d texted you after it. Had he finally realized how superior in every aspect you were to him and would finally bow down to you? That seemed pretty unlikely. Did one of the guests there really like you and had spontaneously decided to pay for your studies and offer you an internship at their company? Were they impressed by your intellect and wanted you to become their kids’ private tutor? Possible. Or even better, maybe it was Jay’s parents whose attention you had particularly caught, and they wanted to reward you in some way. Maybe they thought you were amazing and that you’d be a perfect girlfriend for their son, and Jay, ever the daddy’s boy, would now shower you with gifts and attention in order to capture your heart.

Ha, as if, you thought, laughing to yourself. It was a lot less funny when Jay told you about the little misunderstanding.

You were sitting at the library café with Jay, who’d wanted to postpone delivering the news as much as possible and had bribed you with the promise of free hot coffee. Well, free for you, at least. Not that a coffee would create much of a dent in his bank account. After five minutes of chit-chatting, you were getting annoyed with him and didn’t understand why he was being so uncharacteristically awkward and asked him to cut straight to the chase. When he told you his parents thought you were his girlfriend and wanted to have you over for dinner this week, it took all you had to not spit the coffee right in his face. Not only was it ridiculous, it was practically exactly what you had imagined.

“Are you kidding me, Jongseong? I can barely pretend to be your friend, how the hell am I gonna pretend to be your girlfriend?”

Your words were like bullets piercing right through his body, but he had to ignore the pain, telling himself you were just shocked by the sudden news. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I just- I panicked, and I didn’t know how to tell them the truth. They seemed so happy,” he said, head hung low. You knew he was genuinely sorry, because he’d almost never actually said those words to you, so he had to mean them. The only other time you could think of was when he’d dropped his water bottle all over your laptop. The next day, he’d offered you a brand new MacBook with all of his notes already downloaded on it.

You sighed, unsure what to make of the whole situation. At any other time, your first reaction would’ve been to flip Jay off and tell him to get out of his own mess, but you felt like you owed him after what he’d done for you at the fundraiser. Even though he made it seem like no big deal, it still meant a lot to you that you’d gotten to spend the evening making yourself known to the guests and not serving them smoked salmon toasts, and that was all thanks to him.

“I guess I do owe you one, Jongseong.” His head snapped up and he looked at you with the most hopeful eyes you’d ever seen. “But before you get carried away,” you warned, “this is a one-time thing. Find an excuse, say we broke up or whatever. Fake dating is like, the most predictable trope ever,” you said, remembering all the heated discussions you’d had on the topic with Sieun.

But Jay paid no attention to that last sentence - he leapt up from his chair and came over to your side, engulfing you in a surprisingly warm hug. He muttered thank you over and over into your hair before realizing hugging wasn’t something you guys did and he might have just made things way worse. To his relief, when he took a sudden step back, you didn’t look upset at all, but rather amused at his sudden burst of excitement. 

He returned to his seat and cleared his throat. “Right. Thanks a lot, Y/N. My dad likes to have family dinners on Thursdays, so it’ll probably be then. I’ll, uh, I’ll take you there, so don’t worry about that.”

You chuckled at him. “You know I’ll never let you live this down, right?”

He sighed and shook his head, saying, “I know. But I’d rather have that than disappoint my parents, to be honest.” He smiled at you as if to take away some of the gravity of what he’d just said. You thought it wasn’t something he wanted to delve into, so you took a sip of your coffee and brought up the topic of this week’s tutorial for your cinema class, knowing it was a surefire way to start an argument with him. 

—

On Monday at lunch, you were sitting at the cafeteria with your friends. Keeho was telling them how fancy you’d looked and how you’d managed to charm everyone.

“I feel like I should be jealous, but what you did looked a lot more tiring than what I did, to be honest. When you’re a waiter at that kind of event, those rich people don’t even register your presence, so they just say the wildest shit in front of you. Apparently, CEO Cha is having an affair with CEO Liu’s wife, whoever they are.”

You chuckled at your friend, feeling even more thankful towards Jay that you didn’t have to spend your evening like that. The four of you continued chatting, which mainly consisted of complaining about how you already had so much work only two weeks into the semester. You were intently listening to the niche topic Sieun was learning about in her Bio class when someone dropped a bag on the table right next to your tray. The letters ‘Gucci’ were written on it in the iconic but simple font.

Your gaze went from the bag to the person holding it, and of course, it was none other than Park Jongseong himself.

“Hey, Y/N. Hey, guys,” he said, giving your friends a simple nod. They all replied with a confused hi. You were just staring at Jay, wondering what he was doing here.

“I got you something for Thursday night,” he explained. “Gotta wow the parents, you know?” he added with a wink.

“Uh-huh” was your very clever reply. You could feel your friends’ gaze ping-ponging between you and Jay.

Jay looked around the table, an awkward silence spreading between everyone. He cleared his throat. “Well, let me know if it fits or not. See you around.” And with that, he was gone as quickly as he’d arrived. You turned back to your friends, and their confused faces echoed your own. 

“What are you waiting for?” Sunoo nudged your arm. “Take a look inside!”

You took the bag on your lap and pulled out a magnificent green satin dress that was a lot more elegant than the one you’d worn at the fundraiser. You guessed Jay really did want for you to make a good impression on his parents. It seemed to be quite long and to not show too much skin, which you appreciated. You could only hope it would look as good on you as it did seeing it like this.

As soon as you’d taken it out, you’d heard your friends gasp. 

“Oh.”

“My.”

“God,” they’d said in turn, obviously mesmerized by the gift. 

You handed the dress to Sieun, who clearly wanted to admire it up close, and looked into the bag in case there was anything else. You were maybe hoping for a pair of earrings or a necklace, but it was wishful thinking. Instead, you found a sticky note signed Jay, which read, Wear the accessories and shoes from last week. I can’t spoil you too much just yet.

You hadn’t even noticed Sunoo was reading the note over your shoulder until he put his hand over yours in what seemed to be a confidential manner and said, with all the seriousness in the world, “Y/N, be honest with us. Is Park Jay your sugar daddy?”

Sieun and Keeho’s head snapped up and they stared at you expectantly. “What the hell? Why is that the first place your mind goes to?” you said, almost laughing in disbelief.

Bewildered, Sunoo replied, “How can it not? The wink, the Gucci gift, the note? It screams sugar daddy!”

“Wait - didn’t he say something about his parents? I’m not an expert, but I don’t think meeting the folks is sugar daddy etiquette,” Keeho mused, taking this way too seriously.

You took a deep breath. There was no point in not telling your friends what had happened, so you explained the events of the past few days to them, from Jay changing your role at the fundraiser, to his parents thinking you were dating, to dinner with them on Thursday.

When you were done bringing them up to date, they all looked at you with incredulous looks. After a moment, Sieun broke the silence: “Y/N, you’ve become a real walking rom-com. I’m so proud of you.” 

Keeho was tearing his bread apart, throwing chunks into his mouth. “I don’t know. Fake dating is kinda boring, to be honest.” Sieun let out an offended gasp and Sunoo nodded in agreement. 

“We’re not gonna be fake dating. Just for this one evening, I’ll pretend to be his girlfriend, and it’ll be over as quickly as it started,” you said, hoping that’d be the end of this conversation, but your friends wouldn’t back down so easily. 

“Y/N, that’s literally the whole concept of fake dating. You’ll think it’s only that one time, and before you know it, you’ll be married with three children, and it won’t be fake anymore,” Sieun warned, but you just shook your head and laughed, stealing Keeho’s other piece of bread from his tray.

“You guys are blowing this way out of proportion.”

“And you’ll be blowing something else soon…” Sunoo muttered, just loud enough for your table to hear. You let out an offended gasp but Keeho and Sieun just burst into laughter.

“Sunoo!”

“What?!” he replied, imitating your outraged tone but sporting an amused smile. “Your whole rivalry thing is too cute, I can’t take it seriously. You won’t admit it to yourself, but you clearly like Jay a lot more than you do Heeseung,” he said with a shrug, as if it was all so obvious. You tried to find support in Keeho or Sieun’s eyes, but they avoided your gaze, guilty expressions on their faces.

“Guys, come on, you can’t be serious. Jongseong and I are just- we’re just-” Rivals? Friends? Soon-to-be fake boyfriend and girlfriend? Who knew anymore. You took a deep breath. “It’s not like that.”

“Whatever you say,” Sunoo sighed, but to your relief that was the end of the conversation. Your friends quickly moved on to another topic, but their words gnawed at the back of your mind like rabid bunnies. Either they were completely insane, or you had gravely misjudged Jay this whole time. 

—

When Jay rang your doorbell at 7:00 p.m. sharp on Thursday, you were just done applying a thin layer of gloss on your lips. That morning, he’d texted you to ask for your address and tell you to be ready at seven. You took a good look at yourself in the mirror and headed down the stairs to get the door, but your mother had beat you to it. 

Not used to keeping secrets from her, you’d told her everything. She’d looked at you curiously the whole time, a slight smirk on her face as if she knew something you didn’t. And sure enough, when you were finished talking, she’d said, “I knew there was something between you and that Jay boy. You talk way too much about him.”

Not her too, you thought, but you didn’t need to encourage her delusions by telling her your friends thought the same, so you’d tried to defend yourself. “Mom! I just told you, I’m only pretending, I’m not actually his girlfriend. If I did like him, you’d be the first to know.”

She looked at you with a knowing smile that moms loved to wear. “I do know. You’re the one who doesn’t.” You’d dismissed her with a roll of your eyes. Everybody around me’s going crazy, you thought.

When she opened the door, it revealed a very smartly-dressed Jay (but when was he not?), bouquet in hand. He immediately handed them to her and introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Kim. I’m-”

“Jay, I know. Y/N’s mentioned you.”

“Has she?” he asked, a genuine grin blooming on his lips. You ignored how the glint of surprise and - hopefulness? - in his eyes tug at your heartstrings.

“Just once or twice, and never positively,” you interrupted, appearing next to your mom. Taking your appearance in, she nodded at you approvingly, but Jay just stood there, mouth agape, seemingly transfixed by you. He only snapped out of his daze when you called out his name.

“You ready to go?” you asked, and hoped that the heat that had traveled to your face was hidden by your makeup.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. Let’s go. It was nice meeting you, Mrs Kim.”

“You too, Jay. Thanks for the flowers. I hope Y/N will be a good fake girlfriend to you tonight.”

“Oh, you told her?” Jay asked you, looking somewhat disappointed. 

“I wasn’t gonna lie to my mom about my boyfriend,” you said, nudging him out of the door. “Bye, mom!”

You ignored her reply (“Don’t have too much fun!”) and walked speedily towards Jay’s car, which looked far too expensive for this neighborhood. As you got closer, he took a few quick steps in front of you and opened the passenger door for you. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to let on how the gesture made your stomach flip. “No need to go that far, Jongseong. Don’t try to woo me.”

He hurried to the driver’s seat, looked at you with a grin and said, “Might as well get into character now.” His gaze lingered on you for a second too long, and you started feeling self-conscious when his eyes moved up and down over your body. When you coughed, he suddenly turned his attention back to the front and gulped, then started the car. He looked taken aback himself, as if he hadn’t even noticed he was staring at you. After a few seconds of silence, he said, “I really do have good fashion taste.” 

Although he was technically complimenting himself, you caught yourself hoping he also meant you looked good in the dress he’d chosen for you. “You could have included shoes and jewelry, you know. I wouldn’t have taken it the wrong way,” you said with a playful tone. 

“Sounds like you’re already getting used to a lavish lifestyle,” he retorted, making you smile sheepishly. 

“I’m just not used to dressing up nicely like this. It’s nice,” you said truthfully. You weren’t sure where the honesty was coming from, but something about being in a car with Jay made you feel like you could say anything - it felt safe, like whatever you could tell him would stay between the two of you. What happens in Jay’s car, stays in Jay’s car, or something along those lines. 

Jay wanted to tell you that if you gave him a chance, you could do this anytime you wanted. He’d buy you all the dresses you could dream of, and give you a taste of his world, which he so often found bland and shallow, but that he was sure you could light up in the blink of an eye. But he couldn’t say that, so instead, he said, “Yeah, I noticed. I don’t think anything you’ve ever done or said offended me more than that one time you showed up to class wearing a ‘where the hell have you been, loca?’ t-shirt.”

“Shut up, that shirt is amazing!”

“Maybe, but the movie it’s quoting is an absolute trashfire of a film, if you can even call it that,” he claimed, knowing it’d get a reaction out of you.

“Don’t talk shit about Twilight, Jongseong, or I’ll mess tonight up and your parents will think you’re dating a psycho.”

He turned to you with a smirk. “I’d like to see you try.”

You’d always known Jay was a confident man. It’s obvious in the way he holds his head high whenever he enters a room, or how he manages to stay calm and collected during an argument with someone who’s practically shouting at him (you, usually). And while he was always self-assured during your debates, seeing him act like this to practically flirt - could you describe it like that? - with you rendered you speechless. And you hated being speechless.

So you crossed your arms with a hmph and looked out the window, turning away so he couldn’t catch your fluttered state. 

You finally arrived at his parents’ house after a half-an-hour drive (“You live so far away, do you seriously drive to campus and back everyday?” “Yes, Jay, not all of us can live in a three-bedroom flat in the middle of the city”). As soon as you walked in, his mother greeted you with a warm hug, telling you how pretty you looked, and his father clasped your hand tightly, the lines around his eyes showing as he smiled at you. By the looks of it, you wouldn’t need to do much for them to like you.

You could tell Mr Park was a businessman by the way he didn’t beat around the bush when talking to you. As soon as you’d sat down in the (or at least one of the) living rooms for drinks and small appetizers, he asked, “So, Y/N, tell us about yourself.”

Having anticipated such a question, you started, “Well, I’m an Econ major-”

“Yes, but I know there’s more to you than just academics,” Jay’s dad interrupted with a well-intentioned smile.

You looked at Jay, hoping he could help you out. He just looked back at you as if he was waiting for your answer as much as his dad was. “Right. Um. Where should I begin?” you said with an awkward chuckle. You felt a bit put on the spot, but there was only genuine curiosity in all three pairs of eyes looking at you, so you felt comfortable enough to go on.

“I’ve always lived here. Or, technically, in the suburbs. Since I spend most of my time either studying, working at my part-time job or commuting back and forth between school and home, I don’t have much time for hobbies. I just use my free time to spend time with my friends or my family.” You looked at the three people in front of you, wondering if you’d said enough. After a beat, you added, “Sorry, was that too depressing?”

Mr and Mrs Park chuckled at you, and he instantly reassured you, saying, “No, no, not at all. Tell us about your family.”

You were expecting that one too. “Well, it’s just my mother, my little sister and me. But she’s at boarding school right now, so I only see her during the holidays.”

“Boarding school - that’s pretty impressive,” commented Jay’s mom.

You smiled fondly at the thought of your little sister. “Yeah, she’s a smart cookie. Got there on a scholarship and everything. She likes it most of the time but she does complain about how the people there are all-”

You stopped yourself before your tongue could slip up and potentially offend Jay’s parents. But to your surprise, they smiled and, in turn, said, “Rich and self-centered?” 

“Little kids who think they run the place when they’re only fourteen?”

A chuckle escaped you, not expecting them to share that kind of opinion with you and your sister. An amused tone in your voice, you nodded your head and said, “Yeah, exactly.”

“Yeah, I know all about those. Your boyfriend here might have been born into wealth,” he started, and you tried not to choke on your drink at Jay being referred to as your boyfriend, “but my father’s company, the one I’m in charge of now, only started being successful when I was in high school. My dad worked his way up from the ground, so he and I both know what it’s like to not be well-off. I’ve tried to not turn Jay into one of those rich kids who think they’ll rule the world just cause they have money, and… well, I hope I did a good job.”

You looked at Jay with a grin. He looked right back at you as if to say, I dare you to tell my dad he’s wrong. If this was anyone else in any other situation, you definitely would’ve told them Jay is one of the most privileged people you’ve ever met. You thought for another second - yes, Jay was definitely privileged, but there was a sort of innocence about him. He’d never used his wealth to make you feel inferior to him or anything of the sort. When he’d bought you that MacBook, it was to apologize, not to show off. It was as normal for him to have his meals cooked and laundry washed as it was for you to sigh in defeat every time the price of milk went up, even by just a cent or two.

So, still looking at him, you replied, “Yeah, I’d say you did a pretty good job.”

The way Jay’s eyes looked in that moment, fond and soft, made you want to never look away. But you didn’t want to make it awkward, so you turned back to his parents, who were watching the two of you with affection. Maybe Jay and you were a little bit too good at this whole fake-dating thing.

A maid came into the room to announce dinner was ready, and you all headed to the dining room. When plates of your favorite food arrived, you looked at Jay, astonishment written all over your face.

“How did you know?”

“You might’ve mentioned it here and there…” he sheepishly answered, knowing fully well that he’d gotten the information from a tweet you’d made eight months ago.

As conversation picked up again and you exchanged with his parents over a bunch of different topics, from childhood memories to that weird new Netflix show that’s strangely addicting, you tried to ignore Jay’s stare that was burning into the side of your face. 

“What about your dad?” he suddenly asked, catching everybody in the room off guard. Noticing your confused look, he continued, “Earlier. You said it was just you, your sister and your mom. What about your dad?”

His mom furrowed her eyebrows at him and said, “Jongseong, leave her be. If she hasn’t told you, she probably doesn’t want to talk about it.”

You took a deep breath. “No, it’s alright. I don’t mind talking about it, I just don’t usually bring it up cause it makes people think of me differently? Like they start to pity me just because my dad’s out of the picture, when, really, it hasn’t affected me that much. I’ve never known him, my mom has always raised the two of us on her own.” You looked down at your hands. You hadn’t even realized you’d been fiddling your fingers. “It just seems too cliché, the poor girl who lives in the suburbs and is on a scholarship and doesn’t have a dad and redeems herself by having good grades. Which is why I like to usually keep it to myself.”

You looked back up at them and were relieved when you found understanding and not pity in their eyes. If there was one thing you didn’t want to happen, was for them to think you were leeching off of Jay or trying to get his money. Even though you weren’t actually dating, it would’ve still damaged your ego if they had seen you that way.

A few hours later, dessert was finished, and you could tell everyone was starting to tire (or had had too many glasses of wine) by the way the conversation was starting to make less and less sense. Jay was looking at the three of you in amusement, stone cold sober, as he knew he’d have to drive you home later.

“Well, Y/N, son, we’re not going to hold you hostage here any longer. You still have classes tomorrow,” Jay’s dad said.

His parents led the two of you to the door as you gathered your coat and bag. “It was so lovely getting to know you more, Y/N. You truly are a sweet girl, and we can tell you’re making our Jay very happy,” his mother said, pulling you into a hug.

“You better treat her well, son,” said Mr Park. Jay looked over at you, and there was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite explain; all you knew was that it sent shivers straight down your spine. “I will,” he simply said, but with so much honesty, it made you wonder if he actually did mean it.

“Oh, and Y/N, there’s an event this Saturday. It won’t be as fun as ours last week, but I’m sure you could find a way to enjoy it. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt for people to see what a nice, hardworking girlfriend Jay has,” his father said, beaming down at you.

Jay and you exchanged a look, and the panic at the sudden invitation made you say, “Yes, I’d love to attend!” instead of finding a palatable excuse.

You exchanged final goodbyes with his parents, and as soon as you were in the car, you let out a hearty groan.

“My God, what’s wrong with me? Why did I have to say yes to that?”

Jay started the car. “I’m surprised too. If you had given me three seconds, I could’ve come up with an excuse for you. But I mean, I’m not gonna complain.”

You turned your head towards him, a pout on your face. “What do you mean?”

Jay kept his eyes straight on the road as he answered. “Well, like he said, it won’t be a bad look for me to have you on my arm. As much as it pains me to admit, you’re charming and intelligent, and,” he glanced quickly towards you, “I have good fashion taste, so you don’t look like an absolute fool in that department either.”

You snorted at his coyness. “Just say I’m pretty and move on, Jongseong.”

“Is that what I said, though?” he asked, a devilish grin on his face. 

You gasped dramatically, trying to appear as offended as possible. “Your dad literally just told you to treat me well, I’ll have you know.”

“They really fell for it, didn’t they?,” he said with a sigh. “I have to say, you did a pretty good job tonight. Almost got me wondering if you’re not used to being people’s fake date for the night.”

“Yeah, it’s my side job actually.” You smiled at each other, and when the eye contact lasted a second too long, you both quickly turned your head to the road. “So, what’s Saturday night about?” you asked, wanting to break the silence.

“Oh, it’s probably just another boring event where the grown-ups go to socialize and flaunt their wealth or their children’s prowess.”

“Wow, look at you being all critical. I thought you lived and breathed that kind of stuff.”

“I like it when it has a purpose. Like a fundraiser, or a company opening, or whatever. But this is just another excuse for people to show themselves off. You don’t have to come, you know. I can probably find a way out for you.”

Once again, without thinking, you immediately answered, “I’ll come.”

Jay glanced at you quickly, an eyebrow raised. “Wh- Really?”

You shrugged, trying to stay casual. “I mean, I don’t have anything on Saturdays. Might as well keep you company. Turns out you’re not always insufferable.” You’d lowered your voice for that last sentence, only half-heartedly admitting it. But of course, Jay wasn’t going to let you go with it.

“Huh? What was that? I don’t think I heard you,” he teased, leaning slightly towards you.

You gently nudged his shoulder, saying, “Shut up, you heard me. Just because I tolerate you slightly more doesn’t mean you’ve stopped being my number one rival.”

You’d never seen Jay smile that much. You sometimes caught glimpses of it when he was with his friends, but with you, he usually had an arrogant smirk, so seeing his genuine grin made your heart swell with joy you couldn’t explain. 

“Of course not. I wouldn’t assume anything else.”

He dropped you off at your house and made sure you were inside before driving away. When you told your mom about your night, she watched you with a smile, that knowing glint in her eyes still there. When she tried hinting at you having feelings for the boy, you’d gotten off your chair and shouted good night! before heading to bed. 

—

Saturday quickly rolled around the corner, and you were in your room with Sieun, trying on the two dresses Jay had given you to pick from. “They’re both good, I just wanted to see if you’d choose the best one,” he’d said. This time, he’d also included a new pair of shoes and a set of matching jewelry. Your friends kept teasing you about him being your sugar daddy (“you can’t deny it anymore, Y/N”), and you had to admit you were starting to feel a bit like that, even though you weren’t really giving him any sugar. He was just spoiling you like it was his day job.

He was right; both dresses were gorgeous. They were both black, but one of them was body-fitting with an open back, while the other cinched in at the waist and had puffy sleeves. You couldn’t deny that you looked good in the first one; Sieun had let out the loudest gap when she’d seen you in it. But you both agreed that it was on the riskier side, and it was probably more appropriate to wear the second dress.

You were laying on your bed, talking about this and that. It’d been a while since it was just the two of you, and it was nice catching up with her.

“So…” she’d started, an impish tone to her voice. You knew immediately what she wanted to talk about and let out a loud groan, but that didn’t deter her. “Wanna tell me about Jay?”

It was obvious what she was trying to get at, but you weren’t going to give her what she wanted. “Well, he’s rich and has a huge house. Not surprising. He drives well. He’s not half as annoying when he’s in front of his parents. Probably not trying to be as much of a smartass. He seems to think he’s all that. He-”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” she said, laughing. “What I mean is, has anything changed between you two? Have you finally come to your senses about the boy?”

You thought about it for a second. Something had definitely shifted in your perception of Jay. You felt it in the pit of your stomach every time he smiled at you. But it was scary: this wasn’t you and Jay. You and Jay argued, and riled each other up, and got on each other’s nerves. You didn’t crack jokes so you’d hear the other laugh, or agree without thinking when they asked you for a favor. It was confusing, so instead of voicing out those concerns, you lied. “No. Not really.”

But your friend wasn’t buying it. “C’mon. The guy buys you dresses, gets your mom flowers, drives you to his parents’ for dinner. I know it’s not for realsies, and you’ve got integrity or whatever, but you can’t completely be indifferent to it, Y/N. Even you’ve got to admit Jay’s hot.”

You laughed at your friend’s reasoning. “Fine. Maybe he’s not just someone to beat anymore. I guess that’s what fake dating will do to you. But that doesn’t mean I have to say he’s hot.”

She turned to fully face you. “Not even when he’s all dressed up? Or when he hands you a bag that has contents worth thousands?”

Her eyes were telling you that you had to agree with her. You tried to suppress a smile, still not wanting to admit anything. Just because you and Jay had been rivals since you’d met didn’t mean you went blind every time you saw him. Of course, you knew how attractive he was. But you had conditioned yourself to never see him that way, so letting on that you didn’t think he was completely repulsive felt like betraying yourself. 

Sieun laughed at your reaction. “C’mon! Say it!”

You pursed your lips together, suppressing a smile, and shook your head. The tilt to Sieun’s head and the devilish glint in her eyes told you your friend was up to no good - and indeed, a second later, she was on you, tickling your sides and asking you to “say it! Say it!”

“Fine, fine!” you said between breathless giggles. She finally relented. “I think Jay’s hot.”

“Do you, now?”

The sudden male voice made you and Sieun shriek. You sat up in your bed and found its owner - sure enough, Jay was standing in your doorway, leaning against the wall and clearly liking what he’d just heard. Your mother soon appeared behind him, explaining that he’d knocked and she let him in, telling him to go up to your room. She mouthed sorry and quickly scurried down the hall.

“I’m not sure why it took you so long, but I’m glad you’ve finally opened your eyes, Y/N.”

Sieun’s eyes were going back and forth between the two of you, until she stood up and said, “Well, I guess that’s my cue to go. Have fun you two, and tell me all about it on Monday, Y/N!”

Before you could protest, she had already left your room, sending Jay a wink as she passed by him. It was silent for a few seconds as you sat there in embarrassment, cursing the Gods for your awful timing. He walked in and sat down at the edge of your bed, comfortable and keeping his distance at once. The sentence there’s something perfect about him flashed in your mind but you were quick to brush it away. “So, which dress did you choose?”

“The one with the puffy sleeves,” you replied, unable to look him in the eye.

He tutted, shaking his head disapprovingly. “Wrong choice.” You rolled your eyes. “Show me?”

This made you look at him. His smile was taunting, but his eyes were soft. With the way he looked right now, you thought he could ask you anything and you’d say yes. You hadn’t imagined that him sitting on your bed would make you stammer like a schoolgirl in front of her teacher crush, but here you were, almost rendered speechless by the mere sight of him. The fact that he was manspreading and leaning back on his hands, the top buttons of his shirt undone and his trousers stretching against his thighs, wasn’t particularly helping. More shyly than you intended, you told him to turn around and close his eyes, then quickly put the dress on. You were thankful for its lack of zipper - you don’t know if you could have handled Jay zipping your dress up for you.

“Okay. You can turn around now.”

This was already the third time Jay was seeing you all dressed up, but his gaze managed to make the heat rise to your cheeks every time. The corners of his lips rose slightly. “Wrong choice,” he repeated, “but you still look really good, Y/N.”

You couldn’t stop the smile spreading on your face as you coyly replied, tugging at the hem of your dress, “Why thank you, Jay.”

“You gonna be ready to go soon?” he asked, checking the time on his phone.

“Yeah, just need to put on jewelry and shoes, and I’m good. Sieun did my makeup for me earlier.” You put on the thin silver earrings and ring Jay had gotten for you and checked your reflection in the mirror. You put a hand to your collarbone, thinking the area looked a bit empty without a necklace.

“Should I wear the necklace from last time? It looks a bit weird without anything right now,” you asked Jay, keeping your gaze on the mirror. 

“Um, I’ve got something, actually. I forgot to give it to you with the rest of the things.” He fished a small box out of his bag and got up to stand behind you. He took out the necklace and put it around your neck, asking you to hold your hair up. You complied, looking at his reflection in the mirror. His hands slightly brushed the back of your neck as he locked the necklace, and you had to keep yourself from visibly shivering at his touch. This was infinitely worse (or better) than him zipping up your dress.

He absent-mindedly let his hands slide along your shoulders until they came to a halt on the sides of your arms. His eyes met yours in the mirror, and with a smile, he said, “All done.”

—

Nothing, not even the fundraiser of the previous week, could’ve prepared you for how lavish this party was. Whereas the fundraiser has been in an 18th century ballroom, in the old part of your city where most of the architecture was traditional, this event was taking place in the newer, richer part of the city where skyscrapers constituted most of the area. You were at the top of one of those skyscrapers, and from the huge windows that made up two of the four walls of the spacious room, you could see the whole city laid out right in front of you, as if it was yours to take. If having money meant seeing this everyday, you thought you could understand why rich people got addicted to it. 

As Jay and his dad had warned, the atmosphere that evening was very different from that of the fundraiser. Instead of gathering for a cause, this just felt like an excuse to get drunk and eat tiny, tiny appetizers that probably cost a hundred dollars each, all while looking rich and fashionable. The room was quite dark, only the moon outside and the small LED lamps on every table bringing light in. You’d never seen such an impressive collection of alcohol (to be fair, you’d only ever been to frat parties where most of the alcohol was cheap beer and dodgy brands of vodka), and you were really going to have to restrain yourself from trying out every cocktail the barman offered. Although most of the people there were in their forties to sixties, and the younger people were only there thanks to their parents, the dress code wasn’t as formal as you’d have imagined it to be, and Jay’s assessment of your dress as the “wrong choice” now made more sense. The women wore dresses that showed quite some skin, or didn’t leave much to the imagination, and the men had left their suit blazer behind and hadn’t buttoned their shirt all the way up.

It was all a bit mind-boggling at first, but you soon got used to it, and Jay’s warm hand on your lower back reassured you. At first, the two of you walked around together, talking to different people, and hoping you were making your “relationship” clear to them. You were glad Heeseung or anyone that would’ve recognized you wasn’t there: you could handle pretending to be Jay’s girlfriend in front of his parents and other random people, but in front of the whole school, that would’ve been a whole other level of fake dating.

Watching people slowly slip into a drunk state as the hours passed was just about the only source of entertainment you got that night. The two cocktails you’d tried out were way too strong to your liking, so you didn’t feel like drinking anymore, and Jay couldn’t because he was driving you home later on. When most guests were beyond the point of being able to hold a coherent conversation, you and Jay took it as your cue to leave. You found his parents among the crowd to tell them goodbye, and you could tell they weren’t completely sober by the way they kept telling you you were amazing and made you promise three times you’d attend more of these events. Guess you couldn’t back out now.

And indeed, as weeks passed, it became a normal thing for you to accompany Jay every time he had an event to attend. Your wardrobe was going to burst from all the outfits he kept buying you, but you weren’t going to complain. Jake and Sunghoon, as sons of CEOs of smaller but still important companies, were sometimes present. They usually ditched these types of events, and you couldn’t blame them, but they still made the effort from time to time. You were already friends with Jake before; the two of you had lived in the same dorm building and kept finding each other in the study room late at night, then started to bond over insolvable questions and watered-down instant coffee. Sunghoon, on the other hand, you hadn’t had many chances to talk to, and you couldn’t lie, judging by his appearance alone, you had first thought he was even more self-centered than Jay. But after talking to him for just a minute, you found that that cold facade quickly broke down and he was easy to talk to and very funny - in his own way, but funny nonetheless.

Heeseung wasn’t always at these events, but whenever he was, you couldn’t miss him. He always garnered attention, especially from the female guests, but he always kept his eyes trained on you. In all your three years of liking him, he’d barely spoken a word to you, so why the sudden interest? Usually, you’d have craved his attention; but for some reason, at those parties, you felt indifferent towards it. You hated how he was always with a different girl and never approached you, yet wasn’t trying to keep his glances towards you discreet at all. Jay noticed it too, and a couple times you’d even had to stop him from going up to Heeseung and asking him what the hell he wanted. 

Since you didn’t have money to bedazzle people with, you always tried to make a good impression with your conversation and intellect, but some nights you just weren’t up to it and spent most of the time laughing with Jake and Sunghoon, as Jay was often too busy talking to someone else. Tonight was one of those nights; half an hour into the party, an important businessman approached Jay and started talking to him, completely ignoring you. He always ended up apologizing later on, but you didn’t reproach him for it - you knew he had a reputation to uphold and that these events were important for him. Plus, it wasn’t like he owed you anything - you weren’t his girlfriend after all, even if the line between real and fake had started to blur more and more often as of late. 

Feeling out of place, you looked around the room and found Jake and Sunghoon at the bar, six shots lined up in front of them. You had never gotten drunk at any of these events, not wanting to risk embarrassing Jay or his parents, but tonight seemed like it was gonna be the most boring one as of yet. So you gestured to Jay that you were leaving and joined the two boys.

“Room for one more?” you asked when you reached them. They turned around and smiled at you; this was clearly not their first drink of the night. 

“Of course!” replied Jake excitedly, beaming at you. You could tell he already had a few drinks in his system. Without further ado, you each took a shot glass in your hand, clinked them and brought them to your lips, dipping your heads back. The burning of the alcohol as it glided down your throat was both repulsive and intoxicating, and you were soon reaching for the second one. The boys cheered you on and quickly mirrored you. 

Although you’d promised Jay you’d always be on your best behavior, as the evening went on, you never refused a drink that the servers approached you with or the boys offered you. Without Jay to make snide remarks about the snouty guests with, the evening was a lot less fun, so you couldn’t help but down every glass of alcohol that came near you; since Jake and Sunghoon were doing the exact same thing, none of you were realizing exactly how drunk you three were getting. At least, you weren’t going around the room, mumbling drunkenly to everyone; you were staying at a table in the corner, mumbling drunkenly to each other.

Jay was observing you from afar, trying not to worry and stay focus on the conversation (no matter how mind-numbing) he was having; but when he saw you almost fall out of your chair and burst into laughter right away instead of regaining your senses, he thought it was time to come check on you. He couldn’t help but feel guilty for having left you alone for most of the night, and he knew Jake and Sunghoon never stayed sober through these events, but in his defense, he didn’t think any of you would go that far.

He took a seat in the chair next to you, leaning close to you so you could hear him over the music and chatter of the guests. He asked you how you felt, and you gave him a lopsided smile in response. “Me? I feel great. This place is awesome once you’ve had-” you hiccuped, “a few drinks.”

Jay sighed but had an affectionate look on his face. “Right. I think it’s time to get you home.” He saw you open your mouth in what was probably going to be protest, so before you could say anything, he added, “And don’t even argue with me. I’m taking you home, let me just go let my parents know first. You two figure it out on your own,” he told Jake and Sunghoon, who had already started to doze off on their chairs.

He got up and headed towards his parents, and you watched him walk away with a pout on your face. Your vision was blurry from the alcohol and you could barely make out any faces, but you waved in what you hoped was the general direction of his parents. 

“She just keeps getting better, doesn’t she? Even when she’s drunk, she doesn’t embarrass herself,” said Mr Park when Jay announced your departure. “I’m glad you have her, son.” Jay was glad for the dimness of the room, which meant his dad wouldn’t notice how hard he was blushing. Even if it was all an act, thanks to his parents, he had gotten closer to you than he thought he ever would.

He bid goodbye to his parents and a few other guests, including Jake’s and Sunghoon’s parents, making them aware of their kids’ state, then went back to get you. The trek to the car wasn’t the easiest as tiredness had started to hit you and your body grew heavier against your will. You fell asleep as soon as your head hit the back of the passenger seat and Jay couldn’t help but think you were the cutest thing in the world. He then realized how far gone he must be to think you still looked precious in your current state.

The car ride was silent, your quiet snores and the soft chatter of the radio the only sounds filling up the space. Jay thought you were dead asleep as you didn’t wake up when he fished your keys out of your bag and carried you bridal style out of the car and to the door, but really, you just didn’t wanna have to walk. When he got to the door, though, you thought it would’ve been unfair to make him struggle that much, so you opened your eyes and quietly told him to let you on the ground. He walked you to your room, tucked you in bed and even got a wet wipe to take your makeup off for you. 

As he gently swiped it over your eyes, trying not to hurt you, your drunken state got the best of you and you asked, voice barely over a whisper, “Why are you doing all this?”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, and you thought he might not have heard you, until he replied, “Because I want to.” You were too tired to press the matter any further, although you desperately wanted to. You’d have to wait until you were sober - if you’d have the courage to bring the subject up then.

When he was done and got up from your bed, the sudden absence of his presence around you made you panic, so you called out, “Jay?”

“Yeah?” he said, and you hoped you weren’t imagining how expectant he’d sounded.

“Will you stay?”

Your eyes were too heavy to even open, so you couldn’t see his reaction. After a second that felt like an eternity, he answered, “Of course.”

You heard him steal a pillow and lay down on the carpeted floor next to your bed. Maybe it was the remnants of alcohol in your system, or the fact that spending so much time together, especially as his girlfriend - fake girlfriend - had made you see him in a new light, or the fact that you felt like your whole world would collapse if you didn’t have him next to you at that moment, or all three of those things. All you knew was that something beyond your control made you whisper “come here” in the quiet of your room, and, when he got under the covers with you but kept his distance, made you wrap your arms around him and cling onto his shirt as if he would disappear.

You slept like a baby that night, but Jay barely got a wink of sleep, the sound of his own heart beating uncontrollably keeping him awake.

—

You woke up that Sunday morning with a ringing headache, an upset stomach and a thirst you knew you wouldn’t be able to quench no matter how much water you drank. Your bed was empty, and the only thing that reminded you Jay sleeping overnight wasn’t a fever dream was his scent lingering on your pillow. The pang in your heart at his absence was hard to ignore - you were definitely curious about what it’d be like to wake up in Jay’s arms. 

The busy chatter coming from the kitchen forced you out of your bed, although you would’ve rather stayed there all day. As soon as you opened your bedroom door, the smell of pancakes and sizzling bacon attacked your nose, and you hurried downstairs.

The sight of Jay cooking breakfast for you and your mother alone was enough to cure your hangover. You sneakily watched from the staircase as he expertly flipped pancakes and cooked eggs at the same time, all while holding a conversation with your mom. You walked into the kitchen and poured yourself a cup of coffee before taking a seat next to your mom, trying to but failing to suppress a smile. “I didn’t know you were also a housewife, Jongseong,” you said, voice still groggy with sleep.

“I thought it was the least I could do after making you attend such an awful event,” he answered, and you had the suspicion he was only being nice because your mom was there, even though she knew you two weren’t actually dating. 

He kept that energy all throughout breakfast, making your mom laugh, and you watched him play his charm on her, glad you didn’t need to participate in the conversation. Any mom would be lucky to have him as a step-son, you caught yourself thinking.

Your mother hugged him when he left, and turned to you with a smile as soon as she’d closed the door. “Y/N, there’s no way in hell you don’t wanna date that boy. Hell, if he wasn’t half my age, I probably would.”

You took a cold water bottle from the fridge and said, “We’re not talking about this,” then headed up the stairs to your room. You ignored her calling after you and laid down in bed. Last night had given you a lot to think about.

—

You never got as drunk as that night again, not wanting to repeat that situation. Your relationship with Jay had already changed so much in so little time, but now, there was a lingering tension that always kept you on edge, and it wasn’t due to the constant arguing. It was due to the way you couldn’t get his scent on your sheets out of your head and the way he couldn’t forget how you had held onto him that night. You two had always said whatever was on your mind to each other, especially if it was something that would annoy the other, but now unspoken words constantly lingered between the two of you.

Your friends saw right through you; even though you tried to play it cool, it was painfully obvious that Jay was much more than just competition to you now. You hadn’t told them about the time he’d slept over and made you breakfast, knowing you’d never hear the end of it; but they didn’t need to know about that to see something had changed. It was clear in the way you talked about him, which had gone from irritated to excited, or how you never mentioned Heeseung anymore. One time, you’d even said “dating Jay” instead of “fake-dating,” and Sunoo had immediately picked up on it.

“That-that’s what I meant!” you’d exclaimed defensively, but they’d all looked at you with teasing smiles.

Jay hadn’t been very discreet when he’d given you bags of designer clothes all over campus, like in the cafeteria, in a random hallway, or in a lecture hall, and given his immense popularity (you know, being handsome and rich and all that), a few rumors about you two dating were being spread around. But they hadn’t really blown up, since the both of you always denied them whenever someone asked you if they were true, because you didn’t need to keep the pretense at uni. 

The pretense - because that’s all it was, of course. Play pretend. Fake dating, keyword fake. But everything with Jay felt too real - the laughter in his car on the way to and fro the events, the smiles you exchanged from across the room, his hand brushing against yours when you sit next to each other during lectures. It wasn’t enough to have his arm around your waist once or twice a week, and it drove you crazy that you had him in bed right next to you but that you’d let him go. You needed to have him close, and for it to be real.

It was a sunny March afternoon when you realized this. Your week was surprisingly unbusy - along with the preparation for your lectures and tutorials, you only had two small online quizzes to complete, and all your bigger deadlines were so far away that even you didn’t see the point in starting on them already. So, armed with your favorite book and plenty of snacks, you’d decided to head to the park next to campus and spend a relaxing afternoon in the sun. It went as planned for about an hour, when an all too familiar voice called out your name - a voice that used to make you sigh in annoyance and roll your eyes automatically, but that now made your heart skip a beat in nervousness, you realized with some alarm.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” He sat down next to you on your picnic blanket, beaming at you like you were his good old friend he’d just run into. He had a professional-looking camera with him, something you’d never seen him carry around. You were so taken aback by his excitement at seeing you that no words formed in your mind, and you just raised your book and waved it stupidly.

Jay chuckled when he saw what you were reading. “Twilight, of course. And that’s the last one, isn’t it?” He shook his head in mock-disappointment at you. “I can’t believe you would put yourself through the torture of reading four of those books, Y/N.”

You just mumbled something about them being fun to read, turning your gaze back to the cover of the book you were holding. What the hell was wrong with you?! Usually, you’d be quick to shoot an answer back at Jay, either defending yourself or attacking him on one of his own weird preferences (you’ll never forget the day they had corn at the cafeteria and Jay had scarfed down at least five cobs in one sitting). But right now, Jay’s presence next to you turned your insides to liquid and rendered you unable to think properly. You hated it.

But then you noticed something on the book cover - “Jay, how do you know this is the last one?” From the corner of your eye, you saw Jay’s head snap up while you turned the book in your hands. “There’s no number on it.”

“O-oh,” he started, and judging from the growing blush on his face, you knew you’d caught him. This brought some of your usual confidence back to you. “Isn’t it common knowledge that Breaking Dawn is the last book in the series?”

You giggled at that. “Absolutely not.” His guilty expression only made you want to press further, and you added, “That’s something you’d only know if you’d watched all the movies and made the effort to remember the separate titles.”

He looked away, letting out a small hum as he found sudden interest in his camera. You were still smiling at him in disbelief. “Jongseong, have you seen all five Twilight movies?”

He furrowed his eyebrows and kept avoiding your gaze. “Pffft. No.”

“Jongseong.”

At the sound of his name, he abruptly turned his head in your direction, and his glare only made you smile even more. “You’ve actually seen all five movies, I can’t believe this,” you said, almost laughing. Jay’s eyes softened slightly, just enough for you to notice. He turned his attention back to his camera, but he was smiling down at it as he spoke this time.

“It’s just that you’ve mentioned them so often, I thought I should check at least the first one out. Turns out they’re pretty addictive,” he admitted sheepishly.

“So you watched them for me?” you asked, and your voice was more admirative than you’d had intended it to be - you wanted to tease him, not let him know that what he’d just said actually touched you.

“I watched them for… research purposes,” he conceded. Your eyes met. Your cheeks were starting to hurt from all the intense smiling this conversation was bringing you, but you couldn’t help it. This time, you were the one to look away.

“Research purposes, of course.” A short silence ensued, the sort of silence you should’ve been used to with Jay by now but that always made you feel giddy - the sort that’s awkward in a lighthearted way, the sort where you’re repeating all the words that have just been said in your head and committing them to memory. The sort where you hope the other is feeling all the things you’re feeling.

You broke it first. “What about you, what are you doing here?”

Jay raised his head, looking like he’d just remembered he had come here for another purpose than just talking to you. “Right. I have a project for this elective I’m taking, so I need to film some stuff and I thought it’d be nice to do it here,” he explained, shrugging.

“Sounds cool,” you said, and you hoped he knew you actually meant it. He looked at you again, and he seemed surprised. “Tell me more,” you added, and from the way his features lit up, you could tell you had said the right thing. You positioned yourself more comfortably on the blanket as you listened to him.

“Oh, well, our professor’s a bit of a romantic so the project is all about finding beauty in the small things, the happiness around us, love…” 

Your gazes locked the moment he said that word, but it only lasted a second. Jay was quick to clear his throat and go back to his explanation, but it took you a few more seconds until you could focus on his words again. When you snapped out of it, he was showing you some films he’d already taken. They were all very short, just three or four seconds long, but a peacefulness emitted from each of them. An encouraging message scribbled into a lecture hall table, a cat laying on a windowsill, enjoying the sun, an old couple walking slowly hand-in-hand, teenage girls celebrating a birthday at an ice cream parlor, the metro passing quickly through the frame as the sunset paints the sky orange in the background. All beautiful moments that make up life, but that you never take the time to fully appreciate.

“This… this is beautiful, Jay,” you breathe, mesmerized by what he’d manage to capture.

“Yeah? Not too cheesy?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.

“Not at all. I think your professor will love this, you completely grasped the subject.”

He let out a shaky breath of relief, his smile getting wider. “Nice,” he said under his breath. Then he suddenly turned his head to look at you, an intensity in his gaze you hadn’t expected. “Would you mind if I took a video of you? Add you to the film?”

“W-what, like here? Right now?”

“Yeah,” Jay said, and when he smiled at you like that, who were you to say no?

“Okay, sure.” You tried to shrug, play it cool, but something about Jay looking at you through his lens and adding a video of you to all those beautiful ones he’d just shown you made your heartbeat speed dangerously.

“Great,” he beamed. “Just read your book. Pretend I’m not here,” he instructed. As if you could be anything less than hyper-aware of his presence, you thought.

Thankfully, the video was shot in just a few minutes as Jay searched for the best angle to take it from. Before you knew it, he was already back next to you, mirroring your position on the blanket as he laid on his stomach. You tried to ignore how his shoulder brushed against yours as he leaned on his forearms, showing you the video. You had to admit, it looked really nice - from this angle, the sun shone down on you perfectly, and you could see the wind blowing through the tree leaves in the background. It fit perfectly with the other videos.

“Beautiful,” Jay whispered, looking at the film with nothing but fondness in his eyes.

You didn’t linger on his words too long, just took the chance to tease him: “Are you complimenting me or your videography skills?”

The look in his eyes didn’t change as he turned his head and gazed down at you. “You, of course.”

A smirk tugged the corners of his lips up as he took in your flustered expression, your incoherent mumbles. “Whatever,” you mumbled when you regained the ability to speak. 

Another comfortable silence settled between the two of you as Jay busied himself with his camera while you read the same paragraph over and over, unable to concentrate on the words. You desperately wanted to say something, but had no idea what, so you were grateful when Jay broke the silence.

“Just need to edit this all together on my laptop, and then I’m all done. Thanks for your help, Y/N.”

“I didn’t do anything, though,” you said with a small smile. His compliment from earlier was still ringing in your ears.

“But you did. I think that shot of you will end the film perfectly.” 

Sure, Jay had gotten nicer and nicer to you as time passed - but today, he was really laying it on thick. He was making it hard to breathe properly. All you could do to save yourself was change the subject.

“So, this is for the Visual Studies part of your degree, right?”

For the second time today, Jay’s expression went from surprise to delight - you remembered, he thought. “It is, yeah,” he replied, with a wide grin he couldn’t control. He seemed to hesitate for a bit, as if deliberating whether he should say whatever it was he wanted to say or not. You were happy to see he opted for telling you. “If it was up to me, it’s the only thing I’d have done.”

You studied him for a bit. With just this simple sentence, you realized Jay’s life wasn’t as simple as you’d always imagined it to be. “But it’s not up to you, I’m guessing.”

He smiled sadly, and you had to resist the urge to take him in your arms. All these things you had been feeling for him, they weren’t supposed to be there, and you were getting really tired of fighting them back.

“It isn’t, no.” He turned over to lay on his back, and you imitated him, so that you were now both staring up at the sky. He sighed before speaking again. “My father isn’t a particularly conservative man, but he does like tradition. He wants to keep the company in the family, and as his only child, I’m the one the responsibility falls upon. He’s never even asked me if this was what I wanted to do, just assumed I’d be happy with it.”

In your three years of knowing Jay, you’d thought how unfair it was that he wouldn’t have to go through the hoops of job applications and job interviews. He already had a top position waiting for him as soon as he got out of college. But now you realized that he was completely trapped in the position - all of the decisions you’d taken academics- and career-wise had been your own, while Jay’s had been chosen for him in advance.

“I picked up photography as a hobby to get away from it all and ended up really falling in love with it. I have control over my camera even if I have zero control over anything else in my life,” he explained with a defeated chuckle.

You let your head fall to the side and looked at him. “I had no idea about any of this.”

Jay met your eyes and smiled. The sun was right behind you, so he had to shield his eyes from it to look at you. “Of course not. I never mentioned it.”

“I feel like I should’ve known, for some reason.”

His smile got wider. You looked away. “Why?”

“Just ‘cause. Maybe I would’ve gone easier on you if I knew you were also struggling.”

“I wouldn’t have let you.” He bumped your shoulder with his, making you let out a chuckle.

A beat passed before you spoke again. “Guess we both have a lot of pressure on our shoulders, huh? Even if they’re different kinds.”

“Guess we do.”

“Then we’re more similar than I’d thought,” you said, and looked at him again.

“Guess we are.”

A smile bloomed on your lips, and Jay’s eyes drifted down to it. That simple action made you panic, and you suddenly sat up. He didn’t have time to ask if everything’s alright, you were already throwing your stuff back in your bag and mumbling something about the time and having to go. You stood, and turned to Jay before scurrying off. “I’ll see you around.”

Jay chuckled, slightly confused, but let you go. It wasn’t until he left himself that he’d realized you’d left without your picnic blanket.

— 

After that afternoon, you tried to pretend nothing happened, and that you hadn’t run away just because of Jay glancing down at your lips. You were already getting worked up over things you shouldn’t even be thinking about when it came to him - you didn’t need to have Jay kissing you on your mind.

Thankfully, Jay didn’t bother you about it, and you got back into your routine of arguing by class and pretending to be a couple by night. Everything was fine.

That is, until Mr Park happened.

You had waited all week, hell, all month for this: Jay’s dad was about to give a special talk for the School of Business on how to get a company started and efficiently run it, but most importantly, he would announce how to apply for a summer internship at his firm. You’d made sure to get there early so you could get a good seat. He noticed you when you walked in the amphitheater, and motioned to you to come see him.

“Y/N! Lovely to see you, thanks for coming,” he greeted, beaming down at you. It always surprised you just how similar his smile was to his son’s.

“Of course, Mr Park! I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Come and see me after the talk, yeah? There’s something I want to tell you.”

God, what was it with Park father and son to announce things like that? Why not just say it straight away? You kept those thoughts to yourself and nodded, then sat down at a seat in the front.

You listened intently the whole time and took down rigorous notes. When it was over, you had to wait another twenty minutes as people asked him questions, until he finally announced that was all he had time for today. You headed down towards the stage, and complimented him on his talk. Most people in the room had started trickling out, but there were still a few students waiting at the doors, hoping to catch him before he left.

“Oh, thank you, thank you,” he said with a chuckle, before taking a deep breath. “I realize now what I said earlier might have made you nervous, but don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.” 

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Good. “I just wanted to thank you for being such a good girlfriend to Jay. I’ve always been proud of him, but I know he has a lot on his shoulders, so it’s nice to see that he has someone like you to rely on.”

You smiled at Mr Park, saying it was nothing, but you felt guilty. He truly believed in you and Jay, when the two of you were only pretending. Even though it didn’t always feel that way anymore. 

“Oh, and for the internship, I’m sure you’ll understand that it wouldn’t look too good if I gave it to you. But don’t worry, I’ll put in a good word for you wherever you decide to apply.”

A second passed. Then another, and another, until your lack of answer was becoming weird, and you had to say something. “Oh. Right. Of course, I understand,” you replied, hoping the disappointment in your voice wasn’t too obvious. You exchanged a few more words until you said you needed to get back to studying.

As you turned around to exit the room, you noticed everybody who had been waiting for Mr Park was staring right at you, wide-eyed. You tried to ignore them and get to the doors, but a girl stopped you. “So the rumors are true, you really are dating Jay?”

You’d never seen her in your life and were a bit shocked that a stranger could demand information about your love life, but you nonetheless shook your head and started to say, “What? No.”

“Why are you lying? We just heard everything,” said another voice.

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter anyway, just don’t lie.”

You turned your gaze away from the students to look behind you at Mr Park. Or more precisely, at the lecturer mic wrapped around his waist. From where you were, you could make out a tiny red light on the mic, signaling it was still on.

Crap.

—

As soon as you were outside, you called Jay. He picked up after a few rings, groaning, “What? I’m at the library.” Ah, there was the Jay you knew.

“I’ll be here in two, come outside.”

“But-”

“Right now,” you said sharply and hung up. 

Jay had wanted to scold you for disturbing him like that, but as soon as he saw you, eyebrows furrowed and biting your lip nervously, worry overcame him. “Hey. You okay?” he asked gently, placing his hands on your forearms.

“Yeah. I’m fine, but, um, everybody knows. »

He looked at you questioningly, and when you wouldn’t explain further, he asked, “Knows what?”

“You. Me. That we’re dating. Well, they think we’re dating.”

“What? How do they know?”

“Your dad. We talked after his presentation, and he thanked me for being a good girlfriend, except his mic was on. So everybody heard. And you know how gossip travels here, so everybody’ll know by tonight,” you said, sighing in exasperation.

Jay thought for a while. “Well, who cares if they know? We don’t have to change the way we act with each other. That’d be more suspicious, if anything. We’ll just have to not deny it when people ask if we’re dating.” 

Your frustration got the best of you and you scoffed, giving Jay a harsher look than you wanted to. His hands left your forearms. “How far is this gonna go, Jay?! How much longer do we have to-” You realized how loud your voice was, and switched to whisper-shouting instead of just shouting. “To pretend? I can let you parade me around those CEOs and whatnot, but I don’t wanna have to keep the charade up on campus, too.”

Jay’s law locked. He looked like you’d just punched him. But he didn’t say anything, so you dropped it. “Anyway, that’s not even the bad part. Your dad told me I wouldn’t get the internship.  And it’s fine, I guess I can get one somewhere else. But I wasn’t expecting it, and I was really looking forward to working at your dad’s firm.”

Again, he was silent for a small while, until he muttered, “Right.”

You looked up at him, and he was avoiding your gaze. Why wasn’t he surprised, or angry? Why wasn’t he reacting?

“Did… did you know?” you asked, unable to keep your voice from shaking.

Nothing.

“Jay. Did you know?” you repeated, tone harsher, more impatient.

“Um. Yeah, I knew,” he mumbled. He still wouldn’t look you in the eye. 

You shut your eyes for a few seconds, trying to grasp the situation. “Wh- you knew? And you didn’t say anything?” 

“Sorry,” he said, eyes trained on his shoes.

“Sorry? That’s it?” You shook your head in disbelief. You almost wanted to laugh. “How long have you known?”

“Since the beginning, really. My dad’s not the type to do favors, and he wants to keep up that image. So if you’re my girlfriend, he wouldn’t give you the internship.”

You couldn’t say anything. Not getting the internship was one thing. You could get over it. But Jay knowing from the start and keeping it from you, that was what really hurt you. You could feel tears forming in your eyes, but you walked away before Jay could see just how much he’d upset you.

“Y/N!” he called after you. He grabbed your wrist, making you stop in your tracks and turn around. The sight of you, teary eyes and staring at him with fury in your eyes, and knowing he was the reason behind it, made him indescribably angry at himself.

“Whatever it is you have to say, I don’t wanna hear it, Jongseong.” He tightened his grip on your wrist before you could snatch it away from him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know you wanted that internship. If I did-”

“If you did? Then what? You wouldn’t have asked me to be your pretend girlfriend? You would’ve let me have a chance at the internship?” You shook your head. “Of course not. So save it.”

You managed to get out of his grip and continued walking away, ignoring him as he called out your name again. When you were a few meters away, you turned around and said, venom only in your voice, “I hope you realize how selfish you are, Jay.”

That’s when his heart broke.

—

Jay had been right when he said people wouldn’t care about the two of you ‘dating.’ However, the people who did care, your friends, were more confused than anything: you had gone from bickering non stop, to denying couple rumors, to not talking to each other. It’d been a week since your argument with Jay, and you still didn’t want to hear him out. You didn’t want to have anything to do with him: you straight-up ignored him every time he tried to get you to talk to him, had blocked his number and shut down your friends and mom whenever they mentioned him.

You missed him; you missed his stupid arguments, and his stupid jokes, and his stupid face, and how it had started to feel like he genuinely cared for you. Or at least, that’s what he’d made you think. And he’d made you think it so well, that you thought you might have been starting to genuinely care for him as well. Which only made his betrayal a hundred times worse.

You’d decided to drown your sorrows in textbooks, and spent most of your time at the library. On Thursday, you were searching for the week’s essential reading in the Econ section, and as you took out the book in question, you saw a pair of eyes staring right at you. You tried not to shriek but you felt like your soul had left your body. You’d barely had time to gather your spirits when the culprit had come round to your side of the bookshelf, and of course, it was none other than Lee Heeseung. God, you thought, could that boy get any weirder?

“Trouble in paradise, or so I’ve heard?” he asked in lieu of a normal greeting. Whatever happened to hello?

“That’s none of your business, Heeseung,” you replied curtly, opening the book.

He tried not to be taken too aback by your attitude. He was used to stammering and blushing Y/N, not you-better-not-give-me-any-shit Y/N. He wouldn’t say he disliked the change.

“I’m not sure why you thought dating a guy like Jay was a good idea in the first place, anyway. You could do a lot better, you know,” he said, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of it all. When you didn’t answer, he went on. “You know, we’ve missed you at the frat parties. I know you’ve been going to all those boring company events, but don’t you think it’d be more fun to let loose with us? Tomorrow night?”

This made you look up at him. He had that gaze again, the one you’d seen all those times, and you remembered why you’d liked him for so long. Something about his eyes, about the way he was waiting for you to say yes, made you reply, “I’ll think about it.” You returned his smile and headed back to your seat. You did think going to his party would be fun, and you definitely needed some of that right now.

Plus, you had the perfect dress for the occasion.

—

So here you were, standing in front of the frat house’s door, Sieun, Sunoo and Keeho at your sides, in the tight black dress Jay had given you but you hadn’t chosen for that one event. They were all used to this kind of party, but you’d only been a few times, and although they’d all hyped you up for it, you suddenly felt yourself deflate. 

“Guys, what if I just embarrass myself like last time? I don’t think I could live with that-”

“Nope! We’re not having this conversation again!” Sieun exclaimed, already pushing you inside. “You look hot as fuck, and tonight you’re gonna have so much fun and forget all about Jay.”

Keeho and Sunoo gave her a stern look. “Sorry,” she quickly apologized, but you barely heard her over the bass of the booming music. It was 11 p.m. and the party was well into motion. People were drunkenly dancing on the designated dance floor, and you tried to not conjure up memories of that last party. There were people everywhere you looked: on the staircase, in the backyard, in the kitchen. 

Your friends and you headed first to the mini-bar and shot down some vodka for liquid courage. As you started chatting, trying to see who was there, Heeseung approached you.

“Y/N! You came! And you look really good,” he said, taking in your figure. He pulled you into a hug which you returned warmly. The vodka was already having its effects on you, apparently.

“Can I get you guys a drink?” he asked you and Sieun. Keeho and Sunoo had already disappeared to the dance floor. 

“Sure,” you said, smiling up at Heeseung.

Sieun looked between the two of you, and said, “Actually, I’ll join the others. Come dance with us soon, Y/N!” And like that, she was gone, giving you no time to protest. She thought she was being slick, that one.

You and Heeseung chuckled. He got you a red cup and you watched him as he expertly poured different juices and liquors in it. “So, what made you decide to come?” he asked, handing you your drink. You took a sip of it and nodded approvingly.

“I just needed a good party. To let loose, like you said. Plus, who am I to deny an invitation from the great Lee Heeseung?”

Neither of you was sure where all the confidence was coming from. As soon as you’d said that, you looked down at your cup and smiled shyly. Heeseung looked at you curiously, but he couldn’t help but grin as well. You chatted a bit more, drinking one, two, three cups of the heavenly concoction Heeseung made for you. 

“Wanna dance?” he suddenly offered, extending his hand. Right at that moment, you saw Jay enter the house with Jake and Sunghoon. You saw him look around the room until his eyes zeroed in on you and the boy in front of you. Perfect, you thought. You smiled at Heeseung and took his hand, letting him lead you to the dance floor.

Somebody had dimmed down the lights and Lost in the Fire by The Weeknd was playing loudly, creating a sensual atmosphere in the whole room. Your body started swaying to the music, and you were thankful for the alcohol in your system, ridding your mind of any negative or self-conscious thought; you were just enjoying yourself, exactly like you’d wanted to do tonight.

You were getting lost in the music, when a pair of hands on the sides of your waist brought you back to reality. Heeseung got so close to you, you could feel his lips on your ear as they moved to whisper, “Having fun, princess?” 

You nodded fervently, leaning your head back on his shoulder, closing whatever gap there was between your two bodies. His hands traveled from your waist to your hips and you could feel his broad chest against your back as you two moved to the rhythm of the music. From where you were, you had a view of the living room. Jay was sitting there, a girl sitting so close she might as well have been on his lap, but he was staring right at you. You knew never hooked up with random girls at parties, so he had to be doing this to get a reaction out of you. You hated that it worked, that it only made the fire in you burn harder - so as a response, you started grinding your ass against Heeseung.

When the girl actually sat on Jay’s lap, you couldn’t look anymore, so you turned around and put your arms around Heeseung’s neck and faced him. His eyes had glossed over and he was looking at you with a hunger you’d never seen before. Well, that wasn’t true - you’d seen him look at other girls that way, and you always knew what happened after that, but you chased the thought out of your mind, forgetting all about that promise you’d made to yourself of never becoming another one of his drunk fucks. Now that his attention was on you and you only, you felt yourself wanting more. His hands traveled further down your body as he grabbed at your ass, bringing your hips closer to his. He bent down to press wet kisses up your neck until he reached your ear. 

“Wanna take this upstairs?” he asked. It sent shivers down your spine, but you couldn’t tell whether they were good shivers or not. You willed away your hesitation, smiling at him as he took your hand once again, this time leading you to what you assumed was his bedroom. As you walked up the stairs, you scanned the room and sure enough, found Jay sitting on a couch, staring right at you. You thought the beer can in his hand might explode, he was holding it so tight. Feeling you slow down, Heeseung tugged at your hand, and you detached your gaze from Jay’s, trying to drown out the feeling of guilt that was creeping up inside you.

As soon as he’d closed the door behind you, Heeseung wasted no time in pressing you up against the wall and kissing you hungrily. You hadn’t been kissed many times before, and surely not with such energy, but you were sure it was supposed to feel better. Heeseung was in no measure a bad kisser, he seemed to have the technique down to a T and kept a perfect rhythm. But you felt no fireworks, no butterflies, no light-headedness you’d always hoped would come with a good kiss. There was just no passion to it.

After a few minutes of making out, when you were starting to hope he’d get on with it, he said, breath irregular, “What would Jay say if he saw this, huh? Probably hates the idea of me kissing his precious girlfriend, don’t you think?”

The mention of Jay hit you like a ton of bricks. “Wh-what?” you stammered, not letting Heeseung kiss you when he leaned in again.

“Jay? Your boyfriend?” he repeated, looking at you bemusedly.

You chuckled once. Then twice. Then you just started laughing. “Oh, Jay? We’re not actually dating,” you revealed, your filter completely gone because of all the alcohol.

“What?” Heeseung took a sudden step back from you. His confused gaze had turned cold.

“We’re not dating, I said. It’s all fake, it was to make his parents happy,” you explained, yourself confused by Heeseung’s sudden attitude change. 

It was his turn to laugh. “Wow. That’s impressive. You managed to fool me.” His smile dropped. “Now get the fuck out.”

“Excuse me?” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

“You heard me. Get the fuck out. There’s no point in fucking you if you’re not Jay’s girlfriend. You’re just a random loser.”

You stared at him for a few seconds, until you started laughing. It only seemed to make him angry. “What the fuck are you laughing about? I told you to get out.”

You sighed amusedly as if Heeseung was just joking around. “I just think it’s funny that you won’t fuck me because I’m not actually Jay’s girlfriend, when that’s not stopped you from getting with a different girl every single weekend. Whore,” you said, adding that last part in a whisper. You didn’t actually care that Heeseung slept around, not anymore, at least, but you wanted to get a reaction from him after the way he’d treated you.

But perhaps you went too far, because Heeseung’s eyes turned even angrier, and he pushed one of your shoulders harshly, making you almost hit the wall. “I’ll tell you one last time. Get out, you pathetic little bitch.” 

Just at that moment, the door burst open, revealing a very angry Jay. 

“What the fuck did you just call her?” he growled, heading straight for Heeseung and grabbing him by the collar. The other boy didn’t seem fazed, a smile back on his face, as if this whole situation was funny.

“Aw, Jongseong is mad I’m not being nice to his little fake girlfriend?” You guessed Jay must’ve looked confused, because Heeseung continued, “Yeah, she told me. To be fair, I should’ve known even you wouldn’t date a fucking beggar like her.”

You weren’t quick enough to stop Jay from bringing his fist up to Heeseung’s nose. You swore you heard something crack. But as soon as you saw him get ready for another punch, you ran to him and held his arm, shouting, “He’s not worth it, Jay!” and God, you almost wanted him to punch you because of how cliché that had sounded, but you truly thought Heeseung wasn’t worth losing any energy over.

Your voice seemed to make Jay snap out of his fury, and he looked at you, worry written all over his face. However, that only lasted a second, as his expression then shifted to something you’d never seen on his face before, and he grabbed your wrist, leading you out of the room. The commotion had gathered some attention, and you left the house under a bunch of people’s curious looks and chatter.

What was it with men grabbing you and leading you wherever tonight? You were tired of it, so as soon as you’d reached the front yard, you got your wrist out of his grasp, and demanded to know where he thought he was taking you. He grabbed your wrist again, and said, “To my place. We need to talk.” 

The tone in his voice told you it was better not to test him, so you got in his car. Jay was always a safe driver, but this time, he sped through the whole city, even burning some red lights, reaching his apartment on the other side of town in a matter of minutes. You quickly texted your friends your whereabouts so they wouldn’t have to worry. The whole car ride had been silent but you could feel him fuming next to you, and you had no idea what to expect when you entered his apartment.

His place was exactly like you’d imagined it: modern, spacious, and way more organized that any other university student’s flat would be, but also had a lot of personal touches. It was very Jay, and if it hadn’t been for the tension between the two of you, you’d have immediately felt at ease there.

Jay walked through the dark apartment to the kitchen, where he turned on a single light. You followed him, unsure what else to do. He leaned against his hands on the island counter, head hung low, and you went to stand on the other side of the counter, waiting for his next move. When his head snapped up and he peered straight at you, you could barely decipher the look in his eyes, but thought it contained a mixture of jealousy, anger, and… hunger. He’d never looked at you that way before, and his gaze itself created a ball in the pit of your stomach. You told yourself it really wasn’t the moment, but you couldn’t help but feel desperately attracted to him.

“What the fuck were you doing with Heeseung?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

You scoffed. “What the fuck were you doing with that random girl?” 

“I wanted to make you jealous.” He hadn’t hesitated a second before answering, and his confidence destabilized you. You’d guessed that had been his plan, but hearing him say it made you feel weirdly shy. “Now answer me. What the fuck were you doing with Heeseung?” 

You couldn’t hold eye contact anymore, so you looked down at the counter, and replied, “I um, I was drunk, and I… I wanted to make you jealous too, I guess.” You looked back up at him, wanting to gauge his reaction. He was now wearing a smug look, like he’d won something over you. He slowly walked over to your side of the counter, and when he reached you, he put his hands on the counter on each side of you, making you lean back against it. You gulped at the way he towered over you

“And why did you want to make me jealous?” He was so close to you now that when he uttered those words, voice barely over a whisper, you felt his breath fan over your face. As much as you tried to keep eye contact, your gaze fell down to his lips, and you saw him smirk. He caught your chin between his index finger and thumb, nudging your head up. “Eyes up here, doll.”

Your eyes met his again. He was looking at you so intently, you thought your knees might buckle under you. He cocked an eyebrow, patiently waiting for your reply. “Because I…” 

It was so obvious, but you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to say it, or even let yourself think it, before. But it needed to be put out there, once and for all. There was no point in fighting it anymore. “Because I like you, Jongseong.”

To your surprise, his smirk turned into a cheeky grin. It made some of the tension dissipate, but not enough for you to breathe properly again. “I like you too, Y/N.” You sighed out of relief at his words and mirrored his smile. 

“Can I kiss you?” he said, the thumb that had been holding your chin caressing your bottom lip.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you breathed, and he leaned in, your lips meeting delicately. It stayed that way for a few minutes, until the pent-up feelings that had been threatening to come out finally did, and hunger and passion took over the kiss. Jay was kissing you like a man starved, and all you could do was return everything he was giving you. This was nothing like you’d imagined it; it was infinitely better. Talk about fireworks, or butterflies, or light-headedness, you felt like you were on another plane of existence, like a kiss that felt this good and was this freeing wasn’t humanly possible. 

Your hands slipped under his shirt and the sudden contact of your cold hands against his warm skin made him shiver. You were glad to see you had as much effect on him as he had on you. Never breaking the kiss, he led you to his bedroom and sat down on his bed, gesturing for you to straddle his lap. Your dress rode up your calves a little bit, and he used this opportunity to pull it further up until it bundled up around your hips, leaving your lower half almost naked. You could feel how hard he was getting underneath your clothed core, and as the kiss grew needier, you started grinding against him, getting the both of you off. When you heard him groan against your lips, something snapped in you, and you wanted to hear that sound over and over, so you doubled down on your actions. 

His hands, which had been resting on your ass, came up to the nape of your neck, and he grabbed you by the hair, exposing your neck to him. He started pressing down eager kisses along your jawline, throat, and collarbones. When he found a spot in the crook of your neck you particularly liked, he started attacking it like crazy, sucking at the skin and turning you into a moaning mess. One of his hands came to cup your breast and he was very glad to find you were not wearing a bra. Your nipple had hardened through the fabric, and he started playing with it. That, as well the feeling of him in your neck and against your core, was overwhelming, and you felt like you were about to pass out because of how good it all felt. You didn’t know what to do with your hands so you alternated between running them over his arms and tugging at his hair.

As your lips met again, teeth almost clashing because of the intensity, you started unbuttoning his shirt. When it was off, you couldn’t not stare at him. You’d had an idea already, but you still couldn’t believe how toned his arms, chest and abs were. You thought to yourself, God, he’s so hot, and hadn’t realized you’d actually said it out loud until he jokingly said, “Yeah?”, looking up at you with the biggest smile. His hands ran over your calves, your thighs and your ass, sending shivers along the way, and he said, “You’re not too bad yourself, doll.” He kissed you with much more gentleness than before. “In fact, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You kissed him so he wouldn’t see the blush spreading on your face. He put his hand on your lower back, and guided you down on the bed until you were laying on your back, him hovering over you. He pulled your dress all the way up, helping you get rid of it. You were now left in only panties in front of him, and you would’ve imagined that to be intimidating, but his gaze was truly making you feel like a goddess. Nonetheless, you didn’t want to be the only one naked, so you tucked your fingers under his trousers’ waistband, gesturing for him to take them off. He chuckled but immediately obliged, getting rid of them in a matter of seconds. You had an even better view of his now fully-hard cock, and its size made you gulp. Your mind was quickly off of that, though, as he started trailing kisses all the way down to your breasts, taking one of your nipples in his mouth as his hand came up to the other. Your back arched at the sensation, and you only wanted more, more, more. Your fingers tugged at his hair and you breathed out his name between moans. 

After a few minutes, he traveled further down your body, until he was face to face with your dripping core. He hooked his fingers under your panties, looking up at you and asking you if this was okay. You nodded impatiently and he chuckled at your reaction. How could you be so cute even in this moment? He took your panties off excruciatingly slowly. You wanted to take your time, but you also wanted him where you needed him the most.

You did feel a bit shy when he stared at your sex with the utmost wonder, musing to himself, “So pretty.” He slid a finger between your folds, making you moan in relief and pleasure, and added, “So wet, too.”

You had lifted your body onto your forearms so you could take a good look at him. He peered up at you and, with a small smile, asked gently, “Tell me if it feels good, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied, nodding fervently.

Without wasting another second, he licked a stripe up your core, making you moan again, louder this time. He took that as confirmation to go on and continued exploring your pussy with his tongue. You practically screamed out in pleasure when he found your clit, and by the time he started sucking on it, your thighs were shaking like crazy. You didn’t have any strength left in your body and your forearms gave out under you, so you just lied down on your back, fingers still tangled in and pulling his hair. You hadn’t been able to actually tell him it felt good, but you were sure he understood that much.

One of his fingers, and then a second, entered you, filling you up. “Shit, doll, you’re so tight. How are you gonna handle my cock?”

He curled his fingers inside you and they hit a certain spot that made you see stars, and you were coming all over his fingers and tongue in a matter of seconds, screaming out his name and a string of blasphemies. You had to physically lift his head from your core, telling him it was too much, otherwise he would’ve kept going. He gave you a sheepish smile and you couldn’t believe the boy grinning at you was the same one who’d just said and done all those lewd things to you. He pressed a small kiss on your inner thigh, then lay down next to you on the bed, taking in your flushed cheeks and blown-over eyes. He couldn’t believe he got to have you like this, in your most vulnerable state, all to himself. 

When you’d calmed down from your high, you managed to say, “That was amazing, Jay.”

He let out a soft chuckle and kissed your forehead, then trapped your lips with his own. You could taste yourself on his tongue, but you didn’t mind. After a few minutes of lazily making out, you threw your leg over his to position yourself over his hips, and started pressing feather-like kisses down his neck. He’d made you feel so good, and you intended to return the favor.

You felt him sigh at your touch, but before you could go too far down, he stopped you by bringing his hands to both sides of your face, making you look up at him.

“Did I do something wrong?” you immediately asked, worry laced in your voice.

“No, no. God, no, you’re perfect.” he replied. “I just… I still feel so guilty for what I did, and I feel like I don’t deserve you right now.”

“Jay…”

He hid his face in the crook of your neck and held your waist tightly. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You’re right, I was being selfish. I should’ve known you wanted that internship, and I knew you wouldn’t get it if my dad thought we were dating, but… I’ve wanted to be with you for such a long time, and when I had the chance to have you, even if it was just pretend, even if it meant lying to you, I couldn’t bring myself to not take that chance. I’m so sorry.”

You had completely forgotten the events of that week, and of that night. Your argument with Jay and Heeseung’s words seemed light-years away. “How long have you liked me?” you couldn’t help but ask. You should’ve been surprised by Jay’s confession, but for some reason, it made sense - what didn’t make sense was how you hadn’t noticed it, or how you’d thought it wasn’t possible that you might like him, too.

“Since we met,” he admitted shyly. “I would’ve told you, but you seemed to enjoy arguing with me so much, I was scared you’d just make fun of me.”

Since you’d met… so, three years? And he’d never said anything? “To be honest, I probably would’ve made fun of you at first,” you agreed light-heartedly. “But I also think it would’ve made me realize what an amazing person you are earlier. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“That’s okay. I would’ve waited my whole life if it meant I could have you at the end.” Butterflies erupted all over your stomach at his words. You kissed him like you’d stop breathing if you didn’t.

Now that Jay had gotten what he wanted to say off his chest, you’d hoped you could continue your previous actions, and started pressing kisses down his neck, but he soon stopped you again.

“I’m getting the feeling you don’t want me to go down on you,” you said, half-joking.

He grinned and closed his eyes, as if fighting himself back. “I do, I promise you, I do.” When he opened his eyes again, they were full of affection. “But we’ve got so much time for that later. I just want to feel you around me right now. Would that be okay?” he asked, voice soft.

Your core pulsed at the thought of Jay inside you, and you nodded, breath growing erratic again. Jay gently lay you on your back, and took off his black boxers so that the two of you were finally completely naked, revealing his throbbing cock. He was right, how were you going to handle it? He rummaged around in his bedside drawer for a condom, and put it on with nervous hands. 

He lined his tip at your entrance, pressing soft kisses all over your face and neck before pushing in as if to get you to relax. He kissed you gently on the lips. “Tell me if it hurts, and I’ll stop right away.”

He waited for you to nod again, and finally entered you. It immediately stretched you out like never before. The sound of you taking a sharp breath in made Jay stop in his tracks. You wrapped your hands around his biceps for support, then, letting out a deep sigh, told him to go on. He pushed in inch by inch until he finally bottomed out. You both let out a hearty moan at the feeling. It was so perfect.

He didn’t move for a few minutes, letting you adjust to his size. You had your eyes closed and were focused on relaxing, until all at once the pain of the stretch turned into pleasure, and you breathed out, “Please, move.” He obeyed and started rocking in and out of you, making you feel each inch of his length inside you. The sensation was intoxicating. You couldn’t stop any of the moans escaping your throat, and Jay took that as a green light to go gradually faster. Your bodies were moving at the exact same pace and you thought the two of you molded together perfectly, as if this was what you had been meant to do your whole life. His fingers were tightly gripping your hips as he thrusted into you harder and harder, making you moan so loud you were practically screaming in pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good, Y/N,” he said, throwing his head back and letting out a deep moan himself. Your hands roamed all over his body, unable to stay in one place at a time. He suddenly changed the angle of his hips and started hitting that spot inside you he had found earlier with his fingers, making your mind go hay-wire. 

“Fuck, right there, Jay!” you screamed out, as he brought your hips down to his faster than you thought was humanly possible. Soon, you were coming again, and the feeling of you clenching down around him made him shoot his release into the condom. He fell on top of you, unable to carry his weight on his arms anymore. He only had enough strength to pull out and discard the condom, before nestling his head between your breasts. Tiredness seeped through your bones, and you both fell asleep in seconds, completely naked and arms around each other.

Jay woke up a few hours later, a cramp in his arm because of how you were laying down on it - the two of you had apparently switched positions at some point during the night. He softly pulled his arm away, trying not to wake you up. He checked his phone; it was 4:29 a.m. He looked down at you, admiring how soft you looked when you were sleeping. He still couldn’t believe his luck, it all felt like a dream to him. But then you shifted slightly, letting out a small whimper, probably because of a dream, and Jay knew this was happening for sure. He hugged you tightly, breathing in the scent of your hair, and, knowing you were fast asleep, murmured, “I love you.”

—

The sunlight peeking through the curtains and hitting your face softly was what woke you up the next morning. You were relieved to feel Jay’s arms around your waist as he hugged you from behind. You gently turned around, curious about what he looked like in the morning.

As expected, he was perfect.

You observed him for a while until his eyes fluttered open. “Good morning, handsome,” you whispered, pushing away the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.

“Good morning,” he replied, smiling sleepily. “Creep.”

Quietly, you gasped dramatically and said, “Is a girl a creep for looking at her boyfriend as he sleeps in the morning?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Boyfriend, huh?” he teased.

You grinned at him. “Yeah.”

“Well,” he said, returning your grin and tightening his grip around your waist, “my girlfriend can look at me all she wants.”

You’d technically been dating Jay for over three months now, but knowing it was finally real and not just pretend made you giddy. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and kissed him there, trying to hide your shy smile. 

He took your head and lifted it to place a delicate kiss on your lips, which you returned like it was second nature. When you pulled away, you jokingly said, “Mh. Morning breath,” but Jay’s eyes opened wide and he immediately put his hand over his mouth, asking, “Seriously?”

You laughed at him and pulled his hands down, going back in for a kiss. It soon escalated, and you were reminded of the fact that neither of you had clothes on when you could feel Jay’s hardness pressing against your thigh. He apologized shyly, but you told him it was fine, and that you’d take care of it. 

This time, when you two made love, it was much slower and light-hearted than the previous night, as if the two of you had finally realized that you had all the time in the world and could enjoy every single second. It was the perfect thing to wake up to.

You two lazied in bed, alternating between slowly making out and daydreaming together, until his stomach rumbled loudly and you really needed to pee. When you joined him in the kitchen, he was heating up waffles on the stove. You hooked your arms around his waist, pressing your chest to his back, and he hummed softly.

“Jay?” you whispered, lips just millimeters away from his ear.

“Yes, doll?”

“I love you too.”

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl (ask to be removed/added!) © asahicore on tumblr, 2023. please do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

[plutoswritingplanet]

Strip Me Down And Paint Me Black (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Female!Reader) pt.1

a/n: ah shit, here we go again... A continuation of "It's A Special Death You Saved", but it can be read as a separate story. Title from "Cinnamon" by Marika Hackman

Warnings: Harkonnen-typical Violence, some Sexual Tension, some Kissing, Enemies to Lovers to Enemies to Lovers to Enemies to Lo...

Summary: As you struggle with your new role as the Na-Baron's wife, plans are set in place, which will shake the very foundations of your life. Good thing, your husband is there to support you, right?

He watches you. Constantly. 

You can feel his eyes moving over your body, soaking it in like a man parched. Every movement, every twitch of your muscles is noted, stored for later. It's like he's keeping a detailed record of your every reaction, as if he wants to keep it catalogued, create a mold of you in his mind. The furrowing of your brows and the squinting of your eyes, when the Black Sun of Giedi Prime first hits your vision. How your skin turns completely gray, devoid of any color, as you take your first step off the travelling ship. 

You shift uncomfortably under his gaze, refusing to meet it, as your eyes adjust to the sheer force of the swallowing black light. 

Touch is scarce and almost revered, when he lifts his hand to inspect a curl of your hair, the strand sliding between his fingers. He raises it towards the sun, admires it with silent appreciation, and somehow, instead of touching the softer parts of your being, this small gesture makes you want to scream. Because you know.

You understand, that this is what he wants to see. Black and white, and empty. No trace of the color before, only the bleakness and brutality of the Harkonnen. And you refuse, plain and simple. You refuse to be stuffed into this unforgiving planet, expected to bed yourself over to fit it. You value your Atreides lineage more than anything in life, and you'll sooner die, than discard it. 

No matter, how delicate he has been since your first night together, how much the heat of his alabaster skin has brought you comfort, you can feel in the pit of your stomach. That this is all some elaborate rouse to keep you docile. To keep you a perfect image of a wife, the future Na-Baroness. It can't be anything else, surely. 

So even now, as you admire the strangeness of this new planet, the blooming light that envelopes your skin, you force yourself to be on guard. Even as you look up at him, his sharp features and soft eyes, you bite down on any affection that might've reared its ugly head to the surface. This is not your home, and despite the ceremonies and the titles, this was not your husband. He was an impostor, a Devil sent from the Emperor himself to destroy your life. 

His lips flash in a mirthless smile, when his eyes lock with yours. The blackened teeth, the stained gums, you hated that mouth with all your being. You hated that it fit against yours, and that it didn't repulse you quite as much as you would've anticipated. And you hated his hands. The same ones capable of such ruthless brutality, and also more than capable of soothing your sore muscles, of toying with a lock of your hair, as if your entire being was made of the finest, most delicate glass.

A small, barely coherent voice whispers in your mind, reminding you of the rustling of the leaves when wind picked up, back home. You can't live like this, it supplies, you can't survive on hate alone. 

But you've always been stubborn, like a bull. And as his hand slides down to the dip of your waist, as he leads you from the spaceship to the shuttle, and then to the Palace, hate is all you can focus on. The swallowing pit of your stomach, much like the swallowing heat of the sun above you. It expands and pulsates within your veins, as your husband parades you like a prized trophy. Bald, white heads turn, salute the both of you, dissapear in a crowd of similar faces, similar blackened stares. 

It's like you're surrounded by an army of ghosts.

- Welcome home, wife - he whispers into your ear, and you don't know how you manage to stop tears from springing in your eyes. 

Not home. Never home. Your home had trees and oceans, and your Mother, your Father and your perfect Brother. Your home had Duncan, with his warm embrace and little scars littered all across his honey-colored skin. Your home had a sun that is warm and welcoming, that brings vibrancy to your life, and doesn't wash everything out, doesn't swallow all beauty. 

The clothes you wear, the clothes he wants you to wear, are nothing like what you're used to. They make your body feel foreign, like an accessory more than your own flesh. You hate the feeling of the sheer fabric clinging to your skin, like some suffocating membrane. The heavy jewelry, which reminds you more and more of a slave's collar. He put it on you with his own hands. Delicately fitting it around your neck, caressing it with the calloused pads of his fingers, a proud expression decorating his sharp featured like a war medal. 

You wonder what he sees, when he looks at you. Are your sentiments shared? Does he see you, as you see yourself, a doll dressed for his entertainment? A wife, should the politics require it? You're sure he does, there is no other way to describe the pitiful reflection in the mirror. Perhaps, in time, you might be able to fight back some semblance of dignity, to find a way of embracing these strange fabrics. Make this cold metal feel more like a necklace for a Baroness, rather than collar for cattle. Perhaps. 

Right now, however, as his Harpies dress you, you feel less like yourself and more like a toy, for your husband to enjoy. They can't really pin your hair properly, and you don't blame them, you really can't. When's the last time they were forced to care for someone in such a manner, if they ever were? Today, they're extra zealous, rubbing your skin raw with the chemically smelling oils. It makes your head swim, the scent of some unfamiliar paste. Your eyes water, and before you can blink the tears away, one of the Harpies soaks it up right from the corner of your eye with some flimsy tissue. 

She places the wet part against her tongue, and surprisingly, it doesn't bother you, as she tastes your tears, watching your reaction with completely black eyes. You meet her stare with a blank expression. At this moment, as she begins to slide another piece of sheer fabric over your body, you can't think of a way to be afraid of her, or her companion, which is fitting a pair of leather slippers over your feet. What lies ahead is so much more terrifying.

The Baron Vladimir Harkonnen has invited you for dinner. 

The news is delivered by a horrified servant, bald head bowed, seconds after you arrive in your marital room. Your husband doesn't even blink, immediately shedding his travel clothing, and disappearing somewhere out of your sight. The Harpies swarm into the room soon after, carrying various vials and bowls, and you already know the routine. 

The prospect of dining with your family's greatest enemy seems so outlandish, your body doesn't fully register the danger. Instead, you can feel yourself shut down, sink into yourself, between the constant expanding and contracting of your lungs, and the sound of your blood rushing through your skull. 

Only, when one of the Harpies turns you towards a polished piece of black obsidian, only when you can finally see yourself, do you react. A barely-there gasp escapes your mouth, because for the second time today, you're surprised with the brutal beauty of this place, and how easily you blend into it. The Harpy leans over your shoulders, stands on her toes to reach you, and before you can react, her teeth scrape over the shell of your ear. 

It doesn't hurt, and you turn your head towards her, faces inches from each other. Her head turns to the side, like some curious bird, and yet again, you can't fully decide whether you're looking at a human being, or some animalistic experiment. Your hand lifts itself on its own accord, fingers finding the Harpy's chin. Gently, but with enough force, you turn her face away from yourself. She doesn't recoil from your touch, doesn't react in any violent manner. If anything, her expression in the obsydian mirror looks almost bordering on proud. You try not to shiver at the thought. 

Then, your husband appears from the shadows, truly demon-like, and the women, or creatures, scurry out of the room, vials clanking against each other, as they gather them in their muscled arms. For just a second you're struck with the realization, that you miss their company, unsettling as it is.

- Don't be afraid of them - those are the first words coming from Feyd-Rautha you've heard since you've arrived. 

- I'm not - and truly, you mean it. 

He regards you with a long, dragging look, taking in the layers of fabric encapsulating the shape of your body. It's truly a hassle, to stop yourself from flinching, when the length of his body presses against your back. His chin finds purchase in the juncture between your shoulder and the column of your neck, and his head dips down to inhale the scent of your skin. You can't believe he's able to smell anything other than the strong chemicals his Harpies rubbed into you, but you don't argue. Instead, you sway in his hold, closing your eyes, and letting your imagination take you somewhere warmer, somewhere home. 

- I need you to be very careful tonight - he whispers into your skin, and you almost whine at being forced out of your daydream - My Uncle doesn't take kindly to insubordination, and although you are my wife, I won't be able to protect you from everything. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his skin, white and spotless, pressing into yours, marred with freckles and beauty spots. What a contrast you make against him. His mouth moves over your artery, nose dragging upwards, until he reaches the space behind your ear. He plants a kiss there, which immediately turns into a small bite, and your hands grip onto his forearms. 

- Careful, you sound almost concerned about my well-being - there's a limited amount of sarcasm one could convey with such a breathless tone, but you manage, eyes locked onto the silhouette of the both of you in the mirror. 

To that, he lifts his head, eyes locking with yours in the reflection. 

- I don't like when others break my toys - he answers with a shrug, and laughs quietly at your outraged expression. - I prefer to do it myself. 

Your muscles tense beneath his grip, and you turn to face him fully. Still, he doesn't let go, holding you close, smirking at you with that same self-satisfied expression. 

- Oh don't worry - your cheeks start to warm up at the teasing tone of his voice - I haven't even had the time to properly play with you.

- I ha-

- Hate me, I know. - he interrupts, one of his hands coming up to grab at your chin, tilting your head towards him - Tonight, try to hate me in the privacy of our bedroom. For your own sake.

His head dips down, lips slotting against yours easily, and although you fight hard against the pull, soon, your mouth moves against his in a kiss that is entirely too gentle for the nature of your relationship. He whispers something in that godawful Harkonnen language, tilting his chin to kiss the corner of your mouth, your jaw. Then, satisfied, he lets you go, and you encircle yourself with your own arms, refusing to admit, that you're cold without him. 

Making a mental note to ask for tutorship on the language, you allow him to lead you out of the safety of your shared bedroom, down the winding, black corridors, towards your first, and biggest challenge. 

- With courage and grandiose... - you whisper, as the door to the dining hall slides open, and ignore with all your might, the way your husband's hand twitches around your waist. 

The first member of the court you meet, is not the Baron. 

Instead, a man of slender stature comes out to greet the both of you, a polite smile plastered on his tattooed lips. His eyes flicker between you and your husband, and absentmindedly, they remind you of little black beetles. 

- Piter de Vries - he introduces himself, grabbing your hand with graceful movement - Mentat of the court. 

He places a kiss over your knuckles, and something scarily close to disgust rises in your gut. 

- The holotapes don't reflect your beauty, my lady - his voice is unsettlingly quiet, and it worms itself into your ears like an unwelcome guest. 

Still, your husband's thumb moves against your back, rubbing up and down your spine, and you swallow thickly before replying.

- I'm honored to meet you.

He can see through the lie like you're made of glass, but you can't find it in you to care. This is not the man you're supposed to convince, and even if this Mentat is a constant whisper in the Baron's ear, let him know there's character to you still. 

- I assure you, the honor is mine - his eyes glide over your features greedily, and you wonder if this hunger is a characteristic of all inhabitants of this planet - It's not everyday you meet Lady Jessica's Daughter. 

Blood freezes in your veins at the comment, and not even the ever-present touch of your husband can stop your expression from changing. Ice and steel overtake, as you fix the Mentat in front of you with a hard stare. There is something in his gaze, something slimy and dangerous, that makes a pit form in your stomach. Still, tied to court's intricate pleasantries, you twist your face into a forced smile. 

- You know my Mother? - the question slips out from between your teeth.

The man nods, a perverted version of a curtsy that makes you want to turn on your heel, and haul yourself back into your room. Damn your husband and all the uncomfortable ways he makes you squirm, you'll take it all if it meant never talking to this Mentat ever again. 

- In a way - the answer does nothing to calm your nerves - Her talents are known throughout the whole galaxy. 

- Yes, I'm sure they are - the barely noticable note of sarcasm some how registers in your husband's brain, and with a guiding hand, he pushes you forward, towards the dining hall.

Before you can get away from the Mentat, his unnaturally cold hand wraps itself around your wrist, keeping you in place with light pressure. 

- I'm desperately interested in what you may offer the court - he says, voice low and bordering on ominous, and the pit in your stomach trurns into a boulder.

Lips curling in disgust, you wrench your hand away, but as you wind your palm back to deliver a slap across the smirking man's face, something white enters your vision. From behind your back, Feyd Rautha delivers a resounding hit to the Mentat's cheek, with enough force to send him stumbling to the floor. Your mouth hangs agape, as that same hand curls around your waist, and pushes forward, until you're forced to take a step, and then another. 

Whipping your head around to look at him, all you can see, is that same passively bored expression he has worn, since your arrival to the planet. Not even a muscle twitches, not until the door closes behind you in the dining hall. Eyes trained forward, the hand guiding you slides up your spine right to the base of your head, where he grabs a loose fistful of your hair, and pries you away from him, setting your face forward. 

Like a doll, your mind supplies, but all further thoughts get swallowed by a thundering wave of anxiety, as your eyes fall onto the only other man present in the dining hall. 

You can't fully comprehend where the floor ends and the walls begin, the whole room looking more like an endless void of black, polished stone. The table is obscenely long, but narrow, and filled with various foods, none of which you recognize. Your breath catches, as you notice a macabre center piece right in the middle of the table. A beautiful female deer stands surrounded by black flowers, it's limbs kept immobile by some invisible force. It's eyes move though, skittering around the place, revealing that this poor creature used as some messed up decoration, is in fact alive. 

- Welcome, my dear nephew - a low, slightly slurred voice rings out throughout the empty space, and finally, you can feel real dread. 

- Uncle. - Feyd Rautha inclines his head, before all but pushing you forward into the belly of the beast.

And what a terrifying belly it is. 

The Baron Vladimir Harkonnen towers over the end of the table, his frame as difficult to comprehend as the rest of the dining hall. He smiles at your husband, a show of black teeth against greying skin, and then his eyes move towards you. He doesn't hide the cruel, twisted expression, that flashes across his face, contorted in the low, floating lights. Then, as if a mask slipped onto him while you were blinking, he looks decievingly kind, like an image of a caretaker, distorted in a nightmare. 

- Lady Atreides - his voice bellows, and despite every muscle in your body screaming at you to run, you take a step forward, before taking a shallow bow - A spitting image of your Father. I'm delighted to have you here, on my planet. 

Swallowing hard, you risk a glance at your husband. He has abandoned you in favor of taking a seat in the only one of two available chairs. Blue eyes flash towards you, a hidden warning, and dare you say, a hint of concern. The deer on the table is breathing rapidly, you've just noticed. 

- My Baron - your voice doesn't shake, a small blessing - I'm honored to meet you. 

The rehearsed line seems hallow in the booming echo of the dining room, and you pray that it's enough. 

The Baron gives you no answer, as he wordlessly gestures towards the table, and after a second your body jerks in the direction of the chair. With stiff movements, you sit down, your dress digging uncomfortably under your ribs. The deer looks at you, it's eyes wide, nose contracting rapidly as it inhales. You want to grab it into your hands, tear it away from the force keeping it trapped, and set it free, so it can run into the fields of Caladan. Your husband takes a long sip from his chalice, and you mirror his movements. 

The liquid is sickly sweet, with a strong, chemical taste that coats your entire mouth. Fighting with the urge to spit it out, your neck strains as you swallow, feeling it travel down your throat, and into the pit of your stomach. 

Are you supposed to be the deer in this place? 

Feyd Rautha reaches for a vase of something vaguely resembling meat, and doesn't bother with his plate, taking the leg into his hand, and biting into it with reckless abandon. Some dark liquid spills over his mouth, down to his chin, and you have to look away, as he captures your gaze in an entirely too heated stare. This is not the time, you want to scream at him, but take another sip from the chalice instead. 

- A monumental moment in history is happening right in front of my eyes - the Baron starts, and your hand freezes half-way towards your lips. - The union of House Harkonnen and House Atreides. The Emperor truly is a wise man. 

- Of course - you agree, tying sarcasm to the back of your throat like an angry dog - I'm ever so grateful.

- I'm sure you are. 

The Emperror wants you dead, there is no other explanation. You can't move, can't look anywhere but the eyes of the deer, seeing yourself in the reflection of it's glossy iris. Save yourself, it seems to scream at you, and your throat constricts around your airwave. Save yourself, because I couldn't.

- Your cousin will be joining us shortly - the Baron directs his gaze towards Feyd-Rautha, and your husband immediately straightens his back against the chair. 

- Rabban? Shouldn't he be on Arrakis? - you don't remember when you've become so in-tune with your husband, but you sense his interest peaking immediately.

Something's wrong, something's terribly wrong, you can feel it. This slow dread climbs up your back like a snake, before sinking it's teeth into your nape. Eyes searching your husband's your fingers tighten around the chalice, around cold, black metal. You try to remember what your Mother would've done in a situation such as this. How she would comfort herself. Fear is the mind-killer, is the only thing that arrives, and the thought is as comforting, as a cold shower.

- By the Emperor's decree, our House has been ordained to leave Arrakis in favor of it's new stewardship.

You know what words are going to fall next, before they fall, and you close your eyes to brace for impact. 

- The stewardship of your Father. Of House Atreides. 

Someone save you, please. Your eyelids flutter open, gaze falling over your husband, as he watches you with a myriad of emotions running through his expression. You pray it doesn't settle on anger, and your prayers are heard. There is a cruel, twisting smirk in the corner of his mouth, and he turns his head to look at his Uncle, with a silent question. The Baron inclines his head ever so slightly, you can see movement in the corner of your eye, but the deer is still breathing, and for some reason you have to keep an eye on it, you have to know it's still alive. 

You are not stupid. You've been trained to not be stupid, in life and in politics. It doesn't take too keen of a mind to understand the gravity of the situation. The steady flow of immense wealth the Harkonnens were known for, is suddenly cut short. Given to a rival House. This was not some beautiful gift of appreciation, this was a stoker shoved right into the burning flames. 

- I'm honored - you repeat, like a bell in a church tower, and somewhere to your left, the Baron laughs. 

- There will be celebrations, later this week - he continues, as if he hasn't just delivered life shattering news - We will honor your marriage in the traditions of our ancestors. 

- Which is? - you don't really care anymore if the shift in your tone is registered as offensive. 

Feyd Rautha actually, without a doubt kicks you under the table. You shoot him a look bordering on pure shock and outrage, and all you get in response is an arched eyebrow. 

Something rattles below you, a tell-tale sound of machinery whirling to life. It gives you only one second to register, but as soon as it does, your heart jumps up into your throat. Paper thin panes of glass shoot out from under the table. The deer gives a pathetic squeak, as it's body is cut into equal pieces. No blood is shed, the whole operation barely moves the air in the dining room, and you watch the life drain from the deer's eyes, as the panes begin to move. 

They separate each piece, creating a cross-section of it's insides. The chemical wine threatens to rush back out of you, and your dig your nails into your palms. Your husbands shoe settles in constant, grounding pressure against your ankle, and although you would never admit it, it's the only thing keeping you from shattering. Whether it's a threat or a promise, you can't be sure, but there is frost in your veins, and fire in your eyes, as you slowly turn your head towards the Baron. 

He's wrong. All of them are wrong. You're not some deer, some lost shivering thing, made for a display of cruelty. You will not be brough down to some decoration, and so, you raise your chin higher, and hold the Baron's gaze. His eyes, gleaming with violent delight, jump around your face, this strange battle coming to a sudden end, as the corner of his mouth quirks up.

He moves his hand in the air dismisively, and your husband stands up, a laziness to his movements. You stand up too, your chair shuffling against the polished floor, stiff limbs fighting for an illusion of graceful movements. Wishing you could drive your point further, you bow again, this time, your eyes remain glued to the black beads of irises, shining in the amassing of flesh that is the Baron's face. 

And then you're off, heels clicking on the floor, as you bypass your husband and all but storm out of the dining hall. He follows you, you can feel his pressence on your back, but there's too many emotions running through your head to find it unsettling. The silence of it all, the calmness. Perhaps you would've preferred if he had been angry with you, if you could pinpoint his reaction, bottle it up to hate it later. 

Right now, you can't do much, other than run to your shared rooms, pretend like they are a solice, a safe space for you to exist, when in reality, they're anything but. The unsettling realization, that you navigate these corridors like a natural born Harkonnen will hit you later today, but as such, you are blinded by your own anger.

 - Did you know? - the question sounds more like a demand, as soon as the door closes behind you.

Back turned, you stand in the middle of the bedroom, finally granting yourself the luxury of outrage. Shoulders rise and fall in tandem with your labored breaths, and your nails have bitten crescent moons into your palms. 

- Yes. - you've anticipated his answer, and still, it shocks you to the very core of your being.

Hair whips around your face, as you turn to face him., strands all but slipping from the inexperienced updo. He holds  your gaze with steady eyes, crosses his arms on his chest, but has the decency of looking on edge. 

- How long?

- The news came right after the engagement began.

That, admittedly, knocks the wind out of your lungs, and you take a step back, until your behind collides with the obsidian desk. Hiding your face in your hands, you rub your palms against your temples, tug at the roots of your hair in the process. 

- So, what now? - you ask, sounding so drained, so tired, you almost don't recognize your voice.

His shoes invade your vision, as he steps closer. Your husband, your Bull. You don't want to look up at his face, scared of what you'll find there. He doesn't share the same sentiment, apparently, as he lifts your chin with his fingers, until you meet him with a withering expression. 

Feyd Rautha leans down, capturing your lips with his. Not really in the mood for kissing, as your head races with a myriad of terrible thought, you push against him. Should've known better, he loves a fight. Tongue slipping through the barrier of your teeth, you can taste the strangely chemical wine on his breath. His hands grab what they can of your body, until they settle on the sides of your face, where he tugs you up onto your tippy toes, taking a drink of you, like he did from the chalice. 

Breathless and confusingly aroused, your fingers twist into the material of his dress shirt, but before you can truly let go, he pulls away. Hands still on your face, you are suddenly pulled forwards, as he drags you in front of the mirror. Thrown off guard by this change of pace, you try to writhe yourself away, only to be gripped even tighter, so hard, you can feel something shift under the skin of your jaw. 

There are dark stains all around your lips, stains that taste just like the wine. Feyd Rautha stands behind you, much like he did before the dinner, but all comfort from that moment is trampled under his foot, as he slides his arms around you. 

- Now, I must make you into a Harkonnen - he rasps into the base of your neck.

Then, reaching towards your lips, he wedges his fingers inside, pulls until you can see your teeth in the reflection. Black, thick liquid covers them completely, staining your mouth in the process. The wine, you realize, but before you can rationalise any more, tears spring in the corners of your mouth. Disgust bubbles in your stomach like an awoken volcano. Disgust and anger, so much anger. 

Your husband humms softly behind you, cranes your head back. 

Your body feels foreign again, as he kisses your tears off of your skin.

[darylssunshine]

Ride a Cowboy

genre: almost smut but like technically not

non-apocalypse au

can be imagined as any era!

word count: 1.4k

summary: Daryl has fun with you on a bar date.

Glasses clinking and joyous conversation filled the air of the club while you eyed Daryl down his fourth shot of vodka, barely grimacing as it went down his throat.

“How can you do that? I've only had two shots and my mouth tastes literally disgusting right now.” You chuckled at the tolerance of your boyfriend, sipping your sweet tea to get the taste out of your mouth.

“Years of practice, sweetheart.” He retorted, leaning his elbows on the bar in front of him and flicking a piece of hair out of his eyes.

Daryl had been wanting to take you on a date for a while, and it was his choice for the location this time. So, of course, you and him had ended up at a southern style club a couple miles into town. It was very old-fashioned, with all wooden furniture and brick walls, adorned with framed photos of the owners, along with iconic landmarks of the surrounding area. The lights, however, were colorful and energetic, flashing along with the beat of the music at times. The bar area took up half of the building, while the other half housed a mechanical bull that was currently inactive.

With your attire being black skinny jeans, a band tank, and a black cowboy hat you stole from Daryl, the regulars could tell that this wasn't your scene. Juxtaposed with Daryl's rugged dark red flannel that fit his biceps just right thrown over a v-neck and blue jeans, you two were a sight to see.

You were broken out of your thoughts by a man over by the bull with a microphone, his voice loud enough to be heard over Low blaring over the speakers. You snapped your head over to his direction, your boyfriend's head moving slightly slower than yours.

“Alright, y'all! Bessie over here is finally up ‘n runnin’ and ready for a ridin'! Any of you folks wanna give ‘er a ride? Show ‘er a good time?” The man in the beige cowboy hat gave a wink and a few women sitting at surrounding tables shouted and whistled.

“Oh my God, Dar, can we? Please??” You gasped, eyes gradually lighting up as you shook his bicep, signaling your excitement.

He chuckled in response. “(Y/N). Really? Ya wanna ride the bull?”

“Yeah it'll be fun!!”

A raised eyebrow was all you got in response.

“If you do it with me, I'll pay for your tab.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and chuckled lightly. He then suddenly downed his fifth shot and placed it down on the bar harshly. “Aight. Fuck it. Le’s go.”

You immediately beamed and jumped off your barstool and basically pulled Daryl off of his, stumbling slightly from inebriation and the sudden incoordination. Daryl could only kind of keep up with the pace of your speed walking.

“Us! Us! We will!” You shouted, dodging a few groups of casually dancing club goers.

“Oh, we've got some volunteers!” A few patrons that were paying attention whooped and applauded your bravery. “Step right up!” He announced, motioning to an opening in the inflatable, cushiony material that surrounded the bull to avoid injury. “You better hold on, little lady.” the announcer said quietly to you, followed by a wink. You smiled and rolled your eyes while walking across the inflatable floor to the bull.

The bull was slightly elevated, so you were having trouble mounting it, and Daryl could tell. He let you try and struggle for a few moments before lifting you by the waist and placing you on the bull, the sudden gesture causing you to giggle and grip one of the bulls ears for balance. You felt the bull jostle and then settle, signaling that Daryl had hopped on behind you. You blushed at the feeling of his hands holding your hips.

“Y’all ready?!” The announcer shouted, talking to you and Daryl, but also everyone else in the bar, including the small crowd that surrounded the bull. You grinned and gave a thumbs up in the announcer's direction. “Alright! Hold on, you two!”

The bull then whirred to life and rose a couple inches higher than it already was. You kept both hands secured to it’s ears in front of you, thanking whatever deity that was listening that Daryl had agreed to go on with you.

Then, it began to move.

Startled, you gasped and moved your hands to the handle in front of you for more balance. You slowly got used to the up and down diagonal movement, even taking one of your hands off the handle to raise it above your head, only to return it a couple seconds on a particularly deep downward slope. Meanwhile, Daryl was calm, barely reacting to the movement at all, instead choosing to keep his hands firmly planted on your waist to ensure your security. He softly chuckled in your ear at your inexperience.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll make sure ya don’t fall off.”

You felt your blush grow impossibly bigger. What does that mean?

He started by stealing back his hat, placing it on his head and returning his hand to your shoulder and squeezing it. His hand then snaked to your throat, engulfing it with his large fingers and making your head lean back. Your eyes widened and your breath hitched.

“Dar we’re… we’re in public.”

He bit your ear lobe in retaliation. “Ya think I care?” Your airflow was then slightly restricted, and you sighed in pleasure.

“Yeah. Ya like it, ya dirty little slut.”

He then took a hold of your hair and pulled, continuing to leave your neck exposed, and cockily put the other hand in the air. Your eyes had closed and your hands had migrated to his knees.

The patrons surrounding the bull cheered and whooped at Daryl’s action, a few women squealing.

“Everyone's gonna know who ya belong to.”

Your head was then tugged to the side and his lips were hungrily latched to your neck, sucking hard and adding a good amount of teeth so that when he pulled away, there was a decent sized purple mark left in its wake, growing deeper by the minute. You let a small moan escape your lips and Daryl huffed.

He then had an idea.

The brunette let you and the crowd calm down a bit, riding the bucking bronco how it was intended. He waited until the bull moved diagonally downward, then he strategically flung himself to the front of the bull and moved his legs on top of yours, earning another cheer from the crowd. You, on the other hand, were absolutely stunned, staring at him with your mouth agape. Your heart was going a million miles a minute, and he could tell. He loved it.

“Wha’d I say, darlin’? Years of practice.”

The sporadic thrusts of the bull now had a new intensity to them, Daryl’s bulge clearly being felt through your thin jeans. You steadied yourself by gripping Daryl’s shoulders and looking at him with half-lidded, lust-filled eyes. Daryl smirked, leaned down to your ear, and grumbled, “What’s wrong, sunshine? Thought ya was worried ‘bout bein’ in public.” He bit your cartilage for extra measure and continued to smirk down at you, proud of the needy little fuck doll his actions have created.

Daryl’s lustful gaze along with the thrusts of the bull and the cheers of the bull were all too much to handle, so you shamelessly latched your lips with his with intensity, something that he gladly returned. Both of you barely even registered the roar of the crowd while your hands were tangled in his hair and his hands firmly held your torso.

Right after Daryl had drunkenly and fervently introduced tongue into the mix and was already winning the battle of dominance, an especially quick jolt of the bull had you falling off the side. You tried to stabilize yourself by gripping Daryl’s shoulders again, but that just caused him to fall as well, ironically, right on top of you.

You both gazed at each other longingly for a few moments before finally registering your surroundings. He stood up first and held out a hand to help you stand as well. The crowd was wild, some of them waving their cowboy hats in the air in excitement. Daryl snicked. He wrapped a heavy arm around your shoulders and used his other hand to take his hat off and return it to your head. Almost like he was showing off a shiny gold trophy that he had just won for his performance.

The announcer beamed. “Holy shit! We haven’t seen that level of ridin’ in a while, literally.”

Daryl looked over at you and winked.

You and him will definitely be returning soon.

[cherri3berri3s]

Bull in the Heather Pt.1┃Ticci Toby x reader

Warning: maybe brief mentions of self-harm, in-depth descriptions of manic episodes, active violence, verbal/physical abuse + drug use

Synopsis: After your bipolar boyfriend is placed in the psych ward on account of murder, you're faced with the task of understanding why and more importantly, what forces are leading to his odd behaviors?

Word count: 3k+ words Category: angst

Death plagues my senses.

Various flickering lights scattered across the dense room as the bright contrast etched into my memory. The white plastered walls were muddied with the occasional grease stain and random droplets of blood, more than likely a result of a petty fight from at least one of the patients. Not to mention the smell reeked of old urine and medical supplies, almost like being shoved inside a ginormous latex glove. 

They say it goes against human nature to ignore death and walk right to it, yet I still find myself rushing to embrace even the slightest glimpse of it. The sound of my flats obnoxiously clacking against the imperial textured floor strains my ears, making each step that more nauseating.

I feel sick. Almost as though my stomach could spill any second knowing what I know now. And still, I'm here to see him.

Walking eagerly down the dingy hallway, a man in blue right at my side. I feel the pressure of his gaze watching each movement I've drawn to make. Stopping abruptly at an isolated door, his calloused hands dashed straight to the keys buried deeply within his pockets.

"He's been raging like a bitch in heat for a couple of days now," the man before me remarked, a small hint of a southern accent peaking in between words. "Just don't do anything stupid enough to make the aftermath my problem."

" Trust me, it doesn't matter what I do," I announce, an eyebrow raised as my eyes dart to the name tag hung near his chest. "Watching him, you'll understand soon enough."

A vivid chuckle escapes his lips. Unfazed yet humored by the words that cheekily spilled from my mouth. Like clockwork, the clicking sound of the now-unlocked door rings throughout the hall. His hands impatiently awaiting my response to turn the knob.

"You think you can handle this one, don't you."

" I think I got this from here on out… 'Mr. Wright'." 

As sudden as it was, the door flew open. Revealing two other staff standing firmly on either side of  Toby; unburdened by the underlying unruliness of his demeanor. Sitting amongst the room of empty seats and active surveillance was none other than the one person I traveled all this way to see, the one person I needed so desperately to be near.

As each vigorous step loudly ricochets throughout the near-empty room, the only active movement other than mine was Toby's eyes furiously following my every move. His body remaining as still as it was long before I entered the room.

Seated across from him, I felt dejected. The sorrow in the situation briskly destroying the little pieces of admiration I'd been holding onto just for him. All the while those eyes I've grown to cherish seemed even more lifeless and dull than they did before. 

"Hi baby"  I said lightly. My gaze fixed upon the man I could've sworn I was beginning to understand even the tiniest bit.

His elbows laid across the table as support, bringing forth his scarred body just inches closer to mine. Our faces leveled to each other as a bewildered grin met his expression. 

"You worthless bitch." He says between gritted teeth, that smirk never faltering. "Don't walk your prissy ass on over here thinking we're gonna play house just that easily." He spat, lingering closely before slowly sliding back into his seat. His brows remained furrowed as his body simultaneously looked both calm and tense. His intense stare stuck on me in deep thought.

"...You put me here." He claims with surety.

"The police put you here-"

"You told them to bring me here,"

"It was either that or jail," I add harshly. The air in the room growing thinner as my once active attempt at being nonchalant slowly began to vanish.

"I still don't know what you are," I delicately claim, not once removing my eyes from the person in front of me. "And I still don't know what you do either," I pressed on. Focused on his abstract mannerisms. "But I'd be damned if after all of this you'd still want to hold what I don't know against me." I finished, irritated and worried.

"You'll know exactly what I can be once he's found me." He asserts, an eerie yet light-hearted smile meets his lips. His brows finally softening in its wake.

"Who's he Toby?"

"Him; The operator. The operator and all his little-" He begins, shortly raving on as I shake my head in detest. Uttering 'no' continuously out into the open.

"Not this 'operator' bullshit again,"

"He made me what I am," He proudly voices, almost confused as to why I despised the thought. "As perfectly fucked as it is, I can't wait for him to change you too."

"Don't tell me this shit! Toby, these police fucks found human remains linked back to you and all I've been trying to do is get your nut ass back home." I bitterly voiced. Toby's now partial silence and unmoving expression eating away at my thoughts. "Don't tell me this 'operator' bullshit is the reason."

"Not possible…" He confusedly says. Without warning, he leaps out of his seat, yanking my arm to move my body closer to his regardless of the table barrier. The staff unhesitantly sprinting to action yet soon stopping at my gesture against it. Leaning into my ear, Toby whispers-

"How can a body be found when I've burned them all."

"I never said how they found the body…" I reason in a low voice. My eyes never leaving his even after his fast-paced movements. Locked in his stupefied daze, I continue, " I know you're guilty, but right now,  I want you back home anyways." Our bodies trapped in an unmoving touch beginning to soften with his now lighter grip. "Just tell me why baby, tell me how to help you-"

"The cops tell you to say that?" His head tilts, smirk returning to his cheeks."Bad enough your ungrateful ass is why we're sitting here to begin with, right?" The grip he held on my arms once again continued to tighten, rage displayed all throughout his brown pupils.

"Not even a fucking fool with a dick for brains and a head between their thighs would wanna find their way home with you." Arrogantly, he plops down into his seat. Everyone else in the room left standing and on edge.

"Y'know, you've changed everything but the fucking situation at hand, and come to think I thought you were smarter than this Y/n." 

Glaring upwards, his clenched teeth continued to expose his thoughts.

"I know my place in this world, and it will always be by The operator."

Steadily, I found my way back onto my seat. Arms crossed just as the curly haired brunette across from me. "Why choose a life in all of this when you know damn well I've been loving you." I say, soft-spoken as his expression remained unfazed.

"I'm sorry, did you want me to play dress up too?" he chuckles, sneering as he looks me up n' down. "You wouldn't know what love is even if it fucked you to sleep every night."

"Tobias," I breathily utter, despondent in my approach. "Just help me understand this shit and I swear I'll get you outta here."

Playfully, he states "You think I've been needing you? You think I fucking want your help?"

"I think you're forgetting every sacrifice I have made and will continue to make for you." Leaning into the table, my arms still linked together, I assertively imply "You can kill me if you think I'd let it all stop right here."

"Well then, I guess you can add one more body to the list. You'd be a good human only if you were a dead one anyways, right my love?" He leans in closer, the table keeping us both distanced yet barely disengaged.

"Tell me now, what is 'The operator'?"

"May he have mercy on what's left of you after they're done." Toby muttered, leaning comfortably back in his chair. "Es ist zeit mein Vögelchen." He relays, a void yet cocky expression overtaking every inch of his face.

"You're a piece of work, Toby." 

Without a second to spare, one of the lingering staff swoops in. Tapping my shoulder to signal that they did indeed want me out of the hospital room. 

Swiftly getting up from my seat, I couldn't help but look to my lover one last time. His signature black gloves were long confiscated, exposing the tears in the brittle flesh of his hands from excessive biting. The gash in his cheek covered with gauze and medical adhesive tape preventing him from moving to the next best thing when it comes to his picking habits. 

As pained as I remained seeing him in such a bland and revealing setting, I couldn't help but get this twinge of understanding telling me that he was cleaner and possibly far healthier than before. 

Realizing I'd been distracted by my brief observations, I avoid settling the score, opening my mouth to speak to him once more.

"Is this your final choice?"

"Fuck you." He spit. Anger and aggression seeping from his lips in a final attempt to draw me away. The guard escorts me back to the main entrance impatiently as an air of embarrassment hit my cheeks.

Nearly stumbling out the door, I adjust my leather trench coat and place on my metal oval sunglasses. 

'What a waste of my fucking time. I already knew he would try pushing the buttons.'

"Y'know, even I could've told you that he's been manic all damn week." 

Shooting my head towards the unknown yet familiar voice, I immediately realized it was the same asshole who escorted me in.

"Oh wait, I think I actually did." He sarcastically shrugged, leaning against the entrance wall.

"Oh yeah? Well I think I need a fucking smoke." I pessimistically added. Reaching straight for my coat pocket.

"Well now you're talking my language, what kind?"

"Virginia slims." I said smoothly. Flickering the lighter until it sparked on the tip of the cigarette.

"Virginia slims? Might as well get you some Parliaments."

"Yuck," I exclaimed, making a feigned face of disgust. "You insult me."

Undoubtedly, the two of us erupted in a brief fit of chuckles. Amused by the other's bitchiness at such a time of momentary significance. However, the now swift silence ate quickly at the other's tongues. Leaving what felt like an odd bubble of time to speak what's really been on our minds.

"So, you come out here dressed like Carrie Moss and wonder why you get thrown back to the door?" He addresses. An eyebrow raised; less in a questioning way as much as it was humorous.

"That's far from what happened."

"Oh right, he told you about The Operator first, then kicked you out." 

Almost instinctively, my head speedily bolts back up to his face. Ignoring the cigarette lazily hanging from my mouth as I snatched it with both my pointer finger and my thumb.

"Sounds like he knew you'd bite off more than you could chew." He finishes. Pretending to analyze the situation as though he'd discovered the secret of the year.

"So what are you saying," I sputtered out intensely. No longer shying away from the truth that this guy knows something. "He thinks he's helping me?" 

"How charming of him." He smirks, indirectly answering my question. "Gee- I didn't think his balls were full grown."

Without a chance to process, he pulls out his own cigarette. The bent pack of Marlboro reds still shining in the afternoon light. "Before you got here he was just a twitching- time bomb with a strange habit of stuttering." Lighting up the cig, he takes one long inhale before releasing the strong vapor into the air. "I didn't think he'd control it the way he did just to tear you a new one."

" Correct me if I'm wrong," I rushed in, slight confusion riddling my face as my motives for understanding the situation changed. "But I didn't know hospital staff were allowed to dabble in their patients' personal lives. If that's what you are, Tim Wright." 

" I suppose," He said, placing the cig back onto its resting spot on his lips. Silence overtaking the mood once again, leaving only thoughts to fester.

Turning back around, I place my attention towards fetching my car keys to immediately get the fuck up outta there. Walking with haste, I momentarily stop to respond.

"Well it was nice fucking around but-" Briefly turning back, I realized that… he's gone. '...How freaky.'

Making it to my car, a white lined piece of paper remained folded onto my windshield. Hesitantly, I snatch the sheet straight off. Flipping it to see the bold words written in black Sharpie.

'He's always watching' Underneath, the note's signed by Tim. 

"How sweet," I snidely whispered. Paranoia and worry getting to my head.

A faint hint of gas drifts past my nose, wafting in the air alongside a more savory smell. Cans of diced tomatoes and marinara lay empty as scraps of cheese littered the counter. The T.V. in the next room serving only as background noise to keep my head temporarily occupied.

A full week had passed since I'd last seen Toby, and as tough as it was, I had gone on convincing myself that it wasn't too bad. Just more ominous and lonely than usual.

My phone rested on my ear as I remained attentive in a short-lived conversation with my mother. Extremely tired of the bullshit 'I told you so' responses I had been getting. It only took a day and a half for word to get around that Toby got thrown in the psych and suddenly, this woman couldn't stop blowing up my phone.

Dusting off my hands, I listened to her unfiltered banter as my arms crossed to my chest.

"I always knew I gave birth to a fucking felon. Had you done as I said almost two years ago now you'd still be home you rotten bitch! "

Pacing the floor in my white baby tee and low-rise bell-bottom jeans, I measly affirmed her every word. "You've done nothing but bring shame to me and break our family apart! All for that basket-case you laid up with, "

Taking a deep breath, I rolled my eyes. Harboring the truth of what I'd actually wanted to say, opting to only listen to her mouth run instead.

"You're an unwanted embarrassment that's made herself some psycho's TRAMP !"

"Ma," I said in a serious yet unfazed tone, "Have you been taking your meds?"

"Oh, so NOW I must be crazy for saying what I think needs to be said?"

Chuckling lightly, I switch my phone to my opposite ear. Amused by my mothers' rampage and active attempts to ignore my current concerns.

"Not crazy; unmedicated mama."

As she huffed in annoyance, her constant shifting can be heard on the other end. "I can't believe you're the only one of my children to do this to me."

"Do what ma? Talk?" I jokingly pressed on. An unintentional smile meeting my face. "Look, If you need more antipsychotics I'll gladly give you mine. Just go bake a cake or something. Maybe sniff some crayons…" 

"Listen here you ungrateful bitch, just bring the pasta you made over and…blah blah blah." Was all I heard amidst her next response.

 Interrupted by a deafening crash upstairs, my movements came to an immediate halt. Glass toppling over and crackling into tiny pieces echoes over the static of my phone. Sharp crunching can be heard as another set of footsteps resound throughout the whole house. Dauntingly, it stops near the stairs in complete silence.

If there was one thing I could thank Toby for doing, it was stressing about my safety so much that he taught me self-defense. Hearing the creaking of the steps, I recognized two male voices. Low and steady, not loud enough to differentiate. Watching idly behind the kitchen wall, I stand close to the archway, knife in hand.

For every step that made its way towards my direction, I positioned myself and prepared to make a silent move. Seeing feet just barely pass the walkway, I swing my arm around in a defective punch drawing attention away from my grasp on the knife.

Expectantly, the unknown visitor ducks away from the punch, discarding the knife as he begins restraining both arms above my head, roughly pinning me against the wall. As my back abruptly slams into the sheetrock, I instinctively lift my leg to kick him in the balls. Watching as he only gasps and clenches my wrist tighter, I lunge towards the guy's neck. Biting down as hard as I could without letting go.

In an instant, I'm yanked from the man by his 'friend' and restrained midair, not yet ready to go down without a fight. Struggling against my captor, I aggressively kick and punch before hearing the two voices word vomit defenses.

"Y/n, baby it's me! Scheiße…"

"Let me the FUCK GO-" I screamed, elbowing the one holding me in the throat.

Backing off towards the wall, I get a clear view of the pair.

Without a doubt, there stood Toby before me. His curly brown hair messily framed his face as he stood on edge and ready. Unlike his hospital attire, he wore a black " Smashing Pumpkins" t-shirt, loose jeans, and some black Vans. Next to Toby grasping his throat in a coughing fit stood a very familiar face as well, still recovering from the massive blow to his neck.

"What the hell Tobias," I said in a stern yet breathless voice. "You dickwads just broke into my fucking house!" I pressed on, beyond angered and befuddled. 

"Well no shit we did!" continued the man in a red flannel, "I'm glad we're all on the same page-"

"I knew you weren't some fucking doctor or whatever bullshit you said you were," I raged on, "You brought this fucking liar to my house?!"

"No, no, I brought Tobias to your fucking house! Now say thank you so we all could fucking move on," Tim sorely stated, rubbing his throat as he exasperatedly stares into my direction.

Side-eyeing the both of them, I calm down just enough to speak through a huffed sigh.

"What are you doing here?" I exhaustedly replied

"Damn, I almost thought you wanted me here," Toby said with a tilted head and a partial smirk on his face.

"Don't fuck with me-"

"I just got out, can I explain this to y-you later?" he brushes off, attempting to walk away.

"No."

"Great," Tim perked up, "Now we can talk about important things. Like how you brought out a damn meat cleaver to chop up dear ole' lover boy to pieces-" he calmly states.

 "I didn't know who the fuck you both were-"

"Well I'm glad you know now," Toby smiled, a gentle laugh escaping his mouth as he sits down on the couch. "I guess I came back here just 'cause I missed you so much" He muttered, tilting his head back to release a prolonged sigh.

"I find that hard to believe." I relay with an unamused look.

"Maybe you w-wouldn't if you were sitting your ass down with me," Looking up at me with wishful eyes, Toby doesn't budge. Taking a deep breath out, I find myself walking over to my boyfriend, his eyes never truly leaving mine as I sat close by.

"Mein vögelchen," he lets out in a soft tone, his eyes fluttering as his doe-eyed expression ate away at my thoughts

"You're an idiot." I breathed out, a distance still marked between us.

"I know," he whispered, his lips curled in an almost saddened reality. Hurt passing right on by as he longingly wanted to say more. "You still like me?"

"If I didn't, you'd probably be chopped n' fed to the neighbors' dog by now." I laughed, garnering a chuckle from Toby himself as he relaxed. "I'm actually surprised I didn't hear any barking this whole time,"

In a heartbeat, the room stilled. Toby looked to the side in a slow yet guilty manner as Tim refocused on the conversation. 

"I had no parts." Tim casually said, irritated nonetheless as he remained still by the window. Looking out occasionally as though there were more to spy on.

"What the fuck did you guys do to the neighbor's dog?" 

"I don't know, maybe you should ask him." Toby said, nodding to the window as if the dog could speak for himself.

"I need a fucking cigarette," I exclaimed, hopping outta my seat to make my way back to the kitchen. "You fuckers still haven't told me why you're here and now you've killed a fucking dog!" I passive-aggressively spit.

"He's not d-dead he's just knocked out," He claims, gesturing for Tim to pass him a light "Our little puppy friend is trippin' off some trazodone from the ward" He mumbles with the cig between his teeth, taking a long ass hit.

"Like that makes it any fucking better!" I add, "Bad enough your ass is already wanted for 'alleged' murder."

"Bad enough I had to break him out of the hospital for that exact same reason," Tim buts in, arm lazily thrown on the wall as he goes back to watching outside the window.

"Un-fucking-believable, un-believable." I shake my head, pissed that I'm now caught in the middle of it. "You need a chaperone and even your chaperone is a fuck up."

"Look, you wanna know why we're here?" Toby nods to me, resting his cigarette between his two fingers. "You wanna know what the fucking operator is?" 

"Yes, I think I actually do."

"Don't be stupid," he bites back, placing his smoke back onto his lips as his next breath in was rugged and deep.

"You have any visitors coming?" Tim questions, my head rushing towards where he stood.

"Hell no,"

"Great, well you both can be stupid later," Tim says, shutting the window and ushering towards the lights in the house. "There's someone on their way here."

Hurriedly burning out the ash on the tip of his shoes, Toby runs up the stairs with familiarity. Hearing a knock roughly shake the door, Tim looks at me, muttering a short plan as he rushes far into one of the rooms upstairs.

Listening to the steps loudly run throughout the house, I'm once again left to face the brief yet unanswered knock at the door.

"Fuck"

A/N: This shit took fucking weeks to finish and I'm far from actually being finished w/ the plot line. Anyway, there's a lot more in the works that I've enjoyed making

You’re free to reblog if you want!

© CHERRI3BERRI3S - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE OR CLAIM MY WORK AS YOUR OWN

[starryficsfinishwen]

── .✦ doomsday game ; xiangli yao x reader

if the world was ending, would you love me for the hell of it? syn. if, theoretically, the world were to end today, what would you do? if you ask xiangli yao, he wouldn't mind spending the last days on earth with you.

*inspired by 4* zayne card with the same name (love and deepspace)

a.n. - oh god he corrupts me I love him. HAPPY RELEASE DAY XIANGLI YAO!!! As an honor for getting his weap, for now being guaranteed (my S1 Xiangli Yao is glacio and short??), I GIVE THIS FIC AS MY THANK YOU. ALSOHAHSHSHSHS I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THE WRONG FIC IM SORRY BUT HERE IT IS

pairing - xiangli yao x f!rover

words - will edit when I switch to lappy

content warnings - none!! major fluff!! also pre-established relationship

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Potent rumors often plant seeds of disbelief.

It often came as a small white lie, an utterance between two consenting parties. When it reaches the leeching tongue of the birds, they fall to the ground, sprouting things that are weeds to the truth. If left alone, they would deter nature's course.

For example, the rumors somewhat turned into some prophecy— “the world is ending soon”.

How does it end? They say it's a global snowstorm. Maybe another global flood. A supernova collision. No, they definitely said it was an onslaught of active volcanoes erupting to create a flood of lava. Or maybe, some Sentinel wished for immense havoc, with its god-like power awakening to slaughter everything in its path.

However, for scientists like Xiangli Yao, all those claims seem comical.

“The world is ending soon?” A fellow scientist slaps his own knee, “That's complete bull!”

In the middle of the long table of the Academy, what was once a flickering 3D map of Jinzhou was temporarily dimmed; instead, a couple of scientists had gathered, playing cards for their breaktime.

“I know, right? It's too funny; they really think the world is ending so soon.”

One of them throws the card, a chorus of laughter.

“My findings say otherwise,” said a cocky researcher, “The fluctuations isn't very severe. We can live to see another millennia here in our world!”

“The plants and people are still alive and well.” The glimmer of a card catches everyone else's attention, “Very far from the truth indeed.”

One scientist lets out an indignant huff, “But how did they even reach that conclusion? Do they have the data?”

The group pauses for a bit. Some bit their lip, another shuffled their cards, and the other couldn't help but sigh. “Um, proof or not, I think they are still sprouting nonsense.” Muttered the first scientist.

Another eerie silence envelops them. Until one of them throws a card at the center. “The tacet marks have been spreading nonstop...”

They throw another. “TD's are also unstable, giving a major interference to the once-natural resonance cords.”

And when he throws the last trump card, almost all of the players had a grim look on their face. “We are merely just a few months recovering from the Retroact Rain. Our soldiers cannot handle another catastrophe!!”

With a trembling shout from the scientist, everyone else near the group stopped on their tracks. Noticing that the attention was on him, the poor scientist slides back to his chair, embarrassed. Even the ones he was playing with had a gloomy face.

“...Not to diminish our pride but...who knows...what happens to Jinzhou...not to mention our Sentinel and Magistrate...”

“That's understandable. The evidences speak for themselves.”

All eyes are on the man who spoke after a long while. Between the dim lights of the Academy's hall and his slow steps, his versicolored eyes glimmers brightly than ever.

“I understand your concerns, Ray,” Xiangli Yao reaches out to pat the forlorn scientist by his shoulder, “We are merely at the recovery stage for Jinzhou, yet our nation has been going through too many things already.”

Amethyst eyes wander among the resonance cords on the screen. They catch a familiar face of a person, one that made his own heart skip a beat.

“However, Jinzhou still stands until today. We cannot say the exact date for the end of the world—it could be today, tomorrow, or another millennium—but as long as we are still here to see the flowers blooming or the children laughing, then why should we stop today?”

A roar of cheers erupts throughout the hall. The lamenting scientist sniffles in joy. Yet the Principal Investigator couldn't look away from the certain figure of a girl.

“But if the world were to end soon,” muttered a nearby scientist, causing Xiangli Yao to glance at him, “Hmm...I wonder where I'll go.”

Without a clear future in mind, and you, the Rover, who only woke up just now—the thought is scary. If, indeed, the world was ending soon, then what happens next? What happens to you?

The cats have been meowing nonstop.

As if sensing the air, they were pawing at your ankles, as if trying to catch your attention. One, two, three- maybe even five- cats trying to catch your attention.

Picking the white one, who was the one visibly stressed, you coo her as you scratched the back of her ear.

“What's wrong, hm?” You playfully kissed the cat's cheek, “Was the food not enough for you? If I overfeed you, Mr. Investigator will have to put you on another diet.”

Somehow understanding you, the cat gently pushes you off of their face with their paws, meowing.

“Hey, I'm telling the truth! As much as it hurts my poor heart, I can't feed you again today...”

“...I suppose you can allow them,” pipped a familiar voice, “They do look awfully thin.”

Nearly spilling the cat off of your arms, you squeak as you turn to meet a smiling Xiangli Yao. “M-Mr. Investigator?!”

“It's the first time you've addressed me by my title, Ms. Rover,” He teases, opting to carry the black cat on your feet, “I suppose our relationship is back to being professional?”

“The cats seem to know you more like that,” you emphasized, “Mr. Principal Investigator.”

He laughs—a tender laugh, it makes your heart squeeze—that it makes you pout. “I suppose that is right. Consider it a working place, then.”

Xiangli Yao stands next to you, holding out the black cat as it meows. With a funny thought, you ask, “Did you even know why they approached you in the first place?”

“Is it because I feed them?”

“No,” You playfully stuck out your tongue at him, “They say it's because it's to ward off bad spirits.”

Xiangli Yao goes silent, before looking at the cat, then back to you. “Hmm. I suppose I should stay away from you?”

Ultimately backfired. The joke goes back to you. With a dramatic gasp, you shrug. “Seeing as the cats was the one who approached me today, I think it's you who should go away for now.”

Freely laughing onto the summer air, the cats' meows intertwine with the yours. It's like any other workday— Xiangli Yao leaves mid-afternoon from work to meet and feed the cats, walking elsewhere until he's comfortable enough to go and finish his work.

It's only been a few weeks since a new addition to his itinerary: you. Now, every afternoon, the cats would find themselves carried by the warm sunlight; and you, taking care of them before him, drenched in sunset glow.

Like now, Xiangli Yao notes. But the thoughts were far too tempting. He takes a dive in them.

“So, Mr. Investigator,” you asked as you found yourselves by the stalls, nudging him softly, “where to next?”

The cats slowly left as soon as your walks stretched farther than usual. You were too nice to disturb Xiangli Yao, when he was far too absorbed in his thoughts.

“...Ah,” He purses his lips, slowly stopping in his steps, “I'm sorry, Rover. I hadn't realized we've gone this far.”

The streets decorated with the loud and bursting stalls sound in the background. Yet in the midst of it all, Xiangli Yao is silent as ever, his robotic hand over his lips, eyebrows furrowed. You think it's cute, from the curve of his pout, but you quickly shake it off.

“No worries at all. But you look like you have a lot on your mind, maybe you want to share them?”

Xiangli Yao looks at you. Behind you, the sun in Jinzhou has never set—bathing you in its reverberating halo, casting an ethereal glow. With his heart skipping a beat, he looks away with a sigh.

“...[Y/N],” every syllable of your name sounds too foreign for him, yet too holy, “Would you...like to come and stay with me for now?”

“Of course,” You smile, “Where do you want to go, Xiangli?”

His face remains serious as he speaks. “My house.”

“...I'm sorry?”

Going to Xiangli Yao's house was something you've never expected.

Sure, you often get invitations to visit your friends' houses once in a while. But it seems different when someone like Xiangli Yao asks you to go home with me.

Wait. With a mental slap, you scold yourself. Why do you feel different when it's with Xiangli Yao? Was there something about him? Watching unfocused amethyst eyes seems to make you worry. You were definitely not feeling something, right?

Unless?

“Is there anything else you'd like?” Xiangli Yao pops up from his kitchen, carrying a plate full of snacks in one arm and drinks in another, “I'm sorry, these are some of the food I could make.”

“It's okay, I'm more than happy to already taste what you make!” You said as you rush to help him.

But as you are about to take the plates, you couldn't help but gasp.

“Oh, does my hand scare you?”

Instead of the usual robotic hand you've grown accustomed to, it had morphed into a larger metal plate, to fit the two plates.

“No!” You shake your head with a laugh, “It's just the first time I've seen it like this. Does it change back?”

By the time the plates are on the table, Xiangli Yao twists his robotic hand (plate?), popping it out of the socket. “It does. Let me get it.”

“Do you...” Watching him scurry, you pick up a chip from the plate, “...need a hand?”

A resounding clang! echoes back to you. It takes a while before he returns to the room, rolling his hand as he grins. “I believe it's back in its proper place.”

Still the same stupid jokes that make you cackle. Eventually, you both settle down. The afternoon telenovela plays on the TV. Finally settled to sit on the ground instead of the chair, you end up picking the savory chips, munching as you devotedly watch the scenes in front of you. You don't even bat an eye even as you feel Xiangli Yao sits next to you. Silence. But a good kind.

How long have you known Xiangli Yao again? Whatever you both do, you're still content with each other's company. From the corner of your eye, you notice his gaze firmly on the TV, empty hands hair's breadth away.

“The Moonlit Fair,” you said slowly after a comfortable silence, “now that it's over, are you back to your usual work?”

He hums. “Depends how you define "usual work".”

“Metalwork and other groundbreaking discoveries.”

You bring your knees close to your face, resting your head so you could comfortably turn to see Xiangli Yao's face. Chromatic colors paint the neutral look on his face. Yet when he turns, a pretty smile replaces it.

“The field of science is only a curiosity away,” he pipes, mimicking your pose, “That's always something I've been doing, even before the start of the Moonlit Fair.”

This goody-two-shoes prodigy has always been the talk of the town. Even in Huaxu Academy, even from Mortefi's mouth, he is long lauded as someone who easily creates breakthroughs.

“I'm jealous.” You admit, sighing, “You can easily create new things.”

“That's not true.”

“Ah, I guess I can say with pride that I often help people, too.”

“However you may say it, it doesn't erase the fact that you are doing so much more than you think.” He said, “You're the mysterious Rover. You have lost memories related to this city. And from what I've heard, you hold so much history.”

He reaches out, human hand hesitating to touch your face. With a fleeting downcast gaze, he ends up booping your cheek. It makes you flinch from surprise.

“...I should be the one jealous of you, if that's the case, [Y/N].” His smile causes his eyes to close, a genuine look on his face, “You've done many incredible things that are worthy rather than simple praises.”

Did Xiangli Yao ever look this pretty before? Soft skin and amethyst irises through fluttering lashes. You wish you could brush away the hair that covers his eyes. Carefree, kissable lips. Wait—you cough, looking awau to hide the blush tinting your cheeks.

“Please, stop flattering me. I might end up bursting a hole in your roof.”

“I'll be sure to let Xiang-LEE and Patty fix that.”

A ticklish giggle escapes your lips as you turn back to see him. “Please leave my kids alone, you have overworked them during the festival.”

“...Please don't worry,” he shrugs, chuckling, “They'll be granted a paid vacation anyways.”

Seeing as the telenovela has lost its charm, and the poor food in front of you could go to waste, and maybe not wanting to end the fun yet, you decide to test your waters.

“Xiangli,” you said, noticing how he perked his head at the mention of his name, “I want to play a game.”

“An electronic one again?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Truth or Dare.”

Xiangli Yao laughs. “Oh, I didn't know you were into childish games like that.”

“I'm curious about you, and I'm sure you feel the same way.” You point out, “What's a better way than to play a game?”

“You could have asked and I wouldn't mind answering, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sit up straight, grinning, “Truth or Dare?”

Xiangli Yao mirrors you. “Already?”

“Pick already, or I might change my mind.”

“Hmm...Dare.”

Suppose your afternoon would be so different. A few chugs of the drinks, greedy hoarding of chips, spent markers, and random doodles later, you find yourself dressed in one of his lab coats with a clip of some of his IDs, and him in the flashiest shirt. The laughter has long strained your lips but it still ends up being the sweetest you've ever tasted. Apart from that, the glow in Xiangli Yao's face is also different, one that makes your heart skip faster.

“You've what?”

Xiangli Yao laughs a little too loudly. “A mini mouse that would greet anyone who opens the door. Mortefi was the first victim, because I didn't know he was deathly afraid of mice.”

The mental image of Mortefi from Xiangli Yao's prank comes abruptly that it causes you to match the latter's laughter—hollering until your back finds the sofa, slapping the carpet.

“Oh my God,” you wheeze, “It's not even a surprise why he hates you even more!”

Xiangli Yao wipes a tear from his eye, sparkly eyeshadow slightly staining his cheeks, “I bought him some coffee to apologize, but the joke hadn't died down for weeks.”

He finds himself sitting closely with you now, head against the sofa. With a little of your mingling laughter in the air, he couldn't help but watch as your fits of laughter continued, albeit a little softer. Through your literal rose-colored lenses, did you see the world like that, too?

“It's my turn now, right?” You ask, your shoulders an aftershock from your laughter.

“Mm,” he nods, “Have you run out already?”

“No, never!”

“Alright, since I've been picking dares for a while. I'll go with truth.”

“Have you ever heard of the rumors?” You begin, laughter dying down, as you take a bite from the chip. “That the world is "ending soon"?”

Xiangli Yao freezes. So you've heard. It's no surprise as it already made a turmoil between the scientists in Huaxu Academy. Yet the dread somehow comes creeping back to him.

“If, theoretically, the world were to end today,” you slowly speak, carefully choosing the words, “In a few hours or so. What would you do?”

What would he do? A tricky question. But a calid one at that. “The end of the world wouldn't happen so abruptly.”

“Mm, yeah, but I am curious about your answer.”

What would Xiangli Yao do? And somehow, the dimming living room feels so small, the only light source was a forgotten TV color palette. When he looks at you, your doe eyes sparkle in the darkness. The closeness of your bodies, the fleeting smell of spring on your shoulder, with a hint of him.

“Well...” He slides down to the floor, patting the space beside him, “I'll let you know if you lay here with me.”

“Are you sure there are no pranks here?”

“I'm honest.”

You eventually follow his words, so you could meet the level of his eyes. Watching the glow of his inspiration-filled eyes, they somehow make you smile.

“I heard all about it when my colleagues were playing a game during break time.” Xiangli Yao begins, “Some claim it's not true, but there have been others who believe it's so soon.”

“What do you think?”

He looks away, opting to stare at the ceiling above. You follow his sight, unaware of what was next.

“I don't know.” He says truthfully, robotic hand pointing upward, “With everything that has happened, no one else can predict it.”

“Even a knowledgeable scientist like you?”

He glances at you. “Even a knowledgeable scientist like me.”

He looks back to where his hand points. Casting a power, a small purple cube dances in his robotic hand, knowing that you were watching so intently.

“But if the world were to end today, then I wouldn't mind spending the day with the cats I feed.”

The cube glows brightly, floating so freely in his hand. A flash of scenes play through its squares, too fast to see, yet too slow to be noticed.

“I wouldn't mind having the TV on, sitting on the floor with snacks all over, even though there's a perfectly good sofa.”

He hears your small laugh, which makes him smile. The cube falls to his chest, where it travels all the way to you.

“I wouldn't mind spending the last hours playing Truth or Dare, with someone who's extraordinary.”

This time, Xiangli Yao looks at you. Wide-eyed and speechless, from the way the cube touches your outstretched hand, watching the faint glow of the halo on your own body. If the world were to end, he wouldn't get tired of watching this view; watching the rise and fall of your chest as you stare in awe, calloused hands tenderly watching over his own work of art, knowing that there'll never be another you if the world were to end.

Knowing that he's long been blessed to exist in the world where you are in it.

“I think I wouldn't mind spending the last hours on Solaris-3 with you, [Y/N].”

The cube pops, a sprinkle of glitter all over your body. Glancing, your heart throbs loudly in your chest, as you heard his confession.

How did this happen again? You were merely friends with the scientist. After the successful Moonlit Fair, you often find yourself bumping into him, simple errands and impromptu hang outs when you do. Watching Xiangli Yao in his humble abode, the telenovela a white noise, and the shade of colors lighting his face—have you ever seen him more than a friend?

“Xiangli Yao,” you breathe, which made him freeze, “you...”

He smiles. “I'm not rushing to know your answer. I am merely stating the facts.”

A good friend. But now you figured out why that rubs you off the wrong way. You have always known the answer to your feelings.

“[Y/N],” Even the way Xiangli Yao speaks your name, a softer one, where in the world they called you "Rover", he calls you differently.

“[Y/N],” Reaching out, his human hand finds a strand of your hair, gently pulling it to his lips. “[Y/N],”

Xiangli Yao calls your name, one that makes you throb.

“If, theoretically,” he repeats the question you asked before, “the world does end today, what will you do?”

In a world where your memories are lost in the ripples of time and reverberation. You had the same answer.

“...I wouldn't mind spending it with a certain scientist.” You smile, watching him mirror yours, “I wouldn't mind spending it with you, Xiangli Yao.”

“[Y/N]...”

“Xiangli,” you reach out to cup his cheek, to which he closes his eyes to snuggle to the warmth, “Xiangli, you're like the cats.”

“Then will you ever mind if I could hold on to you?”

Weary arms find themselves asking for yours. And like you, touch-starved for his own touch, lean onto him, the smell of spring and that you could forget the world.

“...I would,” you said, and you do mean it, “I'll hold onto you, Xiangli.”

Oh god pls let me have him irl too

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— starry