#airport parking space

[turbomnstr]

[always-is-always]

230319 'BTS' 지민, 엔딩요정 잘생김 가득 - RNX tv

So the fans have gone next level in SK.  I just watched Jiminie’s arrival at ICN, and I couldn’t believe how AGGRESSIVE some of the women were.  They acted just like those in NYC that practically pounced on him.  Unbelieveable.   People need to back off and give Jimin the space and respect as a Human Being.  His security staff at ICN were challenged by the massive push of bodies behind him, as he was walking out of the airport.  Unbelieveable and unacceptable. 

Jiminie must be protected.  No matter what, he must be protected from that type of aggression.  

There were ARMYs there who were totally respectful.  The others aren’t ARMY.  They are just crazed fans.  Big difference.   

[megalynnan]

Trump rally at noon in a park in Las Vegas.

We are in a heatwave and while this isn't the hottest day of the week, it's not cool.

Here is too hoping someone gets some heat exhaustion.

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour Is Upon Us - Part 2

In which you spend the weekend in Miami as Max's personal guest.

Warnings: smut at the end ;) Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 5k words (whoops) plus social media posts

Part 1 Master List

(a/n: holy shit you guys absoltely blew up part one (its sitting at 1.7k notes last time i checked in under 3 days??? like WHAT???) so here's the much requested part 2. LMK if you want a part 3! Also going to try something different with the tag list tonight, so bare with me as I figure this out!! xoxo)

You play with the hem of the cornflower blue sundress, nerves ratcheting up another notch when the car pulls into the race track. After you had wrapped up filming the podcast two weeks ago, Max had taken you out to one of his favorite London restaurants where you had spent the next nearly five hours talking about everything and nothing all at once. The only reason you had left was that the staff of the restaurant had started cleaning up around you, literally sweeping up under your feet and turning off the music as you had lingered over the last bits of your dessert together. 

The next day, Max had needed to go back to Milton Keynes to spend some time in the sim ahead of Miami weekend, unable to stay in London with you despite every bone in his body screaming that he didn’t want to leave you. It was weird, almost scary, to him how much space you took up in his thoughts so quickly. He didn’t usually get attached to anyone, much preferring to remain aloof and independent but in the two weeks that passed since he had seen you, he was unable (or unwilling, depending on who you asked, honestly) to think of anything else. The way you laughed, the way you smiled, the way you seemed to hang on every word that came out of his mouth simply mesmerized him. 

So now, here you were, two weeks later, moments away from seeing him again. Because while Max was down bad and trying not to blow this, you were also completely smitten with the Dutch driver. You had spent hours editing the first and second part of his episode yourself, something you hadn’t done in years, because you insisted you wanted to keep the integrity of the interview under your total control. Your video editor had seen the way you spoke about Max and just nodded, knowing that there had been something that sparked between you and him and that there would be no arguing about it with you. 

Max is in the garage when he gets the text from you that you’re in the parking lot waiting for him. As luck would have it, he’s just finishing up with some engineering meetings so he’s got some free time. He replies instantly, telling you to wait in the car for him and he’ll be right there. 

“I’m running out for a bit, GP. I’ll be back before FP1.” 

“I mean, you’d better be. Who else is going to get in that car? Horner?” 

Max chuckles, clapping his racing engineer on the back before slipping out the back of the garage. 

Max’s heart stalls when he sees the car you're in, nerves suddenly twisting in his gut. You two had been texting back and forth constantly since he left London the morning after you met. Evenings had been spent on FaceTime together when you could manage, but with your busy schedules it hadn’t been enough for Max. The relief he felt knowing you were less than 100 feet away had him swaying on his feet a bit. 

You knew Max was coming to meet you at the car but it had been a long drive from the airport, so while you waited you decided to stretch your legs. Max watches helplessly from a distance as the rear door on the SUV swings open, your bare legs making his mouth go dry when you hop out out of the car. 

It’s almost as if you sense his eyes on you, the weight of his gaze caressing your bare skin like the touch of a well known lover. It takes you a moment to recover when your eyes lock with his, the look on his face practically a billboard for how excited he is to see you. A wide grin spreads across your face when he starts towards you, heart tumbling down through your toes as he jogs your way. 

“Hi.” He breathes, stopping just short of gathering you up in his arms like he truly wants to. Despite how close you’ve grown over the last two weeks, Max reminds himself that it truly only has been two weeks and he doesn’t want to come on too strong. 

You look up at him, eyes sparkling with delight at finally being in his presence again. “Hey you.” You croon, nearly unable to stop yourself from throwing yourself into his arms. 

This kind of behavior was as out of character for you as it was for Max. You’d been burned by men in your life that were supposed to be there for you, love you, and protect you and so those walls had been put in place high and strong for years now . Something about Max made you question those defenses, wondering if he was going to be the one to stick around long enough to tear them down. While you tried to remain calm, objective, and aloof it was utterly impossible to act that way when you were around him. 

“How was your flight?” Max stuffs his hands in the pockets of his shorts, nerves turning the tips of his ears pink. He wants you in his arms so badly but didn’t want to push you away, didn’t want you thinking he had only brought you out to Miami this weekend for one thing. Because he hadn’t. He had simply wanted you by his side. 

“Well I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to fly commercial ever again, so I’ll be sending you the bill for all my private flights from now on.” You wink.

“You can use my jet whenever you want, schatje.” 

Your stomach does the same involuntary flip it does whenever he calls you that. At first it had been timid, slipped in at the end of a sentence almost like it was an afterthought or unconscious desire to claim you but as time goes on, Max settles into calling you either that or liefje more often than not. 

“Don’t tempt me.” You grin up at him, knowing that he fully means what he says. He’d absolutely let you use his jet whenever you wanted, all you had to do was ask. 

“So, your timing is really good.” Max nearly reaches for your hand but chickens out at the last minute, settling for just walking you back towards the car that sits idling behind you. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I actually have an hour and a half break before I have to be back for the first practice session so I thought I could take you over to the hotel, get you settled in. I booked you your own room, of course and thought you’d maybe like to take a shower or a nap during the first session and then I could have an intern get you so you can watch the sprint quali later this afternoon.” 

Your heart warms at the earnest look on Max’s face. The fact that he’s gone ahead and thought all of this through for you, clearly wanting to make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of all while you’re sure he’s overwhelmed with work, softens those well built walls arond your heart a bit more. 

“A shower and a nap does sound good.” 

Max smiles down at you, those blue eyes of his taking in every inch of your face like he’s trying to commit it to memory. “Good. Lets get you to the hotel then.” 

“Lead the way, Maxie.”  

yourpersonalinsta posted a story

story replies: user9029 girl drop the diet and workout routine plsss yourdad baby girl, i love you but put some clothes on >>>yourpersonalinsta love you too dad! maxverstappen1 are those my socks??? >>>yourpersonalinsta my feet got cold while you were gone playing with race cars. >>>maxverstappen1 i was literally working! and how'd you get into my room??? >>>yourpersonalinsta a lady never reveals her secrets, maxie ❤️ >>>maxverstappen1 i was right, you are trouble >>>yourpersonalinsta i prefer the phrase 'joy to be around'. pls hurry though back. i'm hungry and i may die of starvation in the next twenty minutes if you don't feed me. >>>maxverstappen1 do your fans know you're this dramatic??? >>>yourpersonalinsta why do you think they're my fans?

The rest of Friday blurs together in a watercolor wash of heat, and people, and sounds that you’re utterly exhausted by the time you tumble into your bed late at night.

Alone, thank you very much.

The wine that you had drank at dinner with Max and a few other drivers has heat pooling low in your belly as you watched Max watch you all night. You had wanted to invite him back to your room, but something kept those words from slipping out all night and Max had been the picture of respectable, simply dropping a kiss on your forehead before wishing you goodnight at your hotel room. 

Saturday’s sprint race is just as busy and loud as qualifying had been and by the time it’s over, you’re exhausted, hot, and sweaty. You’re over the moon when Max pulls off the win in the sprint, throwing your arms around his damp neck the moment you see him after his media duties are completed and he finds you waiting for him in front of Red Bull's hopsitality. 

“That was amazing Max. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun. You make it all look so easy.” You gush.  

“It looks like you’re my lucky charm now, schatje. Won’t be able to win without you.” 

You smile, cheeks aching a bit at how much you’ve been doing that this weekend. You’ve fit in so well with everyone it’s almost spooky, like your presence was expected and welcomed in the garage, slotting into Max’s world with uncanny ease. 

As you follow Max back to his driver’s room that’s tucked away in the back of hospitality, his hand reaches for yours almost unconsciously. When his fingers twine with yours, the butterflies that have taken up permanent residence in your stomach this week take flight yet again. If this is how you react when he reaches for you, you can’t imagine how you’re going to handle when he finally kisses you properly. 

The hallway is quiet and long, with Max’s room at the end of the corridor. You’re only about half way there when a sudden wave of nausea washes over you, stopping you in your tracks. “Woah.” You whisper, free arm bracing against the wall for support. 

Max turns to you in an instant, his handsome features a mask of concern. “You okay?” 

You blink a few times, trying hard to fight the impending fainting spell you can feel yourself hurtling towards. “I..ummm…I think so?” 

Max all but picks you up in his arms, ushering you the short distance that separates you from his drivers room. “Lets get you sitting down. Have you eaten today?” 

A blush creeps up your cheeks. “Not since breakfast.” 

Max frowns, “That was hours ago, liefje.” 

The room is small with just enough room for a couch, massage table, and closet but it does the job, serving as a quiet respite from the mayhem of the paddock. Max gently leads you over to the navy blue couch. “Sit. I’m going to get you some water and food. The heat in Florida is no joke.” 

You nod, already feeling a little better now that you’re sitting down. Max is gone for several minutes but comes back absolutely laden down with so much food, you can’t help but laugh. “Max, I don’t know who you think I am but I am not a 300 pound body builder.” You say though your giggles. 

Max looks a little embarrassed but just tuts at you, placing the plates (of which there are three) down on the table in front of you. “I didn’t know what you liked. You had fish at dinner last night, much to Lando’s dismay, but they’re cooking salmon tomorrow, even though I asked for some today for you.” 

The way your chest squeezes at his ramblings has nothing to do with the headache that’s forming between your eyes and everything to do with the man sitting next to you practically spoon-feeding you a roasted beet and goat cheese salad. You obediently open your mouth when he lifts the fork to your lips, only rolling your eyes a bit at his fussing. “I am an adult, Verstappen. I can feed myself.” You grumble between bites. 

“I know but just humor me.” 

You roll your eyes again but open your mouth, the beet and goat cheese salad actually tasting really good. 

“Good girl.” He coos, setting your thighs squeezing together on their own accord. 

Your eyes flicker up to his at the praise and something passes between you two, a little spark of heat igniting there in the small room. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper after a few more bites, tension hanging thick between you as you're tucked up together on the small couch. 

“Don’t be.” He insists, pushing a bottle of icy cold water into your hands. “I’m just glad I was here to take care of you.” 

“Me too.” You breathe, acutely aware to how close his body is to yours.

The urge to kiss you overwhelms Max, and it's not the first time this weekend this has happened. He’s been fighting the ever strengthening desire to just sweep you up and haul you back to his hotel room since you first stepped out of the Range Rover yesterday afternoon. Truthfully, he’d been wondering what you taste like ever since he’d walked into that recording studio in London.

He couldn’t explain how or why but your sudden appearance in his life seemed like some cosmic shift under his feet, his entire existence adjusting to this new normal of being in your orbit. He’d spent the last two weeks listening to all five years of your podcasts, even finding some old work you’d done in college and with each episode he found himself falling further and further into a rabbit hole that he wasn’t sure he’d ever want to climb out of.

Max falls silent then and so do you, a comfortable quiet settling over the room. The spark that had ignited so innocently just minutes before begins to smolder into something that has the energy between you two shifting. Like the entire reason for you being here this weekend had led up to this very moment. 

You break the spell first, leaning in just a fraction closer to Max like he's is the magnet you’re elementally obligated to be attracted to. But Max is equally compelled in his desire to finally find out what you taste like so he closes the gap between your lips and his, mouth grazing yours with the slightest pressure. It starts out as a timid thing, unsure of if it should exist in such a charged atmosphere. Once it gains its footing though, the kiss lengthens and takes on a life of its own. 

You sigh into Max’s mouth like it’s a relief to finally have him kissing you. Max lifts the tips of his fingers to your chin so he can tilt your head upwards, allowing him to deepen the kiss to a more heated pace. Your fingers grip at his Red Bull polo, desperate for something to hold on to while the taste of Max races through your veins. 

Something akin to a purr rumbles in the back of your throat when Max’s hands sift through your hair and it grows a little hotter when he tugs on the ends, forcing your head back so the slender column of your neck is fully exposed to him. You try not to cry when his lips leave yours, unhappy with how you can’t taste him fully anymore, but that disappointment quickly evaporates when he trails open mouthed kisses towards the enticing hollow of your throat. 

“I’ve been wondering what you taste like since the moment I laid eyes on you.” Max murmurs against your heated skin. 

Your head spins at his words. So it hadn’t just been you that had felt the spark that first day. “Max.” His name is a reverent prayer on your lips, urging him to never stop touching you. 

Max thinks he could go the rest of his life without winning another race and he’d still die happy because he’d finally kissed you. “You drive me mad, liefje. I am utterly consumed by you and I have no idea how you slipped this far under my skin so quickly.” 

The words send shivers skittering down your spine and you find yourself leaning into his touch even more, heart hammering wildly against your ribcage. 

A sharp and sudden knock sends you leaping out of Max’s arms so quickly, you nearly fall to the floor. “Holy fuck.” You whisper, hand flying to your lips like they’ve been burned. 

“Christ.” Max breathes, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah?” He calls, voice a strangled mess. 

“Uh…” The hesitation in the person’s voice told you that they knew they had interrupted something. “Max, Christian and GP wanted to go over a few more things before quali.” 

Max touches his forehead to yours, letting loose a breath to steady himself before he can answer. “I’ll be there in five.” He grumbles and you can hear the shuffle of feet retreating moments later. 

“You are going to ruin me, schatje.” Max murmurs, even though he has a feeling he was already ruined. 

You chuckle, rubbing your fingers over your swollen lips. You had never had a first kiss like that, ever. The way your body simply melted around Max like warm butter had your center turning molten. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” You joke.

Max just shakes his head and chuckles before his face pulls serious again. 

“How are you feeling? Do you want to stay here and rest or come with me to the garage? I could have an intern take you back to the hotel?” Max lifts his hand so it frames your face, concern flickering across his features. Your chest constricts in the most delicious way when he pulls your hands into his lap. 

“I’m good. I think your kisses may have healing properties actually.” You flirt, gazing at Max from under long lashes. “If I’m not too in the way, I’d like to stay with you.” 

It crosses your mind then, a quick rabbit of a thought, darting across your consciousness that you’ve been so independent for so long, so bent on not relying on anyone for security or safety, only to have the entire rug of your resistantance ripped out from under you. It’s a gooey and warm feeling that you hope isn’t just a flash in the pan, although your gut tells you Max is the real deal. 

You hadn’t given yourself this freely to anyone in so long, panic grips at your throat for a moment, the desperate need to flee suddenly choking you. Just when the panic of what’s transpiring here threatens to pull you under, Max’s cool blue eyes yank you back to him where you belong. 

“I think I’m going to like having you by my side.” His breath fans out over your cheeks, pulling you further out of your tumble.

Max stands, sensing something shifting deep within you then. He saw something pass behind your eyes just then, the delicate shiver of hesitation. He’d been expecting it. No one who was as strong as you were got that way without having a story to tell. He knew that and had known this moment would come. What he hadn’t expected was to watch you pull yourself back from that precipice of panic. It had been a stunning thing to watch, even if the act was nothing more than a fleeting moment. But the way he watched you catch yourself spinning and knit yourself back together without so much as a whisper of a breath made him want to shield you from whatever had caused you the heartache to begin with. 

He holds his hand out to you, which you gladly take, and leads you towards the door while knotting his fingers up with yours. The nerves in your stomach settle with his touch and it sort of scares you, how well this man can read you so soon. This had been the last thing you had ever thought would happen when the man you were falling for walked into your life just 2 weeks ago. 

yourpersonalinsta posted

198,392 likes liked by maxverstappen1, redbull racing, and others yourpersonalinsta omg miami if this is how you introduce yourself to a girl, i can't wait to see how the first date goes! super proud of @/maxverstappen1 for winning the spring race today. next up: quali. user992 girl is auditioning to be the next WAG in the paddock >>>user020 seriously thirsting for nothing but clout this weekend maxverstappen1 told you you'd bring me extra luck this weekend >>>yourpersonalinsta ❤️ >>>user0093 oh this is interesting user9392 the fact that she was such a genuine fan of the sport before and now she's AT her first race as Max's guest all because of her podcast. i just... >>>user223 now i'm crying, thanks. redbullracing so fun having you in the garage today! excited for sunday! >>>yourpersonalinsta thank you for having me!

There was just something so enticingly attractive about watching Max race on Sunday that had you feeling embarrassingly needy for him by the time he got you back to his hotel room that night. As you had watched him on the podium that afternoon, you just knew how messy you’d be below him later that night.

“I think your performance this weekend has earned you a reward.” Your rasp, voice a husky whisper in his ear as you glue yourself to him in the elevator that evening.

Max cocks an eyebrow at you while his fingers grip at your hips. “Oh yeah? And what would that be, lifeje?”

“Why don’t you take me back to your room and let me show you.” You lick at his neck, savoring the taste of sweat and champagne that clings to him despite his shower at the track earlier.

Max’s groan is enough of an answer and when the elevator slows, signaling your arrival at his floor, you follow him out into the quiet hallway, giggling when he playfully grabs a handful of your ass.

You had tried to convince yourself the entire drive back to the hotel that this wasn’t how the night was going to end. It was too soon, you thought. This was the first weekend you had spent any time with him and you didn’t want Max to get the wrong idea about you. And then he had spent the entire drive back to the hotel with one hand inching higher and higher up on your bare thigh. His thick fingers traced random patterns on your tanned skin, until the very tips had slipped just under the hem of your dress and all thoughts had eddied right out of your head.

Max, meanwhile, had been thinking of this moment since the second he had climbed out of the car. He didn't want to push you but the need to learn how you sounded when he was buried deep inside you was was out of control.

The moment the door snicks closed behind you, you're shoving Max against the wall, utterly desperate to get your mouth on him. Sinking to your knees in front of him, hands trailing down his torso. Your fingers drag over the skin just above the waistband of his jeans, long nails sending a shudder down Max's spine.

"Let me taste you, Max." You moan, reaching for the buckle of his belt.

"Please." He begs as he sinks his hands deep into your hair.

You have to stifle a gasp when you free his thick cock from his boxers, pushing the soft cotton down to his ankles along with his jeans. He's already desperatly hard, dick all red and angry with arousal, practically begging you to take it in your mouth.

Max can hardly believe the sight before him. You down on your knees for him, lips mere millimeters from his raging hard-on, was probably the prettiest sight he'd seen in a long time. When you first wrap your lips around the tip, tongue darting out to taste the salty precum that he's already leaking, it takes every ounce of control Max has to not sink deep down your throat.

"Holy fuck, baby." He shudders, fingers gripping your hair even tighter. Max would be lying if he said he hadn't played out this exact scenario several times over the past two weeks, only it had been his own hand fisting his cock instead of your lips.

All you do is hum in response, the vibration of your voice sending sharp new shivers bolting down Max's spine. One hand snakes up his toned thighs, enjoying the thick muscles bunching and flexing as you take him deeper down your throat. Your other hand, however, trails down your own thighs, dipping below the hem of your dress to find your own already ruined panties wet with the arousal Max has already drawn from you.

"You like touching yourslef while you suck me off, pretty girl?" Max's voice is all gravel as his hips snap towards you, forcing you to take him even deeper into your mouth.

You look up at him, eyes watering, thick lashes matted with tears and smile the best you can with your lips wrapped around him. You continue your work, head bobbing up and down on his length, enjoying the way his dick is slick with your saliva, a bit of it dripping down your chin as you take him even deeper. You swear you could spend the rest of the night down on your knees with how good Max feels and tastes in your mouth, your own fingers buried deep inside you. The release you've been wanting all week starts to build and Max begins to feel it too.

Max knows he's not going to last much longer and he doesn't want to come quite yet. Gently he pulls you off, chuckling at the mewl of protest that slips past your lips when he pushes you off of him.

"Max." You whine, wanting nothing more than to swallow his release down your throat.

"Get on the bed, lifeje." He orders.

You scramble to your feet, disappointment at not making him come with your mouth quickly replaced with the anticipation of what you know is coming next. You've tried so hard to resist the fact that you've wanted this since the moment you saw him Friday afternoon but as you lay down on the bed and watch Max stalk towards you like a lion after his prey, all reservations evaporate into thin air. You know deep within your chest that this is what's supposed to happen right now.

"Dress off." He commands and the thrill of being ordered around flashes through you.

You follow his directions before laying back on the pillow, watching as Max reaches behind him back to strip off the sweaty team kit you hadn't bothered taking off before sucking his dick. A sudden wave of vulnerability sweeps over you as Max stands at the foot of the bed, eyes raking over your bare frame.

"You are the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes on." Max murmurs, sensing your hesitation at being so vulnerable in front of him. He doesn't want you to be nervous, needing you to know how utterly obsessed he is with you. It staggers him when he thinks about how deeply you've dug yourself under his skin in such a short time. You've barely spent longer than a few days together and he's already so deeply lost in you.

"Do something, Maxie." You beg, squirming under his heated stare.

His weight is heavy and delicious when he finally covers your body with his, notching his cock just outside your dripping core. Max reaches down, letting out a heated moan when he feels how wet you are for him. "You are soaked for me, gorgeous girl. God, how did I get so lucky? Have you been like this all fucking day, schatje?"

"Been desperate for you all fucking day, Max." You breath, your hips lifting up off the bed in a needy search for the friction you crave.

"Lets see if we can get you some relief, yeah baby?"

When Max sinks into you for the first time, you can't help the desperately needy whine that escapes from your mouth. His name is a prayer on your lips, every nerve ending in your body sparking to life. The stretch of his cock burns in the most delicious way. "So full." You cry as Max's hips meet yours when he slides into you completely.

Max doesn't quite understand how you're so blissfully tight and wet and warm all at the same time but he thinks it's the best feeling he's ever experienced. His head drops to the crook of your neck as he buries himself in you to the hilt, the base of his dick grinding against your clit. "Fuck, you're to tight around me baby. How do you feel this fucking good?"

You and Max fall into a rhythm, the only sound in the room are the quieted sighs slipping their way from your lips before Max can steal them from your throat. The friction is amazing and before he can quell it, Max feel the lick of fire coiling at the base of his spine, telltale sign that he's about to spill. “Won’t last much longer.” He pants, lips falling to suck at the skin at your neck. 

Max struggles to keep the pace up, diving into you with long, slow strokes that fill you up and empty you out over and over and over. Sweat forms on his brow that was tipped down in concentration and you have to resist the urge to lick it off. Every stroke deep into your pussy fills you up so fully it's almost too much. Too much sensation, too much heat, too much fullness. You can’t help the whines that slip from your lips but Max only encourages them by chanting your name over and over. 

“I know, baby. I know.” He coos in your ear as your muscles tense beneath him. “You’re doing so good for me, taking it all so good.” 

The praise is almost too much. “Don’t stop.” You beg when his fingers dip down between you to find your clit as he continues to stroke into you. Stars erupt on the back of your eyelids. “Holy fuck. Max.” You manage to bite out.

“Come for me. I want to feel you come all over my dick, please baby.” Blinding need consumes Max's entire existence, his full attention focused on the way you clench around him over and over.  

That’s all it takes. The command sends you hurtling over the edge, right into a spine tingling orgasm. Your body goes rigid for a moment under Max's weight but as quick as it starts, a boneless languid feeling sweeps through you as the endorphins flood your system. Your own climax has pushed Max over he edge and he comes hard, groaning in your ear as he rasps your name. 

Max collapses on top of you and you relish the heavy weight of his body on yours. Much too soon, he rolls off and you whimper, instantly feeling empty without him inside you. Max gathers you up in his arms though, the heat of his body quickly warming your chilled skin. Your hand settles on his chest, right over his heart, which is still racing.

“Jesus Christ, shactje.” Max finally breaks the silence, giving my hip a squeeze as he nuzzles into my hair. “You really are going to ruin me.”

maxverstappen1 posted:

838,291 likes liked by yourpersonalinsta, redbullracing, yourdad and others maxverstappen1: another great weekend with a good haul of points! Thank you Miami, you were good to us. On to the next! user2992 uh, max? care to explain that second photo >>>user92928 is that who I think it is??? yourpersonalinsta had so much fun with you this weekend! can't wait for the next one >>>maxverstappen1 ❤️ >>>user0221 EXCUSE ME. user0022 i ran into them late Sunday night at the hotel and let me tell you...there's nothing PR about their chemistry together. >>>user9288 i fucking KNEW it user05543 anyone else see @/yourpersonalinsta's dad in the likes!?

yourpersonalinsta posted

231,209 likes liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, charlesleclerc and others yourpersonalinsta after this weekend, i think i can consider myself officially a red bull girlie. blissfully excited i got to see a MV1 podium AND sprint win! thank you for letting me into your world @/maxverstappen1. can't wait til next time ❤️ maxverstappen1 gonna need you at every race now that you're my lucky charm. user9282 'thank you for letting me into your world' YOU EXPECT ME TO ACT NORMAL AFTER THAT CAPTION MA'AM??? >>>user7623 kicking my feet and giggling and i'm not even @/yourpersonalinsta omg redbullracing you're welcome in the garage any time!! >>>user9935 even admin has a crush! >>>maxverstappen1 @/user9935 i mean, how can you not??? >>>user9935 omg hi king. glad you know how amazing she is! don't hurt our girl, k??? >>>maxverstappen1 i would never ☺️ (liked by yourpersonalinsta)

maxverstappen1 private stories

story replies: yourpersonalinsta god i look good in navy >>>maxverstappen1 no more ferrari red for you, sweet girl >>>yourpersonalinsta miss you already 😢 >>>maxverstappen1 i know. i'll see you soon, promise >>>yourpersonalinsta ❤️ danielricciardo excuse me but WHAT THE FUCK >>>maxverstappen1 : 🤭 charlesleclerc oh she's got you using the lip biting emoji. it's over, pack it up boys. MV1 is officially off the market. >>>maxverstappen1 accurate though

@shelbyteller @martygraciesversion381 @anilovessadbooks @formulaal @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP: Travel Buddy

"I already told you I'm not going to another country! I'm going to New Mexico!" The shout echoes with frustration across the airport. Dick looks up from his phone to where a man is arguing with a woman behind a counter. She has a pinched grimace on her face, an expression only those who have worked in customer service are familiar with.

It's the look of someone who dances on the line of "I don't need to up with this bullshit. I don't need this job" and "Think of your bills, think of your check, stay calm."

There is a long line behind him, where everyone is making faces at the delay.

Dick often preferred to travel with Justice League tech, as nothing beat the speed of instant teleportation, but he needed to have some records of traveling the normal for his civilian identity. It would be suspicious if he was seen worldwide with no signs of how he got there.

It was a necessary evil to have his loveable wanderlust persona that was Dick Grayson-Wayne. He had taken a few aspects of Brucie Wayne but replaced the playboy reputation with a restlessness that couldn't stand being in one place for too long.

Growing up with people constantly pointing out how attractive he was, which would have been fine were it not for the rich old men and women who leered at him through his teen years. He could not stomach being a playboy, allowing those who objectified him to think he enjoyed their attention.

It was easier to be the easily distracted, pretty son who was always away from home instead. It helped that Bruce had plenty of private jets to gift his son for whatever whimsy urge to move hit him. That was why he was in Illinois today.

Dick's jet had needed to stop for some fuel, and like most commercial airlines, they were told that they needed to wait before heading up again. They may have enough money to afford their own planes, but commercial planes have the right of way.

Then a storm was reported at Gotham Airlines, and his pilot told Dick they were grounded until it cleared up. It could be a delay of six hours.

Dick didn't mind, having told his staff to take a break. If it got too bad, he would buy everyone a hotel room to try again tomorrow. His private jet staff seemed stunned by the offer, insisting they could wait to see if it was clear enough to fly in a few hours.

He had decided he wanted to have some crappy airport snacks, as it was part of the experience, and walked around the airport munching on his chocolate donut. He found a little booth selling local coffee, prompting him to find a seat near the welcome counter and scroll through his phone.

He still had three hours to kill, so he considered exploring the area a little. I suggest finding some hotels just in case. There was little in this place. The closest city was Amity Park, but it was only beside the mall and a decent burger joint; there was little to do.

It was one of those small towns that, despite not having many people, was well spread out due to all the open spaces. The people who lived there either raised a family, retired or had bloodlines traced generations back to the town's founding.

"Sir, as I stated before, you need a passport, and you have to pay for an international ticket to go to Mexico," The woman hissed. Some people in line began muttering about how annoying the man was for arguing.

"All I have is my driver's license. I could go home for my passport. That's no issue, but I am not paying for an international ticket to Mexico when I am not going there! I'm staying in the US! New Mexico is a state!" the man shouts, flailing his long black trenchcoat. It makes the black ponytail swing side to side as he leans on the counter. "How do you work in travel and not know that!?"

"What is going on here?" A man demands, stepping beside the gumming woman. Dick can tell he is the manager just by the way his uniform looks different.

"This man is refusing to listen." The counter lady practically spits and is now leaning well over the "I don't need this job" side of the customer service line. Dick finds himself standing up as the manager gets a quick rundown of the problem.

The crowd was getting impatient, even with the two other representatives slowly calling up the next customer. Curious by the outcome, Dick drifts closer, listening to the man explain that he wants to go to New Mexico to study the enormous reports of violent paranormal sightings.

He was apparently visiting all highly haunted states in the US to write a book about the history of the hauntings, but when he was attempting to get his ticket, the woman had been convinced he was leaving the country. Dick watched in real-time as the manager also seemed to think New Mexico was in Mexico because he began to explain the international policy to the fuming man.

They threatened to put him on the no-fly list if he continued causing them trouble. That angered the traveler even more, and he raised his voice and waved his arms as he insisted the location be within the country.

Dick pulls out his phone, typing with one thumb quickly and pulling up a map of the country. He slid right next to the trio, standing at the stranger's left with an easy smile.

"Excuse me, can I have a moment of your time?" He asks

The woman's frustration is now nearing its tipping point, but the manager must have recognized him, for he hastily scrambles to make his expression more pleasant.

"Mr. Grayson-Wayne! Please give me one moment to sort this out. I can help you if that's okay with you. I'm sorry for the delay. Karen, call security to have this man escorted out."

"What!?" Demands the guy as the woman grins.

"With pleasure."

"New Mexico is a US state, " Dick cuts in, displaying his screen. "It's been one since 1912, I'm afraid."

The airline employees are pale as they stare at his phone before the manager pulls it out of his pocket and types rapidly on it. A few seconds later, his already white face goes even whiter.

Dick considers the man next to him, who has a grin starting to bloom on his face. It's a pretty handsome face if he's honest. A dig has him looking away towards his phone.

It's a message from his pilot. It seems the storm was due to Mr. Freeze, and they weren't expecting it to clear for at least four days. He was asking if there was anywhere else Dick wanted to fly to.

"I'm so sorry. I'll bump you up to first class." The manager says to the stranger, who is looking rather smug now. Dick considers his pilot's question before thinking, why not.

He does have an image to uphold, after all.

"Would you like a ride in my private jet? " Dick turns to the man, who blinks at him while cutting off the rambling of the woman and the manger. "I can drop you off wherever you want in New Mexico. Where were you headed?"

"Ugh, I wanted to visit Dawnson Cemetry, " the man stammers. "I-do you really have a private jet?"

"Yeah. Would you like to go with me?"

There is a moment of hesitation before the man grabs his wallet off the counter and nods. "If it's not too much trouble," he responds cautiously.

"It's not. I'm Dick Grayson-Wayne, by the way."

"Danny Fenton."

Dick waves the two employees away, winking at them as they slump in relief that Danny doesn't seem to want to make this into an incident. Likely, he had just been upset they weren't listening.

"Most haunted places in the US, huh?" Dick asks while sending a text to his crew. He gets confirmation that they can head over to the southwest post haste. "Aren't you scared of ghosts?"

Danny gives an odd little smirk. "I haven't been afraid of ghosts since I was fourteen."

Dick stares at his mouth a little too long, swinging his gaze back to his phone when he gets a message from Bruce. His dad had been informed of the flight change and was using the coded message to confirm Dick being the one to change it.

He types out a response, ignoring the fluttering of his heart. If he checks to see what other states are highly haunted as Danny looks around his jet with a fallen jaw, that's only because he has four days to kill.

[brainddeadd]

quinn’s gf coming to the lake house for the first time and coming a bit later than everyone else, quinn has been grumpier than usual and than he gets his gf and he’s so much happier

Quinn is pouting.

At least.. that's what Jack told Petey, who told Brock who told you.

"He's being pathetic. Tell her to hurry up." Are the exact words Jack used. Brock felt it was important that you knew exactly the type of bullying Quinn was being subjected to in your absence.

Luke was much more direct, sending you a message that simply said: "come fix him" followed by a picture of Quinn sitting outside, alone, shoulders hunched forwards, phone in hand.

This leads to where you are now: sitting in the airport waiting for Jack to come and pick you up to take you back to the lake house three days ahead of schedule.

"He's really missed you," Jack doesn't wait for you to settle into your seat. "And not in a 'heh, what a loser' kinda way. In a 'I think he'd leave if he had to spend another day without you' kinda way."

Looking over at the boy, you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion. "He wouldn't leave. He's got you guys."

"Yn," Jack sounds exasperated. "He misses you in a way I didn't know someone could miss another. In a way I cannot even begin to comprehend because I've never been in love the way he is with you. He would have left days ago if he didn't know you were coming to see him."

The rest of the drive is silent until he's pulling in the street that leads to the house.

"I missed him too." Your voice is quiet, and Jack almost misses your words. "My boss sent me home early yesterday because I was in such a bad mood. She told me to 'kiss my man or whatever I need to do' before I came back."

Jack chuckles at that. "Except you couldn't cause he was here and not there."

Nodding, he reaches over and taps your shoulder comfortingly before pulling into a parking space next to another car.

"Go see him, I'll get your bags." Rushing out a 'thank you', you're running into the house and past Trevor, who simply points out the back door.

Flinging the door open, you can see Quinn sitting down on the dock, shoulders slumped, and head hanging.

Your feet carry you quickly, and soon, your footsteps are thumping on the wooden dock, drawing Quinn's attention.

"Luke I swear-" Quinn cuts himself off when he sees it's you sprinting down the dock, barely having time to twist his body enough to catch you as you fling yourself into his arms, colliding with his body and sending Quinn toppling onto his back. His arms wind around your waist, a hand working its way into your hair as he presses you close to him, a happy sigh leaving his lips.

"What the fuck?" He doesn't dare pull away from you. "I thought you-"

"Boss let me come early. And Jack picked me up from the airport."

"Thank fuck for Jack," he pulls back just enough to capture your lips with his, body relaxing at the contact.

That night, as you're all sitting around the living room, his phone buzzes with a text from Trevor. It's a video of you running to him and your kiss on the dock and a photo of you sitting in his lap, wrapped up together in front of the bonfire from later in the evening.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 22 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It's terrifying to realize you don't know if Bradley is safe. As the lonely days stretch on and on, you try to savor the notes from him. Once the final two envelopes have been opened, you know you need the real thing.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, adult language, romantic as hell Bradley, 18+

Length: 2600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Other than your car, everything you owned was inside Bradley's house. Over the last few weeks, Natasha helped you load up his Bronco and make a few trips down, but she looked at you like you were crazy when you told her you were going to leave most things packed up for now.

"Why?" she asked, leaning on a stack of boxes in the living room. "Even if he gets stationed in Norfolk, you'll finish out your school year here before he sells the house."

But you didn't want him to sell his house. You loved it here. Being in his living space was the closest thing to being with him when he was deployed, and you didn't think it was fair that he might have to give this up. What would Edith do without Bradley to help her? What would Bradley do in a different state without his best friend? No, you simply couldn't unpack, just in case, but you also couldn't accept Virginia with any finality until you were explicitly told it was happening.

"I just wish I could talk to him," you whispered.

"Soon," Nat replied, and you jumped, surprised to find you weren't alone in your thoughts. "I just moved a million boxes. I deserve a trip to the wine bar, and so do you. Bradley will be back soon enough."

"Nine days. Not soon enough." 

It was nine days until he was supposed to get back to Norfolk. On Valentine's Day. Then right after that, it was Career Day at your school. You had been holding onto a few of the envelopes and gift cards from him, trying to make them last, but you were almost out. You needed the real thing again.

Natasha groaned. "You are so in love with him, it's kind of gross. Let's go drink wine, and I'll tell you more tales from before the mustache."

You took one more look at the few unopened letters lined up on the coffee table before grabbing the gift card for the wine bar. But even southern California looked gloomy on the drive up. The wine was good, but you were just tired. Natasha told you all about how she tried to give Bradley the call sign Chicken Man, and you laughed at the idea of that emblazoned along the side of his jet. She also seemed to be able to tell just how melancholy you were.

"You're doing great," she told you, setting down her wine glass. "You're counting down the hours until you can talk to Bradley again. Vanessa would have probably been too busy with her water bottles to remember to pick him up from the airport. There's a reason why it's hard, and it's because he loves you as much as you love him."

You did your best to keep it together after that, but there was a lump in your throat, holding back your emotions, and when you got back home, you started crying on the couch. Big, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, blurring your vision, but you knew which envelope you were reaching for.

Open me when you've had a bad day

As you tore into the envelope, you realized there was another envelope inside it. The second envelope said Take me to The Bayside Florist and give me to someone who works there.

"What is this, Bradley?" you whispered out loud, reaching for your phone to see if the shop was still open this late on a Saturday. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized they closed in an hour, and you grabbed the envelope along with your phone and keys and ran out to your car.

In a matter of minutes, you parked in front of an adorable flower shop with The Bayside Florist in pink lettering on the awning. You felt a little silly taking the envelope inside, but when you were greeted by an older woman with a warm smile, you started to hand it to her.

"This might sound odd, but my boyfriend is deployed, and he left me this envelope," you said with a laugh. "Apparently I was supposed to bring it here?"

The woman adjusted her glasses as a smile found her lips. "Oh, yes. I remember him. Tall? With a mustache? Handsome?"

You bit your lip to keep from making an embarrassing noise. "Yeah, that sounds just like him."

She nodded and opened the envelope, humming in agreement with whatever she read inside. "I have something for you. Wait right here." 

Then she disappeared through a doorway, and you walked around the inside of the shop, examining the arrangements and enjoying the scent of so many types of flowers mingling together. You weren't quite sure what Bradley had up his sleeve from thousands of miles away, but you were almost positive it was about to make your day so much better.

"Special delivery from your boyfriend."

Startled, you spun around to see a stunning bouquet of flowers in every color on the counter, complete with an envelope tucked in amidst the blooms. "That's for me?" you whispered.

"From your boyfriend," she confirmed.

You stifled a whimper as you reached for the flowers. "Am I supposed to pay for this?"

"He already did."

Tears stung your eyes as you pulled the envelope that said Gorgeous from between two roses. It was written in his handwriting. You thought you should read it in the privacy of your own car, so you thanked the woman and then headed back outside. Once you were sitting behind the steering wheel, you set the flowers aside in favor of the note.

Gorgeous,

I never want you to have a bad day, but I really hate that you're having one when I'm not with you. If I could be anywhere in the world right now, I'd choose to be next to you. Will you write about your day in your journal so we can talk about it later? I can't wait to talk about everything with you. I love you.

Bradley

Now that the tears started, you just let yourself cry.

--------------------------

Constantly wondering if your boyfriend was even okay was taking a toll on you. Your classroom was supposed to be your safe haven right now. Your place of comfort. Your refuge. But a few days before Bradley was supposed to get back into Norfolk, you were short and snippy with your class. You didn't mean to be, but it was happening anyway.

"Just sit down," you told Oliver, voice taking on a sharp, scolding edge that was usually never there. All eighteen of your kids sat with their backs straight in their seats and their hands folded on their desks like they were worried you were going to start yelling. This was never how you wanted to conduct your class. These kids were really well behaved for the most part, and you wanted them to have a lot of fun mixed in with their school lessons.

You turned away from them to try to catch your breath. The past few nights had been filled with restless sleep and a pain in your heart that wouldn't go away until you knew Bradley was safe. You cleared your throat, trying so hard to figure out what you wanted to say for your social studies lesson, but you couldn't shake your mind free from the anxiety you were feeling.

Picturing the flowers that you put in a Miller High Life pitcher you found in the kitchen after Bradley didn't appear to own a vase made you smile enough that you were able to turn around again.

"I need everyone to open their textbook to page eighty-seven." The only sound was pages rustling as you added, "And I promise I'll make this a fun unit for us."

When you finally left work that afternoon, you decided to let yourself open the last envelope from Bradley. It had been in your tote bag for a few days, just waiting for the right moment. Open me when you really want some coffee. You could clearly use the extra caffeine today, so you tore into the envelope as you walked across the parking lot. Just like before, there was an envelope inside the first envelope. 

Take me to Starbucks and give me to someone who works there.

Now you were smiling. You got to go to another place of business with an envelope like an absolute lunatic, and you were really looking forward to it. You stopped at the Starbucks closest to your school, and when you handed the envelope to the girl who tried to take your order, she raised one eyebrow.

"Your guess is as good as mine. I think it's kind of a treasure hunt of sorts from my boyfriend who is deployed," you told her with a shrug. 

Then you watched her open the envelope and remove a note along with a gift card. Her eyes skimmed the text, and her face transformed into the sappiest smile. "Oh my god," she said, looking back up at you. "I wish someone loved me this much," she muttered and then turned away from you, reaching for the biggest cup and a Sharpie.

You waited awkwardly for a few minutes while she made your drink. You could tell it was your favorite drink. Bradley somehow ordered your favorite drink for you to enjoy. Warmth filled your body, and you accepted the cup from her. "Thanks," you murmured as she paid using the gift card, and that's when you realized she had written something on the cup.

Gorgeous, I love you. I can't wait to come home. Bradley

"Does he have a brother?"

You looked up at the girl who made your coffee. "What?" you asked, taking the note and the gift card from her. 

"Does your boyfriend have a brother? Because that note is the sweetest thing I've ever seen."

You shook your head, but you were smiling. "No. No brother. Sorry. Thanks for making my coffee."

As you walked outside you read the note, already feeling calmer at the sight of his hand writing. 

Dear Starbucks Employee,

The beautiful woman who handed you this envelope is my girlfriend. I am desperately in love with her, and I would be there with her if I could, but I'm fucking deployed, if you can believe it. Please make her favorite drink for her, and if you wouldn't mind, please write 'Gorgeous, I love you. I can't wait to come home. Bradley' on the cup? Thank you so much.

He had scrawled your favorite drink to your exact specifications below that, and it even tasted perfect. You spent the ride back to Coronado planning out your upcoming Monday. If Bradley arrived back to Virginia on time, you'd be hearing from him by then. Every fiber of your being was hoping he'd call and tell you to pick him up in San Diego, but if he had to stay in Norfolk, you'd take a day off from work to fly out and see him. You had to. You wouldn't be able to go an extra minute without him now. You wanted to hug him and kiss him and give him a blowjob. You needed to feel his hands on your body and listen to his voice while you ran your fingers along his scars. 

Monday couldn't get here fast enough.

-----------------------------

The only thing Bradley wanted to do right now was get his phone in his fucking hands, but he thought that if he brought it up again, someone would tell him the thing had been mysteriously misplaced. He already asked for it three times. He'd been dropped back in Norfolk by air transport, and after a short debrief with a national security team, he would hopefully be allowed to be on his way.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw. This way."

He was led into a medical facility first where his bruises and strained neck were examined and the findings were documented. When he realized he got caught up in a dog fighting scenario with the other aviators, he had been more angry than anything else. Didn't these people know he had a perfect girlfriend to get back home to? Did they even care? He made it out mostly unscathed and back to the carrier deck safely, if not a little sore. The one thing that made him almost laugh was the fact that Cyclone would undoubtedly see his medical report, and there was a good chance Admiral Walker would hear from him again.

After the medical consultation, he was led into a debriefing room where he really didn't have much to say about the mission. It had been successful, sure, but he wasn't going to be allowed to discuss it with anyone after this, so he just stuck to answering the questions he was asked.

Then finally, he was given his phone and left on his own. Of course it was nearly dead when he turned it on, but it should be good enough to reach you. Talking to you would come as his top priority before figuring out how he was getting home, but that was a close second. His heart pounded in anticipation of hearing your voice after so many weeks.

It was barely six in the morning in San Diego. Maybe you were up and getting ready for work, but maybe you were still sleeping. It didn't matter. He needed you to know he was coming home. He tapped on your photo, pulling up your contact information as the warm sun and cold Virginia air hit his skin at the same time, and he shivered as soon as the phone stopped ringing. Your voice in his ear was his reward. 

"Bradley!"

"Gorgeous," he sighed, suddenly so exhausted, he could barely stand. One word from you, and all he wanted to do was curl up on his couch with his head on your lap and let you take care of everything.

"Bradley!" You shrieked this time, and he smiled.

"Baby, I'm coming home."

"For good?" you asked, voice soft with an edge of concern that he wanted nothing more than to ease away. "Or just long enough to pack some things and head back to Norfolk?"

He hoisted his duffle onto his shoulder and started walking. "I'm coming home for good. Coming home to you."

---------------------------------

He's safe and he's coming home! I'm working on mapping out the remaining chapters of this story, so if there's something you want to read about, hit me up. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 23

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[kookiecrumb]

Too Big.

cw: adult content (18+), smut

pairing: Jungkook x Y/N

wc: <1000

tags: light smacking, it hurts for like a second, graphic language, looooove (bf!jungkook), one shot, short fic, unbetaed, written in about an hour, bigdick!jungkook, idol au

summary: you fly out to meet your boyfriend after being long distance for a while and to do something special for the first time.

a/n: here!

~

You had to put it out of your mind that it was going to happen tonight.

After what felt like a lifetime of waiting, Jungkook was finally going to be right in front of you, completely naked, looking at you in a way that you’ve never experienced before.

Before all that, though, you needed to get picked up from the airport, arrive at his place, shower, and have something to eat.

The flight was excruciating to say the least. Your knees poked into your chest, practically, as you tried not to think too hard about how you were forced into invading your fellow passenger’s personal space by the stupid cabin engineer’s greedy design.

Whatever. It will be over soon and you’ll be up and out of this flying metal tube in the sky in a little over an hour.

You tried not to wince as you reached down for your bag to pluck a bag of seaweed snacks from one of the side pockets. They only charge so much for food at the airport because they know you don’t have any other option.

What are you gonna do? Pick up your car from the overnight parking garage two miles from the airport, drive all the way to the closest McDonald’s, repark your car, walk back to the airport and go through TSA again, all in time for your flight?

Ridiculous.

You’ve never been able to properly sleep on airplanes, so for the rest of the way to Incheon, you delicately balanced your tablet on the sad excuse of a cabin tray and watched your downloaded episodes on Netflix.

Sarah Jessica Parker was so hot back in the day. Retrospectively, though, Kristen Davis was criminally underrated in the earlier seasons. You crossed your arms and waited for the plane to hit the ground running.

—

You had this idea that you were hard to make cum. You weren’t able to do it when taking a dildo, so you figured it would be difficult for you to cum on Jungkook’s dick. No big deal. That wasn’t really the point, anyways.

Not only did you cum on Jungkook’s dick, you were able to several times while he was still inside you, pumping and smacking his hips against you in missionary position as your legs pinned his thighs, bucking upwards to take in as much of him as you physically could.

He’d hold you in his arms and look down at you with his long hair. He would look kind of cute at this angle if he didn’t have such a determined and almost fierce look on his face while he pushed on your thighs to get you to give a little bit.

He fucked you shallow. He methodically placed your hands beside your head to make sure they were out of the way of his arms, pressing into the mattress to offset his harder thrusts.

!!

That’s when you felt a sharp pain deep in your gut. “Ow!” You chirped.

“Ow?!” Jungkook echoed, alarmed. “What? Did I hurt you?!” He pulled away, breathing heavily. Jungkook was kneeling on the bed, a look of concern washing his face as he postured his cock with his right hand.

“I’m not sure…” you frowned. “What happened?”

“I was just getting all the way in. Was that not comfortable at all?”

You glanced down at Jungkook’s cock. Fully hard, he was almost 8 inches long. On top of that, he had exceptional girth. He was just a little bit bigger than the dildo you had at home.

In fact, it was that very dildo that he gifted you to practice with one day that felt so small compared to him in actuality.

After a while of no response, Jungkook added: “It felt really good. I couldn’t really get all the way in until just a second ago and that’s when you said ‘ow’.”

“I think you might be just a little bit… too big,” you hesitated, surprised at the reality of things.

“I’ve heard it before. I’m sorry for hurting you.” Jungkook said, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

“It’s okay. I still think you’re really hot. Do you think you could help me take your size?” You ask.

“Yeah. Of course. We can do it together. Here. Let me try from the side or back,” he prompts, shifting around so that he is almost spooning you.

He moves your leg over his side and uses his thumb and index to very lightly graze your labia to find your vagina.

He’s found it.

His fat tip splits you as he dives into your sweet and tight intimacy. He scoops your arms up so that your back lay flush against his chest and nips your ear between his teeth. “Is that better?” He puffs, an intoxicated smile spreading on his tender lips.

“Yeah~” you sigh, throwing away every unrelated thought out the window as you took in every drop of sweet fucking that he was giving you.

“Good~” he groans. His hands settle down on your hips as he bottoms out on you, tangibly snug against your cervix. He thrusts experimentally, rolling in.

Again, he rolls in and firmly pressed the tip of his cock against your cervix, his large hands cupping your hips.

“Fuck— Babe,” you whine. “More—“ was all you can manage.

“More?” He teases, pulling out just to smack back into you. His arms catch you in a close embrace as he screws your tight pussy. He fucks you with his leg over your thigh, curving his long, thick cock into you in a strict rhythm.

Not missing a beat, he spreads you on the bed and digs his knees into the mattress. He is now over you, his cock shifting inside of you. “That good?” He asks briefly.

“Mhm,” you insist, your head turned against a large and fluffy pillow.

Holy fuck was this an amazing view. Jungkook balanced on one hand to quickly jiggle your ass and smack it lightly, moaning at the sight. He wanted to bury his face in your cunt and suffocate in your thighs. The idea of being able to fuck you like this with his fat cock made him want to—

“Fuck! Y/N, you’re so hot,” he mumbled as he picked up the pace, his balls slapping against you.

Your mind was in a daze. There was nothing you could focus on expect the deep, pleasurable, satisfying sensation of your boyfriend filling you. His skin felt like soft warm sand on a beach, his languid thrusts milking every bit of delectation from your body.

You swell and contract around him, constricting his cock inside of you, which earns you a drawn out groan from Jungkook. He huffs.

Without much warning, your orgasm rolls over you. Jungkook staggers and rips out a soft, exhausted groan as he cums inside of you.

—

He kisses your cheeks and lips, turning you towards him. His forehead rests on yours. “I love you. I love you very much,” he says. “I will never ever hurt you. If it hurts again, you need to tell me.”

~

fic tag: @silversparkles11 , @lvoekook @sammy-steve-btsarmyakasammy, @kooliv @koobsessed @angelwonie , @hoseokgrecns , @bangsterz @swyseren, @sxtaep , @koostarcandy @hgema , @jjkeverlast, @nglmrk @devilsbooksworld @saweetspoiled , @exactlyfuriouscoffee and @unicornbabylover

[ceesimz]

Reverie - Part 1

Autistic Reader x Barça Femení - Part 2

Hey, I have some things to say before you start reading. ASD is a very vast spectrum, no two people with it experience the same stuff on a day-to-day basis. This story is written with my knowledge from people I know, and also from my own experiences living with autism too. So don't take this as 'the' perspective, this is a drop in the ocean and this most definitely isn't a handbook on autism. If anyone has any questions or thoughts about this, or ASD in general, you are more than welcome to message me or drop something in my inbox! This is just part one, if you like this first half of the story (because I have no idea how this will go down), let me know if you wanna see the second part, it's ready to go whenever.

Big big thanks to @copper-16 for editing it and leaving such lovely comments on it, I wouldn't have the confidence to post this if it wasn't for your words. Thank you for taking a chance on this story and opening yourself up to learn more, the world needs more people like you and we're all much better off that you're here🫶🏼🫶🏼

This is my favourite thing I've ever written, and I kinda feel like I'm giving away a piece of my heart by posting this (dramatic much), let me know what you think, hope you like it :)

“Are you ready to go in?”

Are you?

Are you ready to walk into a new setting, head held high, and show your teammates you are worth it? 

Or are you going to back out? Reverse right out the parking space, speed off to the airport, and catch a flight to god knows where?

That's simply not a possibility. Even if the thought of walking through those reception doors that stare tauntingly at you from across the car park perturbs you more than anything else, there's no backing out now.

Barcelona, the pride of Catalunya, the dominants of Europe, doesn't accept quitters. And that fact glares at you, along with all of its history and values held in the iconic badge that countless legends had adorned, and with it came a legacy you weren’t sure you had the strength to bare on your back. The new number nine, born and raised in Norway but made into the player you are now in Germany.

Here you were, after five years playing for Frankfurt, where you had grown accustomed to a comfortable routine with familiar faces and the same surroundings for so long, now in a new country that held so many unknowns. For someone with so many disadvantages ever present in their life, living in three different countries is a pretty impressive achievement.

Please, let it all be worth it.

After a few frustrating years in the Frauen-Bundesliga, you had signed for the best team in Europe and, arguably, the rest of the world too. Frankfurt had been a beautiful experience, one that had changed your life, but as a result of many, many long discussions with family and friends and psychologists, you had come to the terrifying realisation that it was time for a new challenge.

Why was that absolutely petrifying? Because you and life changes did not get along. Even after 26 years of living, it just wasn’t meant to be. But, such is life, and chances had to be taken.

You'd always be thankful for Frankfurt. Moving to play there was the first time you took such a huge leap of faith, and it had worked out well, eventually. In your eyes, the first season there was a disaster, but your mother would say it was the proudest year of her life. It had been difficult for her to see at times just how much you struggled at points, sure, but you made it to the light at the end of the tunnel and, by the end of it, you were a completely different person in the most incredible way possible. From then on, you continued to grow.

Yet, that was the thing with the German side. When you joined, they were a club with a legacy most teams would envy, but they never amounted to anything more during your time there. You fell in love with the staff, your teammates, and just about everything else during your time there. The only problem, which was pretty damn big in the grand scheme of things, was that you fell out of love with the football you were playing.

You were able to grow and survive at Frankfurt. You wanted to flourish and thrive at Barcelona.

Except, in comparison to the average human, there were a lot more obstacles ahead that could prevent you from accomplishing that aspiration. Over your life, you had overcome many bumps in the road, some leaving a harsh imprint on your self-worth and others hardly affecting you. For example, talking to the girl you were roomed with at 16 at the Norway Football Team camp had turned out to be one of the best things you could have done. Yet, in the same breath, playing for the national team had left you in a broken state, and as a result, you haven't played for them in a few years. 

The back and forth travel was too much, and opting out of playing for Norway, as much as it broke your heart that you weren’t strong enough to represent your country on the international stage, it allowed you to rest and recuperate so that you were at the top of your game for your club. Did you dream of wearing your country’s crest one day? Yes, all footballers did. But you weren’t in a place to do that, and you’re not sure you ever will be again.

Signing for Barcelona could be life-changing, but it could also be world-shattering in the worst way imaginable. This was a pretty sizable leap of faith, and the only way that faith could form into something incredible is if you made that happen. You, no one else. That thought filled you with both determination and crushing anxiety. This just could not be another failed attempt. There was no way you could come back.

Ultimately, it would have been downright psychopathic to turn down such an amazing offer from Barcelona. Two years playing for a club that's won three of the last four Champion's League finals? A team that had just completed the quadruple for the first time in their history? Yeah, nonsensical.

However, like always, there were a number of doubts that spiralled from those incredible stats. Did they need you? If they had a mostly flawless season, did they really need a 26 year old woman whose mind hardly functioned like every other person? Did they really need someone who couldn't even play for the national team anymore because they were too overwhelmed with their life? Did they need someone who needed their hand held through every life event, big or small? Did they-

“Hey, you ready?” 

That voice had some kind of magic to it. It was like clock-work, this always happened when she was around; that voice in your head consuming you with unwanted thoughts was erased as soon as you tore your eyes away from the doors and looked at the woman beside you. 

Ingrid. The one person that had single-handedly convinced you to come here. To Barcelona, playing in a hot country, with people you don’t know, speaking a language you can’t understand- oh my God, what have you done?!

“I… god, I don’t know.” You breathed out in a whisper, hardly intelligible. 

The world around you honed in on this one moment here, the peak of your career so far. Apart from Ingrid and the doors to the building and what was in store behind them, there was nothing else that could grasp your attention. There could be a blazing fire behind your car, a lion running full speed towards your car door, or a thief in the back seat for all you knew. Nothing else mattered. The two sides of your mind, the devil and angel on your shoulders were battling it out again, as they always were, whilst your hands fidgeted anxiously in your lap.

“You have to go in at some point, snuppa. You can’t stay in the car forever.” Ingrid softly reminded you, moving to take hold of your hand to comfort your stimming. “It will be a really good day, I promise. My years here so far have been the best of my life, everyone is so nice and welcoming. I never thought I could enjoy training as much as I do now. You will be fine, I have no doubts.”

“I’m not sure about that one.” You laughed nervously, eyes back on the building before you, now slightly glazed over and blurred. 

“I am certain about everything I just said.” Ingrid stated definitively, squeezing your hand. “Plus, not everyone in there are complete strangers. You have me, Mapi, you know Caro and you’ve met Jonatan and some other staff members. You know Loren, the team psychologist who you can go see any time you want. We’ll get you past this part of today, and then you have the whole afternoon to do whatever you’d like.”

You nodded at her words, desperately trying to remind yourself of them over and over so that they stick, and you can get through those damn doors. 

“You know how much easier my life would be if I knew how everything was going to play out?” You blurted out a moment later, Ingrid smiling in amusement. “It would be a breeze, Ingrid.”

“It would also make your life very boring, min skatt.”

“For you, it would be. For me, I'd live freely.”

Ingrid just laughed and shook her head, squeezing your hand once more before looking at the time on her watch.

“Come on. We have to do this one way or another, and I'm not letting you go in on your own. You want to make me late to training?” She teased, targeting your weak spot. Evil.

“That's cruel, Ingrid. So cruel.” You rolled your eyes but nevertheless stepped out of the car once you'd turned it off.

You didn't make it far though. Once you had gotten your kit bag from the boot of the car, you closed it and froze. Eyes unmoving from the daunting building in front of you.

“Would you like some company after training? We can stay at home, or go out for food, or do anything you'd like.” Ingrid offered, snapping you out of your anxious trance.

Even after… god, ten years now, you were still sometimes left dumb-founded by how well Ingrid knew you. A lot of the time, you yourself are in the dark about what you need, but your fellow Norwegian just gets it, even when you don't. It's pretty safe to say that your life, your whole career, would look a hell of a lot different if you had never met Ingrid.

If you put her characteristics into a different section when it comes to your favourite things about her, the thing you love most about the defender beside you is how she treats you. Sure, the majority of people treated you with respect and kindness, but the defender's love and care was on a whole other level. Like in this scenario now, when she knows you're too overwhelmed by the situation that confronts you to be able to think clearly. But here she is, giving you clear and thought-out options that off-kilt the tunnel vision you have on this one miniscule event, and now gives you something to look forward to. 

It reminds you that the world won't end if this training session doesn't go how you want it to, that life goes on afterwards. It makes the road clearer, the journey easier, and allows solace to be found in a down-right terrifying moment.

The funny thing is, however, is that your new home is actually Ingrid's home. No, you weren't living with her, but you were indeed staying in her apartment. She basically lived at Mapi's apartment anyway, so the second she caught wind of your transfer, she immediately offered her disregarded apartment up to you. It was a huge item checked off the ‘things that need doing after uprooting your entire settled, content, perfectly routine life’ to-do list, but you couldn't quite relish in the relief yet.

That's because, though it went unsaid, another factor of Ingrid's offer of letting you stay was so that, if all went wrong and you couldn't make a life for yourself in Barcelona, there was no tenancy to rip up and ultimately it would be a lot less hassle than if you had rented an entirely new place. Ingrid's excuse of not changing your name on the tenancy for now was so that you could settle in with as little stress as possible, but you knew the underlying meaning. Basically, it was a giant get out of jail free card.

“I think I would like that a lot, actually. Thanks.” You said to the taller girl next to you, whose arm had come to wrap around your shoulders.

“Perfect! María has some things to do but I'm free all afternoon, so we can figure something out. For now though, we have to train.” 

Taking in a deep breath, you nodded once more.

“That's all it is. Just training.” You told yourself, physically shaking the anxiety off of your chest and marching forwards. You got as far as those damn doors before you froze on the spot again. “Fuck, this is so scary.”

“I know it is.” Ingrid sympathised, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “We've got this though. It's just training, right?” 

“It's just training. And a few introductions. And about a million new people.” You sighed. “Will you stick with me the whole time?”

“Like glue, søster.” Ingrid said firmly, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Let's go.”

And just like that, you did walk into the building with your head held high, disregarding the burdening nerves and replacing them with a deep-rooted determination to prove you are worth it. Maybe your teammates would think otherwise if they knew the secret you were keeping from them, but for now, you would put up a front and act just like them. Your best bet at succeeding here is to fit in, and that's what you'll do. 

Ingrid wasn't impressed with this tactic of yours, not in the slightest. Jonatan and other senior staff members knew about you, Loren the psychologist knew about you, and Mapi knew. Besides that, everyone else was in the dark. There was only so long Ingrid could last before she had to tell someone at least, like Alexia or Irene or Marta, because she wanted the best for you and the best couldn't be given if your needs weren't catered for.

Like now, as she watched your whole face change in a split second as the mask came down so fast that, had she blinked a second later, she would have missed it entirely. The tension to the way you held your shoulders was all the evidence she needed that your whole nervous system was wracked with dread, and though she should expect it by now, it didn't stop the jab of sympathy she felt for you.

Of course she knew how difficult this would be for you, she just had really high hopes. Sometimes, even after all these years, it slipped her mind how much you still struggled with things. You'd gotten a lot better at dealing with various different circumstances and that mere fact could bring tears to her eyes if she thought about how far you had come, but moments like these were a snap back to the reality you still lived.

You lived so beautifully, you were so strong now, that your struggles were hardly visible anymore. Yet, when one knows a person for so long, they come to learn the signs. Ingrid knew you like the back of her hand. It still amazed her how quick you put the mask back up, normally being so care-free and light around her. But here, outside of the room everyone was due to meet in for the morning, a feigned smile on your face and a falsity to your posture signified all that Ingrid needed to know.

Even despite your dawdling in the car park, you and Ingrid were some of the first to arrive at the meeting, only a handful of unfamiliar faces scattered around the room. Jonatan looked up at the door upon your arrival and his face lit up, immediately dropping what he was doing to come and greet you with a beaming smile. He offers a gentle handshake, also being sure to speak in clear English so that your mind wasn’t overloaded more than it already was. All of it was reassuring, especially as he kept you off to the side as the room slowly began to fill up, before guiding you to the last chair on the front row beside Ingrid so that the meeting could start. Thankfully, to your relief, he gave you a short introduction to the rest of the squad, you only briefly turning and giving the room a general wave before allowing Jonatan to move onto more pressing matters.

From then on, you were rushed off your feet with introductions and training, all of which weren’t half as bad as you’d expected. During the short walk from the meeting to the changing room, a few others came along to properly greet you, all whilst Ingrid stayed close to your side. Mapi had also come bounding along after you the second you left the first room, Ingrid wincing at the excitement her girlfriend met you with but instantly that worry was erased as soon as you turned to Mapi with a matching overjoyed smile. 

By the time you actually got onto the pitch, you had spoken to almost all of the team already. And like Ingrid said, they were just as amazing as you had hoped they would be. Every single one, in their own ways, welcomed you to the team and made small talk with you for a few moments before letting whoever next came by to have their own chance at greeting you. But, it wasn’t until you were about to join in with the warm-up that the person you’d been most nervous about meeting came along.

Your new captain, Alexia. The powerhouse of the Barcelona team, the one you had to leave the best impression on.

A few days prior, amidst a conversation in the corner of Ingrid’s favourite cafe, you had sheepishly demanded that she give you a run-down of each and every single member of the team. There had been Ona, who Ingrid described as a lightning fast defender whose jestful clapbacks were even quicker than her sprint bursts on the pitch. Then Cata, the new number one goalkeeper whose cheek was sometimes too much for even the younger members of the team. Jana, a surefire future talent who was often found beside her quieter, more reserved but equally talented counterpart, Bruna. Patri and Pina were much the same, as were Vicky and Salma. Ingrid gave you a short but detailed profile of all of them, leaving the most important for last. Alexia, who initially came across as slightly cold due to the stoic, focused expression she usually wore. But, to her teammates and those closest to her, she was a world class leader, an even better player, and most importantly, a defiantly caring person with a personality that had more sides than a kaleidoscope. 

Upon hearing the exit door slamming shut, you turned your attention to the direction of the sound, only to be met with her. Casually strolling over, squinting in the face of the sun, she came over to you with a… a smile on her face?

“Hola! You must be the novota, nice to meet you.” She beamed, inviting you into a quick, polite hug before standing back. “Happy to be here?”

As always with new people, especially someone like the woman before you, you floundered internally for a moment, so many replies flitting around your mind with so little time to react.

“Y-yeah! Really happy to be here, thank you, Alexia.” You landed on, and judging by her reaction, it was the right thing to say. 

“Good, I am glad to hear that. Sorry I was not here for the meeting, you’ve met everybody already, sí?”

“Yes, Jonatan introduced me in the briefing.” 

“Good. Bueno, let’s get started. I am excited to be working with you.” The Spaniard smiled brightly once more, before gesturing loosely for the pair of you to join the rest of the group.

The rest of the day, as they say, is history.

It honestly went by in a blur, and if Ingrid was at all surprised by the way you literally fell into your bed when you arrived home, not surfacing from the newfound safe haven until about an hour later, she didn’t show it. This was Ingrid after all, and every quirk of yours, new or old, still brought a smile to her face. Ten years later and she couldn’t help but love you more each time she saw you.

—

The first week goes a lot smoother than you could have dreamed of to be honest - it’s only the start of preseason after all. But, there is still plenty of time for cracks to show. It only takes two days for all your progress to tear at the seams.

On the first day of your second week, you’re walking into training on your own for the first time since you joined. Shouldn’t be a big deal, right? Wrong! Big fucking deal actually, because now it’s like walking blind, heading straight for what feels like danger. Unguided, no one by your side, only joined by the weight of an elephant seated right on your heart.

With the help of Ingrid of course, who else, you had established somewhat of a routine that made the transition so much easier. But it wasn’t quite clear until now, just how much easier it had made showing up to training everyday. Because, without your Norwegian counterpart who would be absent from training, you were left to show up all alone, and suddenly everything became ten times harder. 

Ingrid was more than just your friend, she was the one constant in this new life you lived that was always present. Anything you needed, one glance from you in her direction and she’d be with you in an instant. She, as stupid as it may seem, was the foundation of your routine, and now that she wasn’t here, all the hard work you’d made to settle in seemed to crumble under your feet. 

Three weeks of living in Barcelona, one week of training successfully completed, just for you to end up back at square one. And that meant you were trapped in your own body, limbs acting entirely on autopilot as your legs carried you over to those stupid doors that once again stood intimidatingly in front of you. Just like last week, except this time there was no one to coax you out of your shell, no one to mindlessly guide you over to one of the tables in the canteen, no one to walk you out onto the training pitch. You were all alone.

An unfortunate tactic hadn’t left your habits after all these years: avoidance. What better way to deal with something, then to not deal with it all, right? Right? 

Obviously, you couldn’t miss the whole day, you still had commitments and expectations you needed to live up to. If there was one thing that you couldn’t handle (apart from almost everything in this neurotypical world) it was letting people down, disappointing them.

So, if you opted out of breakfast for the day and beelined straight for the changing rooms instead, what business was it to anyone else? You were here, that’s all they could ask for. The plan was to get dressed into your training kit as fast as physically possible, before heading out onto the pitch for some time alone before everyone else came along. 

…Except, just as you were lacing up your boots, hand trembling at an embarrassing intensity as you did so, the door opened prematurely. And, really, out of everyone, did it have to be her?

“Oh. I did not expect anyone to be in here. Bon dia.” Alexia smiled at you, heading to her cubby just a few seats away from yours.

“Bon dia.” You muttered sheepishly, keeping your head down and tying your laces at a wildly uncontrolled speed. If Alexia noticed, she didn’t mention it. Thank god.

“I was just going to get some extra practice in, if you wanted to join me.” She offered, swapping her trainers for her boots since she was already in her training gear.

Great minds think alike..?

“Yeah, I was going to do the same thing. Thanks.”

“Ay, it's nothing. It's great that you're so hard working, you’re already fitting right in.” Sorry, could you say that again, or write it down even? “Ready?”

“What? Oh- sorry, yes, I’m ready.” You gave her a tight-lipped smile before slipping past where she stood in the doorway and heading towards the pitch.

“How are you feeling about your time here so far?” The captain asked kindly, the beating sound of boots clicking against the floor echoing far too long in your ears.

“Um, good. It’s an honour playing for this team, so.” You shrugged, offering an almost robotic, rehearsed answer.

“And what about how you actually feel? Not what you’re supposed to feel?” Alexia inquired lightly, an earnest and sympathetic look across her face. Slightly suspicious.

“Well… still good. It’s just different, isn’t it. Yeah.” You mumbled, cheeks flushing bright red as you crossed your arms tightly over your chest.

“Of course it is different. You were in Germany for five years, right?” You nodded affirmatively. “So it is a big, big change. I haven’t been anywhere else but here for twelve years, I cannot imagine adjusting to anywhere else.”

Oh, Ingrid. Seriously?

“I’m here though, I have to leave Germany behind.” You stated in a flat voice, honestly quite done with this topic but it’d be rude to voice so.

“If that is how you want to think, then do it like that. You have transitioned very well, we are all impressed.” Alexia shrugged with a soft smile, punching in the code for the storage cupboard and opening it soon after. “Grab the footballs, I will get some tiny goals. The others can get the rest when they’re done filling their faces.”

Thank god for that.

Alexia ended that conversation there, directing her focus on training from that moment on, much to your relief. All that you learnt from this day was that you needed to have a conversation with Ingrid. Your sixth sense was strong, even if to others it seemed like Alexia was just being an averagely kind person, you just knew. 

The good thing was, you couldn’t quite call that day a disaster. In the end, you got through it, even squeezing in a few jokes and laughs here and there throughout the day.

It’s the next day that the first incident occurred. It happened like this; Ingrid isn’t in again, you learn she’s got some kind of stomach virus, so you turn up once more on your own. This time, it wasn’t quite so scary, but like yesterday you skipped breakfast again. And just like yesterday, Alexia met you in the changing rooms to do some early practice again. Except, there was one fatal flaw to your routine this day. It came back and bit you in the ass pretty harshly.

“Ale, what are you doing after this?” Mapi wondered from your right as she stood up after Jona had ended training for the day.

“Eh, nothing.” She shrugged, going to ask you the same thing as she reached her hands out to help you up.

For all you knew, the Spanish pair you were sandwiched between could be speaking absolute gibberish, nothing was registering. As soon as you stood up, everything went hazy. And then… your vision had gone, your body felt unbelievably heavy, and had it not been for Alexia’s tight grip, you’d have fallen back there and then.

“Hey!” Alexia called out in concern, feeling you go limp in her hold. “Mapi, she’s fainting!”

“What!?” Mapi cried, immediately falling to her knees as Alexia safely guided you to the floor.

“I don’t know, she just collapsed!” 

Her voice dripped with worry as Mapi frantically looked around, only to find most people had headed inside already. Meanwhile, you were still awake, not totally out cold, but your eyes ached unbearably and you’d lost all control of your movements. Alexia’s hands flitted over your body, looking for any obvious problems but she couldn’t find any. She repeated your name over and over, only receiving somewhat of a whimper in reply.

“Mapi, go find someone, now!” Alexia demanded, the defender instantly rising to her feet and heading for the door. The captain turned back to you, her hands gently coming up to cradle your face where you lay on your side. “Hey, I need you to listen! Can you hear me?”

“Mhm.” You whined, providing the woman before you with an ounce of relief.

“What’s wrong? You need to tell me so we can help you, cariño, you just fainted on us.” She said frantically, her wide eyes boring into yours when you opened them.

Identifying the problem, even in your state, was quite simple. It was a common problem, something you were well versed with, though you rarely ever let it get this bad.

“Forgot to eat.” You mustered up your remaining strength, which really was very little, to answer her and quell her worries.

Thinking back to this moment in probably an hour’s time, you’d laugh at Alexia’s face when you said those three words, because she looked utterly perplexed.

“You forgot to eat?” Alexia repeated with a frown, but she couldn’t dwell on it much longer because Mapi came running over with the medical team hot on her tails.

“Is she awake?” The brunette woman asked desperately, opting out of kneeling back beside you so as to not overcrowd you.

“Yes, and she said she forgot to eat today?” Alexia looked up at her friend, refusing to shift out of the way and instead choosing to stick by your side. 

“Oh, that would explain it.” Mapi sighed in relief, only puzzling Alexia more. Was this… normal for you?

The medics fussed over you, asking you questions and ultimately overwhelming you way too much, something Mapi notices quickly.

“Oye, basta, slow down. Her blood sugar is low, she needs something quickly. Get her an energy gel.” Mapi commanded them, now joining you by your head and smiling her bright smile down at you, combing back some of your hair. “Hola preciosa, we'll get you back feeling better soon.” Just as she said that, a member of the medical staff pulled out one of the energy gels the team used for games. “Can you have this for me? It will make you feel better, I promise.”

With a nod, the people around you helped you to sit up as Mapi tore  open the gel packet, with Alexia still almost frozen in confusion. The defender noticed, grinning in amusement and quickly flicking her ear to bring her back down to earth.

“Ah! What's that for?” Alexia winced, watching on as Mapi shook her head and handed you the gel pack.

Your hand trembled as you raised it to your mouth, hardly possessing the strength to squeeze it enough to get anything out of it, but just as Mapi went to help you, Alexia got there first.

“It’s okay, here.” She does it for you, one hand on the packet and the other on your elbow that shakes under her hold. She seemed to be grounded now, knowing that it isn't the right moment to be wrapped up in her own thoughts when you're here in front of her, needing security and comfort whilst it takes a couple minutes to come back to yourself. “Easy with it. You'll feel better soon.”

And you did, literally no less than two minutes after having the energy gel, your nausea and dizziness and whatnot near enough disappeared. Though, your physical symptoms gave way for a barrage of anxiety, because this situation would consequently lead to an unwanted and challenging (but most likely necessary) conversation with Jonatan and the rest of the staff. They had also seen you, on the floor, near enough passed out, as a result of your own actions. You could only imagine the things they were thinking right now, and that unknown was scarier than the actual situation that had occurred beforehand.

“Feeling good now. Thanks everyone.” You said shyly, rising to your feet and avoiding everyone's gaze.

“You sure?” Alexia checked, giving you a look that tells you that you shouldn't even try to bullshit her.

“Well, a little bit… woozy, I guess. But much better than before, I swear.” You nodded, hating the feeling of everyone’s eyes on you. 

“Let’s go inside, I’ll ask the catering staff to make up some food for you, if you want?” Mapi offered as her hand hovers against your back, not touching but guiding you back inside the main building.

“Okay.” You shrugged.

Meanwhile Alexia trailed behind, trying to figure out how, as captain, she could help this situation. It’s in her best interest to care for her team, and given what she had learnt, it was now clear that there was a lot more she could do than sit back and watch. She didn’t want to come across as overbearing, something Ingrid had warned her about, but she realised it was time to step in.

“Why don’t we go to one of the office rooms rather than the canteen?” She suggested just as Mapi went to open the door heading into said room. The defender should have thought of that sooner, but she’s glad her friend mentioned it, realising it’s most definitely the better option right now for you. 

You were taken to an empty office, followed into the room by Alexia and Mapi and some of the physios, and if they weren’t overcrowding you outside, they definitely were now. In all honesty, as much as you were grateful for their care, you wanted to burrow under your duvet in bed at home and not surface for probably about a week. You wanted to grab a tray of cookies, eat them whilst seated on the edge of your bed so you didn’t get crumbs everywhere, and crawl under the sheets safe in the darkness of the four walls you had struggled to leave the past two days.

But no, you were here, stuck in a reality that in no way felt real at all. What were you doing here? Sat at a round table, surrounded by medical staff chatting between themselves, not really bothered about your blip anymore, whilst two of Spain’s greatest players stand off to the side, both pairs of eyes trained solely on you.

You, a no-name off the back of an unsuccessful run in Germany that had just collapsed after training. Them, Champion’s League winners and well-established in the sport for years already, and decades to come.

“Preciosa?” Mapi appeared beside you suddenly, speaking softly as her hand fell on your shoulder. “Is it okay if I leave now? Ingrid is still sick at home, I promised I would get back to her as fast as I could. If you need me to stay, I can. They won’t keep you here for much longer, they’re just making sure you eat before you get back home.”

She should be with Ingrid, her girlfriend who is much worse off at home. Not with you, who simply made a foolish mistake and was now wasting everyone’s time.

“Go home.” You told her as your own hands squeezed anxiously at your upper arms where they sat crossed on the table.

“Okay.” Mapi smiled pitifully down at you, giving you a light forehead kiss before backing off. She pulled Alexia to the side, giving her a warning glare. “Look after her, for me and for Ingrid. Protect her, too. Don’t let them overwhelm her, she just wants to get home.”

“Sí. Of course.” Alexia replied firmly, a solid look in her eyes that Mapi knew to trust immediately. 

The defender slipped out of the room with no further fuss, leaving you alone with Alexia and the medical staff. Not for long, though.

“Guys, could you give us a moment? And can someone go collect her food from the canteen, please.” 

They nodded and stepped out of the room, Alexia closing the door softly behind them. She turned back to you, watching as you kept your head down and focused on the shapes you traced on the wood of the table. Your shoulders were visibly tense, so uptight they’re basically touching your ears, and she noticed just how intensely your leg was bouncing up and down.

“Do you need anyth-”

“Did Ingrid tell you?” You asked bluntly, gulping back the lump in your throat that really had no place making itself known at this moment - now was not the time for a meltdown. Save it for later, in the safety of your flat.

Alexia blew out a breath, coming over to perch on the edge of the desk a few seats away from you.

“If you’re talking about what I think you are, then… yes. She did tell me.” She answered cautiously, trying to gauge your reaction but you didn’t give her much, just a single nod. “She did it with the best intentions though. It wasn’t to… purposely go behind your back. She just wants the best for you, and the more people that know, the more support you can have here.”

“I guess.” You murmured under your breath, clearing your throat after and moving to rest your chin atop your arms.

“Why… why didn’t you want anybody to know?” The midfielder wondered in a soft tone, trying hard not to scare you off or go over the top. If she wants to help you and understand you, which she desperately does, this is the pathway she has to, albeit reluctantly, go down.

“Wanted people to get to know me, not a label.” You frowned, hastily wiping the tear that slips out with the frustration slowly bubbling inside of you. “Didn’t want to be a problem for anyone. Wanted to fit in.”

Just like that, it all clicked for Alexia.

The feigned smiles, sometimes forced laughter, the troubled look on your face whenever you thought you were alone, all of it adds up. You had repressed parts of you so that things went as smooth sailing as possible, so that people didn’t think any differently of you or immediately feel drawn away like they often did. The biggest part of you, what makes you you, is the one thing you didn’t want people to see, out of nothing but complete and all-consuming fear. And Alexia would be damned if she let you go on like this.

“Can I take a seat next to you?” She said quietly, a hint of a smile on her face when you nodded again. She did exactly that; without making too much noise in the still room, she pulled up the chair next to you and sat down, her eyes raking up and down your face.

“If I told you that I don’t think any differently of you at all, would you believe me?” She began with. 

You just shrugged dismissively, not having moved a single muscle in the past few minutes apart from breathing and blinking. If you don’t move, if you don’t draw attention to yourself, perhaps this whole thing will disappear. A girl can dream.

“Because I don’t, cariño. I really don’t. You are not a problem for any of us at all. You face different struggles than us, but nobody thinks of you as anything less than a great player and an even better person. We are all glad you are here. I and others on the team will face different struggles than you, and I can bet you would never think any differently of us. Am I right?” 

Her words break through the defensive wall you’d put up to protect yourself from anything else around you. A common feature of the start of your meltdowns, except it’s quite possible that your captain had just stopped it from going any further.

Hesitantly, you sat up from your slouched position and wiped tiredly at your face.

“No, I would never.” You told her, slumping back against your chair and fiddling with the drawstring on your shorts.

“Exactly. You don’t need to worry about any of that at all, I promise. You are one of us now. A culer. We will take care of you.” She smiled brightly, you can hear it in her voice. So for the first time since you’d entered the room, you turned to look at her, only to find her eyes were filled with earnesty and kindness. And… perhaps for the first time since you’d arrived in Barcelona, you truly did feel like you belong here. Like you could make a life for yourself here, against all odds.

“Thanks.” You sniffled, feeling the remnants of your outburst fade away, only to leave overwhelming exhaustion in its wake.

“It’s okay. You can come to me anytime for anything. There will always be someone here for you to talk to, and I’ll be the first to fight for you if that’s ever necessary.” Now, you were actually smiling. A genuine one, too.

“I think Ingrid might beat you to it, actually.” You teased her, watching as she grins.

“You’re probably right.” She chuckled, before pausing. You already knew what she was about to say before she opened her mouth. Neurotypicals are just way too predictable. “How did you know Ingrid told me?”

“You can just tell when someone knows. They treat you differently.” Alexia frowned anxiously at that.

“I didn’t… did I treat you differently?” She questioned, along with a poor attempt at disguising the undertones of fear in her voice.

“You haven’t, not really, but… I don’t know, I can just tell instantly. It’s hard to explain. You haven’t treated me differently, but I could tell you knew compared to when you didn’t know. The look on your face too. But thank you for… just everything so far. You have helped a lot, so.” You shrugged. She smiled, a little in relief, but nodded nevertheless.

“You don’t need to thank me. Now, can I ask some more about what happened today? You said you forgot to eat?” 

“Yeah. It’s just because my routine was messed up, that’s all. Yesterday morning I ate before training because Ingrid had baked me some pastries, but today I had none left and then genuinely forgot. It happens sometimes, it’s just part of it.”

“Part of what?”

“Autism.” Duh.

“Oh. I did not know that.” Alexia stated simply. 

“Yeah, well, most people don’t.” You told her. Alexia nodded understandingly, a plan of action already formed in her mind.

“I’m sure you already know this, as an athlete, but it’s important for your safety that this doesn’t happen again. So I have a solution in mind that could help.” You hummed to tell her to continue. “I can ask either the catering staff here, or find a private chef, to start meal prepping for you. We can organise it on the club’s behalf so that you don’t have to pay anything. I will go with you, or for you if you’d like, to Jonatan and help sort it out for you. You can meet with a nutritionist to figure out what food you need and tell them what you do and don’t like, we can sort it all out for you. It wouldn’t be a problem.” 

Oh. You’d never thought about that before. 

“I guess that could work.” You decided after a few moments of consideration. 

That would actually be a really helpful solution. Certainly one less thing to worry about, and it could add a secure layer to your routine. An important one too.

“Would you be okay with that?” Alexia wondered, smiling when you nodded. “Good. Leave it to me, I will get it sorted for you.” 

She paused again, clearly hesitant about something. You raised an eyebrow at her, trying to coax it out of her with a look, but you couldn’t help the amused smile on your face at the sudden, faint blush that landed on her cheeks.

“What is it?” 

“Uh… there is no way to ask this without coming across as… very forward, to say the least.” She started, shaking her head at her own ridiculousness. “May I get your number? For captain’s reasons, of course.”

“Right.” You smirked, watching as she shakes her head, this time at your teasing, and grabs a pen from the stationary pot in the centre of the table. “And what shall I write it on?”

“Well… just use my hand, I guess.” She suggested, offering the back of her hand out for you. You grinned and gently took hold of it, jotting down your number for her. 

“There you go, Capi.” You smiled, clicking the pen and putting it back.

Not long after that, one of the staff members came in with the food Alexia and Mapi had organised for you. So, leaving your captain with a promise that you'll eat it the second you walked through your apartment door, you went home. It was a great meal, and if it'd be the catering staff at Barcelona that would do your meal prep, well, it'd be a great deal.

That night went just like the others; you relaxed for some time to decompress after training, until you eventually started feeling somewhat human again, and arose from bed to do one of any of your hobbies that you felt like doing that night. Reading, watching movies, drawing and painting, listening to music, or any others that pique your interest that night. 

On some occasions, you'll be so mentally exhausted from your day that none of them seem at all appealing, and it takes a lengthy period of time to feel yourself again. An hour, the rest of the evening, or sometimes even the whole week. After especially hard times, it could take weeks. Fortunately you hadn't been through such events in years, but the fear of falling into that hole ever again was always present in the back of your mind.

The thing about having this disorder is that some things never change. Most things never change. You learn to cope, you can heal from past experiences, but in the grand scheme of it all, things never change. Certain events, people, even words can still be triggers. No amount of therapy or coping mechanisms or whatever, can help. You were born this way, and you would die this way. 

You would live a life and still struggle with even the most mundane things. Washing dishes was a no-go, the sensory issues were way too intense for that one. A day without showering first thing in the morning was automatically a write off. Bad performances in matches could still lead to a meltdown on certain days. One wrong look from someone can send you spiralling.

Autism was a blessing and a curse. It made you who you are; you have no idea who you would be without it. Yet, at the same time, it could debilitate you to such extreme degrees that… at night, when you were alone under the disguise of darkness,  you can't help but wonder what you could have done with your life had you not been born with this burden.

And with the day you'd had already, well, the only way you'd learnt to get over these things were to move on from them. That's what you had to do. If you become too concentrated on them, analysed every detail that went wrong, thought about every opinion those who witnessed it could hold, you'd suffer for it more than you needed to.

You couldn't move on if others couldn't move on though.

Unknown: Did you get home safe?

There was most likely only one person it could be, but where's the fun in that?

You: Depends who I'm talking to…

Alexia: It's Alexia??

Too easy.

You: I knew it was you, dumbass. Yes I got home safe, thank you. Food was great too :)

Although, when a few minutes went by after that last text, the doubts came flooding in. Did you take it too far with her? It was a bit ballsy to say that, she's just checking in on you. Captain duties.

Then again, who was it calling you?

“Hello?” You frowned, and this was another instance where you're cursing yourself, because why was your heart racing and cheeks burning at one random phone call?

“Dumbass, huh?” Came a smug voice, and then your heart was racing for another, more light-hearted reason.

“Yeah, sorry about that… apparently I'm a bit of a keyboard warrior.” You blushed sheepishly, relieved beyond belief when the woman down the line laughed.

“Don't worry about it. You're feeling okay now, sí?” 

“Yes, fine. You know, I didn't plan for today to happen. It just did.” You mumbled, still embarrassed by it all.

“I know, no one blames you for it. I just wanted to check in with you.” 

“I'm good, thanks. I've only ever had that happen like once before, I guess training on an empty stomach isn't the greatest idea in the world.” You joked lightly, Alexia humming in agreement.

“How does it happen? You said your routine was messed up, how did that lead to you forgetting?”

“It's a long story.” You sighed, but Alexia doesn't care.

“I have a free evening.” She said simply. This woman.

“Well… every training session so far, Ingrid has met me in the morning at my apartment beforehand so we can travel in together. She normally checks in with me, asks how I'm feeling and if I've eaten and whatnot. But she was ill, which I obviously don't blame her for, by the way. So not having her with me these past two days has terrified me quite a bit. She's basically the thing that holds my whole morning routine together. I guess, because she wasn't there, everything just flew out the window.” You explained, but things still weren't quite adding up in Alexia’s mind.

“So how does that relate to you forgetting to eat? Do you not get hungry?”

“Not like normal people do. One of the things with autism is that… we're not really in tune with our bodies? Like, I don't often get hungry or thirsty, I have to force myself to remember to eat and drink. And when I don't, I only realise I haven't done either of the two when I start feeling ill, like today. But food and drink feel like a chore, which is another reason I forget too. It's different when it comes to football though, being an athlete has taught me to be in tune with my body in terms of injuries, but not for anything else. It's weird.” 

“Wow, I never knew that before. That's interesting.” She commented. She's got a lot to learn.

“I prefer… inconvenient.” You said with a shy smile, glad to hear Alexia chuckle at that.

Unexpectedly, for quite some time after that, the pair of you just… talked. A lot. Like, for an hour. About everything - from what pastries Ingrid baked you, to a few more facts about yourself and your ASD, and everything in between. 

It's unnervingly natural. Fun too, but also a little odd. Is she doing it out of pity, or..?

“I almost forgot the other reason I called you.” She said out of nowhere, the smile on her face audible once again. “We have our pre-season dinner this Friday, the whole team is going. You should come.”

A dinner? At a restaurant? Oh god.

“Oh, I… it sounds good, but I don’t know, I-”

“Hey, why not?” She questioned gently.

“Just, they’re not really my scene.”

In a split second, Alexia attempted to think back on all she knew about anxiety to combine it with the very little information she knew about autism, hoping the two overlapped somewhat. Luckily for her, they do.

“The club rents out the restaurant so it’ll just be the team and a few senior staff members. It shouldn’t be too loud. It’s more like a celebratory dinner before the season starts, so there's no partying or anything like that at all. I really hope you come, but I understand if not. There’s no pressure.”

Damn you, Alexia.

“Okay. Okay, I'll go.”

—

Normal order resumed for the rest of the week; Ingrid recovered from her short 48-hour bug and returned to training like she hadn't even had a day off. Her being back also meant your mind was a hell of a lot more at ease, even if Alexia had offered to see you every morning. 

There was one other thing you were blessed with: obliviousness. Because, during the car ride to training the day after your phone call with the captain, the smirk that Mapi greeted you with in the rearview mirror after you tell her what happened once she headed home, is definitely not confusing at all. Definitely not.

That smirk made a comeback far sooner than you'd like. 

“Say that again?” Mapi asked with a squint to her eyes, forcing down the laughter she so desperately wants to let out.

“Alexia is driving me to the team dinner.” You repeated the sentence you'd just said for her, looking to Ingrid for help. “Ingrid, tell her to behave please.”

“María, come on. Alexia is just doing her a favour, you know she's not a fan of driving.” Ingrid said whilst nudging her girlfriend, though secretly she's hiding some intense excitement levels under her very good poker-face.

“Exactly! Screw you, Mapi.” You sighed dramatically, turning back to the mirror as you put your earrings in.

“So you're sure you don't need us to drive you there?” Mapi asked suspiciously, and there was that stupid smirk again. 

“Ugh, yes! I am making friends, you should be happy!” You groaned, fixing the shorter defender with a dagger-like glare in the reflection.

“More than fr-”

“Okay! Are you ready, snuppa? When is Alexia coming?” Ingrid interjected, discreetly stomping on her girlfriend's foot.

“She's on her way, she'll be here any minute now.” You answered after checking your phone. “You know, I can't rely on you guys forever like you're my parents or something. I love you, but I don't love you that much. And I'm sure you feel the same.”

“No!” Ingrid cried out in a way that's entirely too theatrical. She came over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I do love you that much, it's María you need to worry about.”

“I do worry about her sometimes. You should too, Ingrid.” You murmured, Ingrid humming in agreement as you watched her Spanish counterpart… busy herself in your fridge?

“María, out of there! We are literally going for dinner right now!”

“Ingrid, princesa, you need to work on your English- we're not at dinner ‘right now’, that is why I am in the fridge.” 

“Guys! Alexia is here, let's go. I'll see you at the restaurant.” You kissed Ingrid’s cheek and flicked Mapi’s forehead as you ushered them out the door, locking it behind you and making your way down to the ground floor.

Alexia was there, waiting for you whilst leaning against her car, and a smile tugged at her lips the second she saw you. You heard some commotion behind you, most likely Mapi being scolded by Ingrid, but you shut it out as you headed over to the midfielder, fighting back a ridiculously cheesy grin.

She greeted you the same way she did on the first day she met you - enveloping you in a warm hug that really shouldn’t be as comforting as it was. Not a big deal. Regardless, you both clambered into the car and made your way to the restaurant.

Thankfully, the evening went surprisingly well. It was a very low-key evening, just like Alexia said. In fact, you might even go as far as to say you enjoyed it, that’s a welcome revelation. And it seems you weren’t the only one that had discovered something new.

“Can I ask you something?” Alexia said on the drive back to your apartment.

“Sounds like there’s no stopping you.” You replied, smiling when she teasingly rolled her eyes.

“At dinner, when Patri asked why you don’t drink, you said ‘long story short, I don’t like it’ so I was just wondering what you meant by that?” Alexia asked, before almost immediately regretting it. “I mean, you don’t have to answer, it’s your business, but… if there’s anything we should be mindful about, then let me know.”

Who needed alcohol when you had a tendency to lose your inhibitions whenever you got too exhausted?

“No, not really any problems. I don’t have any issues with people drinking around me, I just have a bit of a history with it but it’s nothing big. It’s fine.” You shrugged, trying to keep your eyes open as the streets of Barcelona passed by your window. 

“What… what happened?” Alexia pressed gently.

“Well, when I was about seventeen, I started going through a really hard time. I had just dropped out of school, I’d had some trouble with friends, I was basically struggling quite badly. I started partying and drinking a lot, way more than I should have. Then I began to rely on it too much, just to get me through really basic stuff. It made me feel normal, it got rid of the voice in my head and it made me feel like a functioning person of society because it was what everybody else did. One day I decided it was best that I don’t drink at all, and it’s easier to tell people I don’t like it but actually I’m just scared of drinking because of all it reminds me of. So, I avoid it.” You explained, rather nonchalantly. 

The mental exhaustion was hitting hard that night, it was evident in the way you spoke. There was one explanation; dissociation. Dinners were not your favourite things in the world, they were a challenge to get through even when you were in the best company. Small talk, food, the sound of people eating, the scrapes of cutlery against ceramic, and the attention on some occasions being entirely on you? Yeah, a big no go. Which is why you were so tired, so distant, because your mind was in protection mode to keep you running until you got home.

Talking about your past was difficult, you’d come a long way and it felt counter-intuitive to talk about the bad times when you’d worked so hard to come to a good place. Yet, here you were, baring your soul about a topic you normally kept to yourself. You don’t even feel at least a little bit anxious at the fact you’d just spilled that secret. Alexia takes all the concern you normally feel and keeps it for herself.

“I’m sorry you went through that, cariño. Thank you for telling me.” She smiled sadly over at you, an ache growing in her heart at your defeated demeanour where you sit in her passenger seat. “Are you feeling okay? You don’t seem like yourself.”

“Tired. So tired.” You sighed. Even just talking felt like a chore in that moment. “Wanna get home, s’all.”

“Okay, we’re almost there now.” She said, “I’m proud of you for coming today. I know you weren’t a fan of the idea initially but you came, and everybody was so glad that you did. I am really proud of you, and so are Ingrid and Mapi too.”

The woman to your left surprised you everyday with each act of kindness she was showing. She hardly knew you, she hardly knew of your struggles, but she was adamant to learn and show just how deeply she cared. You were beyond grateful for her and all she’d said and done, even if you couldn’t verbalise that just yet.

All you could do was offer a simple nod, almost entirely mute as a result of how utterly overstimulating the day had been. You had loved it, sure, but sometimes when days like today left you in such a dejected state that you could hardly talk, there were still times if you wondered if fighting for a somewhat normal life was worth it. 

From then on, the rest of the drive home was silent. Alexia dropped you off, made sure you knew to contact her or Ingrid or whoever you felt comfortable speaking to should you need them, and that was that. You got inside, were barely able to get yourself changed, before passing out as soon as you got into bed.

—

A few weeks went by and it was more of the same. After that dinner, the team really clamped down and focused on getting everybody ready for the start of the new season. Training at Barcelona was different to anything you’d ever experienced before; it was intense, but light-hearted. There was competition, but it was healthy, everybody egged each other on even if they wanted to win. Ingrid was right, you had never found training this enjoyable before. You had to put that down to the people though, if it wasn’t for them then you’d never feel as comfortable as you do now. 

There were blips, there were still obstacles, but apart from that time you fell ill after training , there hadn’t really been any meltdown-inducing moments. Just a lot of burn-out and exhaustion, but you were near enough a pro at dealing with that now. 

The environment was… perfect for you. And one factor of that outcome is definitely down to the help of the famous three you had near enough attached yourself to since your arrival.

But the main factor to how well you had settled in was down to you. At some point along the way, not that the exact date mattered or anything (at exactly 12:02 on Monday the 26th of August), you hit a milestone that you had never managed to reach before. 

It was unplanned, but once the initial shock had worn off and the anxiety left, you teared up in the arms of Ingrid at the pride you felt towards yourself. Then Mapi joined in with the hug, and so did Alexia, then… so did the whole team too. 

For the first time, you were honest with your team. For the first time, you told them that you had autism. And for the first time, you weren’t suffocated by that prospect. When they all came together to hug you, it wasn’t just a physical embrace, it was them fully accepting you even with this burden you held and championed every day of your life. Though, with the support of others, it was hard to think of it as a burden. The gravity of a secret this big had weighed you down for years, but… now, your chest had never felt so light.

They supported you when you arrived, but the extremes this Spanish team took didn’t quite register until the week before the first game of the Liga F season. Fortunately for you, the first game of the season was at your new home of football, the Estadi Johan Cruyff. So, to help settle the rising nerves you were feeling as game day got closer, the club had organised a training session for you at the stadium a few days before. The more familiar you were with your surroundings, the less you had to worry about on the day. And, as everybody knew, the only thing you needed to worry about for your debut would be how well you did on the pitch.

What you didn’t know though, was that every member of your team was waiting in the stands for you to walk out. And the second the sound of boots hitting the floor echoed from the tunnel through the empty stadium, Mapi was up on her feet to cheer and encouraged her teammates to do the same. The only person that hesitated was Ingrid, but when she saw the look on your face as your te- your friends outwardly rallied behind you so openly and so freely, she became the loudest one of them all. That was the perfect way to prepare for game day, you really couldn’t have asked for a better group of people to work with everyday.

Were you jittery and wracked with nerves as you waited on the sidelines to be substituted in at the 70 minute mark? Yes, but the second you took your first step on the grass with the crowd’s applause as your welcome, you fixated on the game and everything else was just background noise. 

From a young age, before you had even heard of the word autism, football had very obviously been your special interest, otherwise known as the one random topic out of everything in the world to take over your life. 

You would spend hours in your backyard, kicking a ball against the side of your house, driving your family crazy. The walls of your bedroom were covered, corner to corner, in posters ranging from your favourite players, to clubs from all over the world. Christmases and birthdays as a kid were, to you, all about what from your presents you could add to your collection. Kits, boots, scarves, match-day programmes, magazines, even trading cards. Back at your childhood home in Norway, all these things were stored away in the attic, still items you cherished. 

As you got older and life got a bit more difficult, football became your escape. School was exhausting, people were exhausting, but football was something you could do on your own. No one bothering you, no one expecting anything from you, it was a time you could forget the world and all its misdemeanours, and just relax. And honestly, that’s all you planned for it to be. It was hard to imagine it being anything else than just a hobby.

All it took was one game to change the whole trajectory of your life. A game of girls against boys at your school at the age of only eleven, and the next day your sports teacher had gotten you a trial at the local academy. You passed it with flying colours, and flourished in the sport from there.

…Until one random day when you were fourteen, your mother sat you down for a conversation you never could have expected. But once you'd had time to dwell on her words, everything made sense. 

You had autism spectrum disorder. 

It wasn’t made official until the assessment process was over and you received your diagnosis, but that was the day it felt like your life had been irreversibly changed. Your view of the world changed with one conversation, and it was as if everything you thought you knew was wiped completely. Like you had been thrown into the ocean with no one and nothing around to help. 

All the tantrums, the bad behaviour at home compared to being a model student at school, the fussy eating habits, and the endless list of out-of-the-norm habits you had - it added up to this one, new label. The tantrums became meltdowns, the reasoning behind your behavioural differences were from spending the whole day surrounded by people and masking to fit in which led to you being so overwhelmed and overstimulated, your mind went into overdrive and didn’t know what to do. The fussy eating turned out to be sensory issues, with the textures and tastes of certain foods making you physically ill.

There was so much to learn that some days it felt like too big a challenge to tackle. Then there would be the days where you were up all night, the light of your family laptop kept hidden under the blanket you draped over yourself, as you researched this life-changing disorder until the sun rose.

It’s funny, really, how quickly your life can change with just three words.

For years, you had been defeated by it, succumbing to the assumptions that you could never amount to anything more than the label forced upon you, but look at you now. Providing a world class through ball to the most recent Ballon D’Or recipient to tie off a 3-0 win in the first game of the season.

You had learnt at some point in the last twelve years that the only choice you had was to live with it. Make the most of it. This was your one life, you had to make it work. You were adamant to thrive for the others that couldn’t, for the 1 in 13 women that didn’t believe they were strong enough to fight back, and to prove to the world that this disorder didn't hold you back.

They wouldn’t know that your mind could be your own worst enemy, or the self-deprecating thoughts you could have whilst your face gave away no hints, or that sometimes you didn’t believe in yourself and the anxiety was so intense that you could be stuck in bed for days, even weeks, at a time. All they saw right now was your team, FC Barcelona, rushing over to celebrate you rather than the goal scorer because they knew what it meant to you. The world would only ever see your victories, because they had no business to strike you when you were already down. You were strong, you were worth it, and most importantly, you had done it. You’d made it to the exact point you dreamed of. That’s all that mattered.

Unfortunately, it only takes one bad thing to set you down an unwanted path.

Part 2

[sorrysomethingwentwrong]

 Matthew Mazzotta Art,

Known for stalking front lawns in plastic form as much as they wade through the shallows of Everglades National Park, Biscayne Bay, or the Keys, pink flamingos are practically synonymous with Florida. Around the turn of the 20th century, however, native populations were decimated due to overhunting. Although residents later began to foster captive colonies, of the estimated 260,000 to 330,000 mature birds worldwide, Florida is thought to accommodate only about one percent of them.

For the artist, the iconic avian and the importance of sharing space with wildlife inspired a monumental, immersive installation at Tampa International Airport.

[luxurychristmaspudding]

listen. you know what's about to happen here. i'm thinking about giving joel road head. broad day light.

you've been away on a trip, tided over by calling him every night, shooting him a text when you have a moment to spare. sending him pictures of you knelt in front of the hotel mirror in your nicest lingerie; a shot of the straps slipping down your shoulders, panties pushed to the side. pretty glisten, dark fade of your fingers as you work yourself through an orgasm. mouth dropped in a silent cry, one word frozen on your lips. joel.

and he's so sweet, so kind. talking you through it, filming himself coming. warm drip of his spend over his knuckles, flooding through the dark plaid of his pyjama bottoms. which is why it takes you by surprise how quiet he is when he picks you up at the airport.

sure, he kisses you. sweeps his tongue through your wanton mouth, hands gripping you through your clothes. holds your hand on the walk to the truck, carries your bag. opens the door for you, swings a palm onto the back of your headrest as he reverses out the parking space.

but you know well enough by now what has him so stiff. you can tell by the feather of a muscle in his jaw, the way his hands tighten on the wheel when you stretch and take off your jumper. can tell by the bob of his adam's apple when he swallows roughly at your cooing, the way you lean in closer, the way you trail a hand up his thigh.

your cowboy is a man on a fucking mission. no matter how much you palm him, how much you squirm, running your fingers between your own thighs and his, he will not pull over. hell bent on getting you home so he can fuck you into the mattress, the highway blurring before him as he pictures your ass rippling against his thighs as he takes you from behind. he's barely conscious of your fingers working at his buckle, slowly drawing his belt from its front loops. pop of the button, draw of the zipper. but he's pretty fuckin aware of the wet warmth of your mouth as it closes around the tip of his cock, sinking down, down, as he groans from between his teeth.

this is different to what you've done before. before, you'd be gagging and stroking, on your own mission to make him come as quickly and as loudly as possible. now, you spread your hand across his thigh, grounding. you move your head gently, up and down, eyelashes fanned across your cheeks as you suck and moan and whimper quietly. slowly.

feeling him, tasting him. how thick and heavy he is. velvet and steel, firm and all man. nose pressed against the curls at his base as you inhale deeply, eyes rolling back in your skull at the smell of his musk, the watery salt covering your tongue. he groans louder above you, panting, shifting his hips slightly so the tip of his cock knocks against the back of your throat. you whine, more saliva dripping past your lips, down your chin, pooling on his thighs.

he begs you to move a little, that gravelly twang, a most delicious please, baby, please. you oblige, taking him deep, just a little faster. tongue swirling at the tip, strong flicks against the slit and sensitive skin, before dragging your mouth back down him, throat tight, mind fuzzy.

and oh, he fucking loves it. twitching as he gathers your hair with one hand, twisting it into something of a ponytail. moving your head at the pace he desires as he hisses through his teeth, wanting people to see the strands curled around his fist through the glass, the glossy movement of your mouth, how blissed out, cock drunk you look when you swallow his cum.

when you're satisfied, finished with your suckling and your kisses, still tasting him on your tongue, you back yourself up against the passenger door and spread your legs for him. so obscene, the sight of his softening cock barely tucked into his jeans, his lascivious grin as he catches glimpses of your hand disappearing behind your thighs. the pictures you sent him playing out in real time, you're fucking soaked. glistening - shining in the sunlight. puffy, swollen, you look at him through hooded eyes, pleading for help. he glides a finger through your folds as you circle your clit, clenching already, painting patterns with your wetness, fucking you slowly, not nearly full enough.

your head tipped back against the glass, breath shuddering as you teeter on the edge, grabbing at his strong, tanned forearm. begging him to let you come, begging him to wait until he can fuck you full.

the way he twists that hand in his grip as he kisses your knuckles, chuckling. he doesn't mind making you wait, after all. even when you've been such a good girl.

anyway. i was just thinkin about it.

[fioredeciliego]

Mommy Issues - Karina x Fem!Reader

11.2k words

Moving to another country wasn’t supposed to be easy. That was the mantra Y/N repeated to herself as she dragged her luggage through the crowded halls of Schiphol Airport. The Netherlands—a world away from the life she had known, filled with unfamiliar faces, a foreign language, and customs she barely understood. Yet, this was what she wanted. This was freedom.

It had taken months to plan, years to gather the courage. Back home, there was no peace. Privacy was a luxury she could never afford in a house that was always full: her mother, her three younger siblings, the constant noise. And then there was her mother herself—a complicated, volatile presence that dominated Y/N’s life. For years, Y/N had felt more like a caretaker than a daughter, shouldering responsibilities that weren’t hers to bear. It wasn’t all bad; she loved her siblings dearly and had moments with her mother that reminded her of the love buried under the chaos. But it was never enough to outweigh the suffocating sense of inadequacy and anxiety.

She rolled her suitcase to the curb and hailed a taxi, her heart hammering in her chest as she gave the driver her new address. The cityscape of Amsterdam blurred past the window as she tried to breathe deeply, grounding herself in the present. She’d rented a small studio apartment on the outskirts of the city—a modest space, but it was hers. No one would barge in uninvited. No one would demand things of her. No one would criticize her every move.

When the taxi stopped, she lugged her suitcase up the narrow staircase to her apartment. The first thing she noticed was how quiet it was. The silence felt foreign, almost eerie, after years of constant noise. She stood in the center of the room, taking in the plain white walls, the tiny kitchenette, the single window overlooking the street below. It wasn’t much, but it was hers.

As she unpacked, her phone buzzed on the counter. Her stomach twisted when she saw the caller ID: Mom.

She hesitated, staring at the screen until it went dark. The phone buzzed again, and this time, she answered.

“Hello?” Her voice was small, almost drowned out by the static of the poor connection.

“Y/N, where are you?” her mother’s voice demanded, sharp and accusatory. “Why didn’t you tell me you landed?”

“I just got in,” Y/N said, already bracing herself for the onslaught. “I was going to call you once I settled.”

“You should have called me right away. Do you know how worried I’ve been? You don’t think about anyone but yourself.”

Y/N closed her eyes, gripping the edge of the counter until her knuckles turned white. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, the words automatic, devoid of feeling.

Her mother launched into a familiar tirade about how selfish Y/N was, how ungrateful. She didn’t ask about the flight, the new apartment, or how Y/N was feeling. It was all about her mother’s own anxiety, her fears, her sacrifices. Y/N listened in silence, letting the words wash over her. She’d heard it all before.

When the call finally ended, Y/N sank onto the couch, tears prickling her eyes. She’d left the country to escape this, yet her mother’s voice still echoed in her head, a constant reminder of her failures. She wanted to scream, to cry, to do something, but instead, she sat there, staring at the bare walls of her new home.

--

The next few days passed in a blur of monotony. Wake up. Go to work. Eat alone. Come home. Watch TV. Sleep. Repeat. The job was unremarkable, a desk position at a small marketing firm. Her coworkers were polite but distant, their conversations flowing effortlessly in Dutch while Y/N fumbled with basic phrases. She spent her lunch breaks alone, scrolling through her phone and pretending not to notice the sidelong glances from her colleagues.

The weekends offered a slight reprieve. Y/N explored the city, wandering through parks, visiting museums, and losing herself in the maze of canals. She loved the quiet moments, the freedom to go wherever she wanted without answering to anyone. But even in the midst of Amsterdam’s beauty, she couldn’t shake the loneliness that clung to her like a shadow.

Her mother called almost every day, and every call left Y/N feeling more drained than the last. Her siblings would sometimes grab the phone, their voices bright and eager as they told her about school and their friends. Those moments were the only ones that brought a genuine smile to her face. She missed them terribly, but the thought of going back—of returning to that stifling environment—was unthinkable.

One evening, as she sat on the couch with a bowl of instant noodles, her phone buzzed again. She didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

“Hello?” she answered, her voice flat.

“Y/N, have you thought about what I said?” her mother’s voice was softer this time, almost pleading. “You don’t have to stay there. You can come home. We need you here.”

“I can’t,” Y/N said, her throat tightening. “I need to do this for myself.”

“Your siblings miss you. I miss you.”

Y/N’s grip on the phone tightened. “I miss you too. But I can’t come back. Not now.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Fine,” her mother said, her tone laced with disappointment. “Do what you want.”

The call ended, leaving Y/N feeling hollow. She set the phone down and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. She’d thought putting distance between them would help, but the weight of her mother’s expectations still bore down on her, even from thousands of miles away.

--

The following week, Y/N found herself walking aimlessly through Vondelpark, the crisp autumn air a welcome distraction from the thoughts swirling in her head. She’d taken to spending her lunch breaks there, finding solace in the rustling leaves and the laughter of children playing nearby.

She sat on a bench, pulling out a small notebook she’d started carrying with her. Writing had always been a form of escape for her, a way to process the chaos in her mind. She scribbled down a few lines, her thoughts tumbling onto the page:

I just want to feel loved. Truly loved. Not out of obligation or guilt. Loved for who I am, not for what I can do for others.

She stared at the words, her chest tightening. It felt selfish to admit, but it was the truth. For once in her life, she wanted someone to take care of her, to make her feel safe. She wanted what she’d never had—unconditional love.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The morning sunlight poured through the window of the cozy townhouse nestled in a quiet neighborhood of Amsterdam. Jimin stretched lazily, her fingers brushing against the edge of her soft duvet. The faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted up from the kitchen, signaling the start of another peaceful day.

Her family was always an anchor of stability in her life. Her mother, a warm and nurturing presence, was undoubtedly the heart of their home. She had a knack for making anyone feel welcome, whether it was through her perfectly brewed tea or her way of listening that made you feel truly heard. Jimin’s father balanced her mother’s kindness with his grounded practicality, always ready with a steady hand or a piece of advice. Her older sister, Hana, was her confidante and occasional partner-in-crime, always there to lend an ear or offer her unabashed honesty. Together, they formed a bubble of unconditional love that Jimin knew she was lucky to have.

Yet, even with this steadfast support system, a void lingered in her heart—an unspoken yearning for someone to share her life with.

Jimin rose from her bed, padding over to the window to look out at the serene street below. “Another day,” she murmured to herself. She glanced at her phone to see a string of messages from her best friends lighting up the screen.

Aeri: “Morning! Don’t forget, you’re walking Cooper today.”

Minjeong: “Bet she forgets and we have to chase the dog again.”

Yizhuo: “Minjeong’s just mad because Cooper likes Jimin better.”

Jimin chuckled, her heart lightening. Her friends were like family. They had been inseparable since childhood, navigating the ups and downs of life together. If her family provided her foundation, her friends were the walls and roof that sheltered her from life’s storms. But even with them, Jimin felt that persistent ache for something… or someone… she couldn’t quite name.

--

After a quick breakfast, Jimin arrived at Aeri’s house to pick up Cooper, Aeri’s spirited greyhound. Cooper bounded up to her as soon as she stepped through the door, his tail wagging furiously.

“Hey, buddy!” Jimin crouched down to ruffle his fur, earning a happy bark. “Ready for a walk?”

Aeri leaned against the doorway, smirking. “You’re spoiling him, you know. He’ll never want to come back to me at this rate.”

“Can you blame him? I’m way more fun,” Jimin teased, clipping on Cooper's leash.

“Just don’t lose him,” Aeri called as Jimin and Cooper headed out.

The park was a short walk from Aeri’s place, a lush expanse of greenery dotted with families, joggers, and couples enjoying the crisp morning air. Cooper tugged at the leash, eager to explore. Jimin let him lead the way, her thoughts drifting.

As much as she loved her life, it often felt… predictable. Her days were filled with love and laughter, but there was a part of her that craved something more. She wanted to be the kind of person who could offer someone the same sense of warmth and security her family had always given her. She wanted someone to come home to, someone to share her quiet moments with, someone who would trust her to take care of them.

“Maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic,” she mused aloud, earning a curious tilt of Cooper’s head.

--

Later that afternoon, Jimin met up with her friends at their favorite café. The cozy space buzzed with chatter, the scent of freshly baked pastries mingling with the rich aroma of coffee. Minjeong was already seated, scrolling through her phone, while Yizhuo animatedly recounted a story to Aeri.

“You’re late,” Minjeong said without looking up as Jimin slid into the booth.

“Cooper wanted to inspect every single tree in the park,” Jimin replied, grinning.

“Sure he did,” Minjeong said dryly, but the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement.

“Speaking of dogs,” Aeri began, “have you guys noticed how much Jimin’s been sighing lately? Like a lovesick puppy?”

Jimin’s cheeks flushed. “I have not!”

“Oh, come on,” Yizhuo said, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “You’ve got that faraway look in your eyes. Spill. Is there someone you’ve got your eye on?”

“No,” Jimin said firmly, but her friends weren’t convinced.

“You know,” Aeri said thoughtfully, “it’s okay to admit you’re looking for someone. We all know you’ve got that whole ‘caretaker’ thing going on. You’d be a great girlfriend.”

Jimin groaned. “Why do I even hang out with you guys?”

“Because you love us,” Yizhuo quipped.

Despite their teasing, Jimin knew they were right. She was looking for someone, even if she didn’t know who yet.

--

That night, Jimin sat on her bed, scrolling aimlessly through her phone. She paused on a photo from the park earlier that day—Cooper sniffing a patch of flowers, his grey fur glowing in the sunlight. It was such a simple moment, yet it had brought her so much joy.

“Maybe that’s all I’m missing,” she thought. “Someone to share the little moments with.”

She set her phone down and lay back, staring at the ceiling. Her life was full of love and laughter, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was someone out there who needed her just as much as she needed them.

And maybe, just maybe, she would find them.

With that thought, Jimin drifted off to sleep, her dreams filled with fleeting images of laughter, warmth, and a pair of eyes she hadn’t yet met but somehow already knew.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The morning air was crisp and fresh, carrying the faint scent of flowers blooming across the park. Jimin tugged at the leash in her hand, glancing down at the sleek Greyhound trotting alongside her. Cooper’s thin frame and long legs made him look almost regal, but his excitement for sniffing every patch of grass made Jimin chuckle.

"Cooper, can we stick to the path for once?" Jimin muttered, gently tugging the leash as the Greyhound veered toward another tree.

She’d agreed to take Aeri’s dog out for a walk, something she didn’t mind doing since it gave her an excuse to enjoy the peaceful weekend morning. The park was alive with activity—families on picnic blankets, joggers weaving through the paths, and couples strolling hand in hand.

Jimin barely noticed the lone figure sitting on the edge of the fountain, head bowed as if lost in thought. You had come to the park seeking a bit of calm amidst the chaos of adjusting to your new life. The sound of the fountain’s gentle splashes mixed with the distant chatter of park-goers, providing a soothing backdrop to your wandering thoughts.

Suddenly, a blur of movement snapped you out of your reverie. Before you could react, a Greyhound barreled toward you, its leash trailing behind it.

"Whoa!" you yelped as the dog jumped up, placing his paws on your lap and eagerly licking your face.

"Cooper!" a voice rang out, frantic and apologetic.

Despite the surprise, a laugh bubbled up from your chest. "Okay, okay! I get it, you’re excited!" you said, gently scratching the dog behind his ears.

Jimin sprinted toward you, her heart pounding from both exertion and embarrassment. She grabbed Cooper’s leash and tugged gently. "Cooper, af! Kom eraf!"

At her command, Cooper obediently stepped back, though his tail wagged with unbridled enthusiasm.

"I am so, so sorry!" Jimin blurted, her words spilling out in Dutch. "Hij doet dit normaal gesproken niet—uh, sorry! I mean... uh..."

She froze as soon as you looked up, her breath catching. Your laughter had already left her stunned, but now, meeting your gaze for the first time, Jimin felt her heart lurch. You were looking at her with a mix of amusement and curiosity, your eyes sparkling in a way that made her brain short-circuit.

Realizing she’d spoken Dutch, you blinked, scrambling to piece together the few words you recognized. "Sorry... I don’t speak Dutch," you said, your voice hesitant but kind.

Jimin’s face turned crimson. "Oh! Oh, right! English, sorry," she stammered, switching languages. "He doesn’t usually do this—I mean, he’s usually... better behaved?"

She winced at how clunky her words sounded, her usual confidence completely abandoning her under your gaze.

"It’s okay," you said, a smile tugging at your lips. You brushed some dog hair off your clothes. "He’s sweet. Maybe a little too enthusiastic, but sweet."

Jimin exhaled a laugh, relief washing over her. "Yeah, that’s Cooper for you. Always ready to make an impression."

You crouched slightly, giving the Greyhound one last pat. "Well, he succeeded. Is he yours?"

Jimin shook her head quickly, glad to have a straightforward question to answer. "No, he’s not mine. I’m just watching him for a friend. I’m Jimin, by the way."

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should introduce yourself. But there was something disarming about her—the way she seemed both nervous and sincere.

"Y/N," you said, standing and offering your hand.

Jimin hesitated before taking it, her touch warm and a little unsure. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. And I really am sorry about Cooper."

"Really, it’s fine," you replied, waving off her concern. "Honestly, I needed a distraction today. He’s adorable."

Jimin glanced at Cooper, who was now sitting obediently, his tail wagging lazily. "Adorable is one way to put it. He’s also a bit of a menace."

You laughed softly, and Jimin felt her chest tighten. The sound was so genuine, like a spark of light cutting through her nerves.

"So," Jimin began, shifting her weight awkwardly, "are you touring here?"

You tilted your head, the cliché making you grin. "Not really. I actually just moved a couple weeks ago, so I’m still figuring things out."

"Wow," Jimin said, genuinely impressed. "That’s a big change. How are you finding it so far?"

You shrugged, your gaze drifting toward the fountain. "It’s... an adjustment. Some days are harder than others."

Something in your tone made Jimin pause. She wanted to ask more, to know why your smile seemed tinged with something wistful. But instead, she nodded, her voice gentle. "I can imagine. If you ever need tips or recommendations, I’m kind of an expert. Born and raised here."

Your smile softened, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a little less like an outsider. "I might take you up on that."

“Well, I really feel like I owe you something for all this,” Jimin said, gesturing to Cooper, who wagged his tail innocently as if he weren’t the culprit of the chaos.

Y/N waved it off, awkwardly chuckling. “Really, it’s fine. No need to apologize.”

Jimin shook her head, determination shining in her eyes. “How about I buy you a coffee? My treat. I insist. That way we can start the tour”

Y/N hesitated, glancing down at her phone as if she could escape the situation. “You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to,” Jimin interrupted gently, “but I want to. Please?”

Faced with Jimin’s earnest smile, Y/N found herself nodding despite her reservations. “Okay, sure.”

--

They walked together to a small café nearby, Cooper trotting beside them, now behaving like a model citizen. The atmosphere was a little awkward at first; Y/N wasn’t used to spontaneous social interactions, especially with strangers.

Jimin, sensing the tension, started to ramble. “So, do you live around here? Or were you just visiting the park?”

“I live close by,” Y/N replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I like to come here on weekends to unwind.”

“That’s nice. I come here pretty often too. Well, not usually with Cooper—that’s Aeri’s dog. She’s one of my best friends. She couldn’t walk him today, so here I am.”

Y/N nodded, her lips twitching into a small smile. “He’s sweet. A little intense, but sweet.”

Jimin grinned. “That’s a perfect description of him.”

By the time they reached the café, Jimin had managed to pull a few more details out of Y/N: she’s taking intensive dutch classes, worked a remote job, and didn’t know many people yet.

Inside the cozy café, they sat by a window with steaming cups of coffee in front of them. Cooper lay sprawled under the table, finally tired out.

Jimin shared funny stories about Cooper and her friends, while Y/N talked about her favorite hobbies and places she’d discovered so far.

Jimin found herself captivated by Y/N’s laughter. It wasn’t loud or boisterous, but it was genuine, and Jimin decided she wanted to hear it as often as possible.

By the time their cups were empty, Jimin didn’t want the moment to end. As they stepped out of the café, she took a deep breath.

“Can I—uh—get your number?” Jimin asked, scratching the back of her neck nervously. “You know, so I can let you know when Cooper’s planning his next ambush.”

Y/N laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Sure.”

They exchanged numbers, and Jimin couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across her face.

As they parted ways, Jimin did a little jump of happiness. Hearing a giggle, she looked back to see that Y/N was still there, looking at her. Blushing, she clumsily waved goodbye and walked Cooper back to Aeri’s place, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

Y/N watched her retreating figure, a faint smile lingering on her lips. It had been a long time since she felt this kind of warmth.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The weekend had been unusually lively for you, though not in the traditional sense. Your apartment remained your sanctuary, the world outside still too daunting to face for long. Yet, your phone buzzed more frequently than it had in months, each notification bringing a smile to your face.

Jimin: "Do you think Cooper knows he’s a Greyhound, or does he just think he’s a really fast human?" You snorted at the absurdity of her question, shaking your head as you replied.

You: "Fast human, 100%. With questionable manners."

Jimin: "Hey, Cooper has AMAZING manners! He only licked your face because he sensed you’re nice." Jimin: "…Or maybe he just thought you smelled good. Either way, he’s the goodest boy!"

Her messages were a mix of humor and sweetness, each one pulling you further out of the fog that had settled over your mind since you’d arrived in this new country. It was strange how quickly Jimin had become a presence in your life. Her texts were the highlight of your days, her playful energy a stark contrast to the loneliness you often felt.

You spent most of Saturday exchanging messages with her, laughing at her jokes and learning more about her life. She told you about Cooper’s quirks, her friends’ antics, and her favorite spots in the city. It was easy, effortless even, and you found yourself wishing you could hold onto this feeling a little longer.

Sunday morning was no different. Jimin sent you a picture of Cooper lounging on her couch, his long legs sprawled awkwardly.

Jimin: "Look at this absolute model. He’s posing for Vogue, clearly." You: "GQ, maybe. He’s got the ‘brooding male lead’ look down."

Your laughter filled the quiet apartment, a sound that had been absent for far too long. But just as you were settling into the comfort of this new routine, your phone buzzed again, and your heart sank.

Mom.

The name on the screen felt heavier than it should have, and for a moment, you considered letting it go to voicemail. But the guilt crept in quickly, as it always did, and you sighed, swiping to answer.

“Hello?” you said, keeping your tone neutral.

“Y/N,” your mom’s voice came through, sharp and impatient. “Finally. Do you ever check your phone? I’ve been calling all weekend!”

You closed your eyes, already bracing yourself for the familiar cycle. “I’ve been busy, Mom,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just trying to get things done.”

“Busy?” she scoffed. “Too busy to call your own mother? You have time to move halfway across the world but not to pick up the phone?”

Her words stung, as they always did, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “I’m not ignoring you,” you said carefully. “I just needed some time for myself.”

“Time for yourself,” she repeated, her tone dripping with disdain. “And what about your family, Y/N? What about me? Do you ever think about how hard it is for me to keep everything together without you?”

Your chest tightened, the familiar guilt settling in like an old friend. “Mom, I didn’t leave to hurt you. I just needed space to figure things out.”

“Space,” she said bitterly. “From your own family? From the mother who’s done everything for you? Do you even care about us anymore?”

Her words felt like a punch to the gut, but you bit your tongue, refusing to let the frustration spill out. “I do care,” you said softly. “I just—”

“Forget it,” she snapped, cutting you off. “You clearly don’t have time for me. I’ll let you get back to your oh-so-busy life.”

The line went dead before you could respond. You stared at the phone in your hand, the silence in the room now deafening. You knew you hadn’t done anything wrong, but the weight of her words pressed down on you all the same.

You tried to shake off the heaviness, but it clung to you like a shadow. Desperate for a distraction, you opened your chat with Jimin, your fingers hovering over the keyboard.

You: "Are you free for a call?"

Her reply came almost instantly.

Jimin: "Always! Give me 5 mins to grab headphones."

You smiled faintly at her eagerness, even as your chest still felt tight. A few moments later, your phone buzzed with an incoming call. You hesitated for a second before answering.

“Hey,” Jimin’s voice was bright and cheerful, a stark contrast to your mood.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice quieter than usual.

There was a pause on the other end, and you could almost feel her concern. “Are you okay?” she asked gently.

You hesitated, not ready to unpack the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” you admitted.

Jimin didn’t press, her voice lightening instead. “That’s okay. Want me to tell you about how Cooper tried to steal my breakfast this morning?”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah. Tell me everything.”

And just like that, Jimin launched into a dramatic retelling of her morning, complete with exaggerated impressions of Cooper’s antics. Her voice was animated, full of warmth and humor, and it didn’t take long for her stories to pull you out of your head.

“I swear, if he had opposable thumbs, he’d be unstoppable,” Jimin said, finishing her tale of how Cooper managed to knock her cereal bowl off the counter.

You laughed, the sound feeling almost foreign after the weight of the day. “Maybe you should hire him as a food critic. He’s clearly got opinions.”

Jimin gasped theatrically. “Brilliant idea. I’ll start his blog tomorrow: Cooper’s Culinary Adventures.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics—your favorite foods, her favorite spots in the city, and a heated debate about whether pineapple belonged on pizza (Jimin was adamantly against it, to your amusement).

As the hours slipped by, you found yourself relaxing more and more, the tightness in your chest easing with each passing moment.

“Thanks for this,” you said quietly, interrupting her mid-sentence.

“For what?” Jimin asked, her voice genuinely puzzled.

“For... just being here,” you admitted. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

Her voice softened. “Hey, anytime. Really. I like talking to you.”

Your heart warmed at her sincerity, and for the first time that day, the weight of your mom’s words didn’t feel so crushing.

The call stretched late into the night, neither of you wanting to hang up. Jimin’s laughter filled the empty corners of your apartment, her warmth seeping through the phone and wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

By the time you finally said goodnight, the heaviness in your chest had lifted

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The scent of spices and sizzling food filled the air as you approached Jimin’s apartment. Your stomach churned—not from hunger, but from nerves. Meeting Jimin’s friends felt like stepping into uncharted territory. You weren’t sure if you were ready for this yet, but Jimin had insisted.

“They’re going to love you,” she’d said, her voice warm and confident over the phone.

You adjusted your grip on the small bouquet of flowers you’d brought—a gesture you hoped would make a good first impression. Maybe this would be okay.

When the door swung open, Jimin stood there, dressed in a simple yet effortlessly stylish sweater and jeans. Her warm smile eased some of your tension immediately. “Hey, you made it!” she said, stepping aside to let you in.

Her apartment was cozy, with string lights lining the walls and the faint hum of music playing in the background. The voices of her friends carried from the kitchen, punctuated by bursts of laughter.

“You didn’t have to bring flowers,” Jimin said, taking the bouquet from your hands. “But they’re so pretty. Thank you!”

“I just thought it’d be nice,” you replied, your voice quiet but steady.

Jimin placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Seriously, they’re going to love you. Promise.”

You nodded, though the knot of anxiety in your stomach remained as you followed her deeper into the apartment.

As you entered the kitchen, three people were clustered around a counter piled high with food. Their laughter faded as Jimin announced your arrival.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” she said, her tone bright and cheerful.

Three pairs of eyes turned toward you. For a split second, you wanted to retreat, but their faces broke into warm smiles that made you feel a little less out of place.

“Finally!” said a tall girl with sharp features and an easy grin. “Jimin’s been talking about you nonstop. I’m Aeri, by the way.”

“Minjeong,” another introduced herself, shorter with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Nice to meet the person who’s been monopolizing Jimin’s attention lately.”

“Don’t mind them,” the last one said, her tone playful. She was bubbly and energetic, her bright smile instantly infectious. “I’m Yizhuo. And I promise we’re not that scary. Just a little.”

You smiled shyly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “It’s nice to meet you all,” you said, clutching the strap of your bag tightly.

“Come on, sit down,” Aeri said, gesturing to the table. “Jimin’s been cooking all day. She refuses to let us help, so if it’s bad, we’re blaming her.”

“Excuse me!” Jimin interjected, hands on her hips. “You’re the one who burned the rice the last time we let you cook.”

The banter flew back and forth easily, the teasing and laughter filling the room with a warmth that started to chip away at your nerves.

The table was laden with dishes—steaming bowls of pasta, fresh salad, and crispy garlic bread. As you took a seat, you noticed the effort Jimin had put into making everything perfect.

“This looks amazing,” you said, glancing at her.

She grinned. “Thanks. Cooking is kind of my thing.”

As everyone dug in, the conversation flowed effortlessly. They teased Jimin mercilessly, recounting stories that had you laughing despite yourself.

“Did she tell you about the time she fell into the canal trying to impress someone?” Minjeong asked, her grin wicked.

“Hey!” Jimin protested, her cheeks flushing. “That was years ago!”

“And yet, here we are,” Aeri said, smirking.

“She never learns,” Yizhuo added. “The other day, she tripped over Cooper’s leash and spilled coffee all over herself.”

“That wasn’t my fault! Cooper’s deceptively strong!” Jimin defended, throwing a napkin at Yizhuo.

“So, Y/N,” Aeri said, leaning forward with a curious grin, “what’s your deal? How’d you end up stuck with Jimin?”

You hesitated, but their faces were open and inviting. “We met at the park,” you said, glancing at Jimin. “Your dog kind of ambushed me.”

Classic Cooper,” Minjeong said, shaking her head with mock exasperation.

“Sounds about right,” Yizhuo agreed. “But hey, at least something good came out of it.”

You smiled, feeling a little more comfortable as the conversation turned to lighter topics—favorite movies, travel destinations, and the best local restaurants.

At one point, Yizhuo turned to you with a mischievous grin. “So, Jimin’s been on her best behavior, right? No embarrassing serenades or awkward pickup lines?”

“Yizhuo!” Jimin groaned, burying her face in her hands.

You laughed softly. “She’s been great. No serenades yet.”

“Key word: yet,” Minjeong teased, earning another napkin thrown her way.

As the night went on, you felt the weight of your anxiety begin to lift. Jimin’s friends had a way of making you feel like you belonged, their easy camaraderie wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

By the time the plates were cleared and everyone settled into a more relaxed conversation, you found yourself leaning back in your chair, feeling a sense of comfort you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“So,” Aeri said, raising her glass with a teasing grin, “if Jimin ever messes this up, just know we’re all here to steal you for ourselves. No pressure, Jimin.”

Jimin groaned dramatically. “Can you guys not scare her away?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and genuine. “I think I’ll stick around for now,” you said, glancing at Jimin with a soft smile.

Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, the room seemed to fade away.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The evening sun cast a golden glow over the city as you and Jimin strolled through a quiet street, the rhythmic hum of bicycles filling the air. The two of you had spent the day wandering through local shops, sharing little anecdotes and indulging in pastries from a nearby bakery. With every moment, you felt a little lighter, your laughter coming more easily around her.

“You have powdered sugar on your face,” Jimin said, pointing at the corner of your mouth with a teasing smile.

“Where?” you asked, swiping at your cheek.

Jimin shook her head, chuckling. “No, not there. Here—” She reached out, her thumb brushing gently against your skin. The touch was brief but enough to make your cheeks warm.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, looking away to hide your flustered expression.

Jimin’s grin widened, but she didn’t tease you further. “I’m just saying, it’s a sign you enjoyed the pastry.”

“Maybe I did,” you replied, your voice softer now.

The two of you continued walking, the atmosphere comfortable and filled with the kind of quiet contentment that didn’t need words. But as you reached a small bench by the canal, your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you out of the moment.

You hesitated before pulling it out. The screen lit up with a name that made your heart sink: Mom. For a moment, you considered letting it go to voicemail. But the guilt that always lingered when you ignored her calls was too heavy to bear.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you said, stepping away from Jimin.

Her brow furrowed slightly, but she nodded. “Take your time.”

You walked a few paces away, answering the call with a tentative, “Hello?”

Your mom’s voice came through, sharp and insistent. “Y/N, finally. I’ve been calling all day. Why haven’t you answered?”

“I’ve been busy,” you said, keeping your tone as neutral as possible.

“Busy? What could you possibly be doing that’s more important than answering your mother?” she demanded, her voice rising slightly.

You sighed, already feeling the familiar weight settle over your chest. “I’m just out right now. I can’t talk long.”

“Out? With who? Are you making bad decisions again?” she asked, the accusation in her tone cutting deep.

“No, Mom,” you said firmly, trying to keep your composure. “I’m just with a friend.”

Your mom’s tone softened slightly, but the edge remained. “You’re always so distant these days. I don’t understand why you can’t make more time for your family. Do you even care about us anymore?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Of course I care,” you said, your voice quieter now. “But I’m trying to build my own life here. I need space.”

“Space?” she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. “You’ve had all the space in the world since you left. But do you even think about how hard this has been for us? For me?”

You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Mom, I—”

“No, Y/N. You don’t understand. You’ve abandoned us, and now you’re too busy to even talk? What kind of daughter does that?”

Her words, laced with guilt and frustration, made your grip on the phone tighten. “I’m trying my best,” you said, your voice breaking slightly.

“Clearly, your best isn’t enough,” she said sharply before the line went dead.

You stared at your phone, the screen dimming as the call ended. The knot in your stomach tightened, and the guilt clawed at you, even though you knew you hadn’t done anything wrong.

You turned back toward Jimin, who was watching you with concern. She stood as you approached, her expression soft.

“Everything okay?” she asked gently.

You tried to nod, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. Instead, you sat on the bench, staring at the ground.

Jimin hesitated for a moment before sitting beside you. She didn’t press you for details, but her presence was steady and comforting.

You forced a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Jimin studied you for a moment, her gaze searching. “You sure?”

You hesitated, then nodded quickly. “I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” she said softly, her tone understanding. She didn’t push, didn’t pry, and you were grateful for it.

imin didn’t look away, though, her presence steady and grounding.

After a while, she broke the quiet. “You know, if Cooper were here, he’d probably be trying to sit on your lap right now. All 30 kilograms of him.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “Yeah? Sounds like a handful.”

Jimin grinned, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “He is. But he’s also a giant baby. Last week, he tried to hide behind me because he saw a pigeon.”

“A pigeon?” you repeated, laughter bubbling up despite the heaviness in your chest.

Jimin’s smile faltered, her tone turning sheepish. “Okay, so... I might’ve been a little scared, too.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, are you telling me you’re afraid of pigeons?”

Jimin groaned, burying her face in her hands. “It’s not a fear! It’s just... they’re unpredictable, okay? They move too fast, and they’re always staring at you like they know your secrets.”

You burst out laughing, the sound startling even yourself. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, I’m glad my suffering amuses you,” Jimin said with a mock pout, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her teasing.

“Seriously, though,” you said, your laughter subsiding into a grin, “a Greyhound and a grown woman scared of a pigeon? That’s a story for the ages.”

“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve been on the receiving end of a pigeon’s wrath,” Jimin said, crossing her arms in mock indignation.

Her animated expressions and playful tone pulled you further away from the storm of emotions left by the call. The ache in your chest didn’t disappear, but it dulled under the warmth of Jimin’s company.

“Thank you,” you said suddenly, your voice quiet but sincere.

Jimin looked at you, her brows lifting in surprise. “For what?”

“For just... being here,” you said, meeting her gaze briefly before looking away.

A soft smile spread across her face. “Always.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of lighthearted conversation and quiet companionship. Jimin didn’t push you to share more, didn’t try to fix what she couldn’t understand. Instead, she simply stayed by your side, her presence a steady reassurance that you didn’t have to face everything alone.

And for now, that was enough.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The café was bustling with life, the hum of conversation mixing with the clatter of coffee cups and the hiss of the espresso machine. You and Jimin had claimed a small table by the window, the sunlight streaming in and casting a warm glow on her features.

As always, Jimin had a way of making you feel at ease, her laughter contagious and her stories brimming with energy. But today, your mind was elsewhere, pulled into a spiral you couldn’t seem to escape.

It started when a girl had walked up to your table—a tall, confident woman with a dazzling smile. She greeted Jimin with an ease that spoke of familiarity, her tone playful as they exchanged a few quick jokes. You tried to focus on your coffee, pretending the interaction didn’t bother you, but the way Jimin’s face lit up as they talked sent a pang of unease through your chest.

The woman left as quickly as she’d arrived, waving goodbye to Jimin with a wink. Jimin returned to your conversation seamlessly, completely unaware of the way your heart was now hammering in your chest.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. Jimin wasn’t yours; you weren’t dating. She was just being her naturally kind and warm self. But the thought didn’t stop the flood of doubts that followed.

Why would someone like Jimin ever want someone like you?

You stirred your coffee absentmindedly, your gaze fixed on the swirling liquid. Jimin’s voice cut through your thoughts.

“Y/N?”

You looked up, startled to find her watching you with concern.

“Everything okay? You’ve been quiet.”

You forced a smile, hoping it looked convincing. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

Jimin didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she launched into a story about her friend’s latest antics, her animated gestures drawing a small, genuine laugh from you.

But even as you smiled, the doubts lingered.

--

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as your thoughts raced. Images of Jimin laughing with that woman played on a loop in your mind, each one twisting the knife of insecurity a little deeper.

You reminded yourself again that Jimin wasn’t yours. She had every right to talk to whoever she wanted. But no matter how much you reasoned with yourself, the feelings wouldn’t go away.

It wasn’t just jealousy—it was something deeper, more insidious. A voice in your head whispered that you weren’t good enough for someone like Jimin. That she deserved someone brighter, someone more put together, someone who didn’t carry the baggage you did.

By the time morning came, the weight of those thoughts felt unbearable.

--

Jimin noticed immediately when you met up that afternoon. She always noticed.

“You’re quiet again,” she said, tilting her head as the two of you walked along the canal. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

You nodded quickly, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But Jimin stopped walking, her hand gently catching your arm to stop you too.

“Y/N,” she said softly, her eyes searching yours. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You hesitated, your first instinct to deflect. But the concern in her eyes made it impossible to lie.

“It’s nothing, really,” you said, your voice shaky. “I’m just... in my head, I guess.”

Jimin didn’t let go of your arm. “In your head about what?”

You looked away, your gaze fixed on the water. “I just... I feel like I don’t measure up sometimes. Like I’m not... enough.”

The words felt heavy as they left your mouth, and you braced yourself for her reaction.

But Jimin didn’t look at you with pity or disbelief. She looked at you with so much care it almost hurt.

“Why would you think that?” she asked gently.

You shrugged, still unable to meet her gaze. “Because it’s true. I mean, look at you—you’re amazing, Jimin. You’re kind and beautiful and confident. You could have anyone you wanted. Why would you ever...”

You trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Jimin stepped closer, her hand moving from your arm to your hand. Her touch was steady, grounding.

“Hey,” she said, her voice firm but kind. “Don’t do that. Don’t compare yourself to anyone else. You’re amazing too, Y/N.”

You shook your head, your throat tightening. “You don’t understand. I’m a mess, Jimin. I’ve got so much baggage, and I’m not... I’m not like you.”

Jimin squeezed your hand, her grip warm and reassuring. “You’re right—you’re not like me. And that’s a good thing. I don’t want you to be like me, Y/N. I want you to be you.”

Her words made your chest tighten, the sincerity in her voice breaking through the wall you’d built around yourself.

“But what if me isn’t enough?” you whispered, the question breaking your voice.

Jimin stepped closer, her other hand coming up to gently rest on your shoulder. “Y/N, you are more than enough. You’re kind, and funny, and smart. You make people feel seen and heard. You make me feel... happy. Really happy.”

You blinked, her words sinking in slowly. “I do?”

Jimin nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. “You do. Every time I see you, every time we talk, I feel like my day gets brighter. You don’t have to be anyone else or do anything special—you just have to be you. That’s enough for me.”

The lump in your throat grew, but this time it wasn’t from sadness. It was from the overwhelming warmth of Jimin’s words.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice trembling.

Jimin smiled, her hands giving yours a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to thank me. I just want you to see yourself the way I see you.”

For the first time in what felt like days, the weight on your chest began to lift. Jimin’s words didn’t erase your insecurities completely, but they made them feel smaller, more manageable.

“Can we... just keep walking for a bit?” you asked, needing a moment to process everything.

“Of course,” Jimin said, her smile gentle. She let go of your hand, but only to fall into step beside you, her presence steady and comforting.

As you walked together, the canal glinting in the afternoon sun, you realized something important: Jimin saw you—truly saw you—and she didn’t run away.

Maybe, just maybe, you could start seeing yourself the way she did.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Jimin had texted you the day after the call that had left you shaken. Her message was simple:

“I was thinking... maybe we could hang out this weekend? Just you and me? Nothing too fancy, just... a date?”

Your heart had skipped a beat at the word "date." It was the first time she’d said it outright, and though the thought filled you with nervous excitement, you agreed.

So now you stood in your apartment, nervously smoothing down your outfit, when a knock sounded at the door. You opened it to find Jimin standing there, a shy smile on her face—and a small bouquet of tulips in her hands.

“These are for you,” she said, her voice a little sheepish as she held them out.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “You brought me flowers?”

Jimin shrugged, her cheeks flushing. “I figured... I don’t know, I thought you might like them.”

A soft laugh escaped you as you took the bouquet, the vibrant petals a burst of color against the duller tones of your thoughts. “I do. Thank you, Jimin. They’re beautiful.”

Jimin’s smile grew, and she glanced down at her shoes. “I’m glad you like them.”

You invited her in, setting the flowers in a vase with water before grabbing your coat. “So, what’s the plan for this date?”

Jimin’s grin turned playful as she said, “You’ll see.”

The surprise didn’t last long, though. Instead of a bustling restaurant or a noisy café, Jimin led you to her apartment. The choice made your heart settle—it was thoughtful, quiet, and personal, exactly what you needed.

Her place was cozy and inviting, with soft lighting and a faint scent of vanilla. The living room was small but thoughtfully decorated, filled with plants and little knick-knacks that spoke to Jimin’s personality. A blanket was draped over the couch, and the coffee table was set with snacks, two glasses, and a bottle of wine.

“I figured we could keep it simple,” Jimin said as she slipped off her shoes. “Movies, snacks, maybe a little wine? No pressure, though—just whatever feels comfortable.”

“Perfect,” you said, meaning it. After the emotional turmoil of the past week, this kind of quiet, personal setting was exactly what you needed.

You settled on the couch, and Jimin joined you, a movie queued up but forgotten as the two of you started talking. Jimin had a way of making you feel at ease, her energy infectious and her laughter like a warm hug.

Hours passed without you even realizing it, the two of you sharing stories, teasing each other, and laughing until your sides hurt. But as the evening wore on, the warmth of the moment began to stir something deeper within you—a longing to share the parts of yourself you usually kept hidden.

Jimin must have sensed the shift because she turned to you, her smile softening. “You okay? You’ve gone quiet.”

You hesitated, your fingers picking at the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. “I’m okay... I think.”

Jimin didn’t push. She just waited, her presence steady and reassuring, giving you the space to find your words.

Taking a deep breath, you began. “I haven’t told you much about my past... about why I moved here.”

Jimin’s expression grew serious, her gaze never leaving yours. “You don’t have to if you’re not ready,” she said gently.

“I want to,” you said, surprising yourself with how certain you felt. “I think... I need to.”

Jimin nodded, her body angled toward you as if to shield you from the rest of the world.

“It’s my mom,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. “She’s... she’s always been hard on me. Critical, demanding, never satisfied. Nothing I ever did was enough for her. And when I told her I was leaving, that I needed space, she made me feel like I was the worst person in the world for even thinking about it.”

Your hands trembled as you spoke, and Jimin reached out, her hand warm and steady on yours.

“She’d call me selfish, ungrateful,” you continued, your voice breaking. ��She’d guilt me, make me feel like I owed her everything. And even now, when I’m here, she still calls and texts constantly, like she can’t let me go. And I...” You paused, swallowing hard. “I know I did the right thing by leaving, but I can’t stop feeling guilty. Like I failed her.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you blinked them away, but they fell anyway. “And it’s not just her. It’s... it’s everything. She’s in my head, telling me I’m not good enough, that I’ll never be good enough. And no matter how much I try to drown it out, it’s always there.”

Jimin’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, her touch grounding you. “Y/N,” she said softly, her voice filled with emotion. “I’m so sorry you’ve been carrying this. You didn’t deserve it—not then, not now.”

Her words broke something in you, and the tears came harder, spilling down your cheeks in a torrent of emotion you couldn’t hold back. Jimin didn’t say anything more; she just pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly as you cried into her shoulder.

For the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

When the tears subsided, you pulled back, your face warm with embarrassment. “Sorry,” you mumbled, wiping at your cheeks.

“Don’t be,” Jimin said, her voice firm. “Never apologize for feeling what you feel.”

You nodded, your throat tight. “I just... I want to feel loved, Jimin. Really loved. Not judged or criticized or made to feel small. I want to feel... safe. And cared for. Is that too much to ask?”

Jimin’s hands cupped your face, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Y/N, you deserve all of that and more. You deserve to be loved, to feel safe, to be cared for in every way. And I want to be the one to give that to you.”

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jimin...”

“I mean it,” she said, her voice trembling with sincerity. “I know it won’t be easy, and I know you’ve been hurt. But I promise you, I’ll be patient. I’ll prove to you every day that you’re worth loving, that you’re more than enough just as you are. You don’t have to do anything or be anything for me—you just have to be you. That’s all I need.”

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from pain. They were from the overwhelming warmth of her words, the kindness and love she poured into them.

“Why would you want to do that for me?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

Jimin smiled, her thumbs brushing away your tears. “Because you’re worth it. Because you’ve already made my world brighter just by being in it. And because... I think I’m falling for you.”

Her confession took your breath away, the weight of it settling in your chest like a warm glow.

Jimin took a deep breath, her hands still holding your face. “Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your heart swelled, a mix of fear and joy swirling inside you. But as you looked into her eyes, you saw nothing but sincerity and warmth.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Yes, I will.”

A radiant smile spread across Jimin’s face, and before you could process what was happening, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours.

The kiss was soft and gentle, a promise in itself. It felt like the walls you’d built around yourself were finally crumbling, replaced by the warmth and safety of Jimin’s embrace.

When she pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, her eyes closed as she whispered, “You’re safe with me, Y/N. Always.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believed it.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Life with Jimin was a series of small, joyful steps forward.

In the weeks following your first official date, the two of you settled into a rhythm. Weekends became sacred—a time for just the two of you. One weekend, you introduced Jimin to your favorite books, curling up on her couch as you read aloud together. Another, she taught you to make her grandmother’s favorite dumpling recipe, both of you laughing as you fumbled with the dough.

“You’re better at this than I thought,” Jimin teased, nudging you with her elbow as you successfully folded another dumpling.

“Natural talent,” you joked, feeling lighter than you had in years.

It wasn’t just weekends, though. Jimin had a way of weaving herself into your daily life in the most unexpected ways—sending you silly selfies in the middle of her workday, texting you goodnight every evening without fail, and making you laugh with her ridiculous dad jokes.

And you found yourself wanting to do the same for her. You started surprising her with little things—a playlist of songs you thought she’d like, a sketch of her dog that made her beam with delight, or simply a thoughtful text to brighten her day.

It was new, unfamiliar, but also wonderful. For the first time in a long time, you felt loved, cared for, and seen.

But as you were beginning to build something beautiful with Jimin, the shadows of your past refused to stay quiet.

It was a quiet Tuesday evening when your phone rang, the name on the screen freezing the smile on your face.

Mom.

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the screen. But the part of you that still craved her approval won out, and you answered.

“Hi, Mom,” you said softly, your voice tinged with trepidation.

Her tone was sharp from the start. “So, you’re too busy to call your mother these days?”

You closed your eyes, the weight of her words settling on your chest. “I’ve been busy with work and... things. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” she snapped. “Do you even care about how I feel? Or is this just about you, as always?”

The accusations came quickly, each one sharper than the last. No matter how much you tried to defend yourself, to explain, she wouldn’t hear it.

“I gave you everything,” she said, her voice breaking into a sob. “And this is how you repay me? By running away, by abandoning me? You’re worthless. Selfish and worthless.”

Her words sliced through you, reopening old wounds you thought were healing. You managed to stammer out a weak “I have to go,” before hanging up, your hands trembling as you dropped the phone onto the table.

You tried to breathe, but your chest felt tight, each inhale jagged and shallow. The room seemed to close in around you, the weight of her words pressing down until you couldn’t think, couldn’t move.

Your phone buzzed on the table, but you didn’t look at it. You couldn’t.

--

Jimin frowned as she stared at her phone, her latest message to you still unread. She’d been texting you for over an hour with no response, and something about it didn’t sit right.

Normally, you’d at least send a quick reply, even if you were busy. But tonight... nothing.

She grabbed her coat, worry gnawing at her as she headed to your apartment.

When she arrived, she knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Her worry deepened.

“Y/N? It’s me,” she called out, her voice gentle but firm. “I’m coming in, okay?”

Using the spare key you’d given her just last week, she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The sight that greeted her broke her heart.

You were sitting on the floor, your back against the couch, your knees drawn up to your chest. Your hands were clutching your head, and your breaths came in shallow, rapid gasps. Tears streaked your face, and your whole body trembled.

“Y/N,” Jimin said softly, dropping to her knees beside you.

Your eyes darted to her, wide and filled with panic, but you didn’t speak.

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice calm and soothing. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

She sat down beside you, close but not crowding, her presence steady and grounding. “Can you try to breathe with me?” she asked gently, demonstrating slow, deep breaths. “In for four, out for four. Just like that.”

You tried to match her breaths, but your chest felt too tight, the panic refusing to release its grip.

“It’s okay if it’s hard,” Jimin said, her voice unwavering. “Just keep trying. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her words were a lifeline, pulling you back, little by little, from the edge. After what felt like an eternity, your breaths began to slow, the tightness in your chest easing.

Jimin reached out, her hand hovering uncertainly before settling on your arm. “You’re doing so well,” she said softly.

The warmth of her touch grounded you further, and the tears started again, but this time they weren’t from panic. They were from exhaustion, from relief, from the overwhelming mix of emotions you couldn’t untangle.

Jimin didn’t speak; she just held you, her arms around you like a shield against the world.

When the tears subsided, you finally found your voice, though it was barely a whisper. “She called me worthless.”

Jimin stiffened slightly, but her embrace didn’t falter. “She’s wrong,” she said firmly, her voice filled with conviction. “You are not worthless, Y/N. Not even close.”

You shook your head, the weight of her words still pressing down on you. “It feels like I am. Like no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Jimin pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands cupping your face. “Listen to me,” she said, her tone steady and unyielding. “You are enough. More than enough. Your mom... she doesn’t see it, but that doesn’t mean it’s true. You are kind, thoughtful, strong, and resilient. And anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve to have a say in how you see yourself.”

Her words pierced through the fog of doubt and pain, reaching a part of you that still believed in the possibility of hope.

“I don’t know how to stop feeling like this,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

“You don’t have to figure it out alone,” Jimin said. “We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time, okay? You’re not alone in this, Y/N. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Her unwavering support, her presence, it was more than you’d ever dared to hope for.

For the first time that night, you allowed yourself to lean into her, to let her hold you, to let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as broken as you felt.

And as Jimin whispered words of comfort and love, you felt a glimmer of something you hadn’t felt in years.

Hope.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

For the first time in what felt like forever, you stood at the edge of your past, ready to confront it.

The past few weeks with Jimin had been a revelation. She had shown you love and care in ways you hadn’t thought possible. With her, you felt safe enough to begin unraveling the tangled mess of your emotions and experiences.

But there was one thing you hadn’t yet faced: your mother.

Every time she called, you felt the same pull—the ache of wanting her approval mixed with the dread of her inevitable criticism. But you couldn’t live like this anymore. You couldn’t move forward with the weight of her words dragging you down.

And so, on a crisp Saturday afternoon, you decided it was time.

Jimin was by your side as always, sitting with you on the couch. Her presence was steady and reassuring, her hand warm in yours.

“Are you ready?” she asked softly, her dark eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

“No,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I need to do this.”

Jimin squeezed your hand. “You’re stronger than you think, Y/N. I’m right here, okay?”

You nodded, drawing strength from her unwavering support. With a deep breath, you picked up your phone and dialed.

It didn’t take long for your mom to answer. “Finally,” she said, her tone sharp. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten you had a mother.”

You closed your eyes, steadying yourself. “Hi, Mom. I wanted to talk.”

The words came out calmer than you expected, but your heart was racing.

“Oh? You have time for me now?” she said, her voice dripping with bitterness. “How kind of you.”

You fought the urge to apologize, knowing it would only validate her behavior. “I need to say some things,” you said instead, your voice firmer now.

“Say what?” she demanded. “How ungrateful you’ve been? How you’ve abandoned me?”

Jimin’s hand tightened around yours, grounding you as you pressed on. “No, Mom. I want to talk about how I feel. About how your words have affected me.”

Your mom scoffed. “Oh, here we go. Playing the victim now, are we?”

You clenched your free hand into a fist, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I’m not trying to play the victim. I just need you to understand that the way you’ve treated me—calling me worthless, criticizing everything I do—it’s hurt me. It’s made me feel like I’ll never be good enough.”

There was a beat of silence, and for a moment, you thought she might actually listen. But then she spoke, her voice trembling with indignation. “After everything I’ve done for you? I sacrificed so much, and this is the thanks I get? You’re so ungrateful.”

The guilt hit you like a wave, but Jimin’s gentle touch on your hand kept you steady. She leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, her silent reminder that you weren’t alone.

“I’m not ungrateful,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “I know you’ve done a lot for me. And I love you, Mom. I always will. But I don’t like the way you treat me. I don’t like how I feel when we talk.”

“How you feel?” she snapped. “What about how I feel? Do you even care?”

Tears pricked your eyes, but you refused to back down. “I do care, Mom. That’s why I’m saying this. But I can’t keep sacrificing my happiness just to make you feel better. I need space. I need time to heal.”

“Space?” she repeated, her voice rising. “You’re abandoning me again. Just like you always do.”

“I’m not abandoning you,” you said firmly, though your hands trembled. “I’m asking for space. I’m asking you to respect my boundaries. I can’t keep living like this. It’s not fair to me.”

Her voice cracked. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’ll regret this.”

Maybe you would, but you also knew you couldn’t go back to how things were. “I’m sorry if this hurts you, Mom. But I have to put myself first for once.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally, she spoke, her tone cold and distant. “Fine. Do whatever you want. Just don’t come crying to me when it all falls apart.”

The call ended abruptly, and for a moment, you stared at the phone in your hand, the silence ringing louder than her words.

Tears blurred your vision, but Jimin’s arms were around you before you could fall apart completely.

“You did it,” she murmured, her voice soft and full of pride.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” you said, your voice trembling. “It feels like I’ve just lost everything.”

“You haven’t lost everything,” she said gently, pulling back to look at you. “You’ve just taken the first step toward finding yourself again. And I’m so proud of you.”

Her words broke the dam inside you, and you leaned into her, crying into her shoulder as she held you. She didn’t try to fix it, didn’t tell you to stop crying. She just held you, letting you feel everything you needed to feel.

When the tears finally subsided, you sat together in silence, Jimin’s fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back.

“I feel so... empty,” you admitted.

“That’s okay,” she said. “Sometimes you have to let go of what’s hurting you to make room for something better. And I promise, Y/N, there’s so much better waiting for you.”

Her words stayed with you as the days passed. Slowly but surely, you began to feel lighter. The guilt and pain didn’t disappear overnight, but they began to fade, replaced by something new.

Hope.

--

One sunny afternoon, you and Jimin took Cooper for a walk in the park. The greyhound trotted happily ahead, his tail wagging as he sniffed every blade of grass.

The park was alive with the sounds of laughter and birdsong, the crisp autumn air filled with the scent of fallen leaves.

Jimin reached for your hand, lacing her fingers with yours as you walked. Her touch was warm, grounding, and you felt a quiet sense of peace settle over you.

As you rounded a bend in the path, you spotted three familiar faces waiting by a bench.

Minjeong waved excitedly, her grin as bright as the sun. Aeri and Yizhuo were beside her, both of them holding drinks from the nearby café.

“About time you showed up!” Yizhuo called out, her voice teasing.

“Cooper needed to inspect every tree,” Jimin said with a laugh, giving the leash a gentle tug.

You couldn’t help but smile as you approached them, the warmth of their welcome washing over you.

As you sat down with them, Cooper flopped onto the grass, content and happy. Jimin’s hand never left yours, her thumb brushing softly against your knuckles.

For the first time in years, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Loved. Supported. Happy.

And as you laughed with your friends, Jimin’s hand in yours, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful. a/n: this one was easier to write, probably because it hits a bit to close to home lol

[lostintransist]

Secrets Are For Grown Ups | Part 2

Shout out to the fabulous @xbirdiex for letting me hit them up in their DM's to beta for this. 😘

CW: Limb Loss, suicide mentioned in passing, thoughts of murder, Emotions™

What does one do when confronted with their unknown sins?

Follow them home of course.

Johnny had lost his left leg at knee due to a bomb going off at a job and Simon had been discharged after repeatedly failing mental health evals. They were both given pensions and discharged with honors. Roach and Gaz had been kept together when moved to a new team and Price had been ‘gifted’ a higher position by command that left him chained to a desk.

The only confirmation they had that your leaving had been somehow their fault was the face down picture on the table. Price had called them to check on you as you had a family emergency. You had been firmly ensconced in a hard airport seat when they reached your flat. If they shared a speaking look about the photo before Johnny slid it from it’s frame and folded into his pocket, they never discussed it.

The discharges were how they finally ended up together. Simon needed something, someone, to care for to keep from eating a bullet and Johnny fighting him tooth and nail to stay alive was the right project. The physical therapists loved seeing Johnny rolled in by Simon because they knew he wouldn’t fight them on exercises today. He would snarl at his “L.T.” and actually work. They had to be careful to not let him overwork himself lest he be unable to work at the next day’s appointment.

Their first kiss had been when Johnny had been fed up with Simon’s sass about physical therapy. He had only been legless for a month and barely started trying to relearn how to balance.

Simon carried him from the car to their shared flat.

“I’m not going back.”

“Mmm, what a surprise it will be when I drag your ass to PT tomorrow then.”

Being carried bridal style rankled somewhere deep in Johnny. He wanted to take a bite of out Simon’s neck and keep ripping but that would have left him stranded in the hall with a dead body and only one working foot.

The look Simon sent him, one of cool acknowledgment and smugness had Johnny gripping both halves of Simon’s face and planting a kiss on him.

That would show the bastard.

Showed him something alright. All Simon could see the remaining few steps to the flat was the subtle shift in Johnny’s gym shorts and rising heat in his cheeks. Simon hadn’t said anything about it. Dinner had been a simple soup. Night fell. When Simon helped Johnny to bed that night, he inserted himself next to the man.

Johnny didn’t question it. Frankly he was relieved. He had flirted for years in front of the man he didn’t think he would ever catch. The press of his dry lips and light fingers had ignited the combustible fumes that swirled between them. Those fumes choked out any hope of anything healthy with anyone else.

When Johnny had ‘graduated’ from therapy and could walk with almost no limp Simon invited Johnny to move with him. They found a medium sized city in a place neither of them had been to but could reach several national parks and an airport relatively quickly. Housing costs were rising but they found an older neighborhood with a good amount of trees in the yards and a little space in the back to grow plants. They could see the mountains when they stood on the second story porch.

The previous owner had mentioned that the school pick-up and drop off point happened at their house for the junior high and the elementary schools. Kids would wait on the corner of their yard away from the cars. That is why the two owners prior had installed the stone benches that sat so close to the sidewalk. Simon had planned on taking them out until he heard that piece of information.

One day, during mid-spring where the mornings were chilled enough to need a jacket but the afternoons would leave you sweating, Johnny saw something that gave him pause. He was in the process of moving bags of clothes into the car to drop off at the shelter when the bus delivered a load of kids. He waved with the bus driver and slammed the trunk of the crossover.

The squeal particular to children had Johnny snapping his back to a pair of children who walked past his parked car.

“Don’t do that Mac!”

A glare he had only ever seen on Simon’s face painted itself across the face of a child who couldn’t be any older than seven. Johnny felt the bottom drop out of his stomach and fall into his ass.

“Don’t yell at me stupid!”

“Mom says you can’t call me stupid! Stupid!”

Stepping into the sidewalk Johnny watches the the children, one with long hair and the other short, bicker until they reached a house five doors up and disappeared behind the front door.

Stumbling into the garage Johnny attempts to call for Simon. All that escapes is a croak. After a hard shake of his head and clearing his throat it works.

“Simon!”

The shout must have had an edge of panic because Simon appears with a hand gun pointed at the floor and the his Ghost eyes staring out. Upon seeing Johnny, unharmed and alarmed Simon tucked his work face and his gun away.

“What happened? Why are you sweating? Are you sick?”

Johnny swatted away that hands that reached for his face.

“I saw a fecking child with your face Si. Kid got off the bus and was arguing with his sister. I need you to come with me.”

Simon blinked at his beloved a few times. The fuck did he say?

“Why would a child in the states have my face? You know it is possible for unrelated people to look alike right? It’s important to me that you know that.”

“Listen to me Simon!” Johnny stumbled back, prosthetic catching funny against the concrete floor. “I, never, in all my life have seen a glare that looks exactly like yours. But this kid when yelling at his sister had one of your meanest glares. I could see him in you still after he smiled. I am asking you to come with me and knock on a door to introduce ourselves to the neighbors and find out what the hell is going on.”

Simon hadn’t seen Johnny this riled up in a long time. He searched his husbands face, noting the heaving of his chest and the flex of his fingers as he fought them from curling into fists.

“Okay,” he said gently as if he were speaking to a spooked horse, “let’s go meet the neighbors.”

That is how the found themselves at your door. The waiting after the harsh knock sounded into the space beyond the frame rattled something loose in Simon. Could he have a kid? He had been no prude before settling down with Johnny but he couldn’t remember more than a few women he ever fucked raw. Everyone of them had been on birth control, at least they said they were.

Johnny crossed his arms, drawing Simon’s gaze. They were both freaked out, concerned.

When the door opens there is you. A little older, a little more solid than when you had fled England, a few new piercings, but it’s still you. Simon glances to the wall visible behind you catching sight of two children in photos who wouldn’t look out of place on the walls of his and Johnny’s home. His gaze snaps back to you as you blanch and slam the door shut.

The deadbolt slamming into place solidifies in him the answer that there is something going on here and it absolutely involves them.

Before Johnny can pound his fist into the door to demand answers Simon catches it. Placing a gentle kiss along his knuckles he coaxes him from the door.

“She won’t answer the door. You know she won’t. Let’s all take the evening and try and come back tomorrow while the kids are at school.”

“She owes us answers, Si,” Johnny’s eyes flashed as he snarled.

Simon pulled him down one more step. Once Johnny started moving they walked home, hand in hand.

“She does owe us answers, but we know where she is now and can see about getting them. Right now I suggest we recoup and see what we can find. One of the kids in the photos looked like you Johnny.”

Johnny vibrates with tension until he sees the wisdom in coming at this from another angle. His shoulders drop from his ears as tears prick at his eyes.

“Why wouldn’t she tell us Si?”

Mulling over the answer they complete the walk home.

“Why would she Johnny? You know how we are.”

That sobering statement colored the remainder of the evening. It is late when they decide to call their former captain.

Secrets Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags:

@beloveds-embrace @cherrycosmos392 @mxtallymarks @love-kha1

@love-kha1 @bdbdhshhs @persephone-kore-law @vmaxis @splaterparty0-0 @momowhoo

@talia-the-gemini @redkarmakai

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: um I woke up to this in my head. Sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You honk your horn as another driver slowly veers toward the line. You’re not letting them in. If they can’t weave in, then they aren’t fast enough to leave the slow lane. You sigh and gesture at them as kindly as you can in that instant. You have enough going on. 

Your phone starts to ring. Again. You tap the button on your steering wheel to answer. You would know who it is even without his custom ringtone. Your boss allows no space for breathing, even on a call. 

“How far out are you, pixie?” Lloyd asks as you growl and lean on the gas pedal. You hate driving on the highway, especially at night, and the sky is steadily dimming. 

“Close,” you assure him. “Next exit,” you flip your blinker on. 

“Thank god. You got everything?” 

Yeah, everything you forgot. You don’t give the dry retort aloud. You know better. Where your boss has no filter to be found, you find yourself often censoring yourself. As much for his ego as for others’. Arguing never gets you anywhere. 

“I believe so--” 

“You believe or you do?” He asks impatiently. 

“Mr. Hansen, I got everything on the list,” you assure him. “All with a bow on top.” 

“A life saver, pix, I swear,” he praises, but a compliment from him is rarely genuine, more transactional. You did him a favour so he’ll give you a treat. 

“Alright, I need to get over, ramp’s coming up. So--” 

“Yeah, yeah,” his ends rustles and you hear a muffled female voice, “I got shit going on too. You got the address, text me.” 

He hangs up first. You can never be the first to end the call. He has to make the decisions. You just know how to guide him to the right one. You merge into the exit lane and follow the ramp away from the whirring stream of headlight. Finally. 

You’re less than pleased to be within minutes of your destination. This isn’t how you envisioned your holiday. A last-minute itinerary change to fix yet another of Mr. Hansen’s oversights. It’s never a mistake, he’s just a man with so much going on that it slipped his radar. Another bandage for his ego. 

The slower pace feeds your agitation. At least on the highway, you felt like you were getting somewhere. The lazy roll of the cars in the town tweaks at the nape of your neck. You just want to be in one place and that won’t happen even when you get to Mr. Hansen. 

You’ll be lucky to have two hours of sleep before you have to catch your rebooked flight. Yep. You’ll play Santa and drop off your lot before hiding at the hotel long enough to dread the airport jungle. Then it’s off to your own familial obligations. Those are rarely enjoyable and being a day later than promised will hardly please your mother. 

Your phone announces your arrival at the destination. The long drive of the over-sized suburban mansion is full. You park on the street and turn on the interior light. You get out and open the back seat. The whole medley of shiny paper and quaffed bows stares back at you. 

You text Mr. Hansen and wait, huffing and puffing with impatience. Of course, you have to upheave your plans to meet his deadlines, but he’s taking his time. It’s not a surprise, not even a disappointment, you expected as much. 

“Pixieee,” Lloyd drags out the last syllable, “there you are, pretty pixie.” 

Pretty Pixie? He’s drunk or he’s going to ask for something else. You brace yourself as his shadow struts up the long driveway and passes beneath the cone cast by the tall street lights. Coloured lights glimmer over him from the eaves of the surrounding facades. 

“Mr. Hansen, wrapped, labelled, everything you requested,” you gesture to the backseat. 

“An angel. A true saviour, pixie,” he surprises you as he grabs your head, his palms pressing to your cheeks as he bends to kiss your forehead, “did I ever tell you you’re immaculate?” 

“Mr. Hansen,” you gently pull his wrists until he drops his hands. You smell the alcohol radiating off of him. 

“It’s the holiday, call me Lloyd, sweet cake,” he insists. 

“Right,” you tut and turn to drag out the largest gift bag, “here, you better just take all this, I have to check-in--” 

“About that,” he ignores the gift as you hold it out. “We’re just about to start dinner, you should pop in, have a bite.” 

“I can’t, Mr. Hansen--” 

“Of course you can,” he insists. You look up at him. His eyes gleam in the spectrum of lights shining from your car, the houses, and the tall poles. You sniff. He’s only tipsy, there’s still the hint of authoritarianism firmly implanted in his tone. “I told everyone you would.” 

“Everyone?” You echo anxiously. 

“The family,” he exclaims as if it should be obvious. 

“Okay, I can come say hello but--” you wiggle the bag at him. 

“Damn right you can,” he catches your hand and takes the bag. He drops it on the ground carelessly. 

“Mr. Hansen, that’s fragile,” you say. 

“Shhhh,” he grabs your hand and you curl and unfurl your fingers desperately, “Lloyd, remember?” He feels around in his pocket as he keeps you in his vice, “now, you just need to slip this on.” 

He struggles to line up the ring with your finger as you squirm in confusion. What is he doing? 

“Mr. Han--” 

“Lloyd,” he growls, all humour trickling away. He squeezes until you whimper. “Look, I just need you to smile and bat those long lashes of yours, alright?” 

“What’s going on?” 

“As far as anyone knows, I proposed to you on Thanksgiving,” he says. 

“Proposed?!” You nearly shriek. 

He hushes you again and finally rams the ring down to your knuckle. “Look, pixie, mommy’s being a real pain in my ass so you just need to play along.” 

“Mr.--” 

“If I have to tell you one more time--” 

“Lloyd,” you gulp, “please. I... this is... strange. What? Why? I have a flight in eight hours.” 

“Cancel it,” he sneers. “Double time and a half for holiday overtime. See the family in the New Year.” 

“What? That’s-- This is insane--” 

“This is your job, honey,” he clings to your hand. “To do what I say or you can spend your January trawling the job boards.” He squeezes until the band digs into your flesh. “Now, I know Mr. Walker thinks you’re darling and he offered you a role last year but once I tell him about your little defiance issue, I don’t think he’ll be interested--” 

“Huh?” 

“I know a lot more than you think,” he grits. “Alright? So let’s start getting this shit inside. That’ll give you a chance to get yourself together.” 

“Lloyd,” you gasp. “Why--” 

“No more fucking question. Since when did you get so uppity,” he barks. 

“Sir--” 

“Ah, none of that, either,” he lets you go and waggles his finger in your face. “Relax. Have some eggnog when we get inside and take the edge off.” 

“This can’t be happening,” you murmur. 

“It’s fucking happening, alright?” He picks up the bag off the ground. “I keep you around ‘cause you’re quick on your feet, Pix, so let’s get to it.” 

“Oh god,” you utter. 

“Keep it to yourself,” he warns. 

Your disbelief has you a bit dumb. You’re panicking. He knows you have an insurance policy with Walker and you have no doubt he’ll do all he can to spoil your future if you fuck around with his present. You’ve worked long enough for him to believe his threats, even when everything else is dubious. 

You turn and grab several gifts from the backseat. You move out of his way and he gathers some more himself. He backs up and uses his knee to close the door. He nods you toward the house. 

“Smile, act like you’re excited,” he commands. 

You pass him and stare up at the blaze of holiday lights. The lawn is decorated with a Santa and sleigh, complete with all his reindeer. You make the march up the walk and towards the glowing windows that trim the front door.  

Lloyd comes up next to you and kicks it, “open up.” 

It isn’t long before obedience appears from the other side. You do a double take at the man who answers the door. He looks a lot like Lloyd but not. He doesn’t sport the same bristly stache and his hair neatly combed, the sides unshaved but tidy. He rolls his eyes. 

“Was hoping you got lost in the snow,” the man scoffs. 

“Shut up,” Lloyd shoulders through, “always a fucking prick, Hugh.” 

The other man snarls, “don’t fucking call me that.” 

“Aw, I’m sorry, baby boy,” Lloyd puts the gifts on the bench against the wall, under the large mirror with an elaborate frame. “Why don’t you go suck on mommy’s teat?” 

“You’re disgusting,” the other man, Hugh, hisses. 

“Speak for yourself. We’re the OnlyFans thot? She not joining us?” 

“Oh, fuck you.” 

“Fuck you, fuck me, we already did this, remember?” Lloyd faces him. 

“And who’s this slut?” The man tosses you a sharp glare.  

“Woah, man, that’s my future wife,” Lloyd lies so easily it startles you. He sounds almost genuine and you’ve never heard him sound like that. “Not a slut, so keep your eyes and your hands to yourself.” 

“Huh, I didn’t believe it,” the man puts his hand on his hip as he looks you up and down, “she’s tiny.” 

You narrow your eyes, speechless as they talk about you like a new lamp. 

“Ransom,” Lloyd gestures to him derisively, “Pixie. Now you’ve met so you can skedaddle back to the liquor cabinet.” 

The man, Ransom, snickers, “good luck, sweetheart,” he scoffs. “If you need a drink, just look for me. You probably will. At least for the next forty years.” 

He struts off through the archway behind him and you look at Lloyd. He takes the armful of gifts from you and grumbles. He stops and crosses his arms.  

“Well, get your boots off. Mom will kill you if you’re tracking salt all over her freshly polished floors,” he shakes his head. “And a bit of advice, stay away from my cousin. Ransom’s a fucking pest.” 

“Right, sir.” 

He tilts his head and you show your palms, “Lloyd.” 

“Good girl,” he says and slips free of his loafers. “Now, you’re going to have to meet my parents before anyone else or I won’t hear the end of it. I’ve already got an earful. I know I shoulda booked that resort...” 

You unzip your boots and set them aside on the rack. You stand and he beckons you past the open archway and down the hallway. You take in the decor; gold on beige on ivory. It’s all very luxurious. 

He pushes through a white birch door and warmth enshrines you along with the smell of turkey. There’s a clattering beneath a shrill voice snapping out orders, “oh, not mashed, whipped!” 

A tall blonde woman crosses her arms as she hovers like a vulture over the aproned staff crowded around the large marble island. Lloyd grabs your hand and drags you after him. Your socks slip on the tile as dread coils up your limbs. 

“Mom, she’s here,” he announces as he gets close to her. 

“Ugh, about time, they already set the table and I was dreading the empty plate,” she slithers. She turns her chin down to see you, “Oh, look at her. She’s so... petite.” She levels her hand with the top of your head, “much different than I envisioned.” 

You look at Lloyd as he pushes his shoulders back. You’ve never heard anyone talk to him like that and you’ve never seen him so uptight. You turn your attention back to the woman. 

“Hello, Mrs. Hansen, it’s nice to meet you,” you offer your hand. 

She considers it then grabs it, turning the ring up. You examine the jewel as she does the same, your first glimpse at the thing. She harrumphs, “that’s the ring?” 

“Mom,” Lloyd utters. 

“Mm, very well. Dear, you may call me Gwenyth, not Mrs. Hansen,” she lets you go. “Now, dear son, out of my way. I’m trying to get dinner done.” 

Lloyd stares at her, almost expectantly, the takes your hand again and leads you away. He pulls you back through the door. You don’t dare say a word. He leads you away from the kitchen and the wall of voices buzzing from the front room. He guides you through the archway opposite and around to another door. 

He knocks and there’s a lull as you wait. He taps again. There’s coughing from the other side. “What do you want?” 

“Just me, Dad,” Lloyd answers. 

“Ugh, get in here then,” the timbre calls back. 

Lloyd twists the knob and urges you in ahead of him. The smell of cigar smoke blows in with the cold wind. A gray-haired man puffs by the window, his efforts to puff through the opening sabotaged by the wintry gusts. 

“Close the door. I don’t need the banshee sniffing me out,” he growls. 

“Sure,” Lloyd shuts the door. “Dad, uh, this is her. The woman I told you about. My fiance.” 

“Took you long enough,” the man sneers. You flinch and his grey eyes soften, “him, I mean. Forty-three years--” 

“Dad,” Lloyd rasps. 

“Well,” his father looks you over, “she’s young. Bit small...” 

You do your best not to let your annoyance show. So you’re a little shorter than average. 

“William,” he introduces himself, “and you are?” 

“Pixie,” Lloyd answers for you. 

“Didn’t ask you, boy,” William rebukes and keeps his eyes on you. “You smoke?” 

You mull his question and sigh, “never tried it but I guess it’s never too late to start.” 

William snorts, “truer words.” He puffs, “I don’t recommend it. Horrible habit.” He tamps out the stogie in a copper tray. “Well then, is the food ready, or did you just come to show me your woman?” 

Lloyd stiffens and touches your lower back, “guess I just came to do that.” He mutters, “come on, let’s go get something to drink.” He turns and opens the door. 

“Don’t let the smoke out,” William snips as you spin around. 

[reasonsforhope]

By the time Sue Shusterman turns away from the bench at the overlook and back toward the trailhead, she knows the paddleboarders are out in force 300 yards away on the gleaming blue surface of Chatfield Reservoir.  

She knows the high runoff waters have flooded the roots of Chatfield’s willows and cottonwoods, and that the first spring-green layers of the foothills rise to the west like soft fabric. 

How she acquired these life-affirming memories is at first a mystery, since Shusterman is blind and is heading back toward the parking lot making her usual sweep of the path in front with her ever-present white cane.  

But then a friendly voice emerges from the phone that Shusterman is pointing toward the path from her other hand.

A little to the left to stay on the paved path. Looks like there’s a trail all the way down to the beach, about 75 yards, if you wanted to go. I’ll just be here watching, let me know if you need anything. 

The voice is from a live, trained human guide FaceTiming through Shusterman’s phone camera on the Aira ability-assist app. Sight-impaired people have been using Aira’s guides to make it easier to do anything from navigating an airport to filling out an online job form. Now, all 42 Colorado state parks like Chatfield are geofenced to allow any visitor to use Aira for free to stroll the trails with a helpful set of eyes. 

The Aira guides seemingly effortlessly offer what a blind hiker either needs, or wants. If there’s a dangerous steep drop-off on the right, they warn. If the hiker would rather know if the sneezeweed is in bloom or the sailboats are luffing through a turn, Aira offers that instead.

For Shusterman, trying Aira as an outdoors adventure for the first time, the allure was simple: “Independence.” 

“So she’s doing, I think, a phenomenal job of including the necessary safety things, but the perks of the scenery, too,” Shusterman said, as she paused during a conversation with an Aira guide based in Tulsa, Oklahoma. “She’s doing great.”

State accessibility officials recently announced the expansion of Aira to state parks grounds, after previously providing Aira free for other state-related functions such as navigating a government building or getting help on an online site or filling out forms. Colorado cannot control the cellphone signal, though, so parks officials encourage visitors to try Aira at a familiar or close-in park space before ranging farther afield with it. Popular parks like Staunton or Golden Gate contain pockets where signals are not strong. 

For consumers buying access on their own, Aira costs about $50 for 30 minutes of assistance a month. Private employers and governments often buy package access to Aira and other accessibility apps for all employees to use. State accessibility coordinator Theresa Montano, who is blind and accompanied Shusterman on her Chatfield walk, said Amazon buys access so that sight-impaired shipping center employees can navigate steps to pack orders.

Montano uses Aira at her state job, saying the guides on the app can share her computer screen and help her get through an online task in 30 minutes that might take her four hours without help or through older accessibility tools. 

Adding Aira for state-owned lands was wrapped into the overall $250,000 budget for free Aira use on state property and with state websites. The additional utility is an obvious plus, Montano said. 

“This gives blind people the same opportunity to come and enjoy it by themselves or with their family if they want to, and be independent,” she said...

Shusterman walked away taking more from the big picture experience, rather than any particular scenic detail. 

“For me, it was, you know what, I could go for a walk on this path, and I could feel completely safe, and I would enjoy a nice walk and get some exercise, in an unfamiliar area,” Shusterman said. “It’s definitely a real confidence boost for me.”  

-via The Colorado Sun, June 11, 2024

[en-eunhee]

. ୨. ₊ ┈ EUNHEE AND ENHYPEN RELATIONSHIPS 🗄️ ` ( duos and ships . . . )

` ♡. YANG JUNGWON (04z / eunwon)

shares snacks with him, back hugs, playfully argues, helps him with choreography,watches movies together, gives him pep talks, surprises him with gifts, borrows his hoodies, sits in comfortable silence after long days.

CONTACTS ⠀𔗨⠀⁺

him - 예쁜 은희 (pretty eunhee) her - 정원이 💕 (jungwonie 💕)

WiTH JUNGWON ! ੭୧

jungwon and eunhee met back in their early high school days when they both attended hanlim art school. they were in the same class and have been close ever since.

eunhee once mentioned that she trusts jungwon deeply. she even said that jungwon is one of the few members who listens to her rant for hours.

"one time, it was around 3 a.m., and i had been talking for nearly an hour to my members. most of them were asleep and tired, except for jungwon. his eyes were full of joy as i continued to talk. he was the only member who listened to me all day," — eunhee

` ♡. HEESEUNG (heeeunz) !

cuddles during movie nights, takes him on surprise dates, holds his hand, whispers secrets, plays with his hair, has deep conversations, sings to him, makes personalized playlists, notices small things about eachother

CONTACTS ⠀𔗨⠀⁺

him - my eunhee her - my 희승이 오빠!! (my heeseungie brother)

WiTH HEESEUNG ! ੭୧

heeseung is awfully shy around eunhee. fans notice how he gets very flustered easily when it comes to eunhee. sometimes when she just glances at him, his ears turning burning red.

heeseung always does small things towards eunhee like tying her shoe laces, holding her bags, and holding her hand.

"heeseung..hmm he always does the smallest things for me. the time i went to the airport and there was a huge crowd, he knew i had a fear for small spaces (claustrophobia) so he held my hand. he knows the small things about me and he really shows that he cares for me." - eunhee

` ♡. JAY (eunjay/americanz) !

dances in the kitchen, teaches her guitar, cooks dinner together, matching bracelets, carries around eunhee's hair ties, sends random selfies throughout the day, doodles on his hand,

CONTACTS ⠀𔗨⠀⁺

him - 은희쁘이 (eunhee ppui) her - 내 신용카드 (my credit card)

WiTH JAY ! ੭୧

jay is just eunhee's personal credit card. the moment you see jay and eunhee walk into a mall together, she'll be out of the mall with like 5 bags of clothes and designer stuff that jay bought for her. he even said once that he loves spending money for eunhee.

jay has a soft spot only for eunhee. he always makes sure she's happy and satisfied.

before i-land, eunhee said she and jay had met before due to the fact they trained together and both of them were korean-american.

"i think my happiness is when eunhee's happy. i don't know, it just makes me feel more warmer and more better when i see her smile. it's so comforting." - jay

` ♡. JAKE (eunjae/bubblegumz) !

shares late-night ramen, wears matching sneakers, plays with layla together, goes for ice cream runs, shares inside jokes, plays soccer in the park, helps him pick outfits, exchanges handwritten letter

CONTACTS ⠀𔗨⠀⁺

him - eun 🐈‍⬛ her - bed chem by sabrina carpenter

WiTH JAKE ! ੭୧

jake and eunhee known for their sweet dynamic duo. both known for bickering 24/7

always buying dinner for eunhee, the two are always spotted out getting some type of food at least once a week.

basically eunhee's no.1 best friend. the two always doing lives together every single week.

"jake? he's my best friend forever, he's always stuck with me like glue." - eunhee

` ♡. SUNGHOON (eunhoon) !

secret glances, brush hands casually, share scarves on cold days, have deep conversations at 3 am, take spontaneous photos of each other, hold hands in the dark, share drinks without hesitation, fall asleep next to each other after a long day, ice skating together

CONTACTS ⠀𔗨⠀⁺

him - 공주 (princess) her - my ice prince 🐧

WiTH SUNGHOON ! ੭୧

always talking and together during dance practices.

eunhee admires sunghoon's dedication and enjoys teasing him about his serious side.

small gestures—like how sunghoon's gaze lingers a bit longer on eunhee when she’s focused or how eunhee’s teasing always comes with a softness only reserved for him.

"eunhee just gets me, you know? like, she doesn’t even have to say anything—just being around her makes everything feel easier." - sunghoon

` ♡. SUNOO (eunsun/sunshinez) !

steal glances in crowded rooms, exchange silly selfies, send each other voice notes, braid each other's hair, laugh uncontrollably at inside jokes, hold pinkies when no one's looking, watch k-dramas together while cuddling, have late-night phone calls until they fall asleep,

CONTACTS ⠀𔗨⠀⁺

him - 김으희! ❤️ her - ☀️우

WiTH SUNOO ! ੭୧

sunoo loves how easy it is to be himself around eunhee—she never judges and always joins in on the fun

whether they’re cracking jokes during practice or playfully teasing the other members, their bond is outgoing.

"sunoo has this way of making every day feel like a celebration—he’s my daily dose of sunshine, and I honestly can’t imagine our group without him." - eunhee

` ♡. NI-KI (eunki) !

playful banter, race each other to random spots, height difference, go on arcade dates, challenge each other in video games, sneak out for midnight snacks, practice choreography late into the night, find ways to cheer each other up after a long day.

CONTACTS ⠀𔗨⠀⁺

him - 은희 누나 (eunhee sister) her - starboy riki

WiTH NI-KI ! ੭୧

eunhee and ni-ki have a playful sibling-like relationship

they often sneak out during their free time to shop, with eunhee helping riki pick out outfits while he playfully protests her choices.

eunhee often takes on the role of the protective older sister, teasing how he always tries to act cool around the older members.

riki, in turn, loves to poke fun at eunhee's more serious moments, calling her out whenever she gets too focused or competitive.

"ni-ki has this side of him that makes it so fun to be around," - eunhee

` ♡. SOOYOUNG (eunyoung / sarangz) !

late-night gossip sessions, share skincare tips, do each other's makeup, exchange clothes for special occasions, have movie marathons with snacks, attend café dates for desserts, hype each other up before performances, share deep talks about life, take mirror selfies together, play pranks on the boys, surprise each other with little gifts, go on spontaneous shopping sprees, always have each other’s back no matter what.

CONTACTS ⠀𔗨⠀⁺

eunhee: 수영 언니 (너무 사랑한 언니!!) (sooyoung unnie (a sister i love too much)) sooyoung: 우리 은희 💕🎀 (our eunhee)

WiTH SOOYOUNG ! ੭୧

eunhee and sooyoung are an inseparable duo, always there for each other no matter what.

now, as roommates, they spend even more time together, whether it’s late-night conversations over snacks, binge-watching their favorite shows,

"i mean, girls are suppose to be stuck together aren't they?" - sooyoung

─── © en-eunhee 2024 , all rights reserved