#and all of this just..... came out of no where too-

[catchastarorten]

—One more game.

Pairing: the salesman (gong yoo) x winner!fem!reader

Summary: a year after winning your games, an unexpected guest shows up at your door, offering to play one more game of ddakji with you, just for the fun of it, and because you're his favorite winner.

Warnings: mentions of trauma, mentions of blood and gore, violence (basically just you smacking him a lot lol), masochism (<- on him, if you squint really hard?), English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1k

You almost didn’t answer the door.

It was late—the kind of late where the silence pressed in too close and left you too alone for your thoughts. The rain tapped against the windows felt louder than it should. You hadn’t been expecting anyone. Not anymore, anyways.

Your thoughts drifted to that moment. When you stood on that playground that reflected a childish innocence, yet your hands were trembling, blood drying beneath your nails and painted across your teal uniform, the sound of the final breath and the plea that the other player let out before you swung down the knife with a cold precision that pierced him right through the head. It was over. You won. But it never felt like you were the winner.

The knock had been deliberate, sharp. Three steady raps, not the kind delivered by accident or from someone who might go away if ignored, it broke you out of your haze.

You told yourself you weren’t afraid as you approached, but your heartbeat felt too loud in your ears. Your fingers curled around the lock, hesitating for just a second. Then, you opened it.

And there he was.

The salesman.

You hadn’t seen him since the same rainy day where he found you in the subway station, drenched and cold, in debt—out of money, when he offered to play a simple game of ddakji with you. Not since he handed you a card with a number on the back and disappeared without a trace.

Yet here he stood, wearing the same tailored suit, sharp as ever. His face was unchanged—calm, composed, as if this was just another evening, another game. But it wasn’t.

You could tell by the way his eyes softened the moment they met yours.

He didn’t speak right away. His gaze swept over your face, tracing every detail, as if cataloging how you’d changed. Or maybe searching for the cracks left behind.

Then, his hand lifted.

The red and blue ddakji were already there, pinched between his fingers as though they’d never left. Worn slightly at the edges, but still bold in color. Waiting.

“Care for another game?” His voice was smooth, calm. Too calm.

Your stomach twisted.

The paper. The slap. The start of everything that seemed to haunt you.

It all came back too easily—how the game had started with that simple challenge, the humiliating sting of his palm every time you lost. Until you hadn’t. Until you’d proven you could be a winner, until he handed you that card as a congratulations.

“No.” Your voice came out flat. You started to close the door.

His foot shifted forward, not blocking but close enough that the message was clear: not yet.

“You don’t seem so sure.” His gaze lingered, voice quieter now. More dangerous in its softness. “You’ve played before.”

You swallowed, hating how he made it sound like a compliment. Like something to be proud of.

“I don’t play anymore,” you said, sharper this time.

His lips parted like he might argue, but then—he smiled. It wasn’t smug. Not mocking. Something else entirely. You hated how it made your skin prickle.

His head tilted slightly, fingers flexing around the ddakji. “You won, though. You survived. Out of all of them… you were quite ruthless.”

You shouldn’t have let him say that. But it was too late. Something inside you cracked.

Your hand shot out before you fully registered the movement. A sharp, stinging crack as your palm met his cheek, the impact louder than you expected in the quiet.

He barely moved.

He just stood there, lips parted slightly in surprise. And then—he smiled again, slower this time, his head tipping back, exposing the faint pink blooming across his cheekbone in the dim lights.

It felt less satisfying that he just let the pain settle there.

“There’s that fire,” he said, his voice taunting. “The same fire that got you through the games, that made you kill all those people, hm? I always knew you had it.”

Another slap, harder this time. His head jerked slightly with the force of it, his cheek flushing a deeper red. He exhaled softly, just a breath, but it sounded too much like a gasp, like something he’d been holding back.

And when his eyes met yours again— no smile. Not this time. Just a flicker of something you couldn't understand.

His hand shifted between you, lifting the ddakji slightly as if to remind you why he was here.

“You’ll have to win first,” he said, voice hoarse but playful. “Before you keep doing that.”

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife, the air too still.

You snatched the red ddakji from his hand, the paper crinkling slightly as your fingers curled around it.

The game began like it had before. The slap of paper against the floor. The silence between rounds, broken only by breath and the occasional hiss when a piece landed just wrong.

But it wasn’t like before, not really.

Because you felt his presence too closely now—the way he watched you, not just your hands but your face, your mouth, your eyes. As if he was searching for cracks in your mask.

So you played harder. Sharper.

And then you won.

The blue ddakji flipped with a sharp slap, the smooth side landing face up, and you felt the victory surge in your chest—not just from the game, but because of him.

Your eyes met his, he didn’t speak, didn’t flinch when your palm connected with his face a third time, but this time—his breath hitched. A subtle, almost imperceptible sound, but it was there.

And his gaze? It was the same as before. The same as that first night when he watched you fight for your life with nothing but paper and desperation.

He took a step back, finally breaking the moment. Rain whispered against the window, the only sound in the room now.

He bent down and picked up the red and blue ddakji, stuffing them into his pockets as his smile returned, and you could've sworn you saw a hint of pride in his eyes.

“Still a fighter,” he hummed.

[demiec0re]

HOW SQUID GAME 2 MEN WOULD TREAT YOU!

pairings! : kang dae-ho (player 388) x fem! reader, park gyeong-seok (player 246) x fem! reader, lee myung-gi (player 333) x fem!reader, park min-su (player 125) x fem! reader and choi su-bong/ thanos (player 230) x fem! reader

warnings! : mentions of panic attacks, smut, dr*g usage, mentions of violence (fighting), a tinsy bit of angst. let me know if i forgot anything!!

will contain sfw and nsfw headcannons!!

1. KANG DAE-HO

sfw.

- this man would be the softest, cutest, most caring man when it comes to you!

- if you guys are in the games, you are his first priority and will always make sure your health is 100%. gives you his food if you’re still that finest but hungry after dinner and pretends he doesn’t want it so you don’t feel bad.

- insists you make friends with people so that you’re safe in here. drags you over to his new group who give you a warm welcome. they make sure you’re safe throughout every game which you’re extremely thankful for.

- after the riot, he comes back shaking and sweating. you can tell he’s having a panic attack due to the gunshots reminding him of his time in the marines. you’ve have experience with this so you instantly leave your conversation with hyun-ju and jun-hee.

- you comb your fingers through his hair in an attempt to calm him down which works. you also rub his back and clear the sweat from his forehead whilst telling him it’s okay and you have him.

- it works and he’s calm.

nsfw.

- soft dom. wants you to feel as calm and comfortable as possible.

-deffo likes missionary and when you ride him so he can look at your face and wipe sweat from your forehead. he praises you like crazyyyyy and you would never hear anything degrading fall from his lips. ever.

-gives you little pecks on your neck which get more light and feather-y when leading down to your chest.

- when your legs get tired he can tell and flips you over to help you finish the job. makes sure you’ve came and you feel good before he does. just like he prioritises your safety in the games, he prioritises your enjoyment in the bedroom.

-he’s big with aftercare. wether you want a bath ran with rose petals and wine plus his company or just a wipe down and a massage you’ll get what you want because he loves you sosososo much.

-will make sure you’ve drifted off before he has. cuddles you from behind like a big bear!

2. PARK GYEON-SEOK

sfw.

- also prioritises your safety in the games. he’s gentle with you and you stick with him the whole time.

- he tells you about nayeon and his unfortunate position which you completely understand and you want to help him when the pair of you get out.

- will peck you before bed which the other guys think is soooo cute. he gets a little shy when they mention it. if anything occurs during the night, he’ll rush by your side and protect you at all costs.

- when the riot occurs you had preferred him not to go in case anything happened, only thinking of nayeon. when he’s not back for a while and eveyonr else is, you panic, big time.

- with tears escaping your eyes and several of the girls comforting you, a figure runs towards you. it’s none other than him! you’re super relived and you calm down when he convinces you that he’s completely fine.

- when you guys get out, you meet nayeon who’s absolutely adores you and gets all smiley when you’re around. she looks up to you as a motherly figure. when she’s better due to the money you both earned from the gruelling games, her hair grows back which you braid and style with clips everyday.

nswf.

- he fucks you slowly so you can feel every last drop of intimacy and love his man is pouring into your experience with him. also likes positions where he can admire your face.

- is vocal but not too vocal so you’ll hear a grunt and or a deep moan every now and again.

- another soft dom. doesn’t use toys or anything like that and likes it pure and simple. he’s a bit old fashioned so if you want anything like that he wouldn’t be too sure about it.

- eats you out with so much care and stops every few minutes to kiss your clit. this sends shivers down your spine. you grip his hair which spurs him on a little.

- makes sure you clean and happy after sex and sometimes falls asleep before you if he’s had a long day due to work or taking care of his daughter. you don’t mind bescuse you get to admire his beautiful face whilst he gets some rest.

3. LEE MYUNG-GI

sfw.

- makes sure you stick with him the whole time because he doesn’t want to have encounters with the wrong people like thanos who’s had his eye on you a couple times.

- gets into fights all the time, some of which revolve around you and his relationship with you. after he comes back with new bruises, you kiss them and urge him to stop getting into silly cat fights to which he rolls his eyes but agrees

- he has a soft spot for you and doesn’t really care about anyone else. always has an eye on you and during the mingle game you never. ever. leave his side.

- protects you and himself in fights during the night. will fight off anyone who even looks at you during them.

- during the riot, assures you all is okay and you’ll be fine. he was right. and when you guys get out, he takes care of you so well after you force him to pay off his debts to others which he didn’t really want to do.

nsfw.

- is more rough with you but still a soft dom. will degrade you from time to time with names like slut but nothing too heavy.

- will draw multiple orgasms from within you which leaves you seeing stars. he makes sure your always okay though.

- always comes in you and likes when you pull his hair or scratch his back while you’re getting off. he is much more vocal than the other guys and you guys’ moans combine to make a beautiful symphony.

- will wipe you down after sex but doesn’t do too much aftercare for you. he will run his fingers through your hair or massages you. makes sure you pee straight after because he read somewhere that you can get a UTI if you don’t which worries him.

-makes sure you fall asleep before him because he’s a gentleman.

4. PARK MIN-SU

sfw.

- is extremely sweet to you and loves you so much. initially didn’t want you to join the games with him but didn’t stop you.

- unfortunately he cannot protect you very well so most of the time during the night you’re the one fending for both of you but it’s okay because you love him.

- doesn’t speak up when thanos or any of his other leeches makes comments about you purely because he’s too timid to do anything. you stick up for yourself which he’s proud of you for.

- you comfort eachother during the riot

- when you guys get out you live a pretty peaceful and calm life which he enjoys and he pays for you guys’ meals out and pays for stuff he thinks you’d like which you find very sweet.

i didn’t write anything nsfw for min-su because i just can’t think of him doing anything like that 😭 sorry.

5. CHOI SU-BONG (thanos)

sfw.

- will call you names like señorita which you weren’t too fond of at first but the more he said it the more it grew on you.

-offers you his silly pills which you sternly reject. he doesn’t say anything more of them to you. you hate the fast that he takes them but you don’t want to nag him about it.

- during mingle, he physically kicks people away in order to secure a room for you guys which you think is wrong but you don’t say anything. after he notices you crying he quickly hugs you and tells you you’ll be fine which doesn’t really work but you stop crying anyway.

- drags you everywhere with him and makes you sit with his group who you don’t like at all besides se-mi who you grow fond of. when she changes her mind to X you knew it wouldn’t end well for her. you were correct.

- during night fights, you’re 100% safe because no- one would dare to do anything to you because they know what a nut job thanos is.

nswf.

- will fuck you rough and hard.

- also makes you come several times and might even make you squirt! doesn’t care where you guys are, sex is sex and he’s willing to get off if you are

- doesn’t really matter to him wether you come or not because all long as he has, eveything is good. pops a pill during it to increase him stamina which is already high enough.

- several rounds with him and you get overstimulated by the third one. he wants to go for a forth but you have to make it extremely clear that your body can’t handle it anymore.

- he likes doggy because then he can get nice and deep within your velvety walls. quite vocal and groans loudly, many even louder than you. degrading, toys and tears are alll his stimulants and will drive him on further.

- doesn’t have a clue about aftercare and will simply let out a loud and deep sigh after tying up the rubber and flop straight onto his back. he’s out like a light and is already sleeping deeply.

- your used to it so you just mirror his loud sigh and turn over and fall asleep aswell.

- hope you guys enjoyed this! if you want a version for the squid game girls (both s1 +2) lmk!!

[yoonjae20]

Bruce is (secretly) married [Bruce/Danny; Spirit Halloween]

I got sucked into the DPxDC crossover rabbit hole. I have read too many fanfics despite not knowing the source material.

I randomly got the idea of Bruce being secretly married and the Batfam finding out about it after Duke poses the question of why Bruce wears a ring. (Also how Danny's influence would have subtly changed things.)

Read this on ao3. Masterpost

Next.

Bruce had always worn the ring, long before Dick came around – at least that’s what the boy had told Jason when he asked about it. 

They had looked through the records one night – bonding over finding out when he started, but he had already worn the ring once the man returned from his seven year long  journey of training. The media had speculated it to be a family heirloom – either his father’s or mother’s wedding ring. Bruce neither confirmed or denied when they asked about it.  

The man never took it off, not even when he stalked the night as Batman and neither of them had been brave enough to ask about it, after they watched clips where the media asked and his Brucie mask slipped into something uncomfortably blank. 

Jason had quickly forgotten about it after Bruce had benched him from being Robin after Felipe Garzonasa’s death. He had been furious, questioning if Bruce didn’t believe him that he didn’t push the man.

“Of course I believe you, chum,” the man had said, but Jason didn’t trust the man’s words. “But you just saw a man die. That’s not something we should brush over.”

He had sent Jason to bed for the night, but the boy had sneaked out, believing Bruce to go back to patrol after dropping him off. He instead found him in his office, talking to someone on the phone.

“...You have better experience with stuff like this than me…” the man said. “Do you think I should have never given Jason Robin? I know Dick agreed, but…” Bruce trailed off and then paused to hear the other person’s response. “I know.” He let out a deep sigh. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow about it. Are you still planning on visiting for the anniversary? I would appreciate if you tried talking to-”

Jason didn’t wait to listen for more. He knew it. Bruce was going to take Robin away from him. 

He remembered the picture he had found of his birth mother. He initially had wanted to tell Bruce to get his help to find her, but now he isn’t sure if it’s such a good idea. If the man was gonna take Robin away from him anyway, he didn’t want to be there for the moment. 

With that goal in mind, unbeknownst to Bruce, he disappeared that night, setting out to the Middle East to find his mother. 

Bruce finds his corpse several weeks later. Dick breaks down in space when he receives the call from Bruce. They attend the funeral together, neither of them talking about it, even years later.

Jason returns several years later, dead set on revenge on Joker and on Bruce for never avenging him. What he doesn’t expect is to stumble over a newspaper celebrating the anniversary of the Jason Scholarship Foundation along with pictures of his funeral, showcasing both Bruce and Dick crying. 

He never stumbles upon a memorial with his battered Robin suit and the description “Jason Todd, a Good Soldier” and beats Tim Drake, the third Robin half dead for replacing him. Instead he returns to the Manor, overwhelmed at Bruce’s breakdown and reaction. Red Hood debuts several months later – with the Bat symbol on his chest. They still have their conflicts, but Jason never has to fill a duffel bag full of heads for his debut. 

It’s only once Damian arrives, Cass becomes Bruce’s daughter and Duke his ward that the topic of the ring gets brought up again. It’s Duke who asks what they all have been thinking. 

“By the way, why does Bruce wear a ring?”

Finding no information online and not managing to get anything out of Alfred, they break into Bruce’s office while he’s on patrol getting distracted by Damian and Cass. It’s Tim who finds it, in a locked drawer, sealed carefully.

A marriage certificate. 

“Who the hell is Daniel Fenton?” Jason questions gruffly.

“My husband.”

Jason startles, turning to the doorway. Bruce is standing there, his arm crossed and he cringes at the displeased raise of Bruce’s right eyebrow. Behind him Cass shrugs at Tim’s questioning gaze while Damian clicks his tongue.

“Why haven’t we met him? And, wait, does Dick know about this?” Tim asks. 

Bruce lets out a deep sigh as he fiddles with the ring - the wedding ring. 

“Let’s go somewhere else for this.”

They all shuffle to one of their smaller living rooms. Duke sets up a voice call so Dick, who is back in Blüdhaven, doesn't have to miss out. Tim is on his own computer, no doubt researching everything he can find on Daniel Fenton. Or would he be Daniel Wayne? 

It’s Damian who breaks the silence.

“Father. Explain.”

The man presses his lips together as he stares down into his tea. Alfred squeezes his shoulder behind him. 

“The reason you haven’t met Danny is because he’s dead.” Bruce pauses while his kids pale. “Technically.”

Before either of them can question that, suddenly a young white haired boy appears, sitting on Bruce arm’s chair, eyebrow raised and wearing a black and white hazmat suit.

“Shouldn’t I be here for this?”

In an instant all of them sans Bruce and Alfred are on alert, Tim has a Batarang in hand, Jason one of his guns and Damian a knife poised to the unknown boy’s neck.

It’s Bruce who diffuses the situation.

“Danny?” Bruce sounds disbelieving and Damian twitches, knife still in hand. 

“In the flesh.” The boy does jazz hands, neck grazing the knife, but it doesn’t draw any blood. “Or ectoplasm. Whatever.”

“How wonderful of you to surprise us with your presence Master Danny,” Alfred says, tone slightly sarcastic and Damian finally steps back, eyebrows knitted together. 

Danny winces. 

“I would have warned you, but Clockwork just dropped me off, telling me that it’s finally time.”

“This is your husband?” Duke bursts out. 

The boy bows playfully.

“Danny Fenton-Wayne. King of the Infinite Realms. Half ghost and-” Suddenly he transforms, white rings traveling over his body and leaving behind a middle-aged black haired man. “-Half human.”

“GHOST?”

“HALF HUMAN?”

“KING OF THE INFINITE REALMS?”

“Thank fuck I thought Bruce was a pedophile for a moment.”

Everyone turns to stare at Duke.

“What? I just said what everyone thought,” the boy defends himself.

“Actually that would be ephebophilia,” Danny corrects. “Although he would still classify as a necrophile.” 

Bruce punches the man’s forearm, rolling his eyes with a fond look and Danny yelps, rubbing the spot.

“Hey! If anyone is allowed to joke about it, it’s me!” the man complains with a pout and Bruce shakes his head. 

“Another reason why you never met Danny is because – believe it or not – he’s the King of the Infinite Realms, which means he is quite busy.”

“So much paperwork,” Danny groans. “If I get Constantine’s ass, I swear to the Ancients that he’s gonna die. Half a decade lost because I had to bargain for his soul pieces!”

“After I returned to Gotham to become Batman, the Infinite Realms unfortunately fell into war following a coup attempt, leaving Danny to deal with the mess.”

“And Clockwork prohibited me from visiting the Gotham until a certain point, claiming that I would change the timeline too much with my influence,” Danny finishes for Bruce, all of Bruce’s kids watching with fascination how seamlessly they seem to fit together as the man leans his head against Bruce’s shoulder while Bruce runs a hand through the man’s black hair. “Considering I would have never let Bruce run around with child vigilantes, he’s probably right.”

“I forgot you know about that,” Bruce sighs.

“Jazz kept me updated,” Danny says smugly.

“That’s a break of patient confidentiality,” Bruce grumbles. 

“She may be your therapist, but she’s also my sister.”

“Mr. I-Rather-Chew-Nails-than-Talk-About-My-Feelings?“ Jason exclaims. “No way!”

“I have been vocal about the fact that I go to therapy.” Bruce frowns.

“I thought you were joking!”

“Where do you guys think I go every Sunday evening?” Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Justice League meeting?” 

“Golfing?”

Once again everyone stares at Duke and he flushes at the attention.

“I thought it’s a rich person thing!” 

Danny snorts.

“He got you there, darling.”

“When and how did you guys meet?” It’s the first time Dick actually speaks up, having observed everything – or as much as he could – through the web camera. 

“At a gala when both Bruce and I were teens,” Danny answers. “My godfather dragged me into it. At least one thing I can thank him for.”

Danny smiles while Bruce grunts in agreement. 

“The wedding?” Tim follows up.

Both Danny and Bruche pause to think.

“Did we do the civil registration in Paris or Las Vegas?” Danny turns to Bruce. “I can’t remember.”

“We were quite drunk,” Bruce agrees.

Danny snips his fingers like he remembers something, but then he shakes his head. He puts a hand to his chin, tiling his head. 

“Or was it Brazil?”

The rest blink at the pair before Danny shrugs with an apologetic smile.

“We had the real wedding in the Infinite Realms though,” Danny explains, “Once Bruce got finished with his training. The citizens wouldn’t have accepted it otherwise. Alfred would have taken pictures, but technology doesn’t work in the Infinite Realms.”

“Such a shame, it was quite a nice wedding,” Alfred affirms. 

“Alfred knew?!” is the consensus complaint. 

“Does Mother and Grandfather know about this?” Damian asks stiffly.

“Considering Ra’s used Bruce’s and your mother’s DNA to artificially create a baby despite knowing – he doesn’t care,” Danny says just a tad-bit too cheerfully. 

The revelation leaves everyone reeling. 

“Okay, now that all questions are answered-” Danny doesn’t give them time to inject. “Can we talk about the stinking elephant in the room?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow as Danny gestures to Jason. Jason almost would feel insulted if Danny didn’t sound so genuinely surprised that nobody else said or noticed something. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Jason complains as he discreetly tries to sniff his armpits. Considering Tim’s and Dick’s snickering, he doesn’t succeed. 

“Your Ectoplasm reeks like-” Danny grimaces as he flails his arms. “Like you took a bath in spoiled eggs.”

Danny turns to Bruce with an angry look in his eyes.

“Especially you should have noticed, considering you are liminal! His core is completely malnourished.” Bruce winces. “Did you forget that I gave you a way to contact Frostbite?”

“Without the ambient ectoplasm you radiate my ability to see ectoplasmic entities and speak and read Ghost Speak slowly degraded over the years,” Bruce explains. “I wasn’t aware Jason had been a type of ectoplasmic entity.” 

“His eyes literally glow green when he’s angry!” Danny chides. “He returned from the dead for revenge. He’s clearly a Revenant. That’s Ghost 101!”

It’s amusing to see Bruce get scolded by someone else other than Alfred. Alone for that fact Jason has to admit that he begrudgingly likes Danny. 

“Alright-” Danny stands up and tugs on Jason’s arm. Bruce moves to follow him like second nature. “You are coming with me right this instant.”

Before anyone can stop them, Danny transforms back into his Ghost Form, Jason’s hand in one and Bruce in the other and steps through a glowing green portal, it vanishing shortly after. Silence follows.

“So well that just happened.”

This time everyone agrees with Duke. 

[ivyues]

First-Night-Nerves and Quite Moments: Stray Kids' reactions to first sleepovers

Bang Chan

Chris arrived at your place after a tiring recording session but smiled when he greeted you. "You look dead on your feet," you teased, pulling him inside.

He chuckled, rubbing his neck. "I didn’t want to miss seeing you."

As the night went on, you could see his exhaustion growing. "Why don’t you just stay over? You can't drive home like this." He hesitated for a moment before responding, "Only if you're okay with it."

He offered to sleep on the couch, but you insisted that you share the bed. After a few more moments of uncertainty, he finally agreed, lying down beside you but keeping a respectful distance. He stayed rigid, his heart raced every time he heard you shift.

Finally, you whispered, "Channie, are you uncomfortable?"

He sighed softly. "I don’t want to overstep or make you uncomfortable." Smiling, you gently nudged his arm. "You’re not. Relax."

After a long pause, he put an arm around you, his voice barely a whisper. "Is this okay?" You nodded, leaning into him. "Much better."

Lee Know

Lee Know had suggested the sleepover a few days earlier, jokingly adding, "Bring snacks, though. And make sure they're the good kind."

The evening was full of both of your playful banter, but when it came time to settle in, he was oddly quiet. He flopped onto the bed first, leaving ample space for you. He mumbled a quick, "Goodnight," avoiding eye contact.

After a few moments, you shifted in bed, pulling the blanked tighter around yourself. 

"You cold?" he asked quietly.

When you nodded, he threw an arm over you, mumbling, "Don't hog the blanket though." His tone was playful, but you could tell he was still a bit nervous, as if trying to seem nonchalant.

You smiled to yourself in the dark, knowing he was more anxious than he let on.

Changbin

When Changbin invited you over, his casual attitude almost masked the amount of thought he’d put into it. His place was spotless, a soft playlist playing in the background, and the bed piled high with pillows.

"You didn't have to go all out," you teased, settling on his freshly fluffed couch.

He laughed nervously. "It's nothing. Just wanted it to be nice."

As the night wore on, he seemed to become more fidgety, checking everything multiple times. "Pillow good? Too much blanket? Too little blanket?"

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Everything’s perfect, Binnie. Let's just sleep."

When you settled in bed, Changbin stayed awake for a while, marveling at how surreal it felt to have you there beside him. It was a quiet, content moment, and he couldn’t help but smile softly to himself.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin suggested the sleepover during a late-night call, his voice laced with excitement. "We could paint, watch a movie, just hang out."

When you arrived, the room was already set up – soft fairy lights glowing and paints neatly arranged. The evening felt like something out of a dream, filled with laughter and gentle kisses as you painted side by side.

When it was time to sleep, Hyunjin grew quiet, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "I... uh... set up the bed for us," he said, his voice soft.

You smiled and took his hand, guiding him to lie down beside you. He laid awake for a while, stealing nervous glances at you, overwhelmed by how lucky he felt to have you there. It felt like something so special and intimate, yet so natural.

Han

Han had come over for an anime night, and after binging a whole series, it was well past midnight. You casually suggested him to stay.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

"Yeah, it’s late. I don’t want you going back."

He agreed, but the nervous energy practically radiated off him. "So, uh... where do you want me to sleep?" he asked, glancing between the couch and your bedroom door.

"The bed’s big enough for both of us. It’s no big deal." You said softly.

His eyes widened, and he nodded. "Right. Totally normal."

Once in bed, he lay stiffly, staring at the ceiling. After a few minutes, he whispered, "Thanks for letting me stay. I feared it might be... weird."

You smiled, turning to face him. "You’re overthinking it, Hannie. Just relax."

His nervous laugh was soft, and eventually, his body relaxed. By the time you fell asleep, he was already snoring lightly, a peaceful smile on his lips.

Felix

Felix had shyly suggested the sleepover after you both talked about wanting to spend more time together. "Only if you’re comfortable, of course," he’d said, his voice soft. "I’ll make pancakes in the morning."

When the night arrived, he welcomed you with a warm hug and a beaming smile. The evening was filled with cookie baking and watching your favorite movies.

Later, as you cautiously laid in bed next to each other, he hesitated before asking, "Is it okay if I...?" His hand hovered near yours, waiting for you to take it.

You smiled and nodded, and he gently wrapped his fingers around yours. As you drifted off to sleep, he stayed awake for a while, his heart full and his cheeks glowing with happiness.

Seungmin

The evening you agreed on staying over, Seungmin’s room was immaculate, every detail carefully thought out. He handed you an extra pillow with a smile. "Just let me know if you need anything."

As the night went on, his calm demeanor started to falter. When it came time to lie down, he placed a noticeable gap between you.

"You don’t have to stay all the way over there," you teased.

His ears turned bright red, but he slowly moved closer. Over time, the initial awkwardness faded, and he found himself relaxing in your presence.

By morning, you woke to find his hand resting just inches from yours, a quiet but undeniable sign of his affection.

I.N

Jeongin had been thrilled about the sleepover, texting you excitedly about movies, snacks, and possibly even a pillow fight.

When you arrived, he greeted you with an eager grin, his energy infectious. The night was filled with laughter as you watched old comedies and built a blanket fort together.

During a snack pause, Jeongin suddenly stood up and headed toward his closet.

"Here," he said, pulling out one of his favorite hoodies. He tossed it over to you, a little shy but still smiling. "You can wear it while we watch the next movie."

When it was time to sleep, Jeongin grew quieter, his confidence replaced by a shy smile. "I hope the bed’s okay," he said softly, glancing at you.

masterlist

[woso-dreamzzz]

New Girlfriend III

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle x Teen!Reader

Summary: You make a game

When Lucy cracks open your door, you're as you always are.

You're hunched over your computer, clicking around some game level aimlessly with your tongue sticking out in concentration.

Your mice, like they always are when you're in the room, are running riot in their pen.

Outside of their cage and on the floor, you've set up a little pen for them to roam around and play in.

Lara and Zelda are wrestling like always as Clementine tries to work through the enrichment puzzle full of food. Ezio is asleep, flopped over on your shoulder as you study whatever new game you've found.

"You ready for dinner?"

Now that it's gotten colder, you've managed to get even moodier than before and even more of a shut in.

"One sec," You say. You click around the game level a bit more before pulling up a separate tab to type a long string of something Lucy can't even hope to understand. "Alright, I'm done. What's up?"

Lucy rolls her eyes fondly. "Dinner. Now. Ona cooked."

You push your chair out from your desk and stretch, your back cracking from the long hours you've spent hunched over.

You put the mice back into the cage, each of them getting a quick snuggle and kiss before you bolt it shut.

"Is it good food?" You ask as you go down the stairs.

"It's better than your mum makes!" Ona calls out and you grin.

"Yeah, but anything's better than Mum's cooking!"

Lucy grumbles, shaking her head. "One nice meal is all I ask. One meal where I don't get horrifically bullied!"

"We don't bully you," You say," It's character building!"

You and Ona laugh and Lucy just rolls her eyes. Sometimes, you think she would prefer if it went back to what it was like when you were first adapting to Ona.

"Oh," She says," I sent you those audio files you wanted."

"Thanks."

Lucy frowns. "She's been making you do those too?"

"Yeah, it's for a school project, right?"

You nod. "Uh-huh. It's for programming."

"I know I shouldn't have let you sign up for that," She says," It's all you ever do. I think you're losing sleep over it."

"You'll like it," You declare," What I'm working on. I promise."

"I'm sure that I will but it doesn't mean I think you're sleeping well. Put it down for once, that's all I'm saying."

You roll your eyes.

Lucy's always like that about your programming. Sometimes she lays asleep at gone three in the morning and can still hear you typing away on your computer for hours on end.

You return to your room after dinner ends and briefly come out to show Ona what you're working on while also denying Lucy the same opportunity.

"You've love it," Ona assures her at training the next day.

"Love what?" Keira asks," Oh, y/n's game? Yeah, you'll love it, Luce."

"Am I the only one that hasn't seen it?!" She demands, glancing around the room at people who are trying to not make eye contact with her. "Seriously? Raise your hand if you've seen it?"

Slowly, everyone raises their hand.

"This is so unfair!"

When you first got given the project, Lucy had been the first person to be clued into your plans. You showed her all your design sketches and all your ideas as you jumped between them.

At one point, one of your bedroom walls had been covered in concept designs and you would stand in front of it and point out certain aspects you liked and things you didn't think were quite perfect yet.

Lucu had been integral to your thought process and then all of a sudden she was shut out. You'd ask her to record voice lines or demonstrate doing something but you'd never explain why or what it was for.

You all but unplugged your computer when she came in unexpectedly and tried to get a sneak peak.

"Alright," Lucy says when she gets home to see you and Ona giggling on the sofa together," I've had enough. Show me your project."

You sit upright immediately, eyes wide.

"No-"

"I'm not taking no for an answer. I've had enough of the secrets."

She's serious. You can tell by the clench in her jaw and the way her arms are crossed over her chest.

Lucy's stubborn but you inherited from her so you're stubborn too.

Your cross your arms in the same way as you stand. "No! It's not finished! You can see it when you're finished!"

"Hey," Ona intervenes before the argument can truly get heated. Her hand rests on your shoulder. "It's okay. Just show her."

"I can't! It's not ready!"

"Come on," Ona says," Show her."

You glance at your Mum, who is staring at you with that same stern look and crossed arms as the one that she came in with.

"Fine. Give me a sec."

Lucy sits on the sofa as Ona hooks up a laptop to the tv.

You come back in with a disc and nervously put it into the dvd slot.

Lucy doesn't know what to say when the opening credits appear.

'Lucy Bronze: The Game' with a little pixel version of her holding the Champion's League trophy up on her head.

"We were meant to make a game about a hero," You say," And you're my hero."

[submattenthusiast]

full switch!matt

legs aching, thighs burning, sweat dripping — it was all too much. you loved being on top don’t get me wrong but it was a lot of work. and matt was lasting a lot longer than usual. not one warning of him being on the brink came out. just repeated moans from him. your hips began to slow in response, the soreness spreading throughout your lower half. he noticed immediately, the way your pussy unclenched around him, the way your hands rested on his chested instead of by his hips.

"no please don't stop" he whined, fingers pressing into your hips as he tried to move them faster. his efforts quickly failed him, the pressure he was forcing on your hips wasn't moving you like he wanted. a series of chuckles left your exhausted throat in response to his efforts. "give me a second matt i'm sore" you groan. the skin slapping in the room reduced to zero as you stuck to grinding against him. the tip of his cock still tickling your sweet spot with the new pace so it felt good — to you. matt on the other hand was getting very impatient, very unsatisfied with the pleasureless movements from you. without thinking he bucked his hip up into yours, with a grunt his tip hit that gummy spot with no effort. "fuck" you cursed, not expecting the stimulation so harshly.

the stillness of your body awoke something inside him. the way you took his unexpected jerk so well had his mind wandering. what else could you take well?

mumbling a quick and jumbled can't wait, matt's knuckles turned white as he swiftly flipped your body onto the mattress, without fully pulling out. your eyes shot open in pure shock, your body hit the bed sort of harsh but not rough. just a desperate move from him. a guttural moan slipped from your throat as he swiftly sunk his cock back into you. "i just need to fuck you i ne—need to fill you" he grunts, brows furrowing as he focused on the pleasure. his hands never left your waist, you figured he was still needing some type of support from you.

the sheets welcomed your body as the his hips rutted into yours. your hand pressed into his lower back while your legs formed an x around his torso. bringing him as close and deep as allowed. the pace that he was fucking into you was adrenaline inducing, it was so unbelievably hot, and exciting. he was so focused on you and you only, nothing else mattered. you felt his back muscles tense as he slightly adjusted the angle of where his cock was reaching inside you —just a little bit deeper.

the blended sexual sounds and words rolled off of your tongues effortlessly. arousal coated your inner things and his cock as he went on about how good your walls felt clamped around his eager length. his breath caressed your neck as he drives further into you. "so go—good wouldn't even dream of pulling out" he whispered, kissing you smoothly to add on to the dirty talk. your nails almost gave him a new tattoo with the way they punctured his skin. "that's it sweetheart, show me how good i'm making you feel" he groans in response. your actions only adding fuel to his fire.

[rose24207]

Just a Salesman

Summary: Your perfect world shatters when a furious stranger bursts into your home, accusing your loving, devoted husband of being a monster responsible for countless deaths.

Genre: angst

TW: swearing, mention of death

A/N: Posting sm today wow. English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Pt.2

Masterlist

You always believed in the goodness of people. Growing up in a small, close-knit town had shaped you that way.

You’d been the type to bake cookies for the elderly neighbor down the street, rescue stray animals, and donate whatever you could to people in need. When you met your husband, it felt like a gift from the universe.

He was everything you thought you’d never deserve: charismatic, attentive, and so gentle with you it made your heart ache. He would listen intently to your rambles about work, surprise you with your favorite pastries from the café downtown, and hold you close on cold nights when the world seemed too overwhelming.

You hadn’t known much about his work—“sales” was all he ever said—but it didn’t matter. He always came home to you, and that was enough. You admired how he seemed to understand people so easily, reading emotions and desires with an almost uncanny precision. He was your safe harbor, and you were his soft place to land.

But what made your marriage unique wasn’t just the way he made you feel; it was the way you balanced him. Where he was logical and composed, you were emotional and empathetic. If he brushed off a stranger’s plight with practicality, you’d step in with a warm smile and offer help. He often teased you about your boundless kindness, calling you “his little bleeding heart,” but his tone was always fond.

“You’re too good for this world,” he’d whisper sometimes, brushing your hair behind your ear. You’d laugh, kissing his cheek.

“And you’re my world,” you’d reply, never missing the way his gaze softened.

You were blissfully unaware that the man you loved and trusted so completely was hiding a shadowy part of himself, one that was entirely at odds with the person you knew.

It was a chilly winter evening when your life began to unravel. You’d just finished preparing dinner, humming to yourself as you set the table for two, the flicker of candlelight adding warmth to the cozy living room.

Your husband had called earlier, saying he’d be late, but you didn’t mind waiting.

The knock at the door came suddenly, jolting you out of your thoughts. Expecting it to be a neighbor or a delivery, you opened it with your usual bright smile, only to find a man standing there, his face lined with rage and exhaustion.

“Can I help you?” you asked kindly, though his expression unnerved you.

“You already have,” he muttered darkly, stepping inside uninvited. “Where is he?”

“I’m sorry—who are you talking about?” you stammered, retreating a step.

“Your husband,” he spat, his voice trembling with barely contained fury. “Where is that bastard hiding?”

“I think you’ve made a mistake,” you said gently, though your hands were shaking. “My husband hasn’t hurt anyone. He’s just a salesman.”

“A salesman,” the man repeated with a bitter laugh. He fished a small card from his pocket and slammed it onto the table. You glanced at it, confused by the cryptic design.

“He gave me this,” the man continued. “And because of him, I had to watch people die. Because of him, my friends are dead! You’re married to a killer!”

The words pierced through you like shards of ice. “That’s impossible,” you whispered. “My husband would never—”

“Open your eyes, lady!” he shouted, making you flinch. “Do you even know who you’re married to?”

Before you could respond, the door creaked open again. Your husband stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto the stranger.

“Gi-hun,” he said calmly, closing the door behind him. “It’s been a while.”

Your heart sank as you turned to your husband, his usual warmth replaced with a cold, calculating smile you’d never seen before.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Go to the bedroom,” he said softly, but there was an edge to his tone that made your blood run cold.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “Not until you tell me what this is about. Why is he saying these things?”

The room was tense, the air thick with unspoken truths. Gi-hun’s fury burned hotter as he stepped closer.

“She doesn’t even know, does she?” he sneered. “You’ve been lying to her this whole time.”

Your husband’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t her concern.”

“She’s your wife! She deserves to know the kind of monster she’s married to!”

“Enough,” your husband snapped, his voice firm but not raised. He turned to you, his expression softening just slightly. “Go upstairs, sweetheart. Please.”

You stood frozen, torn between obeying the man you loved and demanding answers. The tears in your eyes blurred your vision as the image of your perfect life began to crumble around you.

Thank you for reading!

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 9

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 8 of...who knows.

It felt like forever. He knew it wasn't. It must have been minutes until the car door was ripped open and Charles slipped in right next to him.

It wasn’t until the doors were slammed shut behind Charles that Max dared to look at the Monégasque.

His heart skipped a beat at the sight. Charles was still in his racing suit just as him, the suit itself streaked with sweat.

The moment the car door closed, the car started riving.

"Merde," Charles cursed. Max could only agree. "I am sorry, that it took this long."

Max gave a sharp, jerky shake of his head. "You don’t have to apologize," he somehow managed to get the words out. "I’m just..." he trailed off, a shaky exhale escaping him. "How could you make it here so fast?" he asked, casting a quick glance in his friend’s direction.

Charles snorted. "Your press officer had a shouting match with Ferrari's,“ he said simply.

If Max wasn’t so focused on not completely losing it, he might’ve been amused with the mental image. But at the moment, he could only shake his head.

Next to him, Charles let out a sigh. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"No. You?" he gave back.

"I don't have a bad feeling," Charles said quietly. “Not worse than it has been for days at least.”

Twin Telepathy was apparently a thing as far as Charles and Colette were concerned. 

Quite frankly, till this day, it still weirded Max out. They just seemed to know when the other one wasn't feeling well. 95% of the time, they got sick at the same time. They communicated more easily with each other than with anyone else, and regardless of what game they played...they needed to be put on opposite teams, because otherwise nobody had a chance against them.

Max was well aware of Colette and Charles' strange connection. Even if he didn’t fully understand it. They both had some sort of sixth sense when it came to the other one, and it sometimes felt like they were talking in secret code.

"What’s it telling you right now?" he asked, his voice barely above a rough whisper.

Charles turned to him fully at that, and Max saw the way his eyes swept over him, taking in every aspect of his appearance.

Max could only imagine what Charles was seeing. He felt like a walking wreck, and there was no doubt his appearance was mirroring that.

"Colette is in pain," Charles finally said, his voice strangely quiet. "She’s scared."

That answer felt like somebody shoved a knife into Max’s stomach. He inhaled sharply, the breath catching in his throat. “Of course, she is,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

Charles seemed to sense what he was thinking, even without being telepathically connected through whatever the hell Colette and him had going on. The Monégasque reached out and took a firmer hold of his hand, the grip almost crushing.

"Don’t," Charles said firmly, his voice leaving no room for arguments. "Don’t go there. We’re gonna get to her as fast as we can."

There was a brief moment of silence, as Max tried to collect himself. He focused all his attention on the pressure of Charles' hand on his, and somehow, it actually helped.

"I feel so goddamn useless," he finally admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "I want to be with her."

"You want to try calling her before we are in the air?" Charles suggested.

That was not a bad idea, not at all. Max let out a low and slightly shaky exhale, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, I…” he had to stop and clear his throat. “Yeah, I’ll try to call her.”

His hands were shaking when he pulled out his phone out of the backpack that somebody had handed off to him, already packed. Regardless of all the drama that had gone on in the RedBull garage during the year… if it really mattered, the people in there pulled off minor miracles.

Within minutes, his entire day - hell, his entire week - had been packed for him, with all the essentials of clothes and everything else he would need.

He had almost forgotten about the phone in his shaking hands, but now he just stared at the screen for a moment. His fingers were trembling so badly that just unlocking the phone was a challenge in itself.

Jimmy and Sassy were on his lockscreen...a picture that Colette had once sent him when he had been away for one of his races...the two of them laying on top of her on their couch...

Every other time Max saw the photo, it made his heart do a little funny jump. Now though, it made his chest ache. It felt like a sharp stabbing pain, and for a moment, he just sat there and stared at the picture.

Then he called her.

It rang. And it rang, and it rang again. With each passing second, that horrible knot in his stomach tightened a little more. With every ring of the bell, it got harder to breathe.

Finally, to Max’s immense and enormous relief, the line connected.

"Hey, Maxie. I put you on speaker," Victoria's voice came over the phone, sounding surprisingly calm.

A shiver of something resembling dread ran through Max, at the sound of Victoria’s voice. But he pushed past the feeling.

His thoughts were once again running wild - was it a bad sign that Colette wasn’t the one speaking to him? Or was he just overreacting..?

“Hey,” he forced the word out past the lump in his throat. "How are you feeling?" he asked, pleading for Colette's voice. Was it selfish that he just wanted to hear her tell him that everything was going to be okay?

"Better now," Colette's voice came, sounding slightly hoarse.

The words were like a shot of adrenaline, and for a moment, Max actually felt a little lightheaded. “Liefje.” He closed his eyes, just hearing her voice sending another wave of relief through him. “Are you okay? How is Bébé?”

"Bébé has decided that they would rather be born today, so I would suggest you hurry up," Victoria said drily.

"Seems like the kid already inherited Max's need for speed," Charles quipped. "How are you doing, Coco?"

"I'm good," Colette's voice replied, and Max could only imagine the eye-roll that was currently happening. He knew his girlfriend, and he had no doubt that she had been glaring at Victoria ever since the phone was put on speaker.

"Where are you?" she asked, her voice suddenly turning much softer. "You're coming, right?"

"Coming," he assured her, his heart aching. "We're coming, I promise."

"I know. I’m not worried." She sounded like she meant it, but Max could easily imagine the anxiety in her eyes.

"You'd better not worry," Charles said, and then added, "I’m keeping him from doing anything dumb."

Max shot Charles a dirty look at that, bt he swallowed down the annoyed protest and focused back on Colette instead. “Just…hold on a little longer, okay?”

"It's not like I can go anywhere else," Colette replied, her voice slightly amused. "I’ll keep our little speed demon in there a little lo...." She broke off and let out a quiet hiss of pain, her voice once again cut off by what Max suspected to be a particularly painful contraction.

“Colette,” he said sharply, all kinds of emotions washing over him, one by one. “Liefje, just…just breathe through it, okay?”

There was a second of panting, then, he heard her take a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” she finally said. “Just…hurts like hell.”

He swallowed and clenched his free hand tightly into a fist, fighting against the urge to just jump out of the car and start running towards the airport.

Colette being in pain was not something he could deal with.

He heard her take a few more deep breaths, and he just sat there, waiting and listening and feeling absolutely useless.

"How long until you get here?" she asked after a moment, her voice breathless. He could see her in his mind, his sweet girl, sitting on the bed and clutching her belly as another contraction hit her.

"We're not even at the airport yet," he told her, and damn it, why were his eyes suddenly burning. "We’ll get there as soon as we can, okay? Just...hold on a little longer."

"What your dad said..." Colette said with a shaky voice.

"I know," he said simply, the grief raw in his voice. Neither of them were ever really going to get over the two babies they had lost. They had learnt to live with the pain, they had dealt with the heartbreak an grief...but it was always going to be scar for them.

"Max, if something…" she began, her voice a little wobbly. He could tell that she was crying, by the way her breathing got a little more hitched and ragged.

But she suddenly cut off and gasped, letting out an even breath. Another contraction..."Hey, nothing is gonna happen," he quickly said, trying to soothe her. "Nothing. I'll be there soon. I'll be there before you know, and our child will meet their parents. We will be fine, we will get through this. You, and me. Together."

"If something happens," Colette continues. "If..."

"No," he cut her off, the word coming out as a growl. "Nothing is gonna happen. You will not talk that way. You’re going to deliver a gorgeous and healthy baby, and I won’t hear anything else."

"Max..." she protested, but Max wasn’t having it.

"You’re not going anywhere," he said firmly, putting as much steel in his voice as he could. "You will be fine. Our baby will be fine, and I will be there soon and I will hold your hand and you can threaten to geld me and all of it will be okay. Just breathe.” 

He could hear the sound of her breathing, deep and even. She was trying to steady it, and Max gripped his phone tighter. He didn’t know if he was trying to hold himself together, or if he was trying to hold on to the sound of her voice.

The seconds ticked by, and then another contraction hit, and he heard her gasp out another ragged breath. Max felt like he was going to crawl out of his own skin. The idea of her in pain was like an invisible knife twisting a little deeper in his gut, each time.

"We need to go," Charles said suddenly. "We need to get into the plane." The car slowed down at that moment. "Coco, listen to me. I am going to be absolutely fucking furious with you if something happens to you," Charles told her fiercely. 

"Trust me," Colette’s voice said, sounding slightly tired. "I am very, very motivated to stay alive."

That was good. That was a good sign. If she was still being sarcastic and even a little bit cheeky…it was good.

"Just hold on," he told her again, the familiar feeling of helplessness seeping into his bones. "Just keep hanging on, for me. I love you."

“I love you too,” the words were as immediate and as fast as the sunrise each morning. "Hurry up, dammit."

"I’m trying," he replied, his voice hoarse. "I’m trying. We’re at the airport now. We’ll get there as fast as we can-" he had to stop, when he heard her let out another pained gasping sound, as another contraction clearly hit her hard.

“Goddamn,” he exclaimed, all of his muscles tense with the urge to do something. He wanted to help her, he wanted to be there to comfort her…but more than anything,  he was terrified of losing her. "Liefje, just keep breathing, okay? Breathe and stay calm."

"I’m trying to," her voice was breathless, and he knew that she was probably trying hard to fight the urge to cry out. Oh God, he hated that. He hated seeing her in pain, he loathed feeling this utterly useless.

"Go. Love you," she told him.

"I love you," he told her emphatically, wanting to say something more, but then Charles impatiently gestured at him to hurry up and get out of the car. "I...I’ll see you soon, okay? Just hang on, okay?"

"Yeah," he could tell that she was trying even harder to control her voice, trying to put on a calm and steady front for his benefit. "Just..." she cut off and let out a gasp, another contraction evidently hitting her hard. "...just hurry up before this baby decides to make their way out before you arrive, okay?"

"I will," he promised through gritted teeth. "I will, goddammit, I will, just…hang on."

He heard Colette’s pained panting, and each of her breaths was like a stab in the gut.He hated having to hang up on her

Everything in him rebelled at that. How could he, how could he possibly abandon her like that, how could he let her take on this pain and fear all by herself, without him there to hold her hand...but goddamnit, he had no choice.

He took a shuddering breath and pushed past the urge to scream, to slam his fist into something, anything. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, ranging from the desperate need to get to her, to overwhelming panic, to anger at the universe for forcing them apart and for putting her through this pain.

Into the plane they went…it was probably the shortest amount of time between entering a plane and taking off Max had ever experienced. 

Before too long they were up in the air, flying towards Nice.

The minutes ticked by, each one passing by like a century. Max would sit in restless agitation at his seat, his mind racing back and forth. Every thought and memory came back to Colette. He just wanted to be at her side, he just wanted everything to be okay…

And instead he would be stuck on this plane for 6 hours.

He would be stuck on this goddamn plane for six hours. Six hours, each one of them filled with the knowledge that the love of his life was giving birth to their child, and he was not there to support her, to hold her hand and reassure her that everything was okay.

It was driving him absolutely insane. He couldn’t take it, he just wanted to be there, with her. He could vividly picture her, sitting in the hospital bed and gripping the rails, her face screwed up in pain as she fought through another contraction. And he was not there to comfort her.

"Maman is with her. Your sister is with her. Lorenzo and Arthur too." Charles said at that moment. “We aren't there but everybody else is."

"How can you be this calm?" Max asked him, dragging a hand through sweat damp hair.

"Don't mistake calm for not being worried," Charles said evenly, his eyes tracking Max's restless pacing of the plane. "I am worried. For her, for you and for the little one. But freaking out isn't gonna do anyone any favours right now."

"I know,” Max said, his voice still strangled tight with stress. He just couldn't get any of the images out of his mind - her struggling and fighting her way through the pain, looking more vulnerable and pale than he had ever seen her...and he was not there.

“Besides, I shouted at Ferrari’s PR and got it out of my system, so currently, I am feeling quite calm.” Charles said darkly. “I imagine that’s going to change again when I am sure that Colette and the baby are alright.”

Max just stared at him. Charles had done what?

If there was a religion that Charles Leclerc believed in then it was Ferrari.

Charles Leclerc was their golden boy. Their Il Predestinato. There was no good-natured fobbing to be had about Ferrari regardless of what issues there had been had through the years, and there had been a lot.

Charles worshipped Ferrari like a malevolent goddess. He didn’t want to hear any criticism of his team and Max had given up on that a very long time ago. 

Charles and Colette both could be the most stubborn people Max had ever match. The only one who could match their stubbornness were each other. 

"You did what?" Max stared at him, utterly flabbergasted. Charles was an absolute Ferrari fan and loyal to the very core…why the hell would he yell at the PR people?

"Why...? What did they do?"

"They weren't even going to tell me that something was wrong with Colette," Charles said darkly. "I knew it. I knew that something was off. But they didn't say anything. It was one of Red Bull's PR Staff that got me out of the cooldown room. Ferrari wouldn't have said anything to me. Ferrari didn't want me to leave either. They wanted to debrief, they wanted me to give interviews,"

Max had to resist the urge to swear. He had been so focused on the fact that he was not with Colette that he hadn't even processed the fact that Ferrari had actually kept her labour a secret from Charles, simply to make him stay and do his goddamn job for them.

"You know that that is not normal, right?" he asked him drily. "I am not telling you that everything is perfect at Red Bull but Christian would never fucking stand for that."

"You know I never expected it," Charles told him, his mouth a thin hard line. "We are the drivers. We are the stars. But we come second. First and foremost, we are assets to the team. What Ferrari wants, Ferrari gets. We drive, we get podiums, we hold the trophies, and we smile for the cameras. Everything else comes second. It doesn’t matter to them. To them, only the trophies matter. "

"That's what they want," Max told him, anger seeping into his voice. "But that's not how it should be. Ferrari is wrong. If something is wrong with your loved ones, they have no right to keep it from you like that. Especially not for the sake of a goddamn interview."

"I know," Charles said, his lips thin with bitterness. "But there's not much I can do about it, is there? We may be the top drivers on the grid, but we drive the car that the teams give us. There's only so much that we can do when the team has power over pretty much every aspect of our career. And believe me, I am going to pay a fucking price for doing what I did. I just don't care at all. It's Colette," he said sharply. "I love all my siblings. I do. I love Lorenzo and Arthur. I would do everything for them. But they aren't my twin. They aren't the second half of me," Charles said simply. "Ferrari be damned."

Max hadn't thought that he was ever going to hear these words out of Charles' mouth but here they were.

"What the fuck did Jos say by the way? What did Coco mean?" Charles demanded.

"He gave an interview to Sky Sports," Max said, fury still embering deep in his gut.

"Of course he did." Charles said, not sounding surprised at all. "What did he say?"

"Confirmed the relationship...and the pregnancy," Max said clenching his teeth. "And if that wasn't enough...he made a...comment about how it had taken us long enough to have a baby."

There was a sharp indrawn breath as Charles absorbed that. "...What?" Charles said after a moment, his voice strangled. "...he made that comment in public? Are - are you serious?"

"I never told him about the two...miscarriages," Max said quietly. "I couldn't deal with whatever well meant advice he was going to have...but I...We lost two babies," Max said weakly. "My father went out there and confirmed our relationship and the pregnancy without talking to either of us. He just made that decision because it's "ridiculous" that we kept it a secret for so long. An it’s making me furious. This wasn't his decision to make. This was ours."

"Yes," Charles said, his jaw clenching. "It was. Your decision. Nobody else’s. He had absolutely no right to do that. Goddamn it, I have never liked that man, but I've never had the urge to punch him as much as I do this very moment."

"You and me both," Max said. The anger he was feeling would have been burning through him like a damn inferno if he hadn't been so worried about Colette.

"This should have come from us," Max repeated quietly. "Not from anybody else."

"It still can come from you," Charles said.

Max paused, looking up at him. "Are you saying we should..." he began uncertainly.

"You want to tell the entire world that you love my sister and that she is having your baby? You have an Instagram account and a phone with an internet connection," Charles said drily. "Tell them the truth. Your truth."

Max opened his mouth and then closed it again. Charles had a point. It was obvious what the news was going to be now if people had seen Jos's interview.

But he wanted to be the one to tell the world. He wanted it to be on his terms. He wanted it to be public but on his public terms. Not his father's.

"Are you ever going to ask my sister to marry you?" Charles asked him suddenly.

The question caught him completely off guard. "...What?" He said blankly, stunned by the change of the conversation.

"You gave her a ring when you were both 18 that you both insisted was only a promise ring," Charles said drily. "Are you ever going to replace it with the real thing?"

He thought back to that ring that still sat on Colette's finger to this day. A simply gold band with a tiny heart-shaped diamond.

He had given it to her in 2016, after his very first Grand Prix win in Spain. He had gone out and bought it that very same day to be exact.

He had bought Victoira a handbag the first time he had scored his championship points...but the first time he had won...he had bought Colette that ring.

"Apparently the baby is only going to have your surname too, because you have an agreement," Charles continued. "Do I actually want to know what that agreement was?"

"We were 18. Both our father's would have probably killed us, if we came to them and told them that we were engaged," Max said with a sigh. The Leclerc's had always been supportive of their relationship but Hervè Leclerc had very much thought that both Colette and him were far too young to get married. 

Jos on the other hand...Max didn't even want to imagine that screaming fit.  "So I gave her that ring and we agreed that..."

"You agreed that..." Charles repeated slowly, silently urging him to continue.

Max let out a deep sigh and dragged a hand through his already messy hair, mussing it up even more. "We agreed that we didn't really need a piece of paper to tell us what we already knew," he said simply. "Colette and I had been together for 6 years at that point, we already knew and accepted that we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. It was just a matter of when. So we decided that we didn't need a damn piece of paper to know that we were committed to each other. We already knew that, without a doubt," Max said simply. "It was a promise ring. To love and to cherish, till death us do part. One day we would do it properly, but till then...that ring was a promise."

Charles stared at him. "Let me get this straight. You have been married to my sister for 10 years?" he asked him sharply.

Max winced. Okay. Put like that, it sounded kinda bad. "We never had the actual wedding," he said sheepishly. "We both know it wasn't necessary for us, so...we kinda just...never got around to it."

"I mean, I did ask your father for her hand in marriage when it was clear that he wasn't going to be there...when we eventually did it properly...but...for us that ring was… It was more than enough," Max said quietly. "I knew damn well that I would be with her for the rest of my life. She knew it. We both knew it. And that ring was a symbol between us that sealed the deal. We both knew that it was going to be for forever and always. It was a promise. A promise to always stay by each other’s side. No matter how badly things fell apart around us. No matter how much the world wanted to tear us to apart. We were going to stay together, come hell or high water. We didn't need a paper to prove that to us or the rest of the world," Max said firmly.

Charles stared at him for a couple of long moments, processing this. Max was well aware that, from an outside perspective, it might sound weird. That they had been so young, but so utterly certain that they were going to spend their lives together.

But he and Colette had been together for years. And he had seen how strongly they had bonded over the years, seen what they had been able to deal with as a team, as one, and how they had come through every single thing that the life had thrown at them together.

"You two are utterly ridiculous," Charles finally said drily. "You didn't get engaged because as far as you two were concerned you already got married years ago."

Max winced a little bit and couldn't really refute it. If he were to be honest, he'd have admit it did sound utterly ridiculous, when Charles spelled it out like that.

But that just...that was how badly they had known right from the very beginning that this was it for them. They didn't need a piece of paper to tell them what they already knew.

"I'll ask her properly," he promised Charles. "I already got the ring. But Colette doesn't want to overshadow Lorenzo and Charlotte and I knew that she wasn't going to want to have a big party while pregnant so I figured I would just wait."

Charles was slightly taken aback by his words, before he gave a small smile. "She'll definitely say yes, you know," he said, the corner of his eyes crinkling with affection.

Max smiled in return. His heart ached with the thought of her. "I hope so," he said quietly, feeling like there was a hole in his chest where his heart was supposed to be. "I really, really hope so."

[ceesimz]

Lavender

A date that unfortunately doesn't go as planned. (autistic!reader - angst -> fluff)

Reverie series here as always! A verrrry real experience depicted in this one, with some amazing help from @pickledwoso that i am very grateful for, thank youuu <3

“Engel, are you ready to leave?” Alexia sang as she headed out of the bedroom towards where you were at the door rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, waiting for her.

“Yes, you fool, I've been ready for the past half hour.” You rolled your eyes at her teasingly, laughing when she lightly pawed at your side where she knew you were ticklish. “Come on! You're taking all day.”

“Ay, it is our day-off, I can take my time for once. No rushing, just calm, and me and you.” She gave an alluring smile, sliding her hand down your arm until she intertwined your fingers, then leaned forwards to kiss your forehead. “Are you excited?”

“Very. I love when we do this.” You told her with a squeeze of her hand. The girl grinned, her eyes brimming with excitement and complete happiness seeping from her pores, like the prospect of visiting a farmer's market with her girlfriend was as exciting as a third Ballon d’Or.

“Me too.” She gently knocked your chin up and pecked your lips before brushing back a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now, are we ready, mi vida?”

“For the love of god, yes!”

Any time the club issued some days-off, one of the things highest on the list for yourself and Alexia was visiting the local farmer’s market. You’d buy the best of the best fresh organic products and cook together a dish of food that, combined with the quality time you'd spend with each other, would make for a night-in together that was so much better than going out somewhere. 

These days had become somewhat of a tradition, and with it being the penultimate day of the short summer break after the tournament Alexia had gone to, it was absolute perfection. The last day had no plans apart from relaxing and spending time together before the season started again. You couldn't think of a better way to spend the last bit of time off than a date to a familiar, easy place with Alexia that was sure to give way for a fun afternoon and evening.

With it being the height of summer, Barcelona was especially warm, which was perhaps the first warning sign of the day.

“Ale, you really need to get your car in the garage, your AC sucks.” You groaned, the vents on full blast yet hardly doing a thing to cool you down against the 35 degree air outside. Your window was open and your head rested against the door dramatically, Alexia couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight even if she did feel a little bad about it.

“It’s got a service next week, they will fix it then. Sorry.” She winced, hardly breaking a sweat in the weather she was more than acclimated to whilst you seemed to be struggling before the pair of you had even left the car.

You shrugged her off because it's not exactly her fault her car's AC has been faulty since the spring, and focused all your attention on the life-saving breeze hitting your face as Alexia maneuvered through some tame midday traffic. Hot weather wasn't one of your favourite things in the world, as a matter of fact much more comfortable in minus degree weather with tiny icicles on your eyelashes, but a year into living under the blaze of the Barna sun you had no choice but to put up with it.

Though, your patience with the heat wore off quick. And in its wake, a simmering feeling of restlessness, which should have been yet another warning sign. But you were too deep in your determination for this to be a good day for anything to write you off.

The market was only a short drive away, the two of you having opted out of walking because, well, duh, the weather, and just as the sweat that found its place on your nose no more than five minutes after stepping out of your ice cold shower finally began to evaporate, it came crawling right back the second you got out of the car. Alexia was starting to feel uneasy about the day's plans, and, really, so were you, but you were set on pushing through the constrictive feeling that had settled in your bones when the first bit of heat came your way after leaving your flat. There wouldn't be much time in the coming weeks for a day like this with your girlfriend, you weren't about to wreck it for the both of you.

From where the car was parked to the entrance of the market, you walked in silence, hand in hand across slightly worn stone tiles until the rusted old gates of the park stood before you. Over the threshold of the entrance, paved tiles turning to cobble, you knew the chaos the market had in store for you. You didn’t know if you could handle it. The writing on the wall was in the prickly sensation in your skin that was all too familiar, as was the way every nerve in your body screamed in discomfort, almost like your soul was desperately trying to find a way out of your body.

You ignored it, and headed towards the stalls before Alexia could ask how you were.

This place was familiar; you knew the ins and outs of each stall, you knew where to go, you knew how long it took to get around. It shouldn’t be too hard, right? 

You loved this place, of course it’d be fine. It beamed with energy, with good vibes, with good people. With its colourful displays of the finest fruit and vegetables, it was more than just a market; it was the heartbeat of the surrounding neigbourhoods.

All kinds of scents and aromas swirled around each corner, weaving themselves into the fabrics of people’s clothes and lingering long after they’d left. They were intoxicatingly good, and it was evident in the looks of wonder on everybody’s face, old or young, experienced shopper or recent newcomer. Vendors positioned at every stall or tattered wagon called out their offerings in a chaotic yet melodic mix of Spanish and Catalan, grabbing the nearest fruit or veg to wave around like an auctioneer with a hammer, the only use for it being to wave off the flies dancing tauntingly around their goods. 

Locals haggled over prices with the farmers they’d come to know just as well as their own family; their loud and boisterous back-and-forth banter may have sounded like arguing to unknowing tourists, but to everyone else it was understood as just some good-humoured ribbing that they all delighted in. It was more of a shuffle than a walk throughout the place thanks to the tourists that seemed to stop in the middle of the aisles every second, clearly oblivious to the well-practiced dance of the locals. Elderly ladies pulled their clueless esposos around with one arm whilst they carried their wicker basket in the other, the woven willow groaning under the weight of the countless ingredients to be used in that night’s meal.

For a moment, as you paused off to the side whilst Alexia caught up with one of the stall owners, a fisherman with his catches of the week proudly on display, which you knew your girlfriend would end the conversation by buying enough fish meat to feed the five thousand, you took a moment to breathe. Everybody seemed relieved of their life’s burdens here, gathered closely in one space that was steeped in the essence of the world’s simplest pleasures; flavour, tradition, and community. Only, the smile that was usually imprinted on your face whenever you came was no more than a distant memory. 

Despite the fairly shadowed area, considering the park was fenced in by sporadic trees that skimmed the roofs of buildings that showed off the city’s beautiful architecture, it was still insufferably hot. It radiated off of the ground, rebounded off the buildings around, and the flurry of structures meant there was no wind breaking through to give a cool Mediterranean breeze like you had before. 

Alexia seemed none the wiser, enraptured by the surroundings like it was her first time there, her head on a swivel and marveling at the mouth-wateringly exceptional variety of things to choose from. You hadn’t really been taking it in, your eyes stuck to the back of her head as you followed her through, waiting on shaking legs whenever she laughed and joked with each worker she bought from. 

This labyrinth of every cook’s dream was well and truly alive, but you weren’t. You couldn’t absorb the intense feeling of belonging and sonder you got whenever you came here. It was too much. The thought ate away at you, as with every fly that landed on your skin or every person that brushed against you, you became more and more on edge. 

All the different smells, the different sounds, the crowd of people, they didn’t spark those usual feelings of contentment and peace that transpired for you normally. Instead, they felt oppressive, like they were attacking your senses. 

The concoction of aromas forced themselves inside your nose and overloaded you completely, the squeamish smell of fish and the fiery linger of hundreds of kinds of herbs and spices bringing on a pounding headache. Every squeak of a wicker basket as the willow was put under more pressure could have been a gunshot for all you knew, the way it echoed around the tunnels of your ears. Anytime someone briefly put a hand on you as they moved past had you flinching, hating the unexpected contact as it was the last thing you needed in such a situation.

You didn’t find any comfort whatsoever in how Alexia’s hand never left yours for more than a minute, when normally it was something that grounded you. Her usually funny comments and little facts and point-outs of detail about her ‘second home’ (the name she had given it as she’d been coming here since she was young) didn’t make you feel any brighter, in fact you were pretty sure you missed most of them.

And as every minute passed, it appeared to get busier and busier, until it started to feel like you were in some kind of mosh pit, people bouncing off of you with every turn only for the next one to come along no more than a second later. You couldn’t hear a word Alexia was speaking, the once calming mix of languages turned into a booming echo of voices that were so close they seemed to be knocking on the bone of your skull, yet too distant for you to make out what anyone was saying, making it all so. much. worse.

Every voice, every footstep, every hearty laughter and every scrape of wood along the floor grated against your ears, all noises around amplified to immeasurable heights. The space was far too loud and far too crowded – each sensation you felt blurred into the next until it became impossible to separate from one another. But you did feel how each individual muscle tensed, from your legs to your shoulders, as Alexia continued to pull you through the market. 

You were hyperaware of everything around you and it soon became unbearable. But Alexia was happy, she chatted away like nothing was happening, comfortable and content as her canvas bag brimmed with stuff you didn’t even realise she had bought. You soldiered on, or at least tried to.

Until, your breathing began to quicken, your lungs unable to take in any of the stuffy air you walked through, your chest tightening in a way that only caused you to panic impossibly more. Each piece of fabric from your clothes grazed against your skin like a hundred scratches in a single second, your shirt and shorts beginning to feel like they were getting tighter with each step you took. And when the claustrophobia, the feeling like there was no escape at all, began to really set in, the day was over.

Your resolve had completely eroded. You tried to focus on grounding yourself — reminding yourself this was a safe space, but that was an empty claim to make to your shredded composure. You tried convincing your mind that Alexia’s hand in yours was comforting, when it only felt constrictive, her hand wholly enveloping yours like a snake, leaving no room to breathe. You clenched and unclenched your fist in time with your breaths, but you couldn't even inhale for a second before your mind went into overdrive. All the tools you relied on before were inadequate in that moment. The rational part of your brain slipped away, instead replaced by an instinctive need to escape. 

Surges of anger, panic, anxiety, fear, they all rose uncontrollably at once. Your jaw clenched, your free hand curled into a tight fist, and your vision turned hazy as your world dissolved into one indistinct blur.

The snapping point came abruptly. Perhaps it was a shrill laugh nearby, the clatter of a crate being dropped, or an impatient shove from someone trying to pass by. It was the smallest thing, but it tipped the scale far out of anybody’s control. You were alone in that moment. Trapped completely in your mind.

You missed how Alexia called your name over and over, how her hand nudged yours to desperately try to grasp your attention. It was only when her hands grabbed both your forearms that you were brought back down, but only for half a millisecond, before it all went south.

“What?!” You snapped at her, jumping back out of her touch. 

As a result, there were about thirty pairs of eyes on you. Everybody around paused, your sharp shout cutting through the buzz of the market, and it went so quiet that every flutter of a fly’s wing and every creek of wood could be heard. 

You took another step back when Alexia came towards you, a worrisome look on her face with her hands out in front of her like she was trying to not spook an untrusting animal in front of her. She rushed out some words of reassurance that fell into the background with all the other noises around that had picked up again, the market-goers losing interest in a seemingly harmless situation. They didn’t register within you, nor did her intentions. Your mind was far too good at playing tricks on you, convincing you of things that were far from the truth but in the moment felt like gospel.

There was no way out of where you were, both in the physical and the mental sense, and that was the main factor in the eruption that had just happened. With so many emotions coursing through you, there was an intense itch to find a release from them all. So before you realised, your arms crossed over your chest, hands on your upper arms just above your elbow, and you began to roughly palm, rub, grab at the skin there, needing a distraction from the volume of your mind and the world, whilst also desperately trying to get the movement to act as a release of the crushing press of the feelings inside of you. 

If you were alone at that time, god only knows what would have happened. Fortunately you weren’t.

The next time Alexia touched you was the featherlight weight of her hand on your lower back, the minor contact enough to lead you through the winding paths of the market. Your legs ran on autopilot, but you stumbled with every few steps, eyes too blurry to see the bumps and dips in the cobbles underneath your feet. There were probably tears down your face, though you’d reached such a broken point that your body was just… numb. You weren’t in control of anything anymore, hadn’t been for a while, but this was a new extremity. You weren’t even present in your own mind. Just an innocent, unknowing passenger in the car crash that had come out of nowhere.

Somehow, with her own hands trembling from concern, Alexia managed to lead you out of the chaos of the market to those same rusted, paint-chipped gates from earlier— the entrance of the park area. She was lost on what to do or say, but rationally she knew the only thing that would work for you right now was getting you home. 

“I will drive us back to your flat, back home, okay?” 

You gave her no indication that you heard her, which she was expecting, though you had heard the one word you were in dire need of and it was the first thing so far that managed to break through into your overwhelmed mind. Your hands were still moving roughly against the skin of your arms, sure to leave marks afterwards, but Alexia knew if she attempted to stop you, it’d only make matters worse. She had to get you home. Seeing you like this was breaking her.

It took a concerningly small amount of effort to guide you to the car; you were pliant and mindless, the exhaustion having fully taken over the minute you left the crowded space. She opened the door for you, helped you into the seat, and put the belt on. You leaned your head back against the seat rest and stared straight ahead. Whether it’d help or not, Alexia wasn’t sure. But she had to do one thing, more for the sake of her sanity than yours. With a quiet call of your name, she gently put a hand under your chin and turned you so you faced her.

“I’ll take you home and look after you. You will be okay.” She whispered, tentatively brushing away some of the tears still on your cheeks with her thumb. Her words were a sentiment for her as much as they were for you. “You’ll be okay soon.”

—

Next thing you knew, you were in your bed, lay on your side with your weighted blanket over you and Alexia nowhere to be seen.

It was definitely the calm after the storm. The room was mostly dark apart from the light that bled through the curtains which were closed, you could hear the quiet whir of the AC as well as the dull hum of traffic on the street below, but that was about it. It was a stark contrast to how things were before.

You don’t exactly remember getting home after what happened after the market, but what you did know was that though Alexia wasn’t in the room, she had been at some point, because you felt her love in the way she made sure everything was properly set up for you. The AC hadn’t been on before you left earlier and it only could have come back on by someone turning it on. The curtains were open that morning, whereas now they were drawn. And last time you checked, your blanket was still in the dryer, waiting to be taken out when you got back. 

Everything you felt earlier still echoed faintly inside your head and chest, but the weighted blanket over you helped to anchor you back to your life again, rather than the chaos you were drowning in not so long ago. Your mind was convoluted, thoughts jumbled, and you flitted from one shattered fragment of insecurity to the other. You were simply too exhausted to hold onto any of them, emotionally and mentally drained. Though, you still tried to identify what you were feeling— was it anger? Shame? Embarrassment? You couldn’t put a finger on it. 

Your hands still shook, your chest still shuddered with every breath. Your clothes still felt scratchy and overbearing, just less so now that you lay in the aftermath of it all. Instead of focusing on that, you drifted your attention to the feeling of the blanket on you; you focused on its texture, its softness, the heaviness of it and how it draped over you and helped to extinguish the flame that was overstimulation and overwhelm. These small but familiar details offered a tiny foothold in the mirror maze of your mind that you were still trying to escape from, only for the ruined reflection of you at the market to be shown back to you.

The longer you spent in that position, a deep, bone-level weariness quietly consumed you, like every aspect of you right down to your soul had been drained. But even still, your mind continued its hyperactive ways, replaying the day’s events over and over like a faulty film reel. The memory of it isn’t the slightest bit cohesive, it was just flashes of moments— the suffocating press of people from every direction, clamour of voices, the overloading mixture of scents. You alternated between frustration and exasperation, wanting to desperately forget what happened whilst not being able to move on from the embarrassment of it. 

However, the strain of it slowly began to dissipate with each minute you spent back at home in bed, a safe space where there were no expectations, where time was temporarily unimportant, and where there were no watchful eyes or scathing glares at the disruption you’d caused. And eventually, you felt like you had gained back control of your mind again. It was quieter then; the world felt muted, less aggressive, though you could feel that you were still wary of your surroundings because of how everything ambushed you earlier.

You weren’t fully recovered, you still felt heavy and your body ached due to the tension in your muscles and joints when it all came falling down, and you weren’t sure how much time had passed but the sun sat a little lower on the horizon when you finally felt able to get out of bed. The desire for time alone had gone, you needed something else then, and at this point of the relationship you felt comfortable enough to seek exactly what you needed without giving it a second thought. 

The door to your room creaked like it always did when you opened it, your apartment mostly silent save for the occasional huff from the kitchen as the person you were looking for busied herself with any chore she could think of as she waited patiently for you. 

You didn’t quite know what to say, but one of the best things about your relationship was that often in times like this, words weren’t a necessity. So you bypassed her and headed straight for the sofa, sitting in the corner and curling your feet underneath you, almost like you were making yourself as small as possible. And, just as you expected, not a minute went by before the blonde headed over, trying to disguise the worry she felt by giving a tight-lipped smile that was more on the amusing side than the reassuring one.

When she sat down, however, she left a gap between you both and perched only on the edge, which wasn’t what you wanted. One shared glance later and Alexia was smiling properly this time, shuffling to sit back against the cushions and beckoning you over with a small wave of her hand. With a sheepish but slightly triumphant look on your face, you moved along the couch and chose to sit sideways on her lap, one of her arms immediately wrapping around your waist as the hand of the other landed just above your knee. She pulled you close to her, and you settled into her with a relieved sigh, indescribably glad to have the final piece of the puzzle to self-regulation in your possession.

For some time, the pair of you didn’t speak, only relishing in the comfort you both needed after the day that had been had. At some point, Alexia noticed the redness to your skin from earlier and subconsciously brought a hand up to one of your arms, her thumb gently tracing over them with a frown on her face. She felt compelled to speak then.

“Please, engel, don’t put yourself through uncomfortable situations just to make me happy. If you asked me to, I would have taken you home earlier in a heartbeat.” The midfielder said carefully, panicking a little when she heard you sigh before calming when you buried your face in her neck.

“I didn’t really know it was going to be uncomfortable until it was already happening.” You told her in a mumbled, downbeat tone that made her hug you tighter against her. She contemplated her next words, wondering whether it was wise to voice them or not, before deciding that you’d hate it if you found out she’d kept her feelings from you.

“I’ve never seen you like that before.” Her fear and sadness was evident when she spoke, matching the frown still on her face and the furrow to her brow. You pressed your lips to the skin of her jaw in a somewhat apologetic gesture, which made her feel a little bad. “We’re both okay though, mi amor. I love you and we’re okay. I’m not mad or anything, this isn’t your fault. I don’t want you to feel guilty. It’s over now, it’s in the past, and we’re here together now.”

It might have been a minor reminder, but it relieved a lot of the remaining anxieties and insecurities you had. Even though she made sure you knew she never judged you for anything, you were only human, and sometimes the devil on your shoulder got the best of you. So, to hear her say she knew it wasn’t your fault and that she wasn’t angry, it was… very needed.

The mix of physical touch and words of affirmation never failed to work wonders for you. The period of time after an event like earlier was a delicate time to say the least, where your mind and your self-esteem was easily swayed by whatever reaction waited for you afterwards. Having Alexia be so welcoming, non-judgemental, caring and adoring even after what she’d witnessed made a world of a difference.

“Better day tomorrow?” You said shyly after moving back to look at her. She shook her head at first, which greatly confused you, before she smiled brightly, softly, reassuringly, and leaned forwards to kiss your temple.

“Better evening tonight after a bad day. And then a very good day tomorrow.” Her words were a little skewed, probably lost in translation, but you understand what she was getting at and it warmed your heart all the same.

It was important to you then, that you voiced your thoughts from just a moment ago. She had to know how important she was to you.

“Thank you, Ale. For everything.” You started, laughing quietly at the puzzled expression on her face. “You always know what to do, what to say. You always make me feel better after a day like this and I don’t know how you do it but… you changed my life.”

Her reaction was the sweetest. Her cheeks blushed red and she turned away for a moment with a tiny disbelieving shake of her head.

“I don’t know about that, cariño.” She murmured, but you weren’t having it. You put a hand on her cheek and turned her face back to you, ensuring she met your gaze before you spoke again.

“You did. I really mean it. I think about it a lot, how you’ve changed me, how I see myself because of you and how you treat me.” You paused for a moment, smiling up at her as her eyes silently urged you to continue. “I… value myself more because of how you value me. I don’t tell you enough how grateful I am for you and what you really mean to me. You’re the greatest person I have ever met.”

The normally sure and confident captain was rendered speechless in that moment, completely caught off guard and lost for words. How she could ever match the gravity and beauty of your words, she didn’t know. But they meant so much more to her than she knew she could ever express.

Ale ducked her head down for a moment as she really took in your words, before she lifted it back up again a moment later, with tears in her eyes. 

If only you knew how much you meant to her too.

“You’re my favourite person in the world, you know that?” She said with a pointed look and a raised eyebrow, almost accusing you of foolishly being uncertain about the fact that she stated so definitively. You knew she only did that to deflect the softness of her words a little. So, you just smiled, and tucked your head back into her neck and closed your eyes, completely at peace. “My favourite person in the whole world. You changed my life too.”

—

i really really tried my best to encapsulate the autistic experience of being overstimulated and overwhelmed in such a place here but i have no idea how well it comes across to a large audience. but for me and probably others, this is the reality, no matter how much you can plan and prepare and be excited for something, it can spiral out of your control so quickly and it's definitely a downer when it happens. hope this is somewhat understandable, im gonna go hibernate out of fear now, thank you v much for reading :)

[chxnsgirl]

── .✦ between heaven and you ; lee felix

⋆｡ ˚༘ ♫ turning page - sleeping at last

"ever since you came into my life, you taught me all about unconditional love."

» synopsis: after watching you struggle for so long, your guardian angel falls for you, and ends up breaking celestial laws just to be in your presence. angel!felix x afab!reader

» a/n: i tried a different writing style for this story, it took me about three weeks to finish. this was kind of inspired by felix's unfair mv. the concept of him as an angel suits him so well. i'll put content warnings but please read at your own risk, there will be heavy heavy topics mentioned in this fic. - mostly proofread.

» cw: brief mentions of sexual assault, depression, suicide attempts, drug and alcohol abuse, blood, domestic abuse (physical, verbal, and emotional), minho is an asshole (sorry), very much a slowburn (felix is YEARNING.) hyunjin is also in this fic as an angel. smut cw: loss of virginity, slightly inexperienced felix, unprotected p in v, vanilla af tbh

» wc: 17k

» borders by: here

felix was there. he was always there, before you even realized it.

life hadn’t been easy for you—that much had been clear for as long as you could remember. your mother walked out of your life when you were only three, and not long after, your father succumbed to liver failure, leaving you orphaned and adrift in a world that seemed designed to crush you. without a family to hold you, to remind you that you mattered, you became just another number in the system, another child shuffled between homes like a piece of lost luggage.

your belongings were carried in a garbage bag, a cruel reminder that you were never meant to stay anywhere long enough to unpack. foster care was supposed to provide a sense of stability, but instead, it felt like a series of cold exchanges, your worth measured in paperwork and stipends.

things took a darker turn when you were placed with your first long-term foster family. at first, you thought the word "long-term" might bring relief—a chance to settle, to belong—but it quickly became a prison sentence. you realized, with bitter clarity, that "long-term" didn’t mean better; it just meant more time to endure. and endure, you did, wishing with every passing day that their home had been just another brief stop on the endless conveyor belt of placements.

the mother was controlling, piling chores onto you to the point where your schoolwork was neglected, causing you to nearly fail your first year of middle school. the father was lazy and critical, spending his evenings in a recliner with a beer in hand, quick to judge but offering no help around the house. unknown to the foster care system or the foster mother, he had a disturbing habit of sneaking into your room at night under the guise of wanting to "cuddle."

it wasn’t until he started trying to undress you that you realized this wasn’t something that was normal between fathers and daughters. 

but yet, you stayed silent. afraid of making them angry. you knew it wasn’t right, what he was doing to you, but they were giving you a home. something you had been wishing for for several years. you didn’t want to pass that up just because some gross dude lifted your nightgown for a measly 5 minutes 3 times a week. 

you stayed in that home for about 2 years until they got tired of you. finally, you were free from that prison.

however, the weight never stopped piling on top of you, the feelings never stopped rising. you didn’t realize it because you were too young, but remembering what that sick fuck did you was enough to leave you nauseous for a few days. you found yourself stuck in your head, constantly feeling his fingertips grazing your inner thigh, his mouth on yours, still smelling the faint odor of alcohol on his breath. 

you hated yourself for letting it slide. for letting him get away with it. you resented yourself for being so fucking afraid all the time. why didn’t you just speak up? why were you so fucking pathetic? the thoughts whirled in your head constantly. 

you had no idea that the flood of dark, tormenting thoughts in your mind was the reason felix came into your life. the first time he truly saved you was when you were just 14.

it was late at night, and you were alone in the bathroom you shared with three other foster girls, each of them sleeping in the room just outside. the door was locked, and your back was pressed against it, the cool wood digging into your skin as tears soaked your cheeks. your fingers trembled as they gripped the little pill bottle in your hand, eyes locked on it as your lip quivered, the weight of the moment almost unbearable. you didn’t know how much longer you could keep going.

everything in you was screaming to stop the noise inside your head, to stop the endless thoughts that tore at your mind. but there was one thing you couldn’t escape—your heart was still beating, and no matter how hard you wished for it to stop, it wouldn’t. so, with a quiet curse, you made up your mind. you were done.

the pills felt like stone as they hit your throat, each one a bitter reminder of everything that was falling apart. you gagged, struggled to swallow, but you forced them down, one after another. you locked yourself in that bathroom, barricading yourself from the world, and for what felt like an eternity, you sat there, on the edge of breaking, hoping for something—anything—to stop the pain.

only for a mere moment was the world quiet around you, the kiss of death just barely brushing your lips..

until something strange happened. it was like the very essence of life itself surged through your body, jolting you upright from where you had been slumped on the cold tile floor. the world spun out of control, and your body betrayed you in the most brutal way—it took everything you had to keep yourself upright as you lurched toward the tub. your stomach heaved violently, the contents of your body fighting against the poison you had just forced in.

sweat dripped down your face as you vomited, shaking uncontrollably, your body a hot mess of fear and desperation. it was a moment of raw panic as you realized, in the haze of your disorientation, that you were still alive. the wave of disappointment hit you like a freight train—how could you still be here? how could it not have worked? you wanted nothing more than to disappear in that moment, to fade into nothingness. 

but he was always there.

a couple of years passed, and you were adopted by a family who genuinely cared for you. they said they loved you, and you told yourself you loved them too—or at least, you thought you did. but you could never quite tell if your feelings for others were genuine or just surface-level mimicry. you heard their words of love, but you never felt it in the way people described—the flutter in your chest, the warmth in your stomach.

instead, there was only emptiness.

you had a family that cared, hot meals, a safe home. by all accounts, it should have been enough. so why wasn’t it? why did you feel a persistent ache for something more?

high school offered a temporary escape, at least for a while. you had a knack for finding trouble—running with the wrong crowd, skipping class to get high or spend hours making out with whichever guy you were dating at the time. in those moments, everything felt exhilarating. the thrill of breaking rules filled you with a rush, and being with them made you feel whole, even if only briefly.

but when you were alone, the emptiness crept back in.

in solitude, every thought became louder, every feeling sharper, relentless in their assault. the weight of it all was unbearable. whether you realized it or not, you were slowly self-destructing, losing the spark and vitality that once defined you as a child. this wasn’t the gradual "loss of innocence" that comes with growing up—it had been stolen from you. and instead of clinging to what little remained, you shoved it all away, forcing it into a dark, unrelenting void of pain and regret.

the second time felix saved you was when you were 16. 

it was a night that seemed like any other, until everything changed in an instant. you and your boyfriend had been at a party, the music loud and the laughter even louder, but the night took a turn the moment you got in the car. he had been drinking heavily. you tried to convince him to let someone else drive, but he insisted, too drunk to even form a coherent argument. you told yourself it would be fine—he was your boyfriend, and he promised he was fine to drive.

but it wasn’t fine.

the crash came so suddenly, you didn't even have time to brace yourself. the screech of tires, the sudden force of the impact—everything spun, and then there was silence.

when you opened your eyes again, the world was a blur, the harsh sound of sirens breaking through the ringing in your ears. your body was heavy, and the pain was overwhelming. you couldn’t move your arm, and it felt like you were sinking into the seat, your head throbbing with every heartbeat. you reached for it, fingers trembling, feeling blood dripping from your hairline. 

your trembling hand reached up instinctively, grasping at anything to try and level yourself while twisted in the vehicle, but it ended up brushing against something warm and wet—blood. it was everywhere. at first, you thought it was just yours, but then you looked to your side.

your boyfriend was there, slumped unnaturally in the driver’s seat. his head hung at an angle that made your stomach twist, and his chest didn’t rise. his face, once so familiar and full of life, was pale and lifeless. for a moment, the world stood still as your mind grappled with the impossible reality in front of you.

you called his name, your voice barely more than a croak, but there was no response. the quiet was suffocating. hot tears blurred your vision as panic overtook you. you reached for him, shaking him, begging him to wake up, but it was no use.

the realization hit you like a cold wave, and you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t process the weight of it. 

at that moment, the pain in your body was nothing compared to the weight in your chest. the boy you thought you’d share so many tomorrows with was gone, and you were left drowning in the wreckage of a life that would never be the same.

it was then that you felt it—the presence of someone, something, familiar but impossible to explain. there was a warmth, a sense of calm in the chaos. the sound of voices in the distance didn’t seem so muffled anymore. you could hear the paramedics, shouting instructions, but you felt... distant, almost like you were floating outside of your own body.

“stay with me,” someone was saying, but it wasn’t the paramedics.

“i’m here. you’re going to be okay,” a deep, yet soft male voice rang. the words weren’t loud, they weren’t even clear, but they were enough to settle you, just enough to make the panic simmer down into something manageable. you had no idea how it got there, but the voice was a tether.

you tried to respond, tried to speak, but your body wasn’t cooperating. the world seemed to shift and swirl again, and then you were in an ambulance, being rushed to the hospital.

the moments after the crash were a blur of bright hospital lights, sterile smells, and the constant beeping of machines around you. 

the doctor had placed you into a medically induced coma due to the amount of drugs and alcohol in your system, as well as your severe brain injury. it took some time for your family to arrive at the hospital, but felix stayed with you. he was by your side the whole time you lay there. 

later on, your eyelids fluttered open, your lashes brushing against the dryness of your skin, and it took a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the harsh white light above you. blinking slowly, you tried to clear the fog in your mind, forcing your surroundings into focus. 

beside your bed, there was a chair. empty. the sight of it hit you like a wave of loneliness. your mind raced. had someone been sitting there? had someone been waiting for you to wake up?

before you could let yourself fall into the quiet despair of it, something caught your eye—a flash of movement. at first, you weren’t sure if it was real or just a trick of your disoriented mind, but there it was again. a figure. a blonde figure dressed all in white, moving swiftly past the door and out of the room.

your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat. it happened so quickly, you didn’t even have time to process it fully. just a flicker of someone in white, someone you couldn’t place, and then they were gone, disappearing down the hallway like a phantom.

you tried to call out, tried to move, but your body refused to cooperate. you were too weak, too broken, too tethered to the machines that kept you alive. who had that been? was it someone you knew?

but before you could think any more about it, the pain returned, sharp and immediate, and all you could do was close your eyes, hoping for a moment of peace. even as your mind raced, as uncertainty flooded you, you couldn’t shake the thoughts, your mind wondering if what you saw was real or just a hallucination from your drugged-up state. 

felix spent countless hours studying you, observing the subtle ways you shifted in your sleep, the way your body would tense when you were about to face the next wave of agony. he wasn’t supposed to be so emotionally attached, not in the way he found himself. angels were meant to be impartial, neutral—protective, but not emotionally involved. and yet, as time went on, felix found himself more and more drawn to you, his gaze lingering longer than necessary, his thoughts turning to you even when he wasn’t near. it was a kind of fascination, but it was also something deeper, something he hadn’t experienced before.

it always pained felix to watch you struggle. it was his job, of course, as your guardian angel, but that didn’t necessarily mean he liked it. his role was simple, or so it was supposed to be—guide, protect, watch over you—but there were moments when it felt like a weight he could barely carry. watching you hurt, seeing the toll life had taken on you, it gnawed at him in ways he couldn’t quite explain. it wasn’t just about keeping you safe; it was about witnessing your inner turmoil, the pain you couldn’t escape, and knowing he could never truly take it away. he could intervene, sure, but only so much.

he became fond of you. at first, it was a quiet awareness—a soft sadness in his chest when he saw your tears, a feeling of helplessness when he couldn’t stop you from making the same painful decisions over and over again. but it grew. he watched how you pushed through your struggles, how you fought to keep living despite everything that weighed you down. there was a quiet strength in you, an undeniable resilience that made him both proud and heartsick.

sometimes, when you were at your lowest, felix would find himself feeling your pain. it wasn’t just an awareness, it was a visceral ache that seemed to pulse through him as if your suffering was his own. and that was strange. he wasn’t supposed to feel anything—least of all the sharp, gut-wrenching pain that you carried with you. angels were above human emotion; they were supposed to observe, not participate. but there it was. he would feel your despair, the weight of your grief, the crushing exhaustion in your heart as if it were his own.

he’d try to push it away, to block it out, but it lingered. it was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

after the accident, he had watched you slip into that coma, felt the void of your absence, and during the time you were unconscious, it was like a part of him had gone with you. the pain he felt as you fought to survive, the pull of your fragile life, had him teetering on the edge of something unfamiliar. he wasn’t supposed to care this much. he wasn’t supposed to let himself be moved by your suffering. but he was. and it terrified him.

felix could barely stand it. he was so close, so close to you, but always just out of reach. he couldn’t touch you, couldn’t make you understand that he was there. he had to stay hidden, an invisible force in the shadows. it was one of the many rules he was tasked to follow.

but he was there. and he was watching, as he always did. every time you moved, every time you cried out, his heart cracked just a little more. there were moments when he wished he could reach out, hold you, tell you it would be okay. but he couldn’t. his purpose was to guide you, not to console you the way a person could. and yet, he longed to.

it was strange. it was almost as if, in trying to save you from the darkness, he was losing himself in the process.

he was supposed to help you without complications. but oh boy, did it become complicated. 

“why do you seem down?” hyunjin asked felix, his shoes clacking against the marble floor of felix’s room. felix lay on his sofa, deep in thought. it took him a few seconds to finally answer. “she’s not doing well again,” he said lowly, the sound of sadness apparent in his tone. hyunjin walked over and sat next to him, letting out a soft sigh. “the same stuff?” he asked, referring to your depression. 

felix just hummed in response and nodded, laying his head back down as he stared off into space. “i can't do anything to help her.” he muttered eventually, disappointment in his tone. 

hyunjin studied felix quietly, his own expression a mixture of concern and confusion. angels weren’t supposed to form such deep attachments. they were guides, protectors—meant to observe and intervene only when absolutely necessary. but felix... felix was different.

"you care about her more than any angel i’ve ever seen care for their human," hyunjin said softly, his voice tinged with a cautious curiosity. "it’s not... wrong, exactly, but it’s not normal either."

felix didn’t respond right away. his gaze was distant, locked somewhere far beyond the room they were in. finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper."she’s been through so much, hyunjin. more than anyone should ever have to endure. and she keeps going, even when it feels like the world is crushing her. but it’s wearing her down. i can see it in her eyes, hear it in her thoughts."

hyunjin frowned, leaning back on the sofa. "you’ve saved her before. more than once. isn’t that enough? isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? intervene when necessary and then... let go?"

felix sat up abruptly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "let go? how can i let go when every time i turn my back, she’s falling deeper into the darkness? i can feel her pain, hyunjin. it’s like it’s… carved into my being."

hyunjin tilted his head, watching his friend carefully. "you’re more human than you think, felix," he said quietly, almost to himself.

felix’s head snapped toward him, his expression a mix of surprise and defiance. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means," hyunjin continued calmly, "that maybe you care so deeply because you understand her in a way most angels don’t. you don’t just see her struggles—you feel them. that connection... it’s rare, felix. but it’s also dangerous."

felix looked away, his jaw tightening. he knew hyunjin was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. "i just want her to be happy," he said finally, his voice breaking slightly. "i don’t care if it’s dangerous or rare or whatever else you want to call it. i just can’t stand to see her like this."

hyunjin reached out, placing a hand on felix’s shoulder. "maybe it’s time to think about what she really needs. sometimes, saving someone doesn’t mean fixing everything for them. it means being there, quietly, in the background, until they find their own strength."

felix sighed, his shoulders slumping under the weight of hyunjin’s words. he didn’t know if he could do that—if he could stand by and watch you struggle, hoping you’d pull through on your own. he had been waiting several years for this, for you to come to, for you to get better. it didn’t seem achievable because of how much you were obviously hurting still. 

but deep down, he knew hyunjin had a point.

all he could do was stay close and hope his presence, even unseen, would make a difference.

a few more months passed, and felix found himself at his breaking point. watching you spiral further into despair was more than he could bear. he had always been bound by the sacred rules of his kind. yet, with every passing day, those rules felt like chains, holding him back from giving you the comfort and hope you so desperately needed.

he began to push the boundaries, leaving subtle signs of his presence. a faint warmth brushing your skin during your loneliest nights, the sudden scent of vanilla randomly wafting through your room–his signature scent.. or the soft flutter of a breeze indoors when no windows were open. felix hoped these tiny gestures would remind you that you weren’t alone, that someone was watching over you. sometimes you’d swear you’d wake up in the middle of the night, feeling eyes on you in your bedroom.

but he knew he was treading dangerous ground. revealing himself to the living, even indirectly, was a direct violation of celestial law. angels were forbidden from crossing into the mortal plane unless absolutely necessary—and certainly not for personal reasons. every time he bent the rules, felix felt the weight of disapproval from the higher realms, but he didn’t care.

all he cared about was you.

eventually, felix realized that his subtle gestures weren’t enough to ease your suffering. the flickers of warmth, the faint scents, and the soft breezes weren’t making the impact he hoped for. so, he made the decision to go further, breaking the rules more boldly than ever before.

what started as occasional visits to watch over you as you slept turned into a nightly ritual. every night, without fail, felix would enter your room, his presence unseen, and settle himself beside you on the bed. he would sit propped against the headboard, his fingers brushing gently through your hair in soothing strokes. this was the only time he saw you truly at peace—your expression free of the sadness that weighed you down during your waking hours. your mind was finally quiet, your face soft and serene, and seeing you like this brought felix a strange sense of solace.

he didn’t feel out of place lying beside you. on the contrary, it comforted him to know that, even if you couldn’t feel his presence, he was there for you during your most vulnerable moments. but simply being there wasn’t enough for him. he wanted you to know you weren’t alone, even if you didn’t understand the source.

so, he started leaving a single white rose in your apartment, always in a spot he knew you’d notice. the first time you found one, you panicked. your thoughts immediately jumped to the idea of a stalker. it would explain the strange sensation you sometimes felt while sleeping, as though someone was watching over you. but no one had a key to your apartment, and you were sure you hadn’t misplaced a spare. there were no signs of forced entry, no broken locks or jimmied windows. and living on the tenth floor of a building without a balcony made the idea of anyone sneaking in seem impossible.

yet, every wednesday, like clockwork, the roses appeared. each time you came home from work, you found one waiting for you—sometimes placed carefully on your pillow, other times resting on the kitchen counter where you always dropped your keys.

the mystery of the roses consumed your thoughts. you couldn’t shake the eerie feeling of being watched, but at the same time, something about the gesture felt... kind. even as the fear lingered, you couldn’t deny the strange comfort the flowers brought, like a small, silent promise that someone cared. 

you’d sit for hours, turning the possibilities over and over in your mind, desperate for an explanation. the only theory that felt remotely plausible was that it might be a deceased family member—perhaps your father—reaching out to you from beyond. maybe he was watching over you, leaving these gifts as a sign of his presence.

but even that felt like a stretch. you’d never been one to believe in the supernatural. ghosts, spirits, angels—it all seemed too far-fetched. yet, the roses told a different story. they appeared in your locked apartment without any logical explanation, and the sheer impossibility of it all began to chip away at your skepticism.

the more you thought about it, the more your disbelief wavered. you still couldn’t bring yourself to fully accept the idea of something otherworldly, but a small part of you began to wonder: what if there was more to this world than you’d always believed?

it wasn’t until a little later into your adulthood that felix fell for you. he fell for you in a way that was more than he ever thought possible, a deep, unshakable kind of love that bloomed quietly in the recesses of his heart. it wasn’t sudden—it was a slow, inevitable tide, creeping up on him as he spent day after day watching over you, silently observing the subtle shifts in your life, the quiet struggles you faced, and the moments of fleeting joy that seemed to light up your world in spite of it all.

the more he watched you, the more deeply he felt connected to you. he could see the way you smiled when you thought no one was looking, the way your eyes shimmered with a mix of hope and pain, and how you carried your burdens with such quiet strength. he admired your resilience, but it tore at him too. each time he saw you frown in frustration or collapse into exhaustion after a long day, it felt like a jagged piece of glass scraping against his soul. the desire to be close to you—to be there for you—burned inside him like wildfire, something so powerful and raw, he couldn’t contain it.

felix found himself drawn to you in a way he couldn’t explain. he watched you laugh with your friends, saw you comfort a stranger, witnessed the quiet moments when you thought no one cared. and in every one of those moments, his heart ached. it ached because he longed to be the one to make you smile, to ease the weight on your shoulders, to tell you that he understood in ways no one else could. he wanted to be the one who held you when the world felt too heavy, who whispered comforting words when you couldn’t find any of your own.

he wanted—no, needed—to talk to you. to introduce himself, to somehow, impossibly, let you know that he knew you better than anyone else ever could. he knew your scars, your fears, your dreams. he had watched you grow, silently and from a distance, always just out of reach. and every part of him screamed to speak, to tell you everything he had seen and felt as he quietly admired the person you had become. every thought he had about you, every observation, every small detail, every fleeting moment, was carved into his soul.

but as much as he wanted that, he knew he couldn’t. he wasn’t supposed to be here, to be seen by you. he was bound by laws that held him away, that kept him a silent observer, a watcher in the dark. his love for you—his desperate, consuming love for you—was forbidden. and yet, it consumed him more than anything else. he ached with the overwhelming need to be near you, to somehow make you feel what he felt, to break the invisible barrier that kept him at arm’s length.

felix would continue to visit at night, his form hidden in the shadows of your room, listening to your breathing, watching your peaceful face as you slept. he would run his fingers through your hair, wishing he could tell you everything. he would hold his breath, praying you would stir, that maybe, just maybe, you would feel him there, his presence lingering like a soft touch, a whispered promise. the thought that you might never know how deeply he loved you—it was unbearable.

felix wanted so badly to be noticed, to have you turn and see him. he wanted you to know, not just that he existed, but that he had been there all along, watching over you, loving you from afar. he wasn’t some fleeting presence, some passing moment. he was here. he had always been here. and all he wanted was for you to know that.

god, he loved you so fucking much. in a way that was all-consuming, in a way that made every moment of separation feel like a quiet ache in the deepest parts of him. he loved you in a way that was both impossible and undeniable. and it terrified him, because he knew he could never have you—not truly. he could only watch. and in doing so, he was bound by something even greater than the laws that kept him from you. he was bound by the love he could never express, the feelings he could never act upon.

and that was the cruelest part of it all—he loved you more than anything, but he could never truly have you.

felix leaned against the door of his home in the astral plane, his body feeling as though it was made of stone, weighed down by the crushing pressure of what had just transpired. his mind was a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts, still reeling from the conversation he had mere moments ago. the higher realms had caught on to his increasingly reckless behavior. he had always known there would be consequences, but hearing the words from the voices of the celestial council made the reality of it all hit him like a bolt of lightning.

a warning, they had said. a warning that if he continued this way—if he kept breaking laws, bending the rules, and daring to reveal himself to the mortal world—he would be cast out. disowned. stripped of everything he had ever known. his immortality would be taken from him, and the wings that had always been a part of him, the wings that had given him his identity, would be severed. he would be cast into the human world, forced to live among those he had been forbidden to touch, to exist as one of them—fragile, finite, and utterly alone.

felix’s chest tightened as the weight of their decree settled over him. he was horrified, and in the pit of his stomach, he felt a deep, aching sense of loss. the thought of being cast down, of losing the eternity that had once defined him, gnawed at him. he had existed for so long in the celestial realms, watching over worlds, knowing his place, and now that place felt as though it was slipping away from him, just as quickly as his heart had fallen for you.

he didn’t want to stop seeing you. he didn’t want to stop visiting you, to stop offering you the comfort he could give from the shadows. the mere thought of no longer being able to watch you, no longer being able to quietly support you from the distance he had grown to cherish, felt like an ache so deep, it was like his very soul had been torn in two.

but at the same time, felix was terrified. terrified of what it would mean if he allowed himself to follow this path, if he let his emotions run wild, if he dared to embrace this connection he had with you. to lose his place among the celestial beings, to lose the very essence of who he was, the very reason he existed—it was too much to bear.

he closed his eyes, gripping the edge of the door as though it might anchor him in the reality he so desperately wanted to hold onto. his heart raced, torn between two worlds—his love for you, and the celestial duty that had once defined his every action. the love he felt for you was dangerous, forbidden, but it was real. the kind of love that carved deep into his chest, raw and desperate, a love that made him question everything he had ever known about his purpose. but was it worth losing everything? was it worth abandoning the very thing that had given his life meaning—his immortality, his place among the divine?

felix didn’t know. he didn’t know if he could make that choice.

all he knew was that the fear of losing you—of being cast away, disowned—was as terrifying as the thought of losing himself.

felix found a small measure of peace when you started dating someone—a coworker named minho. though it pained him to see you with someone else, the thought of minho being there for you when felix couldn’t brought him some comfort. from what felix observed, minho was kind and attentive, and that was enough to keep felix at ease, even if it hurt to stay in the background.

still, felix couldn’t bring himself to leave entirely. he continued to watch over you, always vigilant, ensuring that minho treated you the way you deserved. 

but something shifted in your world, something that didn’t escape your notice. once minho entered your life, the roses stopped appearing in your apartment. at first, you didn’t think much of it, but as the weeks went by without a single flower, a strange pang of disappointment settled in your chest.

you hadn’t realized how much you’d grown attached to the mysterious gifts until they were gone. you had even gone out of your way to display them in a vase, replacing the wilted roses with fresh ones every week, as if honoring the unseen hand that left them. the absence felt odd, almost unsettling.

it didn’t take long for the thought to creep back into your mind: what if it really had been a stalker? but you dismissed it just as quickly as it came. there were no signs of forced entry, no evidence to support the idea. and besides, minho was with you now. if something truly dangerous were happening, surely he would have noticed too.

still, the timing nagged at you. the roses had stopped the moment minho came into your life. was it just a coincidence, or was there more to it? you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d lost something special—something silent and unseen, but deeply meaningful.

as your relationship with minho deepened, felix began to notice troubling changes in his behavior. at first, it was subtle—offhand remarks about the way you did things or minor criticisms disguised as jokes. but over time, those comments grew sharper, more frequent, and far harder to ignore. minho started nitpicking every little thing you did, blaming you for even the smallest mistakes, and turning minor missteps into significant issues.

it didn’t take long for felix to piece together the truth: minho was a narcissist, and worse, an abusive one. his behavior escalated rapidly. the once seemingly harmless complaints turned into outright yelling. he began getting in your face during arguments, his voice laced with venom, his demeanor intimidating. felix watched helplessly as minho’s anger grew darker, his threats becoming more pointed.

the shift terrified felix. there were moments when minho’s fury burned so hot that felix feared he might follow through on his threats. each time minho’s hand twitched or his voice reached a dangerous pitch, felix braced himself, sick with worry that this time, it wouldn’t stop at words.

countless nights, felix lingered nearby, his unseen presence heavy with fear and frustration. the thought of you being seriously hurt haunted him. despite his duty to remain in the background, every fiber of his being screamed to intervene, to shield you from the storm brewing in your own home. 

as your relationship with minho continued and his behavior spiraled further into toxicity, you began to notice something strange: the inexplicable occurrences in your apartment had returned. the faint, sweet scent of vanilla began lingering in the air once more, subtle yet unmistakable. it crept into your senses at odd times, reminding you of a feeling you hadn’t experienced in months.

even more unsettling was the distinct sensation of being watched while you slept—something you’d felt before but had long since faded when minho entered your life. it was subtle at first, a gentle prickling at the back of your neck or the softest shift in the room’s energy. unlike most people, who might have been terrified by the idea of an unseen presence in their home, you felt an odd sense of comfort.

this wasn’t the unease of being stalked or the fear of danger. it was familiar, almost nostalgic, as though the presence itself carried a quiet reassurance. it reminded you of nights when you used to feel a strange sort of peace in your solitude, a solace that had seemed to vanish when minho came into your life.

you came home late wednesday night to find minho sitting at the kitchen island, his posture rigid and his expression already clouded with annoyance and barely concealed anger. you sighed inwardly, bracing yourself for yet another confrontation and wondering what you could have possibly done this time to provoke his ire.

before you could speak, your eyes fell on the white rose lying on the counter in front of him. your breath hitched, and your heartbeat quickened as unease settled deep in your chest. you had a feeling you knew exactly where this was going, but you forced yourself to play dumb, hoping to defuse whatever storm was brewing.

“what’s that?” you asked cautiously, your gaze darting between the rose and minho’s piercing glare.

he let out a humorless chuckle and lifted his head to meet your eyes. “you’re asking me?” he said, his voice calm but laced with an edge that sent chills down your spine.

you swallowed hard, struggling to steady your hands as you fidgeted with your fingers. “i don’t know. i didn’t—”

“come on, y/n,” he interrupted, his tone dripping with condescension. “i’m not stupid. i didn’t give this to you, so who did?” his voice was eerily calm, but his expression betrayed his barely contained fury, which was far more unsettling than when he was openly yelling.

“i-i don’t know, i swear,” you stammered, your voice trembling as you searched his face for any sign of reason.

minho’s jaw tightened, and his fist slammed against the counter, the sharp sound making you flinch. he stood abruptly, towering over you as his eyes narrowed. “bullshit. you got it from a guy. who is he? do i know him?”

“no, minho! i haven’t talked to any guys today!” you cried, your voice rising in desperation as your body began to shake.

“you’re lying,” he hissed, his gaze unwavering and his presence suffocating. he reached for the rose, running his fingers along the delicate petals as though mocking its fragility.

“i’m not,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

minho studied you for a moment, the silence stretching into something unbearable. then, with a sudden burst of violence, he clenched the rose in his fist, ripping the petals from the stem and scattering them across the counter. “clean this shit up. i don’t want to see any more flowers around here,” he snarled before shoving past you and storming toward the hallway.

something inside you snapped. “no,” you said firmly, the word escaping your lips before you could stop yourself.

minho froze mid-step, turning slowly to face you with a mixture of shock and fury. “what did you just say?” he asked, his tone low and dangerous.

“i said no,” you repeated, your voice steady despite the fear twisting in your stomach. you stood your ground, glaring at him with a defiance you didn’t know you possessed.

his surprise faded quickly, replaced by a dark, menacing rage. in an instant, he closed the distance between you, raising his hand and striking you across the face. the sharp sound of the slap echoed through the room, and the sting of his palm seared into your cheek.

before you could even process the pain, a loud crash shattered the tense silence. both of you turned toward the counter, where shards of glass from the vase that once held your white roses lay scattered. the vase had shattered violently, though neither you nor minho had touched it, and you were both too far away for it to have been accidental.

minho stared at the broken glass, his face contorting in confusion and unease. for the first time, you saw a flicker of something unfamiliar in his eyes—fear. and for a brief moment, it felt like the air in the room had shifted, heavy with something unexplainable, something beyond either of your control. 

“get the fuck out,” you spat, your voice trembling with both rage and sorrow as you shoved minho away from you. your lip quivered, and your heart pounded in your chest. he stumbled backward, his usual composure shattered as he stammered, trying to piece together words to defend himself.

“out!” you screamed, your voice breaking as tears began streaming uncontrollably down your face. you clutched your stinging cheek with one hand, the pain of his slap mingling with the ache in your chest.

minho hesitated, his face flickering with disbelief and hesitation, but eventually, he relented. grumbling under his breath, he grabbed his things and left, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed through your apartment.

the silence that followed was suffocating, oppressive in its stillness. you stood frozen for a moment, staring at the broken glass scattered across your kitchen floor. your legs gave out beneath you, and you plopped onto the cold tile, your back pressed against the refrigerator as a sob wracked through your body.

you cried harder than you had in months, your tears falling freely as every ounce of frustration, anger, and pain came pouring out. you were furious—with minho, with yourself, with the cycle you seemed unable to break. why had you let it get this far? why did you allow another man to mistreat you, just because you were terrified of being alone again?

the realization cut deeply, leaving you raw and exposed. you told yourself then and there that you were done. done with minho, done with letting people like him have power over you. and this time, you meant it.

true to your resolve, minho didn’t bother you again. after a week of silence, it was clear that he wasn’t coming back, and for that, you were relieved. but relief didn’t erase the damage he had done.

in the aftermath of the breakup, you found yourself slipping back into the darkness you thought you had left behind. nights were the hardest. some, you spent curled up in bed, crying until exhaustion finally claimed you. others, you lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling as the all-too-familiar numbness crept over you, settling into your chest like an unwelcome guest.

the emptiness was back, deeper and more consuming than ever. it felt like your heart was a hollow shell, incapable of feeling anything but the ache of its own vacancy. and as the days blurred into weeks, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was all you were destined for—cycles of pain, brief reprieves, and an ever-present void you could never seem to fill. 

one night, as you drifted off to sleep, your dream took an unusual turn. in the depths of slumber, you saw flashes of golden blonde hair and a face so captivating it felt almost otherworldly. he had plump, soft lips, a delicate button nose, and a constellation of freckles scattered across his skin. his presence was magnetic, his beauty striking yet gentle.

at first, the dream was fleeting—a quick glimpse of him before the scene shifted into the usual randomness of your subconscious. but as the nights went on, he began appearing more frequently. his visits weren’t long, just brief moments where you saw his face, a sense of comfort and calm washing over you before he would vanish again into the recesses of your mind.

though you never spoke to him, you could feel him there. his presence was undeniable, and oddly familiar, as though you knew him from somewhere. the more you dreamed of him, the more he felt like a guardian, someone watching over you from the shadows.

what you didn’t realize was that this wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. it was felix. after weeks of struggling to find ways to be closer to you without breaking the celestial rules, he decided to take a different approach.

he was hesitant at first, unsure if entering your dreams would be too bold, too much of a risk. but he couldn’t stay away. the idea of reaching you in this subtle, intangible way felt like the perfect compromise—a chance to be near you without disrupting the delicate balance of your reality.

so, he appeared to you in fragments, carefully choosing each moment. the dreams were his way of offering comfort, a gentle reminder of his presence, even if you couldn’t fully understand what it meant yet. to felix, it was enough to know he was there for you, even if only in the quiet hours of the night.

the dream started like many others—hazy and indistinct, with colors blending together in a soft, swirling mist. you were standing in a field bathed in moonlight, the grass cool beneath your bare feet. a gentle breeze carried the scent of vanilla, a fragrance that had lingered faintly in your waking hours.

and then, you saw him.

he emerged from the mist like a figure out of a painting, his golden hair glowing faintly in the silver light. his face, with its constellation of freckles and gentle, piercing eyes, was heartbreakingly beautiful. he stopped a few paces away, his gaze locked on yours. for a moment, neither of you spoke. the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but charged with something unspoken—something familiar yet strange.

"who are you?" you asked finally, your voice trembling as if afraid to break the spell. his lips curled into a soft smile, and he tilted his head slightly. "you already know me," he said, his voice like a melody, soothing and warm. your brows knitted together, confusion flickering across your face. "i don’t think i do."

"you’ve felt me," he said gently, taking a cautious step closer. "in the quiet moments. when you’ve been at your lowest. i’ve been there." the realization hit you like a wave, a shiver running down your spine. "the roses..."

he nodded, his expression tender yet tinged with sadness. "i didn’t mean to frighten you. i only wanted you to know you weren’t alone."

"but why? why me?" you whispered, a lump forming in your throat.

his gaze softened further, and he crouched slightly to meet your eyes more closely. "because i care about you more than you’ll ever know. i’ve watched over you, protected you, even when you didn’t know i was there." 

your breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in. "are you... an angel?"

felix hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. "yes. and breaking every rule to talk to you like this."

"why now?"

"because i can’t bear to see you in pain anymore," he admitted, his voice cracking just slightly. "you’ve been through so much, and i... i couldn’t stay silent any longer."

tears welled in your eyes as you took a step closer, your hand reaching out instinctively. he didn’t pull away, but you hesitated, your fingers hovering just above his. "this doesn’t feel real," you murmured.

"but it is," he assured you, his voice firm yet gentle. "i’ll be here as long as you need me, whether you see me or not."

the dream began to blur around the edges, the mist creeping back in. "wait," you pleaded, your voice tinged with desperation. "will i see you again?"

felix smiled softly, his golden hair shimmering in the fading light. "always."

and then he was gone, leaving only his signature scent and the lingering warmth of his presence behind as you woke, tears still fresh on your cheeks. 

“you did what?” hyunjin asked felix, surprise evident on his expression. felix bit the inside of his cheek before he quietly repeated himself. “i.. visited her in her dream.” he mumbled. 

hyunjin stared at felix, his eyes wide as he leaned against the railing of their astral plane. the soft glow of their surroundings illuminated the disbelief on his face. "you visited her in her dream," he repeated slowly, as if trying to process the gravity of felix's words.

felix nodded, looking away. "i couldn’t just watch her suffer anymore. she needed to know she wasn’t alone."

hyunjin ran a hand through his dark hair, letting out a sharp exhale. "do you have any idea how reckless that was? visiting the living in their dreams might not be as bad as full manifestation, but it’s still breaking the rules."

felix’s gaze hardened, his usual softness replaced with a rare defiance. "i don’t care about the rules anymore, hyunjin. they don’t help her. she’s falling apart, and i can’t just stand by and do nothing."

hyunjin crossed his arms, his expression shifting from surprise to concern. "i get it, felix, i do. but you’ve been walking a thin line for a while now. leaving roses, lingering in her presence... do you really think the higher-ups won’t notice?"

felix clenched his fists at his sides. "let them notice. let them punish me if they want. but i won’t regret it. not for her."

hyunjin softened at felix's conviction, his features losing their edge. "you really care about her, don’t you?"

felix’s eyes glistened as he nodded. "more than anything. she’s been through so much, hyunjin. no one deserves that kind of pain. if i can be the one thing that brings her some comfort, i’ll take any punishment that comes my way."

hyunjin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "you’re not going to stop, are you?"

"no," felix said firmly, his voice steady despite the weight of his words.

there was a moment of silence as hyunjin studied his friend, his lips pressed into a thin line. finally, he relented with a small shake of his head. "alright. if you’re going to keep doing this, at least let me help you cover your tracks. if they find out what you’re doing, it won’t just be a slap on the wrist, felix. it’ll be exile—or worse."

felix’s eyes widened in surprise, gratitude quickly replacing the shock. "hyunjin, you don’t have to—"

"i know i don’t have to," hyunjin interrupted, his tone sharp. "but you’re my friend, and i’m not about to let you face this alone."

felix smiled faintly, the weight on his shoulders feeling just a little lighter. "thank you."

hyunjin sighed again, this time with a hint of exasperation. "don’t thank me yet. i’m not sure what kind of mess we’re getting into, but i have a feeling it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better."

felix’s smile didn’t waver. "it’ll be worth it."

hyunjin shook his head with a wry smile, muttering under his breath. "you’re hopeless."

but despite his grumbling, he didn’t leave felix’s side. if felix was going to fight for you, hyunjin would make sure he didn’t do it alone.

the dreams for the next few nights unfolded as they always had—flickers of unspoken moments and hazy images that faded like sand slipping through your fingers. but this night was different.

the air around you shifted as the dream took form. you were no longer in a familiar place but somewhere entirely foreign and breathtaking. marble floors stretched endlessly beneath your bare feet, their white, polished surface reflecting soft, golden light from above. the room seemed to glow, not harshly, but with a serene brightness that made you feel weightless.

and then there was the scent—vanilla, rich and warm, filling the air like an embrace. it washed over you, soothing every frayed nerve and quieting the lingering chaos in your mind.

before you could fully process the setting, he appeared.

felix stepped out of the light as though it had created him, his form entirely whole this time. his white tunic draped elegantly over his lean frame, the fabric flowing as if it were alive. his blonde hair, wavy and radiant, seemed to catch the ambient glow, each strand moving with an ethereal lightness. but it was his face—those delicate features, framed by a constellation of freckles, and eyes that held galaxies—that truly caught your breath.

you couldn’t look away.

the space between you and felix was vast, yet he began to close the distance, his steps slow and deliberate, as though each one was meant to reassure you. his gaze, warm and unwavering, never left yours.

your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a mix of confusion, awe, and an unexplainable comfort. "you’re back," you whispered, your voice trembling but filled with a strange relief.

felix’s lips curved into a gentle smile, and as he stopped a few feet away, his presence felt like the missing piece of a puzzle you hadn’t realized you were trying to solve.

"i promised i would be," he said softly, his voice carrying the same calming warmth as the vanilla in the air.

the marble beneath your feet felt cool, grounding you as you tried to steady your breathing. "where are we? what is this place?"

felix glanced around, his expression serene yet thoughtful. "a reflection of the in-between. it’s not quite your world, not quite mine."

you frowned slightly, tilting your head. "why are we here?"

his gaze softened further, and he took another cautious step toward you, his hands loosely clasped in front of him. "because. i needed to see you again."

your breath hitched, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the dreamlike quality of the moment. "this feels... so real," you murmured, reaching out instinctively, though you stopped short of touching him.

"it is," felix replied, his voice a quiet assurance. "as real as it can be."

you hesitated for a moment, staring at his outstretched hand. it was so close, yet it felt like reaching for something impossibly distant. your heart raced as you extended your trembling hand toward him once more.

“can i... touch you?” you asked again, your voice quieter this time, as if afraid he might vanish if you spoke too loudly.

felix’s expression softened further, his lips curving into a smile so warm it felt like sunlight breaking through a storm. “you can,” he said, his voice gentle, almost reverent.

you reached out, and when your fingers met his, a jolt of warmth spread through you like ripples in still water. his skin wasn’t just soft—it was otherworldly, as if every molecule hummed with energy, radiating life and something deeper, something unnameable.

you gasped softly at the sensation, your fingertips brushing along the back of his hand. “it’s like… you’re made of light,” you murmured, your voice filled with awe.

felix chuckled softly, the sound low and soothing. “in a way, i suppose i am,” he replied, his thumb lightly brushing against your knuckles. “but what matters is that i’m here. with you.”

the weight of his words hit you, and your breath caught in your throat. you looked up at him, your eyes searching his for answers. “why are you doing this?”

his expression became more serious, though his touch remained tender. “because you deserve to feel loved, to feel cared for. you’ve been carrying so much for so long, and i couldn’t stand to see you bear it alone.”

your lips quivered, and tears began to well in your eyes. you fought them back, but the sheer kindness in his words made it impossible. “i don’t understand,” you whispered, shaking your head slightly. “why me? i’m nobody special.”

felix’s dark eyes softened even further, and he took a small step closer, his presence as overwhelming as it was comforting. “you are special,” he said firmly, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “you’ve survived so much, endured what most wouldn’t. you have a strength you don’t even realize.”

the tears spilled over then, and he reached out to gently brush them away, his touch featherlight. “you don’t have to do it alone anymore,” he said, his voice a vow. “i’m here. for as long as you’ll let me be.”

you stared at him, your heart swelling with emotions you hadn’t felt in years. gratitude. hope. maybe even something more.

but before you could speak, the dream began to shift, the bright marble surroundings fading into soft mist. you panicked, reaching for him as the world around you dissolved.

“felix, wait—don’t go!” you cried, desperation in your voice.

he cupped your face in his hands, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made the fading dream still for a moment. “i’m never far,” he promised, his voice steady and unshakable. “call for me, and i’ll come.”

and then he was gone.  you woke up clutching your hand to your chest, as if trying to hold onto the feeling of him for just a little longer.

the memory of his words and his touch stayed with you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe—just maybe—things could get better.

you found yourself spending more and more time with felix in your dreams, sharing conversations that ranged from the mundane to the profound. each night felt like peeling back another layer of his essence, and the bond between you deepened in ways you never imagined possible. he spoke to you with a sincerity that left you feeling safe and cherished, sharing stories of his watchful presence over the years, recounting moments when he had intervened in unseen ways to keep you safe. the weight of knowing just how much he had done for you was both humbling and overwhelming.

the concept of a guardian angel was still difficult for you to wrap your mind around—an ethereal being solely dedicated to protecting you. but even harder to believe was the fact that felix was yours. all yours.

felix never outright told you how much he cared for you, though you began to sense it in the way his gaze lingered, in the warmth of his words, and in the gentle way he reached out to comfort you. he held himself back, aware of your past pain, and was careful to move at a pace that respected your healing. he wanted to be patient, to give you all the time you needed, even as his feelings for you grew with each passing moment.

what he didn’t know was that you were falling for him just as quickly. the connection between you felt as natural as breathing, as though the universe itself had woven your fates together. the once-dreamlike visits began to feel more vivid and tangible, as if the line between the dream world and reality was slowly blurring.

by the time a month had passed, seeing him each night had become as natural as the sun setting. you found yourself eagerly anticipating the moment you would drift off to sleep, knowing he would be there waiting for you, his presence offering you a kind of solace you hadn’t felt in years. it was no longer just a dream; it was a sanctuary. a place where you could be yourself, free from judgment, and bask in the warmth of someone who truly cared.

of course, it didn’t last. how could it? luck had never been on your side, and this fleeting comfort seemed no different. without warning, felix was gone. the dreams you once eagerly anticipated were now nothing but empty darkness, leaving you tossing and turning in your bed, haunted by the void his absence created. you replayed your last conversation over and over in your mind, searching for any clue, any indication of what might have gone wrong. everything had seemed so normal—he was attentive, warm, and genuinely happy to be with you. there was no sign that anything was amiss.

the silence left you with nothing but questions. had you said something to offend him? had he grown tired of you? the thought gnawed at you, stirring feelings of abandonment and self-doubt. yet, what you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was that felix hadn’t chosen to leave. felix had gotten into trouble. big trouble.

far away from the sanctuary of your dreams, felix stood before the higher celestial realms, his head bowed in silent shame. the luminous expanse was unlike anything mortal eyes could comprehend—a vast court of blinding light, with entities of immeasurable power seated upon towering thrones of radiant energy. their voices were neither spoken nor heard but resonated directly within his being, each word a vibration that seemed to shake the very fabric of his existence.

“you have broken our most sacred laws, felix,” the central figure intoned, its voice a perfect balance of wrath and sorrow. “angels are not to reveal themselves to the living. and yet, you have not only shown yourself—you have formed a connection.”

felix clenched his fists at his sides, his golden head still lowered. “i couldn’t stand by and watch her suffer anymore,” he admitted, his voice steady despite the gravity of his situation. “she needed me. she needed someone.”

the entity’s light flared brighter, casting long shadows that seemed to pull at felix’s very essence. “your intentions may have been pure, but your actions were reckless. you risked exposing our realm to the mortal plane and disrupted the natural order.”

another voice, colder and sharper, chimed in. “you allowed emotion to cloud your duty. this is not love; it is folly. and now, you must face the consequences of your defiance.”

felix finally lifted his head, his freckled face set with quiet determination. “if loving her is a crime, then i will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary. but i don’t regret what i’ve done. she was alone in a way no one should ever have to be.”

the celestial beings exchanged glances, their forms shifting and flickering with the intensity of their deliberation. finally, the central figure spoke again, its tone heavy with finality. “felix, you are hereby stripped of your ability to interact with her. you will be confined to the astral plane, unable to enter her dreams or manifest in her presence. should you attempt to defy this order, the consequences will be irrevocable.”

the words struck him like a physical blow, and felix staggered, his heart aching with the weight of his punishment. to be kept away from you, to be forced to watch your pain from a distance without being able to comfort you—yet again–it was torment.

but there was nothing he could do. with a final flash of light, the court dissolved, and felix was left alone in the vast, endless expanse of the astral plane, his physical connection to you severed.

back in your world, you sat on your bed, staring at the clock as tears streamed down your face. the weight of his absence was unbearable, a silent ache that pressed against your chest. you whispered his name into the dark, hoping against hope that he could hear you, not knowing that he was out there, whispering your name too.

felix could still watch over you, still fulfill his celestial duties to keep you safe, but it wasn’t the same. something had shifted—an invisible barrier now confined him to the most basic of his responsibilities. no longer could he visit your dreams or stand by your side as you slept, even if you couldn’t see him. it tore at him. every part of him yearned to return, to let you know he was still there, to reassure you in the way only he could.

he could feel the ache of your unanswered questions, the way you were consumed by his sudden absence. you were falling deeper into a loneliness that clawed at your soul, a loneliness that made his punishment feel like a knife twisting in his chest. he knew you were hurting in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time, and the knowledge that he was the cause—however unintended—made it all the more unbearable.

winter came, and with it, you began to fade. the heavy, suffocating emptiness seeped back into your life, wrapping itself around you like a cold, unrelenting fog. your appetite vanished, and the simplest tasks became insurmountable. you stopped answering texts, ignoring calls from friends you hadn’t spoken to in weeks—some in months. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

nothing mattered anymore because nothing could fill the void felix had left. you tried, briefly, to shake the feeling, but no one could make you feel the way he did. felix had ruined you for anyone else, his presence so uniquely comforting and irreplaceable that his absence felt like a gaping wound.

felix watched helplessly, his golden light dimmer than it had ever been. he saw the way your energy drained, the light in your eyes fading. he knew he was the one thing that could pull you out of this darkness, and yet, he was forbidden from reaching you. he spent countless moments wrestling with his own helplessness, the longing to be with you tearing him apart.

in the nights that followed, as you lay in your bed staring at the ceiling with tear-streaked cheeks, he whispered your name softly into the void, desperate for you to hear, even if he knew it was impossible. all he could do was hope.

the dark feelings were relentless, clawing at the edges of your mind, whispering venomous lies that you couldn’t escape. for months, they lingered, festering in the absence of light. no friends, no family, no felix—just you and the unyielding barrage of your thoughts. you had tried to fight it, to push forward, but the weight of it all was suffocating.

one cold winter night, as the world outside lay silent under a blanket of snow, you sat at the edge of your bed, staring at the empty room around you. the loneliness felt louder than any noise could. enough was enough, you thought. the hollow ache in your chest felt unbearable, and you saw no way out.

you grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, your hands trembling as you began to write. words spilled out, raw and unfiltered—apologies to those you thought might care, explanations for your decision, and an overwhelming sense of defeat. the letter wasn’t long; it didn’t need to be. when you finished, you folded it neatly and placed it on your nightstand.

the pills sat in the cabinet for months, untouched but always there. you retrieved them now, your breath shaky as you poured them into your palm. one by one, they gleamed under the dim light of your bedside lamp, little capsules of finality. you clutched them tightly, tears slipping down your face, mingling with the numbness that had overtaken you.

but just as you raised your hand, the room shifted. the light flickered, a sudden gust of vanilla-scented air brushing against your skin. it was so sudden and so familiar that your hand froze. the bottle slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor, pills scattering across the wooden boards.

and then you saw him.

felix stood before you, his form shimmering like an ethereal beacon against the darkness. his golden hair glowed faintly, his freckled face etched with desperation and anguish. he looked at you, and for a moment, you could see the pain in his eyes—a reflection of your own.

“don’t,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “please don’t.”

your breath hitched as you stared at him, unsure if he was real or just another cruel trick of your mind. “you… you left me,” you choked out, tears streaming freely now. “i thought you were gone forever.”

“i didn’t want to go,” felix said, stepping closer, his presence radiating warmth. “they made me. but i couldn’t stay away anymore. i  can’t lose you.”

you felt his hands, warm and soft, cupping your trembling ones. the faint buzz of energy that accompanied his touch was a reminder of the bond you shared. “i’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with guilt. “i failed you.”

“no,” you whispered, shaking your head. “you didn’t. i just… i can’t do this anymore, felix. i can’t keep feeling like this.”

“you’re not alone,” he said firmly, his golden eyes locking onto yours. “you never were, and you never will be. i’ll fight for you, even if it costs me everything. but you have to promise me something.”

“what?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“promise me you’ll hold on,” he said, his hands tightening slightly around yours. “even when it’s hard, even when it feels impossible. i’ll be here. i’ll always find a way to be here.” 

the intensity of his words wrapped around you like a lifeline. for the first time in months, a glimmer of hope pierced through the suffocating darkness. you nodded, tears spilling as you whispered, “i promise.” felix pulled you into his arms, his embrace warm and grounding. for a moment, time stood still, and the only thing that mattered was that he was here.

felix’s comfort only lasted a fleeting moment. his golden eyes, filled with relief as he cradled your face, suddenly clouded with pain. his expression twisted, and with a sharp intake of breath, he dropped to his knees beside your bed. his hands clutched at his chest as if trying to hold something unseen together, his gasps turning into strangled cries.

"felix?" you called out, panic lacing your voice as you knelt beside him, your hand pressing firmly against his trembling shoulder. the warmth of his skin beneath your touch felt fleeting, fragile, like it was slipping away. "what’s happening? tell me!"

he tried to speak, his lips parting, but no words came. instead, he groaned, his body convulsing slightly as though an unbearable weight pressed down on him. his anguish was palpable, his gasps ragged and labored, his entire form shuddering under some invisible force.

then, a sound—a haunting, visceral snap—echoed in the air, like the ripping of fabric mixed with the grotesque crunch of bone. felix’s head shot back, and he let out a heart-wrenching wail that cut through the room like a blade. his back arched unnaturally, his hands clawing at the air as if trying to grasp something that was no longer there.

you froze, horrified, as the source of his agony became clear. through the thin white cloth of his shirt, you saw it—two jagged, open wounds on his back, seeping blood that shouldn’t have existed. the fabric clung to the injuries, staining crimson as the bleeding continued.

"felix, what’s happening?!" you cried, your voice trembling as your heart raced wildly in your chest. you tried to steady him, your hands gripping his shoulders, but he flinched, his body recoiling from the touch like it burned.

he groaned again, his voice hoarse and broken. his glowing, ethereal presence dimmed before your eyes, his radiant skin now pallid and sallow. the faint hum of electricity you always felt when you touched him—gone. even the scent of vanilla, so comforting and familiar, seemed to fade, replaced by the metallic tang of blood.

his breathing was ragged, shallow, and his entire form quivered with agony. "no... no..." he muttered weakly, his voice barely a whisper.

"felix," you choked out, your tears blurring your vision. you pressed your hands to his face, your touch desperate. "please, what’s happening to you? tell me what to do!"

he looked at you then, his eyes swimming with sorrow and pain so profound it felt as if it might shatter you. his voice was barely audible, cracked and broken as he rasped, "they’ve... taken it... everything. my wings... my grace..."

your breath hitched, your mind reeling as the realization dawned on you. felix wasn’t just in pain—he had been exiled. stripped of his celestial essence, cast down to a mortal existence for breaking the sacred laws he once upheld.

tears streamed down your face as you tried to support his trembling body, your heart breaking at the sight of him so vulnerable, so human. "you’re bleeding," you whispered, your voice trembling as you pressed your hands against his back in a futile attempt to stem the flow.

"it doesn’t matter," he said, his words slurred with exhaustion. "i... i couldn’t stay away. i knew this would happen, but i couldn’t leave you... not like that."

the weight of his sacrifice hit you like a tidal wave, and you sobbed openly, clutching him tightly as he collapsed against you. felix’s breaths were shallow, his body heavy and weak as he leaned into your embrace.

"you shouldn’t have done this," you murmured, your voice cracking with guilt and despair.

"i had to," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "i love you.." 

felix’s whispered confession hung in the air like a fragile thread, his words trembling with vulnerability. his golden eyes, dulled by exhaustion, searched yours for a reaction. the weight of his love—of everything he had given up—pressed against your chest, making it hard to breathe.

"i love you," he repeated, stronger this time, as if saying it louder could convince you of its truth. his hand, trembling but resolute, reached up to touch your cheek, his thumb brushing away your tears. "i’ve loved you for so long... even before you knew i existed. watching over you, seeing your pain, your strength... i couldn’t stand to just watch anymore. i couldn’t lose you."

tears streamed down your face as you cupped his face, his skin warm beneath your palms but lacking the celestial glow you’d once marveled at. "felix," you choked out, your voice thick with emotion. "you gave up everything for me. how could i ever be worth that?"

his lips curled into a faint, pained smile. "you’ve always been worth it. you’re worth every punishment, every scar, every moment of this mortal life. i would do it all over again just to see you safe, just to be with you."

you shook your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words. "i don’t deserve this. i don’t deserve you."

"yes, you do," he countered, his voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing him down. "you deserve to be loved, truly loved, in a way that heals instead of hurts. and if i’m the one who can give that to you, then i’ll bear whatever it takes."

his words cracked something open inside you—a dam you’d been holding back for so long. the love you felt for him, so deep and consuming, poured out all at once. "felix, i love you too," you confessed, your voice trembling. "i’ve been so scared to admit it, even to myself, but i do. i love you more than i’ve ever loved anyone."

felix’s eyes widened, glistening with tears of his own, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift. his arms, though weak, wrapped around you tightly, pulling you into a desperate embrace. "you don’t know how much it means to hear you say that," he murmured against your hair.

you clung to him, your heart aching with both love and fear. "but what happens now? you’ve already lost so much because of me."

felix pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression resolute despite the pain etched into his features. "we’ll figure it out together," he promised. "no matter what comes next, i’m not leaving your side. not now, not ever."

his words were a lifeline, a tether to hope in the storm of uncertainty surrounding you. 

as felix’s promise lingered in the air, his golden eyes searched yours with such intensity that it felt as though time had momentarily stopped. despite the anguish and exhaustion etched into his features, there was an undeniable pull between the two of you—something raw, something unspoken.

your fingers instinctively moved to his face, brushing back the damp strands of hair that clung to his forehead. he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as if savoring the simple intimacy of it.

"felix," you whispered, your voice barely audible, "you're all i have."

his gaze snapped back to yours, filled with equal parts tenderness and desperation. "and you're everything i’ve ever wanted."

before you could reply, felix closed the distance between you. his lips met yours in a kiss so gentle it felt like it could break with the wrong move. there was no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the unyielding truth of your shared emotions spilling into each other.

his kiss deepened as his trembling hands cupped your face, pulling you closer, as though he feared you might slip away if he let go. you felt the warmth of him, even in his weakened state, and the love he poured into that single moment overwhelmed you.

your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him as the kiss turned more urgent. the pain, the fear, the heartbreak—they all melted away, leaving only the two of you and the fire igniting between you.

felix broke the kiss briefly, resting his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. "i can’t lose you," he murmured, his voice trembling with raw emotion. "not again. never again."

"you won’t," you promised, your voice steady despite the tears still streaming down your face. "i’m here. i’m not going anywhere."

as if reassured by your words, felix pulled you closer, his lips finding yours again with renewed fervor. his kisses were desperate yet tender, an unspoken apology for the pain you’d endured and a silent vow to never let you feel that way again.

something inside felix had snapped. whatever holy laws that prevented him from feeling this primal, sinful desire for you, they were long gone. something about kissing your lips, tasting you, drinking you in.. drove him into high gear. his hands were never ending in their exploration of your skin, roaming your body under your clothes. soft hums of appreciation left his lips as they danced hungrily against yours. 

his love and affections for you were obvious.. but this instantly grew beyond an emotional depth, and he wanted to claim you. in this instant, it was more than wanting to care for you emotionally. he longed to satisfy your every desire, offering you the most exquisite sensations a human could experience. he wanted to give you even the slightest taste of heaven, even if he was no longer an angel. 

his injuries and newfound pain were at the back of his mind–his main focus was you. finally, it was you. 

your hands slid up his arms, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held onto you like you were his lifeline. his body was warm, his presence grounding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the crushing weight of your loneliness lifted.

the heat between you grew, felix’s touch becoming bolder as he brushed his hands down your sides, hesitant yet yearning. you felt his fingers tremble slightly, a reminder of his fragile state, but he didn’t pull away. instead, he held you tighter, pressing kisses along your jawline and down to the curve of your neck.

"felix," you whispered, your voice catching as his lips lingered on your skin.

he paused, his breath warm against your collarbone as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. his eyes were filled with love, devotion, and a vulnerability that took your breath away. "tell me if this is too much," he said softly, his voice hoarse but steady.

"it’s not," you replied, your own voice trembling. "but.. your back. you’re hurt."

felix’s lips quirked into a faint smile, his golden eyes softening even as his hands remained firmly on your waist. “don’t worry about me,” he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. “this… what i’m feeling right now, being here with you… it’s worth any pain. i’m fine.”

you searched his face, uncertain, your fingertips brushing over his cheek. the warmth of his skin, the sincerity in his gaze, soothed your lingering doubts. “but felix—”

“i want this,” he interrupted gently, his voice carrying a rare firmness. his hands slid up your sides, steady despite their earlier trembling, until they rested just below your ribs. “i want you. i’ve wanted you for so long, and now that i have you here, i’m not going to let anything take me away from you again.”

your heart clenched at the conviction in his words. the love in his gaze was overpowering, a force you couldn’t fight against even if you wanted to. “you’re sure?” you asked softly, needing his confirmation, your fingers brushing through his disheveled hair.

he exhaled shakily, leaning his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with your own. “i’m more sure of this than i’ve been of anything in my existence. i’ve spent so long watching over you, loving you from afar. i don’t want to hold back anymore.”

felix tilted your chin gently, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt different from before. it wasn’t just hungry or desperate—it was tender, deliberate, filled with a quiet intensity that made your knees weak. his hands moved down, gripping your hips and pulling you closer, as though he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you.

his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a warm, tingling trail that made your breath hitch. he paused again, his voice barely above a whisper. “tell me if you need me to stop,” he said, his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

you shook your head, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions swirling within you. “i don’t want you to stop, felix. i want you.”

at your words, felix released a shaky breath, his lips curling into a soft, relieved smile that sent a shiver down your spine. slowly, with a tenderness that belied the intensity of the moment, he grasped the hem of your shirt and began to lift it. the fabric slid over your skin with ease, leaving your stomach exposed to the cool air, and you felt your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

you raised your arms, allowing him to remove the shirt entirely. the loss of its warmth left goosebumps in its wake, your skin tingling from the sudden exposure. felix’s gaze dropped, and you swore you saw his pupils dilate, his golden eyes darkening with something primal, something raw. his breath hitched as his gaze lingered on your bare skin, your braless chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. the chill of the room had already peaked your nipples, and the sight seemed to unravel him further.

a low, guttural sound escaped him, almost like a growl, as he leaned in. his lips brushed against the center of your chest, pressing soft, reverent kisses that made your breath catch. each touch was deliberate, tender, and filled with a worshipful intensity that made your mind spin.

his lips moved slowly, leaving warm trails across your skin as he kissed the delicate curve of one breast, then the other, lingering as though savoring every moment. the sensation sent jolts of heat coursing through your body, your chest heaving under his touch. felix took his time, his lips and hands mapping the contours of your body with a devotion that left you trembling.

your thoughts were a hazy blur, consumed by the realization of how intimate this moment was. felix—the celestial being who had once been tasked with shielding you from harm, who had watched over you like a guardian star—was now here, touching you in ways that felt both sinful and sacred. 

his hands, his lips, his every movement felt as though they belonged there, as if this connection between you was meant to be all along. the contrast of what he once was and who he was now only deepened the intensity of the moment. 

“i want to see more of you,” felix murmured, his voice low and thick with longing. his hand cupped the underside of your breast, his touch reverent, almost trembling. you met his gaze, your heart fluttering at the vulnerability in his eyes, and nodded slowly, offering him a soft smile.

standing, you reached for the knot on your pajama pants, untying it with shaky hands. felix’s eyes never left you, his gaze intense, watching every movement as if memorizing it. meanwhile, he began unbuttoning his pristine white shirt, the fabric catching slightly against his trembling fingers.

when the shirt finally slipped from his shoulders, you caught your breath. his honey-toned skin glowed faintly under the dim light, a stark contrast to the jagged wounds on his back and the fading bruises across his neck. he winced, a hiss escaping his lips as the shirt grazed the sensitive injuries, but the pain seemed to dissipate the moment his eyes landed on you.

you’d reclined on the bed, your pajama pants now discarded, leaving you in only your underwear. the soft light kissed your skin, highlighting every curve, and felix froze, his heart racing so wildly he thought it might burst.

he moved closer, his hands steady despite the overwhelming emotions coursing through him. leaning down, he pressed a kiss to each of your bent knees, his lips warm and tender against your skin. his hands trailed down your thighs, his fingertips grazing your soft flesh with a featherlight touch, as if afraid he might break you.

“felix?” you spoke, your voice shy and a little hoarse from the intensity of the moment.

“yes, my love?” he murmured, his tone soothing and steady, even as his lips brushed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“how do you…” you hesitated, your cheeks burning as your voice dropped lower, “know what to do? i thought angels couldn’t—”

felix chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. his hands continued their slow, adoring exploration of your skin, his lips hovering just above your thigh. “you’re right,” he said, his voice rich with affection. “angels don’t… but i’ve watched humans for centuries. seen their moments of love, of passion. i may not have experienced it before, but the thought of touching you, of being with you like this…” he paused, lifting his gaze to yours, his golden eyes filled with unwavering devotion. “it’s instinctual. it’s like i was made to know how to love you.”

his words sent a shiver through you, your chest tightening at the raw honesty in his voice. “felix…” you whispered, your hands reaching to cradle his face, your thumb brushing his cheek.

he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly before he pressed a kiss to your palm. “if i’m clumsy or unsure,” he continued, his voice soft, “just tell me. guide me. all i want is to make you feel cherished, loved... whole.”

your heart swelled at his words, and you nodded, sitting up a bit to press your lips to his. “you’re doing everything right,” you assured him, your voice trembling with both nervousness and excitement.

felix’s lips curved into a soft smile against yours before he deepened the kiss, his touch growing more confident as his hands slid back to your thighs. his movements were reverent, as though worshiping every curve of your body. slowly, he shifted above you, breaking the kiss for a moment to meet your eyes, his gaze filled with both tenderness and longing.

one hand slipped down between your legs, his fingers brushing over your mound through the thin fabric of your panties. his golden eyes flickered down to watch his hand, but they quickly returned to your face, searching for your reaction. he pressed down with a little more pressure, the motion drawing a soft gasp from your lips. the sound sent a thrill through him, and a subtle smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

felix’s movements became more deliberate, his fingers creating a gentle rhythm as they teased you through the fabric. your hips instinctively rose to meet his touch, grinding against his hand as he followed your lead. the warmth of his palm, the delicate friction, sent sparks of pleasure racing through you.

“can i feel you... underneath?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with a mix of nervousness and desire. a faint blush dusted his cheeks, a charming reminder of his inexperience.

you reached up, threading your fingers through his tousled hair, offering him a reassuring smile. “yes, that’s okay,” you whispered.

he nodded, his lips brushing yours in a tender kiss before his hand slipped beneath the fabric of your underwear. both of your breaths hitched simultaneously as his fingers met your slick heat. the intimacy of the moment made your cheeks flush with warmth, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

felix’s fingers explored you slowly, his movements careful but curious, as though memorizing every contour of your most sensitive place. when he brushed his middle finger against your clit, a moan escaped your lips, your hips jerking slightly in response. the sound sent a jolt through him, his arousal growing, the evidence of his desire pressing against the confines of his pants.

he began to circle your clit, experimenting with pressure and rhythm, his focus entirely on your reactions. every gasp, moan, and shudder guided him, and the connection between you deepened with each passing moment. your breaths became ragged, your body arching into his touch as he expertly worked you closer to the edge.

“felix, i’m gonna... oh my g-god!” you stammered, your voice breaking as waves of pleasure built within you.

he leaned down, pressing kisses to your jaw and neck, his voice low and soothing. “it’s okay, love. let go for me,” he murmured, his words like a lifeline pulling you into bliss.

your orgasm hit with devastating intensity, your body trembling as waves of ecstasy washed over you. your legs shook uncontrollably, your nails digging into his forearm as you cried out, your voice cracking with the force of your release. felix watched you with awe, his heart swelling with pride as he took in the sight of you—your back arching off the bed, your mouth falling open in a silent scream, your entire form glowing with pleasure.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his chest tightening at the sight of you undone beneath him. the sheer intensity of your release and the knowledge that he had brought you to this point sent a surge of arousal through him, his own need nearly overwhelming.

as you descended from the peak of your bliss, your chest heaving with each breath, felix leaned in to press a delicate kiss to your temple. his touch was gentle, almost reverent, as his fingers softly brushed a strand of hair from your flushed face. “are you okay, my love?” he asked, his voice low and tender, full of concern.

you nodded, your lips curling into a shy, dazed smile. “mhm… that was… really good,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

a soft chuckle escaped felix’s lips as he carefully withdrew his hand from your panties, his golden gaze dropping to the slick coating his fingers. without hesitation, he brought the digits to his mouth, his lips parting as he sucked them clean with an experimental slowness. his eyes fluttered shut briefly, and when they reopened, they glimmered with darkened desire.

“you taste divine, y/n,” he murmured, his voice rich with admiration and unrestrained hunger.

your cheeks flamed at the sight of him savoring you, but your attention shifted to the noticeable bulge straining against his pants. the sight sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your stomach, and when your gaze returned to his face, you found him already watching you. his eyes were soft yet filled with a pleading sort of anticipation, his vulnerability laid bare.

“can i…?” you asked cautiously, your hand lightly pressing against the outline of his arousal.

felix’s breath hitched at your touch, his expression briefly contorting, not in discomfort but in a momentary overwhelm at the unfamiliar sensation. “y-yes,” he stammered, his voice shaky. “but… be gentle, please?”

“of course,” you assured him, offering a comforting smile as you carefully guided him to lie back. “just relax. don’t worry about the sheets.”

he followed your guidance, grunting softly as he adjusted his position. though the movement aggravated his healing wounds, felix bit back any complaints, his focus entirely on you. how could he not, when you knelt before him, bare and beautiful, your hands already working to free him from his remaining clothes?

as you tugged his pants down, his erection sprang free, slapping against his toned stomach. you couldn’t help but admire him—his length was flushed a deep pink, the prominent head peeking shyly beneath the extra skin. he was perfect, and undeniably human in this moment.

you leaned down, pressing soft, deliberate kisses along the base of his shaft, your lips trailing up the warm skin. felix’s breathing grew uneven, his golden eyes flickering down to watch you, though he struggled to hold your gaze. his cheeks were painted with a faint blush, his flustered expression only adding to his allure.

“you’re so beautiful,” you whispered against his skin, your voice filled with awe.

felix’s lips parted as if to respond, but the words seemed to catch in his throat, replaced by a soft groan as you kissed the underside of his length. your touch was gentle, tender, as though you understood how new and overwhelming this was for him.

“does this feel okay?” you asked softly, your eyes seeking his for reassurance.

felix nodded quickly, his voice catching as he replied, “yes… it feels incredible.”

encouraged by his soft groans and whispered praises, you continued your delicate exploration, your lips and hands moving with care and devotion. felix’s chest rose and fell in a rhythm that matched the tremors of his breath, his hands clutching the sheets tightly as if anchoring himself to reality.

when your lips wrapped around his length, his entire body jerked slightly in response, a low groan escaping his parted lips. the sound was raw, unrestrained, and it sent a surge of confidence through you. you moved slowly, your mouth warm and wet as you took him deeper, your tongue teasing the sensitive head with deliberate flicks and swirls. with each motion, you made sure to pull the skin back gently, exposing the most sensitive part of him to your ministrations.

“god, y/n… that’s—” his voice cracked, his words dissolving into a panting moan. his abs flexed involuntarily under your touch, and his head fell back onto the pillow, golden hair splayed like a halo. his hands left the sheets to tangle in your hair, his fingers trembling as they brushed against your scalp, though he didn’t pull or guide—he simply held on as if the pleasure was too much to bear alone.

your pace remained steady, your tongue working magic against him as you hollowed your cheeks to increase the intensity. felix’s reactions were mesmerizing—his breath hitched, his thighs quivered, and his lips parted to let out soft, helpless moans. you could feel his arousal building, his body tightening under your touch.

“a-ah… wait!” he suddenly cried out, his voice desperate as his hips tensed.

alarmed, you pulled off immediately, his length slipping from your lips with a wet pop. “felix? did i hurt you?” you asked, your voice laced with concern, your eyes searching his flushed face for any sign of discomfort.

he shook his head quickly, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. “n-no, love,” he managed, his voice shaky but reassuring. “you didn’t hurt me. i just… i was getting close, and i… i didn’t want it to end so soon.” his golden eyes, filled with vulnerability and desire, met yours, and he offered a soft, apologetic smile. “i want to feel more with you. all of you.”

his words sent a new wave of warmth through your body, and you leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “it’s okay, felix,” you murmured against his mouth, your tone soothing. “we’ll go at your pace. i just want to make you feel good.”

felix’s breath hitched as he let out a shaky laugh, his hands cradling your face with a tenderness that seemed almost at odds with the raw desire in his eyes. his golden gaze searched yours as though looking for permission to continue. “you already make me feel incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “but… please, i need to feel you completely. let me… let me be inside you.”

the desperation in his plea made your heart skip a beat, his need evident in the way his length twitched against your skin. “are you sure?” you asked softly, your voice laced with caution and care.

“i’ve never been more sure of anything,” felix replied fervently, his hands trembling slightly as they traced down your sides. before you could say another word, he gently guided you onto your back, his movements deliberate but brimming with urgency.

he tugged at the fabric of your panties, slipping them down and casting them aside, his eyes never leaving yours. the sight of you bare beneath him seemed to stoke his desire even further, his lips crashing into yours with newfound hunger. his knees parted your thighs a little more, positioning himself between them as he kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring yours with a fervor that left you breathless.

your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. the anticipation was electric, your body taut with expectation. felix pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his hand guiding his aching length to your entrance. “if you need me to stop, just say the word, okay?” he whispered, his tone full of care despite the tension in his voice.

you nodded, biting your lip as your head sank into the pillow, bracing yourself for the moment you had both been yearning for. slowly, felix began to push inside you, his hips trembling as he sank into your warmth. the sensation overwhelmed him instantly—your tight heat surrounding him in a way that made his breath falter and a shudder rack his body.

a gasp escaped your lips as he slid all the way in with one smooth motion, the stretch both surprising and exhilarating. felix braced himself on his forearms, his face hovering just above yours. his eyes fluttered shut, and a whimper escaped his lips as he struggled to stay composed. “god… so tight…,” he muttered, his voice strained as he adjusted to the sensation.

for a moment, he stilled, giving you both a chance to adjust. his gaze returned to yours, full of concern and adoration. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice a whisper.

“y-yeah,” you managed, your voice breathy. “you can move.”

felix exhaled a deep breath and began to roll his hips, starting with a moderate pace. his movements were tentative at first, his eyes fixed on your expression to ensure you were comfortable. but as your gasps turned to soft moans, his confidence grew.

the friction was maddening, his steady rhythm sending waves of pleasure through both your bodies. each thrust drew a mix of grunts and whimpers from felix, his forehead resting against yours as he poured his entire being into every movement. “you feel… so good,” he groaned, his voice shaky with restraint.

your hands found purchase on his back, being cautious of his wounds. your fingers dug into the taut muscles as his pace began to quicken. the pressure was building, both of you lost in the connection that felt as much emotional as it was physical. “felix…” you moaned his name, your legs tightening around his waist as his hips snapped against yours with increasing fervor.

his breathing became erratic, his pace growing desperate as he chased his release. “y/n… i can’t…” he gasped, his body trembling with the effort to hold back.

“it’s okay,” you whispered, your voice tender and encouraging. “let go, felix.”

with a strangled cry, felix buried himself as deeply as he could, his entire body shuddering as his climax overtook him. his hips stilled, pressing tightly against yours as warmth filled you, his groans muffled against your neck as he clung to you like you were his lifeline.

for a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your mingled breaths, the quiet intimacy of the moment enveloping you both. felix finally lifted his head, his flushed face framed by his damp hair, and his eyes met yours with a look of pure devotion. “i love you,” he whispered, the words filled with awe.

your heart swelled, and you reached up to cradle his face. “i love you too, felix.”

as the two of you lay entwined in the quiet aftermath, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the warmth of his body against yours and the steady rhythm of his breathing. felix’s fingers lazily traced patterns on your skin, his touch grounding and tender. there was a newfound softness in his gaze as he looked at you, a vulnerability that mirrored your own. whatever boundaries had once kept him from you—divine laws, celestial duties, or his own insecurities—had crumbled completely, leaving behind a love that was raw, human, and boundless. in that moment, as you rested your head against his chest, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat, you both understood that this was where you belonged: together, in a love that defied heaven and earth.

[wonderjanga]

Ms. Kent and Billy

it’s 1959 and it’s been a year ever since Billy got his powers. Life is good and he found out about a pie eating contest happening in some little town in Kansas called Smallville. If you were to win, you’d get a whole $100.

Billy: “A hundred whole dollars… I could get food for weeks- no, months with that!”

Martha(Ma Kent): *appeared behind him* “Are you gonna participate in the contest?”

Billy: *startles* “Uh… Yes?”

Martha: “Aren’t you a little skinny for that?”

Billy: “Wha- I’m not skinny! I don’t think I’m too skinny at least.”

Martha: *looks him up and down wondering if he’d let her cook a bunch of food for him* “Sure. Hey, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Are you new to Smallville?”

Billy: “Yes. This is my first time here actually.”

Martha: “Oh? So you’re just here for the pie contest?”

Billy: “Yup. I’m gonna eat as much pie as I can, and then I’m gonna get the money.”

Martha: “Will you tell me if they’re good?”

Billy: “Sure? Why?”

Martha: “Cause me and my mom made all the pies for the competition!”

Billy: “Oh, that’s amazing!” *looks starstruck*

Martha: *sounds proud* “I know.”

Billy didn’t end up winning the competition. He actually ended up vomiting after his first pie because his little malnourished self couldn’t handle all of that. Martha was there though to clean him up with a rag. They got to know each other better after that and soon enough, Billy would transform into Marvel, fly over to Smallville, and hang out with her. Martha even got to know Freddy because he would sometimes fly over with Billy too. Then the time bubble happened and fast forward 50 years. Billy, after panicking about his entire life and everything he knows it being over, went to go see Martha, who was conveniently still near Smallville.

Billy: *knocks on the door*

Martha: “Coming!” *opens the door and looks around seeing no one*

Billy: “Down here.”

Martha: *looks down to Billy and pauses to stare*

Billy: “Heeeeeeeey Martha.” *awkward wave*

Martha continued to stare at him for a solid minute before she rubbed her eyes, and then rubbed them again for good measure.

Martha: “Billy…?”

Billy: “Martha…?”

Martha: “Oh- my… Oh my Gosh!” *kneels down so she can look him over even going as far as to pinch his little cheeks to make sure he’s real*

Billy: “Ow! Martha, stop!” *bats away her hands*

Martha: *keeps trying to pinch him aways* “Are you real?”

Billy: “Yes?”

Martha: *has seen too much nonsense due to Clark* “Well, if you’re the real Billy uhm… Where did we first meet?”

Billy: “A pie eating contest here?”

Martha: “Hmm… That might be too easy… What pies did I make for the contest?”

Billy: “Wha- I don’t know!? How am I supposed to remember that??”

Martha: “Okay… Too hard. How about you tell me something only you would’ve known about a fourteen year old me.”

Billy: “Like what?”

Martha: “Like something secret I told you.”

Billy: “Uhm… You had a crush on Elvis and said you wanted your future husband to be just like him?”

Martha: *stares before feeling herself cringe at her teenage self* “Okay, I’ll assume you’re the real Billy. Come in, bud.”

They caught up after that. They even decided to make pies together again. It was fun. You would just see them in the kitchen together talking about whatever, normally old lady stuff, and baking. Then, when Grandpa Kent came home…

Jonathan(Pa Kent): “Martha, I’m home!” *walks to the kitchen and pauses when he sees Billy and Martha*

Martha and Billy: *stare back at him*

Jonathan: “Martha is that an another grandbaby, clone, or cousin of Clark’s?”

Martha: “None of those. This is Billy. He’s a friend of mine.”

Jonathan: “Martha, you’re just befriending eight-year-olds now? Where are his parents?”

Billy: “They’re dead, mister! But don’t worry, me and Martha met back in ‘59. We go way back.”

Jonathan: *stares for a solid minute* “Wait a darn moment… were you caught up in all that Fawcett business?” *heard about it on the news*

Billy: “Yup!”

Martha: “What Fawcett business?”

That’s how Billy was led to explain the entirety of the time bubble and suspendium and all that. The Kents thankfully welcomed him with open arms. After this entire incident, Billy showing up to the farm was a regular occurrence. He could bake with Martha and help Mr. Jonathan out as much as he could on the farm. Then, one of the Kents other grandchildren showed up. (Billy was basically their grandbaby too, not that the Batson knew)

Jonathan: *trying to fix their tractor because it broke down for whatever reason*

Billy: *standing to the side, holding a toolbox and giving him tools whenever he asks*

Jon: *flies over from Metropolis* “Grandpa! Grandpa-” *does a double take when he sees Billy* “Wait, who’re you?”

Billy: “I’m Billy!”

Jonathan: “You heard him Jon. He’s Billy.”

Jon: *suddenly self-conscious of the fact that he’s flying in front of this kid and kinda just revealed his identity* “I’m uh… Jon.” *slowly floats down to land on the ground*

Billy and Jon: *stare at each other*

Jonathan: “Billy, can you pass me the diamond tip screwdriver?”

Billy: “Sure!” *passes it to him*

Yeah… Jon was a little confused as to who this random kid was. He was also a little confused as to why he refers to Jon’s grandpa has Mr. Jonathan but refers to Jon’s grandma as Martha. Did he live with grandma and grandpa? Is he another one of his dad’s cousins? Jon doesn’t think the boy’s a kryptonian but he might be wrong. Anyways, he’s making everything weird! Though it’s a sort of good kind of weird? His grandma is acting… younger? They also keep referencing things Jon has no idea about. (Late 50s pop culture) The kid- Billy, seems nice enough though. He has no problems playing with Jon so that’s awesome! Jon is so happy to have a friend away from home, but he’s still confused as to why Billy is at the farm.

Jon: “Dad, why do some people live on farms?”

Supes: “Because they’re farmers…?”

Jon: “No, but like what if they aren’t farmers, and they just help the farmers that are already there? Like one day they just showed up and decided to help around.”

Supes: “Well, I guess the closest thing you’re looking for would be a farmhand. Why are you asking?”

Jon: “Well, there’s this kid that lives with grandma and grandpa now-”

Supes: “WHAT?!”

Yeah, neither Ma Kent or Pa Kent have told Clark about this. It kind of slipped their minds.

Bonus interactions:

Before Pa Kent Came Home…

Billy: “Who’s that?” *looking at a photo of Pa and Ma Kent together*

Martha: “My husband.”

Billy: “Husband…?” *suddenly sad he missed a bunch of stuff from Martha’s life* “Oh…”

Martha: You sound upset. What’s wrong?

Billy: “Nothing.”

Twenty Years Ago When Clark Was Still a Kid…

Supes: Ma, who’s that? *looking at a photo of a nine year old Billy and a fourteen year old Martha*

Martha: “Oh, that’s Billy and I.”

Supes: “Who’s Billy?”

Martha: “An old friend of mine. He uhm… disappeared one day. I don’t know what happened to him.”

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 8

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 8 of...who knows.

Sadly, Max didn’t get to push George Russell of the track. Instead he accidentally hit Oscar in the first corner, which definitely hadn’t been on purpose…and also resulted in another penalty point and a 10 second penalty.

He was really done with this season.

At the same time, Charles carved his way up from P19 to P2 in which, what Max was pretty sure, could only be described as going on the warpath. Max was honestly just impressed at the speed with which Charles had managed to claw himself up to P2, and he would have applauded the effort if he hadn’t been so damn frustrated with everything else.

At this point, he just wanted to get the race done and over with and go home. He'd have time to worry about the penalty later - he just wanted to get this race over the finish line so that he could get a flight to Monaco and to Colette.

With that thought in mind, the last 12 laps went by in a blur, and it felt like no time at all until the checkered flag appeared.

For the first time all season, Max didn’t bother trying to push beyond the limit for an extra few seconds of time.Because quite frankly, it didn’t actually matter.

McLaren had gotten the constructor championship for the first time in 26 years.

"t may not have been the fastest race but I just wanted to say a big thank you for the season, guys. It hasn’t been easy at times, we still have quite a few things to improve on but we still won a world championship.  So, thank you for all the hard work the whole year," Max said into the radio. "Enjoy your time off and then we’ll go back at it again next year. Thank you, guys."

And now Max finally got to go home to Colette.

GP's voice came over the radio. "Get weighed and then we need you to come into the garage as quickly as possible, Max." 

Max furrowed his brows at the words. That was…odd. Why would he need to go to the garage immediately?

"Is everything alright?" he demanded. 

GP didn’t answer immediately, which did nothing to diminish Max’s worry.

His heart skipped a beat when the engineer finally responded, hesitantly. “Just come to the garage, please. Quickly.”He had wanted to apologise to Oscar about their incident in the first corner at the start, but that was quickly forgotten, at the tone in GP's voice.

It sounded alarmed and anxious, and that got Max's heart racing. Something was wrong, something was wrong, and he needed to get to the garage to find out what it was.

It took him an incredible amount of self-restraint not to outright bolt out of the car and charge into the garage, but he somehow managed to get out of the car, weighed himself in and all but dashed towards the garage.

"GP?!" he called out as he stormed into the garage. "What the hell is going on? What’s wrong? Why-"

GP was the one who dragged him into one of the side rooms, where no cameras would see the exchange that followed. There was Christian waiting, as well as his father. 

This wasn't good.

The sight was alarming enough to make him freeze. His heart seemed to skip a beat.

"I-” Max cut himself off, staring at the three men. "What- what's going on?"

"Colette is in labour," Christian answered. "Her brother Arthur texted me. Your pilot filed flight plans thirty minutes ago. There is a car waiting to take you to the airport."

For a moment, Max’s brain just froze altogether, his thoughts screeching to a halt.

His vision wavered as the words echoed in his head, and he had to reach out and grab a hold of the wall next to him as his legs tried to buckle.

He couldn’t have read those words right. There was no way - she had four more weeks. They had more time, Colette couldn’t be in labour.

But it was GP's voice that was cutting through the fog in his head. “Max.  Are you with us?”

Max had to take a deep breath, forcing his mind into action.

"Yeah," he heard himself croak out. The only thought in his mind was that he had to get to the airport. He had to get home as fast as he possibly could.

“We need to get Charles," he demanded. “I don’t care how you do it. I’ll pay whatever ridiculous fine the FIA demands. But if he finds out I left without him, he’s going to kill me.”

There was no doubt about that. 

Max was dimly aware that all three men were looking at him with varying levels of sympathy - but he didn’t care. He only had one thought in his mind, and that was getting to Colette as soon as goddamn possible.

"Gemma is getting him right now," Christian promised him. "I already talked with Ferrari...or screamed at them, that is more likely. So did Arthur apparently. I need to warn you though, the press is swarming outside, especially after your father's little interview," he said darkly.

"What interview?" Max asked, staring at his father. What interview were they talking about?!

"I talked to Sky News about your anger issues," his father said drily.

"Correction," GP snapped. "You told Sky News that Colette and Max are a couple and that their baby is due any day."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, and they were like a punch to the gut. His father had done what?

"You told the damn media she’s having our baby?" he exclaimed, staring at the older man. "Have you completely lost your mind?!"

"No, I merely said it’s due any day," Jos snapped. "Not that it's actually on the way. Calm down, I only said it because you need to stop denying that you two are an item, it’s getting ridiculous!"

Max honestly didn’t even know how to react to the words. Normally, he would’ve been furious right now. His father had just gone and announced their private life to the entire world. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the fact that Colette was currently in labour…

"He also said and I quote It took them long enough, they definitely practiced enough!" GP snapped, looking and sounding more furious than Max had ever seen him before. 

For a moment, Max almost choked and he whirled to his father, his eyes wide. "You-" the words got stuck in his throat. "We’ve been trying for nearly three years. Colette had two miscarriages!"

All of a sudden, the anger that had been boiling inside of Max just evaporated into thin air, leaving only cold, burning rage behind. He took a shuddering breath, his whole body trembling violently. "How. Dare. You," he spat. Even he was surprised how menacing it sounded, but he was also way beyond caring.

"You never said," his father said, nearly silently.

“Clearly I had a good reason,” Max bit out. “We lost two babies. And you are telling us that we took our time? How. Dare. You."

There was a flicker of something in his father’s eyes, which looked awfully similar to pain and regret, but Max was far too furious to care about some kind of guilt.

"You have no right-" he bit out, his voice trembling with anger, "No right to talk or say anything about-"

"It was already out anyway," his father defended himself.

The words made Max freeze again, and he slowly straightened, the cold fury rushing through his veins and making him feel lightheaded. He clenched his jaw, fighting to find the right words, even if he was pretty sure he was about to completely lose it.

“Another word. About her, about our baby. About either of them,” he snarled, his words low and dripping with venom. “ And I will have absolutely no problem with completely and permanently cutting you out of my life, vader.  You’ll be dead to me. To Colette. To our baby. Is. That. Clear? Colette is not something that we are going to negotiate about. It didn’t work when I was 15. It‘s not working now!"

Surprisingly enough, Jos didn’t reply. The only sound in the room was of Max’s ragged breathing.

He didn’t notice Christian’s worried glance in his direction, but GP’s low and quiet voice cut through his thoughts. "Max."

Max flinched, and he forced himself to get a grip. For a half a second, he couldn’t bring himself to turn to look at the people around him.

Finally, he straightened, forcing his legs to move and his mouth to form a response. “Yeah.”

“There is a car waiting. Go,” GP told him calmly. There really wasn’t any reason to linger, and if he were to say anything else, he was in serious risk of exploding.

Max took a deep breath and moved towards the door, the need to see Colette driving every thought out of his mind.

All the anger and adrenaline made it very easy to push through the hoard of reporters and journalists waiting just outside the garage, his mind laser focused.

There were cameras flashing and reporters shouting questions, but he ignored them all. His only priority was to get to Colette.

At the same time as his single-minded determination helped him to power through the throng of people and reach the car waiting for him, his mind was also whirling with a thousand different questions.

What happens if the baby came right now? What if something went wrong? What if-

***

Charles had known that something was wrong. But then...he had been having that feeling for days. Colette was feeling anxious and scared and angry and a thousand other things and Charles would have known that she was feeling that way, even if he hadn't texted her. 

They had always known if something was wrong with each other. They had always known what the other one was feeling.

That had always been their connection…He loved his brothers more than anything. He did. But they weren’t Colette. They weren’t his twin sister. 

Two lives, two halves of one whole. He would never feel complete without Colette. 

Charles could always tell if something was wrong with his twin. And for days now, something had been very, very wrong.

And still he had soldiered on. He had dragged his car from P19 up to P3. Just behind Carlos...two podiums for Ferrari but not enough to clinch the constructor's championship.

He had only done so because he had known that Colette was never gonna let him hear the end of it if he didn't do his very best.

Just like she had been with him during that Formula 2 race less than 48 hours after their father had died…and she had told him to get into that damn car and race in circles, she had done the same this time. 

And he had listened. 

Of course, he had. 

Still...he had never been more thankful that a Race was over than he was of this one. He was just happy that it was over. 

He followed along to the cooldown room on autopilot, Lando already, then Carlos following after him.

The absolute drama that went down there next...well, it simply started with a commotion. And screaming.

The next things they knew, there was Camilla, PR from Ferrari, in what could only be described as a screaming match with Gemma from Red Bull...with security following along as Gemma more or less threw herself into the cooldown room, completely ignoring what anybody else was telling her. 

Charles stared, utterly bewildered. What the hell was going on here? 

Why was Gemma here, literally shoving her way into the cooldown room and throwing herself at him, security struggling to stop her?

"He deserves to know!" Gemma snapped at Camilla. "You cannot keep this from him! This is about his family. We have tried to talk to Ferrari, you are either ignoring our calls or telling us that there is no way you'll tell him until after the interviews are done. What is wrong with you?"

“What the hell is going on?” Charles managed to finally find his voice. What was happening? What were they talking about? What the hell was wrong with Ferrari? "Someone, anyone, give me an answer!"

The only person who seemed willing to answer was Camilla and the look on her face was completely unapologetic. "You are a Ferrari driver," she said simply, as if that explained everything. "There is nothing that goes on with you while you are driving that takes precedence over your job."

"He isn't driving now," Gemma snapped, as she turned towards Charles. "Your sister is in the hospital. Max's pilot has filed flight plans. There is a car waiting to bring you both back to Monaco."

That got Charles' attention like nothing else would have done. In one second, he went from baffled confusion to absolute shock and alarm. His eyes widened, his heart beginning to pound as adrenaline and fear suddenly flooded his system. "She's...she's...what?" he asked hoarsely.

"In the hospital," Gemma repeated, giving him a pointed look.

"What happened?" Lando demanded suddenly. "Is Colette alright?"

"Is something wrong with the baby?" Charles choked out. 

With the baby. No. No. Not again. 

He had seen his sister utterly heartbroken twice about her two miscarriages. 

And these two miscarriages had been horrible. Heartbreaking. Devastating. Had destroyed her. But they hadn't been...They had been early on in the pregnancy.

They hadn't been after Colette had spent months pouring over baby name books and buying things for the nursery, after she had let him feel the baby kick in her belly...after...after all of this...

"What baby?!" Lando blurted out suddenly, but Charles ignroe that. 

"Max's pilot has filed flight plans. There is a car waiting to bring you both back to Monaco," Gemma repeated. "But you need to come with me now, Charles.” 

"He's not coming with you!" Camilla snapped. "Charles has media obligations!"

"I don't give a fuck about my media obligations!" Charles snapped back at her. He was literally shaking with the sheer strength of his anger. "My sister is in the hospital! I am going. Now."

Charles didn't wait for a response. He was already headed towards the exit, his blood thundering in his ears as confusion and fear and anger raced through his body. The only thing that was going through his head was Colette was in the hospital, Colette was in the hospital, Colette. was. In. The. Hospital.

If anybody tried to stop him now, he would have absolutely no problem going straight through them.

"You are a Ferrari driver," Camilla growled.

"And," Charles snarled, whipping around to look at her. "I am a brother. And a twin. And she is my other half. She is in the damn hospital, and you tried to keep that information from me. What, did Ferrari think that I just wouldn’t care?"

That seemed to render her speechless for a moment, but only for a moment. "We believed," she said coldly, with an undercurrent of anger beneath. "That you would remain professional and focus on your job as you were paid to do so."

"Are you serious?" Lando snapped at that moment. "His sister is in the hospital and you want him to do interviews!?"

"I was not speaking to you, Norris," Camilla said, in a voice that could freeze water. "It is none of your business. We are trying to deal with a delicate public relations issue here that you don't understand."

"I have sisters too," Carlos snapped. "And you better believe that if one of them was in the hospital, I would be there too." 

"Go," Lando told Charles at that moment. "GO."

Charles didn't need to be told twice. He was already halfway out the door. There was only one thought on his mind. Colette.

[covenofagatha]

hey!! can you do one where you run into professor agatha at the library while doing homework and it ends with her making you sit on her cock without moving while you study and you're impatient and she ends up fucking you right there in thar secluded corner (with lots of overstimulation and daddy kink if you're comfortable with that?)

Inspiration struck for this one today so hope everyone enjoys

I just started a new semester so probably won't be posting as much but I will do my best to keep writing and putting stuff out regularly. Also will be pausing any Agathario x reader fics for the moment

Learning to focus

When you run into Professor Harkness at the local library while you're supposed to be working on a project for her history class, you find yourself distracted by her (again)

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: public sex, GP Agatha, fingering, cockwarming, daddy kink, overstimulation, it really was agatha all along, slight humiliation?, hints of degradation

The Westview University campus library is always packed, so you usually opt for the local library about twenty minutes away from the school. 

Much quieter and way less crowded. 

And you don’t have to worry about running into any failed situationships or crazy roommates from past years. 

Plus it’s a really nice library, two stories with long glass windows stretching from the ceiling to the floor. Even when you don’t have school work, you often enjoy coming here just to read or play on your computer. It’s a peaceful place, a place that lets you just relax and forget about the outside world and all the stress you feel. 

Stress mainly from one class. Your history class. 

Professor Agatha Harkness was the only one who taught U.S. History when your schedule could allow it, which meant you had to ignore all the bad reviews on RateMyProfessor.com, because you had no other option. 

On the first day, you could see exactly where they came from. 

One boy had shown up five minutes late, practically a miracle on the first day of classes, stammering an excuse about how bad traffic was, Professor Harkness had fixed him with a glare and told him that he better drop the class. 

You were just thankful that you had a class before hers, otherwise you would’ve been late, too. 

She was just as mean and ruthless and cold as everyone said she’d be. Her assignments were almost outrageous and she graded them so harshly it was honestly impressive you weren’t failing yet. 

But the one thing the reviews forgot to mention was how attractive she is. Her long, dark hair that she’d often keep back in a ponytail. Her sharp blue eyes that reminded you of the ocean on a dark night. Her high cheekbones, her pointed nose, her wicked smirk, honestly, everything about her. 

You suppose the more impressive thing is that you aren’t failing with how often you get distracted by the way her fingers on her left hand tighten around the dry-erase marker when she’s drawing time-lines on the board. When she sways her hips and flexes her knuckles which tightens her veins, you feel a tugging in your gut and you have to bite your lip. 

And you definitely should not be noticing the bulge in her pants when she sits back with her legs spread in her chair while the class is taking an exam. 

You have an optimal seat, all the way to the right of her desk and in the front row, so you can take her in without her noticing you too much. 

If anyone looked too closely at you, they’d assume you were sweating because of the forty-five multiple choice and five written questions you had to answer in only a little over an hour. 

That wasn’t it. 

You swore she saw you looking one time, one particular day when she was wearing a blue flannel and loose fitting cargo pants. You were staring, so completely distracted when you should’ve been taking notes that you didn’t even notice she had dismissed the class. 

It wasn’t until you finally realized that she was stalking toward you that you had fucked up. You had swallowed roughly and moved to shove your stuff into your bag when she had put her hands on your desk and leaned in, causing you to completely forget how to breathe. 

“You seemed a little preoccupied there,” she murmured in a low voice, her hint of cologne tickling your nose. “Try to pay better attention next time. Don’t want to have to teach you a lesson.”

You had promptly nodded and almost ran to your dorm to fuck yourself to the thought of her teaching you a very different kind of lesson. 

Professor Harkness is in your head, and you can’t get her out no matter how hard you try. Except right now, you really need to focus, because the end-of-semester project is due in a week and you haven’t started. 

Did she give you the entire four months of the course to complete it? Yes. But you have never been good at working ahead or at time management. 

She had assigned a ten page paper along with a hand-drawn timeline about something that had happened in the history of the United States. You had picked the Salem Witch Trials, and Professor Harkness had winked when you got the topic approved by her. 

So you’re about to spend the next probably five hours in the library trying to make some headway on this project. The timeline should be easy, but it’s the paper you’re worried about. 

You go up the stairs and wind through the aisles of books on the second floor until you get to your secluded corner, the one you always go to, the one with a small table and two chairs hidden by bookshelves and gasp. 

Your favorite spot has been taken by none other than Professor Harkness. She’s sitting in the chair you usually sit in, pen between her teeth, staring at papers. 

When she looks up, she doesn’t even seem surprised to see you and a slow grin spreads over her face. 

“Professor, what are you doing here?” You ask, fiddling with the straps on your tote bag. Should you go somewhere else?

She chuckles. “In a public library in the town where I live?” 

Your cheeks burn. “Right. Um, I’ve just never seen you here before.” And then you inwardly kick yourself because now it sounds like you’ve been on the lookout. 

“Wanted to get out of the house,” she shrugs. “Have some papers to grade for that project due next week. How’s yours coming?” 

“Oh, really good,” you lie, shifting your weight and trying to think of a quick way to get out of this conversation. “Almost done. Well, I don’t want to bother–” 

She interrupts you by sliding the chair out next to her and patting it. “Why don’t you come show me what you have? I can give you some help, free of charge.” She winks, a glint in her eyes, and it makes your stomach twist. 

“Oh, Professor, that’s not necessary,” you say nervously but she tsks and waves dismissively. 

“Please, call me Agatha. It’s the weekend and we’re off campus. Now, come sit.” She makes it clear it’s an order and you gulp before taking the seat. Even being this close to her is affecting your body and you know there’s absolutely no way you’re getting anything done. 

She’s currently grading a paper about the Boston Massacre and it’s drenched in red ink. You’re not sure which you feel more of: annoyance at your over-achieving classmates or absolute dread for how Agatha is going to react when she finds out that you haven’t even started and, even worse, lied about it. 

You take a shaky breath, feeling her intense gaze on you. “So, the thing is…” You trail off, reaching down to pull out your laptop. You set it on the table and slowly open it, silently begging for the floor underneath you to open up and swallow you whole. 

Anything would be better than this humiliation. 

“Yeah?” Agatha breathes, suddenly much closer to you. You will your eyes to not look away from the computer screen and type in your password, praying that you didn’t leave anything that embarrassing up. 

It opens up to the blank document titled Salem Witch Trials, just so it’s clear to Agatha what exactly this page was supposed to be. 

You’d rather it have been porn. 

Your professor chuckles slowly next to you. “Thought you were almost done?” She simpers in that gruff voice that drives you wild. “Did you get distracted again?” 

Agatha leans forwards, resting her elbow on the table, and perching her head in her hand so she can peer at you. Your eyes glance over to meet hers and then back to your computer, but in your peripheral vision, you can see her body tilt toward yours and her legs open just the slightest. 

Your mouth runs dry and you make a pointed effort not to look between them. 

“What’s gotten you so preoccupied, babygirl?” She asks and you clench around nothing at the shift in tone and the pet name. Holy fuck. “I’ve seen you staring in class, you know. You’re not very subtle at all.” 

Forget being swallowed by the floor, you might just combust out of pure embarrassment. 

You try to stammer out something, an apology maybe, sorry for wanting to fuck you, Professor, but no sounds come out of your mouth. Her other hand comes up and teases a lock of your hair and you finally work up the courage to look at her. 

Agatha’s eyes are heated and dark, all the blue practically gone, and her lips are parted just so. And then you flick your eyes down to between her legs involuntarily and you have to bite back a whimper because she’s fucking hard. 

You can see her length through her navy pants and your brain short-circuits. Agatha likes this. Agatha likes you. 

“Is that what gets you all hot and bothered? Can’t focus because you’re too busy staring at me?” Agatha asks, hand dropping to palm herself. She gives her dick a quick stroke and lets out a tight sigh and you have to hold onto the table to steady yourself. 

Heat rushes through your body in an almost unbearable way. “Yes,” you whisper hoarsely. 

Agatha takes her hand off herself and taps a finger to her lips. “Hmm,” she draws out thoughtfully. You can feel a puddle growing in your underwear. “You know, I’m used to the crushes. Doesn’t even phase me anymore, usually it’s college girls who are just so desperate for attention. Not getting it anywhere else and they think that their fifty year old professor will be into them.” 

Your jaw clenches. Is this the part where she rejects you? 

But Agatha smirks and looks you up and down, takes in your squirming body in the chair. “And I never have even considered it. Until you. None of them have been as delicious as you, pet.” 

And it makes your head spin. It’s almost as if you’re in a trance when your hand grabs onto her thigh and Agatha lets out a low moan. 

“Please,” you say, desperation in your voice. What are you asking for? You don’t even think you know. 

Agatha tuts. “Do you really think you deserve anything? This paper is due in a week and you haven’t even started. Doesn’t seem like you should get a reward for procrastinating, does it?” 

“It’s not my fault,” you whine before you can even think about it. There’s something about this side of Agatha specifically that makes your mind turn to mush. 

She raises an eyebrow like she’s daring you to say that again. “I think you need to learn how to keep that pretty head of yours focused.” She nods to the computer screen. “Make an outline.”

You swallow roughly and straighten up, putting your hands on the keyboard. You’ve just switched tabs and begun googling “Salem Witch Trials” when Agatha’s hand lands on your upper thigh. 

You freeze and glance at her out of the corner of your eye to find her scribbling another note on the paper in front of her. You don’t know how she’s so calm and collected when you feel like your entire body is on fire. 

“Focus,” she tells you in that deep voice of hers and you click on the first result that comes up as her fingers begin to toy with the hem of your skirt. 

You try, you really do try, but it’s so fucking hard to read the words on the screen when she’s inching closer and closer to your underwear, which you can feel is absolutely drenched. 

And soon enough, she’s going to feel it, too. You can almost hear her dark laugh already when she realizes just how affected you are. 

Her fingertips brush against you and instead of laughing, she gasps. “Oh, pet, no wonder you never pay attention in class,” she coos and a thrill runs through you despite how embarrassed you are. She effortlessly finds your clit through the fabric and rubs it and you have to sink your teeth into your bottom lip so you don’t make a sound. 

“Agatha,” you say under your breath and you can practically hear her smirking. Why is it so hot that she is still grading the paper as she starts to run her fingers up and down your pussy over your underwear? She dips in at your entrance and a muffled groan tears itself out of your mouth. 

“Is this what you’re like while I’m teaching, too?” She muses conversationally, but you look down just in time to see her cock twitch in her pants. It makes you feel even more exhilarated, knowing she’s just as affected. But then she moves your panties to the side and slides her fingers through your folds and you forget any train of thought you had. You really hope your wetness isn’t as loud as it sounds. “Dripping for me like a little slut? Getting yourself all worked up when I’m talking about the Declaration of Independence? It’s pathetic.” 

You whimper, maybe in agreement, maybe at how good it feels when she pushes a finger into you, but her eyes slightly glaze over at the feeling of your warm walls around her. 

“God, Agatha,” you moan, your own hand coming down to wrap around her wrist when she starts moving. You can feel her flexing with each thrust and your tongue presses against your cheek as you breathe heavily, leaning toward her. 

She presses a quick kiss to your head and scrapes her teeth against your ear before hotly whispering, “Better be quiet, babygirl. And focus. Or I’ll stop.”

You manage to type out three bullet points worth of information when she slips another finger into you and you clamp a hand over your mouth before you moan obscenely. 

Agatha leans over to read what you have so far. “Who was the first woman to be executed for witchcraft?” She asks and you realize that you never finished that sentence. 

“Bridget Bishop,” you gasp, and she swipes at your clit as a reward, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. 

You continue to type, hoping it’s making sense because you can’t even comprehend the words, while Agatha continues to twist her fingers inside you roughly and rub your clit. You can feel your orgasm slowly building, and it only makes it worse every time Agatha hums right into your ear at something you’ve written. Your walls are clenching around her, trying to draw her even further into you, and she can tell you’re getting close, you’re going to cum so quickly around her fingers. 

“There we go pet, such a good girl for Daddy,” she says into your ear and you spasm all around her, the name sending you right over the edge. 

Who knew you’d like that so much? 

Apparently Agatha did, who grins like a cat getting her cream as she fucks you through your orgasm with her fingers, keeping a steady rhythm on your clit. You taste blood from biting your lip so hard but you manage to keep quiet and you finally come down from your high. 

But it’s not enough, you need more, and judging by the straining of Agatha’s cock against her pants, she needs more, too. 

You move to touch her but she slaps your hand away. “Not yet,” she growls and it sends another blast of heat through you. You think there might be a wet spot on the chair underneath you. 

It only makes it worse when she reaches down and undoes her own belt, fiddles with the button exasperatedly, and finally unzips her pants. She reaches inside and your jaw drops open when she pulls out her hard and leaking cock. It’s big, big enough to make your mouth water, and it almost looks painful. Agatha gives herself a few strokes, hips jumping, and she hisses when she rubs her thumb over the tip. 

“Think you can focus while you sit on Daddy’s cock, babygirl?” She taunts. You’ve never felt so empty in your life, you need her so bad, and she’s right there. 

You almost want to bend down and take her into your mouth, taste her hard cock. 

“I asked you a question,” she reminds you roughly, slapping your thigh to get your attention. The sting makes you jump. “God, you really do get distracted easily.” 

You mumble an apology, cheeks flushing. “I can focus, I promise,” you say, trying to sound convincing, but neither of you believe it. Regardless, she smirks and pats her legs and you do a cautious sweep of the surrounding area. This is incredibly dangerous and if you get caught, you both will get in serious trouble. 

But for some reason, the thrill of getting caught only turns you on more. 

So you stand up and straddle her and sit down, taking her cock in one fell swoop. She goes in easy with how wet you are and you bottom out in her lap, the both of you groaning quietly with restraint. 

“Fuck, babygirl,” you hear Agatha huff and you squeeze your walls around her in response. It makes her thrust up and you inhale sharply at the feeling. She is so big and you can feel her throbbing inside you. “Better keep working.” 

You lean forward slowly to move your laptop closer, the stretch absolutely delicious and she chuckles when you gasp as you settle back onto her. Agatha wraps her arms around your waist and you really do try to be good and focus, but every so often, she shifts beneath you and it hits that spot so deep inside you and you can’t help but squirm to try and get more. 

Would she notice if you slowly start moving? Most likely, but it’s worth the risk. You give the gentlest roll of your hips and Agatha moans low into your ear before her fingernails dig into your hips through your skirt to still you. “Don’t even think about it,” she whispers dangerously so you’re forced to sit without moving on her cock that is filling you up better than anything ever has before. 

It’s sweet torture and you write a few more sentences before you can feel your wetness dripping down her cock and out of you. Every so often, you’ll clench around her, too, completely involuntarily, of course, and she’ll buck into you like she can’t help it while breathing suddenly. You’re not sure how much longer of this you can take, the ache spreading everywhere in your body and absolutely ruining you. 

“Agatha,” you whine again, begging, starting to move despite her death-like grip on your waist. 

She moves your hair to the side and nips at your neck. “Yes, babygirl?” 

“Can you please–” you begin, frustration leaking into your voice, tears pricking in your eyes. “Can you please move? Please, I need it so bad. I’m trying so hard to focus, please, can you fuck me? Daddy–”

Turns out, all you needed to convince her was to call her that, because she finally breaks and starts thrusting her hips up and pounding her cock into you. Your hand flies over your mouth and you bite onto a finger to stop yourself from crying out and you wish you weren’t in a library right now, rather be in the comfort of Agatha’s bed or car or office or anywhere but here, so you could be as loud as you want. 

“Let’s see if you’re still distracted after Daddy fucks all the thoughts out of your head,” she snaps and fuck, you’re already so close after cockwarming her for those few minutes. She reaches around you with a hand to circle your clit, which is already sensitive from your previous orgasm and a muffled sound escapes you. Agatha laughs breathlessly and you strain your ears to hear if anyone is coming near you – not that you could do anything about it now – but there’s nothing. 

Thank god this is a relatively empty library, especially at this time of the day, and that the two of you are tucked away in the back where it’s hard to see normally. 

Agatha’s thrusts are getting so powerful that you’re forced to put your hands out on the table for balance which means it gets a lot harder to control your noises. But your professor, ever the problem-solver, comes up with a solution. 

She slides two fingers into your mouth so you can suck on them and so your moans are stifled. Agatha presses her fingers against your tongue, scrapes her nails against it, and draws them out before shoving them back in, effectively fucking both your mouth and your pussy. 

“You feel so good, babygirl, so fucking tight,” she pants into your ear and you gag when she pushes her fingers down your throat. 

It’s so much, so much stimulation from her cock and her fingers and the fact that you’re being fucked in a public library where anyone could see that your orgasm hits you out of nowhere and it’s explosive. You sink your teeth into her skin and she moans, almost being louder before she remembers to control herself. 

You need a moment to collect yourself, but she doesn’t give it to you; instead, she shoves you off her lap and stands up right behind you without her cock ever leaving your body. 

Agatha bends you over the table, hand pressing against your back, and you have just enough awareness to move your laptop out of the way before she sets a bruising pace. The table must be bolted down to the floor or something, because it thankfully doesn’t move. 

Agatha grunts softly with each thrust and you can feel her twitching inside you even though it feels like every single one of your nerves is on fire. 

“Daddy, I don’t know if I can again,” you quietly sob, the pleasure fraying your mind, the sensitivity of your clit making you gasp when she rubs it. You feel like you’re drifting away from your body, dizziness swarming your head. “Too much,” you babble. 

But she doesn’t slow down. If anything, she picks up her speed and tears fall from your eyes. “You can, babygirl, I know you can. You can take it – fuck, you feel so good around me.” 

Agatha losing her composure because of you, just knowing you have that kind of affect on someone usually so cold and unaffected, is starting to build your orgasm back up. 

“Daddy,” you whine, trying to be as quiet as you can. Her rhythm is starting to falter, she’s throbbing and twitching and cursing, fingers scrambling for purchase on your hips, and you know she’s getting close. 

“So perfect, babygirl,” she mutters and you know she’s refraining from being louder, too. “I’ve wanted you for so long, ever since the first day when you walked into my classroom wearing that short skirt.” 

The confession makes you clench and a gasp escapes your lips. You’re climbing closer and closer to the edge and Agatha isn’t far behind. 

“Knew I had to have you,” she keeps going and your body is practically vibrating. 

She’s pounding into you so deep, filling you so good, her cock dragging against your walls in the best way. Her ragged words are getting to her, too; you can tell in the way her thrusts become shallower and shorter like she can’t do anything more. 

You’d make a quip about her being distracted but you can’t form a sentence right now. Every thought in your head is gone. 

“Daddy knows you come here,” she continues and your eyes roll back into your head. You don’t even think you can understand her. You’re close, so close. “Knew you hadn’t started on the project. Knew you’d be here – fuck, babygirl.” She breaks off with a sharp inhale as you squeeze around her at her words. 

This whole thing was planned. She’s wanted you just as badly as you’ve wanted her. And now she’s fucking you against a table in a library because of it. 

She reaches around and rubs your clit and that’s it. 

You cum all over her cock, walls convulsing around her, and she quickly follows, pumping her cum into you. You feel her warmth spreading through you and it makes you gasp. 

Thankfully she pulls out because you truly can’t take anymore and she slides your underwear back into place before her cum can drip down your legs. She turns you around after zipping her pants back up and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“You okay?” She murmurs and you weakly nod. “Is that pretty head of yours clear now? Think you can focus?” 

The question makes you laugh. There are no thoughts left in your head whatsoever. “You do know that I’m only going to be thinking about this in your classes right? You just made the problem ten times worse.” 

Agatha smirks and taps under your chin. “Tell you what, pet. For each day early you turn this project in, that’s one more reward you’ll get.” 

And even though you’re completely worn out, your clit pulses at the thought of more. 

“Think you’ll be able to focus now?” Agatha asks sweetly. You nod eagerly, your brain suddenly able to piece together how you’re going to structure your paragraphs, and she chuckles. “It’s all about finding the right motivation. I look forward to seeing your final project.” She winks, packs up her stuff, and then walks away. 

You sit down in the chair, making a mental note to clean that and the table before you leave, and open your laptop back up. 

Cracking your knuckles, you get to work, suddenly able to focus so much better now. 

[avonsdrabbles]

You know, I wanna add to this.

My parents… tried. They tried to come to my everything. They taped what they could so we could always have it on disk. My childhood was spent rewatching videos of my major events, none of which feel major now as a 27 year old. But they were major then. And with how much therapy I’ve gone through, I finally can recognize — can finally remember — how good that felt.

And how horrible it felt when that wasn’t the case.

Later in my life, before cutting them off, my dad lamented about how he had never been there for me. How he had work often when I was a child, so he missed a lot of my developmental ages. He tried to make up for this later in life; he built me toys and games, talked with me about various topics he thought would appeal.

They all fell flat. There was always some aspect of it that was missing. The air hockey table he built (which I appreciated, genuinely, especially since it was based on the joy I had with my sister, playing a makeshift one in my room) was in the garage where he smoked, and my asthma wouldn’t allow for playing. Every conversation we had that I was passionate about resulted in an argument as passions flared, and it became easier not to talk at all.

He would tout this failure of his to connect to me as a child as the reason I came out to mom, first. In some degrees, I think he’s right. I think it was a factor, at least.

But the biggest thing I can recognize as an adult is… I get it. He couldn’t be there as much. Just… physically. My father is disabled, was making the most money in the household, and we needed that income to continue with our way of life. My parents worked their asses off to provide for my sister and I, and we had a very comfortable lifestyle because of it. But that work came at the cost of connection.

I guess what I’m saying is… I can recognize, now, how necessary it was. But I wasn’t an idiot then. I could’ve understood, had anyone just explained it properly.

“Dad couldn’t come; he had work.”

To a 5 year old, that’s not an excuse. Can’t you just take off work? Can’t you just come? What sort of world do we live in where work is more important than (checks) my fifth grade play where I’ll screech at the top of my lungs??

“Dad had a headache.”

To a 5 year old, fuck that. I’ve had headaches at school before. Nevermind that my father had an aneurysm, I don’t know that word.

If you can’t make it, please, fucking explain to your child why, in ways they can understand!!! And do it BEFORE you miss, whenever possible.

“Hey honey; I want to come, but my boss is evil and won’t give me time off. If I don’t go to my job, I can’t afford your magic tree house books. I know this recital means a lot for you, but I know those books matter a lot too. Is it okay for me to miss this one, if I promise to see you on the camera later?”

Just give that reassurance.

Help your child through the grief of not seeing you there. Prepare them for it.

my parents never came to anything I did.

I have so many memories about this, but one in particular: when I was away at camp with 89 other teenagers, and at the one-month mark the post was collected distributed to all the dorms. 89 other children tore open their boxes and, shovelling handfuls of sweets their parents had sent them into their mouths, read pages-long letters and handed around photos of their brothers and sisters.

I didn't. I didn't get anything, I sat on my empty bed watching them. The teachers had to call my parents and ask if perhaps the post had gone missing...? but my parents were surprised they were required to interact with me while I was away.

Well, today, my 3-year-old daughter had a fun-run. The childcare centre invited parents to come but stressed that if we weren't able to, it was alright. There was no fucking way I wasn't going. My daughter wasn't going to be the only child there without a parent watching.

I got time off work and stood there in the beating sun and plastered in greasy sunscreen waiting to see my little girl emerge from inside the centre and stand on the track.

When she did, her little eyes searched through the crowd person-by-person for me, and absolutely lit up like the sun when she spotted me.

Mine filled with tears as I waved at her and cheered.

I'm breaking the cycle.

[gloomyluvr]

NEEDY

in which rafe just wants to nap

fem!reader x rafe cameron

fluff

warnings!: bit of sarah shade. cameron siblings getting along (iktr 🙂‍↕️), reader is from the cut and kind of a pogue idk,

a/n: hiii ! first rafe fic ever and first fic since 2023 (oops...) to my spiderverse readers i will write when they give us content and when the fandom is alive. hope this fic is good and people like it. it's not the best but i'm working on other fics so give me a chance please 😣. this ones pretty short. pls let me know if you enjoyed this or if there are any spelling errors. requests are open !

masterlist

summer in the outer banks was nothing short of fun. spending most days at the beach taking in the warm sun, relaxing and cooling down in the cold water, all while hanging out with the people you love most. but fuck, did it get so hot sometimes. unbearably hot. it wasn’t enough to cool down in the water, the intense sun on skin overpowering the coolness of the ocean. it was worse at the chateau, or anywhere on the cut. only a lucky few could afford the luxury of air conditioning. fortunately, you had a super awesome hot rich boyfriend with a mansion with air conditioning that ran 24/7. 

you laid in bed with the youngest cameron sibling, helping her with online shopping for the upcoming school year. having been with rafe for just a couple months, you had become close with his sisters. you saw sarah at the chateau with john b more than you had ever really seen her at tannyhill. therefore, when you spent time at the mansion, you typically spent time with wheezie when you got bored with rafe. 

“wait, that one’s cute,” you pointed to a crop top on wheezie’s laptop which rested on her knees.

“i think i already have that one though.” she looked around her room to see if the top was among the clothes on the floor before giving up and continued scrolling through the catalogue, “i feel like these clothes are too revealing.”

“cmon wheeze! this is nothing, you just gotta get out of your shell. it’s just clothes, try something new and i don’t know, maybe you’ll like it.” you tried convincing the younger girl. over the past few months you had become like an older sister to her, as sarah spent more time with john b and the other pogues.

“my dad would never let me buy these,” she turned her head to look at you. 

“just put it on rafe’s card,” you whispered, “i won’t tell.” you stuck your pinky out and wheezie quickly wrapped her pinky around yours, giggling. 

as wheezie finalized her cart a familiar voice began to call out for you, “babeee! babeee where are you!”

wheezie rolled her eyes, “speak of the devil,” she muttered. 

“summon him and he shall come,” you smiled at her which she returned, “i’m in wheezie’s room!” you called back. on queue, you heard obnoxiously loud stomps coming up the stairs. “he is so dramatic and for what?”

rafe stood in the doorway looking at you and his younger sister, “why’d you steal my girlfriend, wheeze?” 

 it was your turn to roll your eyes, “she didn’t steal me, dipshit. you were too busy ignoring me for topper and kelce and your stupid game so i came up here where i am truly loved.” you sighed, wrapping yourself around wheezie who stuck her tongue out at her older brother. in return, rafe picked up one of the shirts laying on the floor and chucked it at wheezie. 

“douchebag!” she yelled.

“cmon y/n, i wanna go take a nap.” 

“but i’m so comfy here!” you whined cuddling wheezie tighter. 

rafe walked over to your side and quickly got on the bed, spooning you and throwing one of his long legs over your body, reaching wheezie. rafe wasn’t an affectionate brother by any means, but when he was with you he definitely softened up with everyone around you guys. 

wheezie kicked her brother’s calf, “ew get your nasty dogs away from me!” but rafe didn’t budge.

“what’re you guys doing?” he mumbled looking at the laptop screen. 

“y/n’s helping me shop for school.” 

“why? you have enough clothes. you don’t need none of those crop tops. no boyfriends till you’re 30.” rafe stated as he viewed the clothes on the screen.

you gently smacked the leg that was on top of your own, “don’t be rude! wheezie’s not little anymore.”

 “hm, whatever.” he grumbled, nuzzling his face against your neck, eyes shut as he fully enveloped you leaving no space between your bodies. his hands found yours, wasting no time to intertwine your fingers. 

“get off me, fatty!” you feigned disgust, as if you weren’t enjoying every second of rafe’s neediness to cuddle.

rafe grumbled, “only if you come take a nap with me in my room.” 

“fineeee, get up then,” you reached behind to gently smack his butt and he quickly got up, no effort to hide his big smile, “sorry wheeze, duty calls.” you sighed, getting up following rafe as he walked to wheezie’s door.

before walking out he turned back to wheezie and stuck his tongue out as she had done earlier. with no hesitation, wheezie returned the gesture as you smacked rafe’s head and shoved him out the door. 

[yutarot]

ride or die. l.jn smau

018 — for her, i am.

(a/n: u might wanna grab some popcorn for this one.)

JENO POV

“i know who leaked my secret.”

he had said it so quickly that he forgot the words had even come from his mouth.

jaemin stares at him, eyes wide in a mix of shock and weirdly, sadness.

but then jeno realises why. he had let jaemin be bullied, staying silent as all of his friends attacked him. he had done nothing.

jaemin didn’t care that jeno knew who it was, he didn’t care who had ruined jeno’s life, because jeno had ruined his. he thought that jeno thought it was him, he had assumed that’s why jeno did nothing, out of hatred, out of anger. but now, now it made no sense. jeno was meant to be his bestfriend.

jeno became angry at the thought. not at jaemin, but at himself. and he hadn’t even explained to him the whole story yet, he hadn’t even told him who it was.

jaemin spoke first after their silence.

“you better start explaining.” jaemin says, and rightfully so. jeno feels as if he should had done the explaining a while ago, he wanted to. but it all happened too quick. he never got the chance.

he doesn’t know why, but he feels like jaemin and him aren’t going to be the same after this. not after what he’s about to tell him.

jaemin grows inpatient, angry even.

“come on, jeno, im not gonna sit here and wait for the fucking grass to grow!!”

jeno says nothing still, and this only makes jaemin’s anger worsen. but he just doesn’t know what to say, how to word the sentence that will ruin their friendship.

“WHO WAS IT JENO?” jaemins grabbing his shirt at this point, and there’s nothing he can do but close his eyes and take it. “WHO WAS IT YOU HAD TO PROTECT SO MUCH TO THE POINT WHERE YOU HAD TO LET ME GET PUSHED AROUND, HUH? WHO SPILLED YOUR FUCKING SECRET, WHO DID YOU FEEL WAS SO SPECIAL TO YOU THAT YOU COULDNT SAY ANYTHING TO ANYONE?!! WHO WAS IT, JENO?! WHO W-“

jeno’s heart races. his fists clench. his arms tense.

he snaps.

“IT WAS ME!”

jaemin stills.

he lets go of jeno’s shirt.

his eyes never divert from his, his last breath never leaving. they both stand in the apartment lobby, the cold air of outside, breezing through the window, half cracked open, the distant buzz of the vending machine whirring in the corner and the deep hue of the midnight sky absorbing the light from around them.

they’re silent, they’re still.

neither of them dare to speak.

until jeno notices jaemins face.

it’s not anger, it’s not sadness. it’s pity.

“it was me.” jeno’s voice is lower now. “i leaked my own identity.” he looks at the floor, in both solemnity and shame.

“why?” jaemin asks. “why would you do that to yourself?”

“i didn’t know it would spread so fast. i posted it on an anonymous account before my race. i wasn’t expecting it to be spread so quick, let alone on national news. i thought it would be slow, i was going to tell you, i was going to tell everyone. i had decided i didn’t want to be samo anymore. but the speed of it all… i wasn’t ready yet, i hadn’t prepared yet, i hadn’t told her.”

jaemin stills at the mention of you.

“so that’s why.”

jeno nods.

“you’re an idiot.” jaemin says, throwing jeno’s words back at him.

but jeno isn’t laughing.

“for her, i am.”

that’s where he realises the gravity of it all. that both of their deception had all come down to the route of one thing, of one person.

you.

jeno continues. “do you know what she told me when we first got into that fake relationship?”

jaemin shakes his head.

“she told me that she didn’t understand why i liked living as samo more than jeno. and usually, i did. i loved living as samo, it was the only time that i was able to really be myself. but when she came along, i realised something. i realised that i didn’t want to be samo anymore, i wanted to be the person that she knew. technically, she knew samo, yes. but it was me, as jeno, that she truly knew. and when she told me that i should just live as jeno, avoid all the public attention and just go outside without a mask, i realised that she was right, that that’s who i wanted to be. i wanted to be me, because of her. so when she told chenle who i was, i should have been mad, i should have been pissed. but, truly? i was relieved. she had done the first step of my journey herself, i could break off the deal. i could explain that i didn’t care about it anymore. i could explain that i wanted to date her for real. but i didn’t do any of that. i was still angry, i was angry at the reason why she had told chenle. he ruined it all. i couldn’t explain it to her, what i really wanted. because she liked him. and it only confirmed my suspicions when i found that stupid fuckers hoodi-“

jeno realised he had be talking for too long when jaemin began to smile.

“oh man i’ve been waiting for you to say that for the longest time, that you want to be yourself.” he pulls him into a brief hug as he speaks, as if he hadn’t even heard the second half of jeno’s rant.

after a second, jaemin pulls away before stating the obvious truth of what’s staring them both in the face, “if only it wasn’t because of her.”

reality dawns on him, pushing on him like an incoming storm. “im sorry jaemin, but ive made up my mind.”

jaemin nods, expecting jeno to say more. but he doesn’t, he just walks to the elevator, clicking the floor to their dorm. jeno hopes that jaemin forgets all about you, that he puts his feelings for you aside. but he knows jaemin too well, he knows no matter how much he tries, jaemin will never forget you.

“you getting in?” jeno says, a smile plastered on his face.

jaemin grins back before running to the elevator to join him.

jeno was going back home.

well, he will be once he fixes things with you.

jaemin lets out a sigh, seeming deep in thought. “you sacrificed everything for her.”

jeno looks at him, an understanding of what he means by this.

“jaemin-“

“i’ll take the fall for it.” he says, a smile on his face that doesn’t reach his eyes. “you don’t have to tell them it was you yet, if you’re not ready.”

jeno panics, “i can’t let you do that. not anymore.”

“please let me.” he fidgets, watching the numbers on the elevator screen climb up, and up, and up. “it’s the most i can do.”

jeno doesn’t know what to say, just like before. so he does the easiest thing. even though he knows he shouldn’t, he does what he knows he’s going to regret.

the elevator dings to a halt.

he lets him.

a sacrifice for a sacrifice.

previous : mlist : next

notes; it’s been so hard tryna keep this secret guys u have NO idea

taglist — open! @jenohyun @jirsungs @do-you-remember-summer-127 @ddolbyong @stqrgr7 @thatsatricky1 @sunghoonsgfreal @nattan127 @ssweetreveries @flamingi @chenlesfavorite @peterm4rker @snoopyjimin @akunoeyebrows @junviadinho @slayhaechan @f6llsun @multifandomania @cookiehaos @catecita @mrsjohnnysuh @luv4jeno @hyuckies18 @dreamiestay @tangerinelovelees @jjaegyeom @https-yeonjun @nanaxwi @yukisroom97 @nosungluv @mrkleelvr @neocrashed @jaedgemental @apolloxxivmin @kyubing @catdonut657 @dudekiss3r @juyeonshour @hamjwis @antifrggile @mmjhh1998 @thegracerammy @jenocity23 @honeynanamin @bluedbliss @lampcults @yyangj3lly