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cherrysweets-world · 2 days ago

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Eyes of the Gods IX

series masterlist - part eight

Pairing: Caracalla x fem!Reader x Geta

Summary: The emperors isolate you further.

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, unhealthy relationships, controlling behavior, period typical sexism, obsessive/possessive/ relationships, dub-con, sex, light bondage, dirty talk, light breeding kink, historical inaccuracies, manipulative behavior, jealousy, mentions of slaves/slavery,

Word Count: 3.5k

The night passed by in a tumble of hot, languid touches and warm skin. It had been a challenge to convince Caracalla to leave the baths and harder still to keep his hands off of you on the way to his rooms.

He had fucked you again once you got there, had you bent over the bed in a rush of still-damp skin and sharp teeth. He had leaned over you until you were pressed into the bed, a weeping mess, and fucked you dizzy.

Afterwards, he had climbed on top of you and licked the tears from your cheeks, muttering possessive words. It was as though he thought you might disappear at any moment and the only way to prevent it was to hold you so tight it almost hurt.

Throughout it all, you could not help but steal glances at the door. This had irritated Caracalla, even with all the talk before of 'ours' and 'us' and he had let you know just how annoyed he was by biting you rather viciously on the back of the neck.

You dabbed the area with the tips of your fingers, inspecting them closely. Last night there had been blood but it seemed to have healed over now. The distant sting of pain send a thrill up your spine that you staunchly ignored.

There had still been no sign of Geta this morning. Caracalla had been practically dragged from bed by a group of well-meaning attendants. It had been a risky move and you kept expecting him to snap at them but he had been suspiciously pliant. One of the attendants had given you a grateful smile once they were done and you had almost shrivelled up with embarrassment.

Three Praetorian guards accompanied you now. Part of you winced and thought it excessive; the other part remembered the glint of the knife as it slashed at your face. Whilst you resented their presence you appreciated the protection they offered and would not complain.

You walked cautiously around the palace, trying to ignore the three shadows at your back. You had forced yourself to get ready that morning and leave Caracalla’s rooms; you did not want to let your fears get the best of you. The longer you stayed locked up in the emperor's rooms, the harder it would be to leave them.

The Praetorians seemed just as on edge. It was possible that more of them had been executed last night for the slip in security. You had not had the heart to ask and it shamed you but you wanted to shove all memories of attack in a box and throw it away.

You paused for a moment, thinking. Then you turned and dipped down a quieter corridor, heading towards a small entrance and an uneven set of stairs, worn by the feet of hundreds of slaves and workers. You teetered at the top, inhaling deeply. Already you could smell fresh baked bread and grain.

A Praetorian reached out and gripped your elbow before you could go down. "Where are you going?"

"To the kitchen," you said slowly. "My friends are there."

The Praetorian seemed to consider this, glancing round at his fellow guards. When neither of them said anything he let you go, leaning back and securing a hand on his weapon.

Satisfied, you took to the stairs. The armor of the guards clanked and shook as the passage got smaller. You dreaded to imagine what people would think but your craving for a familiar face overtook any humiliation that might have convinced you to turn around.

It felt as though years had passed since you had last stood in this place. The walls were startlingly bare, the floor plain and bumpy. You ran your fingertips over the stone, letting it pick at your skin. You wondered who slept in your bed now.

You passed several slaves and offered them friendly smiles which they did not return. That was okay - they were not your friends. They did not know you from before.

Eventually you peered into the kitchen, more nervous than you wanted to let on. To your relief, Alba was at the table, spooning plain porridge into her mouth whilst chatting with the head cook.

"Alba," you called out.

She blinked at you, her spoon dropping into her ceramic bowl with a clatter.

"It is. . .me," you finished lamely.

There was a brief pause in which she just stared at you. Heart hammering, you cringed and made as if to leave.

"Wait," she cried, jumping to her feet.

When she folded you into a hug, you almost cried. The Praetorians shifted uncomfortably.

Alba's hair smelled exactly like the plain oil you all used to use. Her cheek was soft and smooth against yours. You had hardly had time to miss her and now it felt like all of that longing was catching up to you all at once. You shoved all other emotions aside and tried to just be happy and enjoy the moment.

"Look at you," she gushed, pulling back to gaze at your face. "You look beautiful - like a noblewoman!"

"No," you said shyly, pinpricks of guilt threatening to ruin your good mood. "I - I've been eating better, I suppose."

Alba went still, glancing over your shoulder at the Praetorians. "I was so worried," she said, "that your routine would be different from what you were used to. You know?"

"I know," you nodded, "things have been different but I managed to work it out."

That was a gross exaggeration but you did not want to worry your friend further. Palace gossip had probably kept her informed to a certain extent but there was no saying how much of it had been accurate. If it had been Alba that had been taken, you would have assumed she was getting beaten on the daily and subjected to all kinds of abuse.

"Listen," she said, "I have many duties today. Tomorrow, though, I can make time for you. Will you come back?"

You nodded eagerly. "That would be perfect. I will be back."

You left the kitchen reluctantly, pushed forward by the disapproving looks of the Praetorians. You ignored them and practically skipped back up the stairs. Things seemed a little brighter now that you had been able to talk to your friend.

Tomorrow you would discreetly ask her what kind of rumors she had heard. New ones would no doubt sprout now that you had ventured down to the kitchens but you did not care. The link to your old life had been worn thin; talking to your old friend seemed to strengthen it a little.

Night had fallen by the time Caracalla reappeared in his room. He was flustered and irascible, staring at you longingly on the bed with a twisted frown.

"Geta wishes to speak with me," he continued to frown, eyes dipping past your face and further down south.

"I'll go back to my room -" you started.

"No," he interrupted. "You will stay here now. It is night and the Praetorians will be just outside the door."

You picked up on the unspoken words - do not leave. After the attack, you were more than happy to obey. The darkness creeping into the halls was no longer the safe haven it used to be.

The bed felt cold and empty and you tossed and turned until morning, eager to see your friend once more. You dressed quickly, yanking your clothes over your head and stomping into your sandals. The day felt promising and you were determined to keep yourself busy.

As Caracalla had said, there were Praetorians waiting outside the door. You tried to ignore the prickle of anxiety that fluttered around the back of your head. It was easier to tell yourself that they were only there to keep others not - not to also keep you in.

It was morning now, though, and you were more or less free to roam. The air smelled heavy with the promise of a storm. It felt sticky and thick, urging you to pluck at the fabric of your stola and create a small pocket of cool air. Perspiration beaded on the lips of several of the guards; you did not envy the uniform they wore.

Early morning seemed the best time to see Alba, before she got sucked into the grueling tasks of the day. Even if it was just for fifteen minutes, you were thrilled at the idea of sitting with her and catching up.

You glanced at the Praetorians. Of course, you would be limited on exactly what you could say. Still, idle gossip was better than nothing.

You entered the kitchen with a flourish, half-smile formed on your lips. An unfamiliar woman stood at the giant stove, mixing a batch of porridge intended for the staff.

"I apologise for the intrusion," you said, "but I'm looking for a friend. Alba?"

"Don't know an Alba," the woman replied, continuing to stir.

At that moment, one of the Praetorians cleared his throat. Something about the sound sent dread crawling through your veins. You slowly swivelled to face him.

"My apologies," he grimaced, "but all the kitchen staff were sent away last night. There have all been replaced."

Shaking your head, you plucked at your stola once more, feeling the oppressive heat crowd around you. "No. No. I saw her just yesterday."

"She would have been dismissed after that."

You pushed past them, taking the stairs two at a time. There was no questioning who had done it - but why? There was no part of you that could understand, no matter how desperately you tried.

Overcome by dizziness, you fell forward onto the steps. The rough material bit into your palms as you forced yourself to sit, to breathe. The idea that you may have just ruined your friends life was making you physically sick. You placed one hand at the base of your throat, counting as high as you could.

Hysteria threatened to bloom as you sat shaking. It was fortunate you had come down so early in the morning or you would have been in the way of bustling servants and their duties. The Praetorians looked on with a mixture of pity and something you could not name.

You were still trying to calm your breathing when you noticed a pair of feet on the steps level with your shoulder. Geta looked down at you, taking in your shivering form. He was wearing a black toga lined with golden embroidery, a crown of laurels nestled in the waves of his hair. He looked like a young god, triumphant.

He held out his hand and said your name. "Come."

You took it without thinking, letting him pull you to your feet and lead you out of the staircase. Numb, you followed him all the way to the familiar halls closest to his quarters. The angry part of you demanded that you riot, that you pull away from him and scream your frustrations. It was quietened by reason. You let your brain soothe itself as you stumbled after Geta.

As you expected, he took you to his rooms. Neither of you said anything and it remained that way until you dropped your gaze.

You heard the soft scuffs of his sandals on the floor as he approached you, hand coming up to dust over your cheek. "It is not appropriate for a lady to be scurrying about in the kitchens."

You scoffed and pushed his hand away. "A lady? I am the furthest thing - "

"You are what we say you are!" his chest was rising and falling rapidly. "If we say you are a lady, then it is so. If we say you are ours, then it is so. Why do you insist on these little rebellions?"

Geta had an iron-tight grip on your wrist. Your forearm throbbed in protest but he would not let go. He used your arm to pull you closer until you were chest-to-chest. His eyes were wild with emotion and you had to look away to avoid getting sucked in.

"You do not even know," he shook his head, sneering. "I thought that your night with Caracalla might make you think twice about this sort of thing."

Finally, you yanked your arm away, clutching it to your chest. "It was not a rebellion," you spat, "she was my friend. I wanted to see -"

"Are we not enough?"

Your mouth opened and closed for several moments. Geta stared intently at your face, waiting for his answer. When it did not come - for how could you answer such a thing! - he approached you once again, crowding you against the wall.

You stayed perfectly still as he placed his head in the junction between your neck and shoulder, breathing in the scent of you. His hair tickled the side of your neck. Anger was still fizzing in the air, or maybe it was the storm outside approaching.

"You forget your place. I am an emperor of Rome," he murmured into your neck, "I am all you need."

You did not flinch away when his hand came up to cup your cheek. His eyes were still frantic as they met yours, his hand warm as it held you in place. His other hand came to rest on your chest, lips twitching when he felt the way your heart thundered against his palm.

Geta kissed you like it was his right. His tongue ran over the seam of your lips until you opened, moaning into the kiss. The heat of the day combined with Geta's mouth made your head swim but you did not pull away. You quivered as his tongue began to fuck your mouth, imitating sex with an intensity that left you reeling.

His hands fisted in the fabric at your waist, pulling you from the wall and directing you until the backs of your knees hit the bed. You tumbled backwards, breathless, delirious.

Geta tore at his own clothes. "Tell me," he commanded, "what did he do to you?"

"W-what?" you stammered.

"My brother," he hissed, "where did he touch you?"

Flashes of your time with Caracalla made your throat dry, your thighs clench. Geta climbed onto the bed next to you, cock bouncing against his thigh. Your eyes zeroed in on the precum beading at the tip, your tongue subconsciously swiping across your bottom lip.

His hair was darker than his brothers. You could see the light bouncing off of the tiny hairs on his thighs. His cock was red and angry-looking, dripping with clear fluid. Geta swiped his finger across the tip, smearing his pre-cum against your lips, watching as your tongue dipped out to clean it up.

"I can see that you are thinking of him," he said, snatching your hand, "but he is not the one who is here with you now."

Geta wrapped your hand around his cock, groaned as he used you to stroke himself. His chest was hairless and sweat beaded there, rolled down a path that you wanted to trace with your lips.

Without warning, he began to rip at your clothes. You yelped as your breasts were suddenly free, nipples hardening in the warm air of the room. Geta ducked down to tease them, teeth making you hiss and whine.

His hand continued to travel down to your stomach, resting there for several moments. Then he pulled back, gathering strips of clothing to bind your hands and push them above your head. Your cunt clenched as he made the bindings tight, tugging at them to ensure you could not break free.

"Do not move unless I say otherwise," he commanded.

He peeled the rest of your clothes from you as though you were a dessert he was slowly unveiling. You quivered at the intensity of his attention, certain that he could physically see your heart beating beneath your breast.

Geta straddled your lower legs, eyes hungrily taking in every part of you. Gently, he reached out and traced your areola with his finger, eyes scorching as your back arched to meet his touch. Sweat began to gather on your hairline but you hardly noticed - all you could see, feel, smell was him. That heady scent of him that made you insane.

Splaying his hand at the base of your neck, he bent until his mouth was pressed against your sternum. He was whispering things against your skin but you could not make out his words. Gradually he went lower, lower, until his mouth was hovering above your stomach.

"Such a vulnerable area," he mused, "so many vital things here. Kidneys, liver, stomach. Womb."

You gasped as his tongue delved into your belly button. It sent a desperate pang to your core and your hips bucked wantonly, grinding into his stomach. It was difficult to keep your arms above your head but you did not want to displease him.

Geta sat up, fingers trailing through the wet mess you had left on his stomach. He played with it, eyes dropping to your weeping cunt. His finger dug into your thighs as he pulled them further apart, spreading you wide.

"Your body, at least, is honest," he sounded pleased, "slick, swollen, ready to be fucked. A cunt worthy of an emperor."

You furrowed your brows when Geta settled down next to you. A yelp echoed around the room as he pulled you on top of him, your hands bound in front of you and your cunt leaking against the thick line of his cock. You could not help but tilt your hips, pressing your clit against him and rocking a little.

"Fuck," he swore loudly, "yes, that is - that is what I want. Show me how much you want me."

He pressed your thigh, urging you to balance on your knees as he lined his cock up with your cunt. Your entire body was shuddering as you held yourself above him, letting him rub himself against the petals of your sex.

Geta's fingers curled into your hips, pushing you down. Sinking onto his cock felt like arriving home to find a warm meal awaiting you. Short pants pushed past your lips as you blinked blearily down at him.

His thumb rubbed a lazy circle on your clit, causing you to jolt and rock forward. Both of you moaned at the change in pressure. It felt as if he was pressing somewhere behind your bellybutton, unrelenting and firm.

It took a moment to get the rhythm, but soon you were rolling down onto him like you had been doing it all your life. His cock stretched you wide, left you mewling and trembling. Geta began to meet you halfway, thrusting up into your cunt as you sank down.

"Feels good?" he panted. "I'll give you this whenever you want, just need to obey."

His thumb continued to torment your clit, pulling away any time you began to tightened and threatened to go over the edge. You were seconds away from erupting into tears, seconds away from begging.

"Tell me it feels good," he bit out, using your bound wrists to pull you down harder and harder.

"F-feels good!"

"What feels good?" he pinched your clit, grinning up at you with a carnal smile. "What feels good, sweet girl?"

"Your cock," you cried out, "inside me. You feel good inside me."

That was an under exaggeration. You felt thoroughly fucked; like no one else other than the emperors would be able to make you feel like this again. The pair of you dissolved into a frenzy, clenching fingers, bright eyes and slick sounds. You felt certain that Cupid was in the room, ravaging your mind with lust and desire until Geta was all you could stand to think about.

"Such a good girl," he rasped, "taking all of me like that."

You bit out a whimper at the pleasure that wrapped around your middle, pulling tight as you came undone. You jerked in Geta's hold, at the mercy of your own orgasm and unable to move. He pulled out of you and you mourned the loss, but then he was positioning you on your back and plunging into you once more.

He held your ankles on either side of his head, turning to press kisses and soft bites into the flesh there. His eyes burned into yours as he chased his own end, thrusts becoming sloppy and uncoordinated.

He bit down hard on your ankle as he came, hips stuttering into yours as he fucked his cum deeper inside of you. Just when you thought he was going to pull out, he leaned down and secured his arms around you, rolling until you were resting on his heaving chest.

"My hands," you said, holding up your bound wrists.

"Shhh," he pinched your bottom lip, "later."

You could feel him softening inside of you. It was oddly erotic. He groaned when you shifted, squeezing you until you went still. He was still watching you, even as your eyes began to get heavy-lidded and you could not help but rest your head on his chest.

Whatever barrier there was between you two was now long gone, kept at bay by the feeling of his seed leaking out of you. You felt thoroughly owned and Geta's grip on the back of your neck only reinforced that feeling.

Author’s Note - reblogs/comments/notes/asks are all highly motivating to me so please let me know what you think ♥️

The masterlist has been updated with dates you can expect future updates!

taglist - @only4thefics @doodle-with-rhy @lover-rep-fanfic @claraisme23 @sashaphantomhive @multifandombtch @t6gse370

@merrymunsons @europixie @prestinalove @malfoycassimalfoy

@jovial-cowboy @akamitrani @bocreep @justasmallbean @moompie @duckyhowls @justlibra @mama-frog @fionaapplelover2010

@verypoetrytraveler @darleniweenie

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#eyes of the gods #fred hechinger #joseph quinn #emperor caracalla #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #caracalla x reader #geta x reader #caracalla x reader x geta

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requiemforthepoets · 22 hours ago

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you’re the only friend i need ⟢ OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: you and oscar were always two peas on a pod. people would often wonder how you, a troublesome kid in brighton, had managed to befriend the calm and reserve boy, oscar piastri. it was truly a wonder.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, angst, heavy feeling fic, implied main character death (mcd), unsaid feelings, mentions of disease (leukemia), mentions of wound and bleeding, googled medical stuff, medical inaccuracies, inaccurate info, reader is a bit of a troublemaker, fast paced-ish, there are unrealistic medical stuff, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 12.3k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this fic is pure angst, there is no happy ending for this one. so if this is not your cup of tea, it’s better you stop reading from here on out. there will be no other part of this fic, bc i’m don’t really know how to pen the rest of the fic (sorry ><), i’m satisfied with the ending of this one. this fic is a love child of me loving childhood nostalgia and coming-of-age genre, and it was also the vibe the i get whenever i hear ‘ribs’ by lorde, bc i SWEAR that song never fails to make me feel stuff +++ the childhood drink, i only had googled it, so if i have any australian reader here, pls feel free to correct me. your comments/reblogs is always appreciated, i hope that you’ll like this one! :)

main masterlist | fic playlist

You and Oscar Piastri had always been inseparable, practically joined at the hip since the moment your parents introduced you as toddlers. Living right next door to each other in a quiet suburban neighborhood in Brighton, meant that your lives intertwined in a way that felt natural, as if you had always been destined to be a part of one another’s stories. Your parents, close friends long before either of you were born, often joked that it was inevitable that you two would end up being close. Whether it was playdates during the day or sleepovers at night, there was rarely a time when you and Oscar weren’t together.

Sleepovers were always your favorite. Your parents would bring you to Oscar's house with a hastily packed bag, and Nicole and Chris would always welcome you as if you were one of their own. Nicole always had snacks ready—popcorn, biscuits, and sometimes her famous chocolate cake, and how Chris would sometimes tease you both about staying up too late. You and Oscar never really did listen to him, though.

Once the lights were out and the world outside went quiet, you and Oscar would sneak flashlights under the covers, building forts out of blankets and couch cushions. Inside your makeshift castles, you would whisper to each other in the dark, sharing stories that veeted from spine-tingling ghost tales to ridiculous made-up adventures that had you both doubled over with laughter. It was not uncommon for you to laugh so hard your ribs hurt, clutching your sides as Oscar tried, and failed, to stifle his giggles so you would not wake his parents up.

Oscar, even as a kid, was calm and easygoing, which is a perfect counterbalance to your boundless energy and knack for trouble. He was steady, level-headed, and rarely got into trouble, whilst you had a knack for finding mischief, dragging Oscar along for the ride more than not—daring him to climb trees or riding bikes faster than you should’ve, to name a few.

Your parents, on more occasions than they could count, ended up at their wits end because of your antics. From sneaking out past curfew to explore the neighborhood to accidentally setting off store alarms because you thought it would be funny to hide in a display, you always found a way to test the limits of patience. More often than not, you did get caught—whether it was by a passing neighbor, security, or the occasional local police officer, you somehow always managed to land yourself in trouble—but never anything too serious.

It was usually enough to warrant a lecture from your own parents and a lot of head-shaking from Oscar’s. Despite it all, Nicole and Chris never seemed to hold it against you. They’re just kids, Nicole would say, a soft smile on her face. As long as you’re not doing anything dangerous, it’s fine. Chris would usually chime in on the conversation with a mock-serious, just don’t do drugs, alright? his tone was always lighthearted, but you knew they meant it. You would just laugh it off, promising to behave, even though everyone knew that promise would be short-lived.

Your bond with Oscar extended to his entire family. His younger sister—Hattie, Edie, and Mae, all adored you, looking up to you like the cool older sibling they didn’t have. You would play dress-up with them, let them braid your hair, and sometimes even join them for impromptu tea parties. They would giggle uncomfortably at your dramatic impressions of princesses and villains, their laughter echoing through the house. Nicole often remarked how good you were with them, and Chris would joke that you were training to be a babysitter.

Your home as well was equally a second home for Oscar. Your parents trusted him implicitly, often leaving him in charge when they needed someone to keep you grounded. He had this knack for calming you down whenever you’re in one of your hyperactive moods, his steady demeanor a much-needed anchor to your whirlwind of personality. Oscar often got praised by your parents, calling him the voice of reason in your friendship dynamic. But even they couldn’t stay mad for long when Oscar ended up being roped into your schemes. They would shake their heads and sigh, but deep down, they were glad you had someone like Oscar in your life—someone who did not just tolerate your chaos, but embraced it in his own quiet way.

Growing up with Oscar was more than just having a best friend, it was having a partner in every memory worth keeping. From lazy afternoons spent sprawled out on the grass, staring at the clouds, to winter nights curled up on the couch watching movies, every moment with Oscar felt like an adventure.

You had suddenly remembered that one time—it was the kind of night that felt alive, the air cool but not biting, sky’s a velvet canvas scattered with stars. You had been sitting on the edge of your bed, staring aimlessly at the analog clog, when the idea hit you—a reckless, wild idea that made your heart race with excitement. Sneaking out was not new to you, but this time, you wanted company. Specifically, you wanted Oscar.

Convincing him was not really easy. You had climbed through his bedroom window—something you had done far more time than you could count, and found him already half-asleep, wrapped in his favorite blanket with his hair sticking up at odd angles.

“What are you doing?” he mumbled groggily, squinting at you.

“Come on, we’re going out,” you whispered, a grin spreading across your face.

“Out where?” he asked, rubbing his eyes, though you could hear the reluctance in his voice. “It’s already late at night.”

“Just get dressed. Trust me, you’ll love it.” you smiled.

Oscar groaned, muttering something about how this was a terrible idea, but eventually, he swung his legs out of his bed and grabbed a hoodie. You knew that he would come around, he always did. By the time you reached the abandoned public pool, the chain-linked fence loomed in front of you, its weathered surface dotted with a big faded NO TRESPASSING sign.

He stopped in his tracks, crossing his arms. “You dragged me out of bed for this? We’re not getting in.”

“Oh have a little faith, would you,” you said, as you pull out a pair of heavy-duty bolt cutters.

He stared at you, blinking slowly. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” you replied, popping the p.

“You stole those, didn’t you?” Oscar questioned.

“Borrowed,” you corrected, grinning mischievously as you hefted the tool.

Oscar sighed, the kind of exasperated sigh he seemed to reserve exclusively for you. “You’re insane.”

“And you love it,” you teased, motioning for him to follow you.

You led him to the back of the pool area, where the bushes grew thick and wild, partially hiding the fence. Kneeling down, you positioned the bolt cutters against the rusted metal links and started to work. The snap of metal breaking was surprisingly loud in the quiet night, but you pressed on, ignoring Oscar’s whispered protest.

“This is such a bad idea,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting someone to appear. “If we get caught—”

“We won’t get caught,” you interrupted, voice calm but firm. “Relax, Osc. I’ve done this before.”

“That’s not exactly comforting,” he said, but voice softened when he saw the concentration on your face. “You’re weirdly good at that,” he admitted after a moment, watching as you expertly cut a hole big enough for the two of you to crawl through.

“Why thank you, my good sir,” you said, brushing the dirt off your hands as you stepped back to admire your work. “Now come on, ladies first.” you teased, to which he just rolled his eyes at you.

Oscar followed you through the gap in the fence, grumbling under his breath but too curious to stop. The pool stretched out in front of you, its surface shimmering faintly under the moonlight. Despite the place being abandoned, the water was crystal clear, a testament to whoever was still maintaining it.

“So this is your idea of fun in the middle of the night?” he asked, tone caught between disbelief and amusement.

“Yep.” you smiled.

Shaking his head, he trailed after you to one of the old sunbeds. You plopped down first, stretching out and tilting your head back to gaze at the stars. After a moment, he sat down beside you, arms resting on his knees. For a while, neither of you spoke. The night was so still that the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of crickets felt almost amplified. It was peaceful in a way that made the world beyond the fence feel far away and unimportant.

“You really come here a lot?” Oscar finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, but somehow, they found where I would sneak in and boarded it off.” you said softly. “It’s kind of my spot. No one bothers me here, and I can think peacefully.”

He glanced over at you, expression unreadable. “It’s nice,” he admitted, voice low.

“Told you,” you said with a small smirk, nudging him with your shoulder.

Oscar chuckled, shaking his head. “I still think you’re insane. But thanks for bringing me here.”

“See? You love it!” you teased again, but this time, your tone was gentle.

He didn’t argue back, just leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the stars. For all his initial protests, you could tell he was enjoying himself.

The quiet stillness of the night surrounded you as you sat on the sunbeds, gazing up at the sky. The stars seemed to shimmer more brightly than usual, scattered across the inky darkness like tiny diamonds. The gentle hum of crickets filled the silence, a soothing backdrop to your thoughts. You turned your head slightly, glancing at Oscar, who was leaning back, arms folded behind his head, and face relaxed but thoughtful.

“So,” you started this time, breaking the silence. “How’s karting going for you?”

Oscar turned his head towards you, brow lifting slightly. “It’s going good,” he said, tone casual, but there was a spark in his eyes as he spoke. “I’ve got another competition coming up soon. You’d know all about it if you actually came to one for once.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling a little. “You know that karting isn’t my thing.”

“Not your thing,” he repeated, almost scoffing, though there was no malice in it. “You’ve been saying that for years. You’ve never even given it a chance.”

“I cheer for you in spirit,” you said, leaning back against the sunbed with a grin. “That counts, right?”

Oscar let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible. But seriously, you should come sometime. It’s not just about the racing—you’d see what it’s all about. Besides, my family would love to have you there.”

“I know,” you said quietly, gaze drifting back to the stars. “But I don’t need to be there to know you’re amazing. I’m always proud of you, you know that.”

He smiled softened at your words, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. Then, as if something had been weighing on him, he spoke again.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he began, voice a little hesitant, “I’m probably moving to the UK soon. There’s more opportunity there for racing. Better teams, better chances to make it in F1.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a brief moment, you didn’t know to respond to Oscar. You felt a slight pinch in your chest, a dull ache you could not quite place. But as always, you pushed it aside, refusing to let it show.

“Oh, wow,” you said, turning to him with a smile that you hoped didn’t look forced. “So, you’re leaving me, huh?”

Oscar gave you a look—half amused, half exasperated. “I’m not leaving you,” he said firmly. “It’s just something I need to do.”

“Sure, sure,” you teased, poking his arm lightly. “Just don’t forget me when you’re already a big shot in F1, okay? Don’t pretend you don’t know me when I show up at one of your races, like, hey, remember me? The one dragged you into all her bad ideas?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Like I could ever forget you. You’d probably try and break into the paddock if I didn’t let you in.”

“Exactly,” you said with a grin, though your chest still felt tight.

Oscar tilted his head, looking at you more seriously now. “What about you?” he asked. “What do you want to do? Where do you see yourself in a few years?”

You hesitated, staring back up at the sky as if the stars might have an answer for you. The truth was, you did not know at all. You never had. The thought of planning your life out like that felt daunting, like trying to catch smoke in your hands.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” you admitted finally, voice soft. “As cliché as it sounds, I guess I’ll just…go with the flow. See where life takes me.”

Oscar studied your face for a moment, gaze thoughtful. “That’s not a bad thing, you know,” he said. “Some people tend to spend their whole lives planning and never stop to actually live.”

You turned your head to him, surprised by his words. You know that Oscar was philosophical in some type of way, and it always surprises you, but there was something reassuring in the way he said it.

“Yeah,” you murmured, offering him a smile. “Maybe.”

You reached inside of your jacket and pulled out two juice boxes of sunshine punch. You tossed one to Oscar, who caught it with a raised eyebrow.

“Sunshine punch? Really?” he asked, tone teasing as he turned the box over in his hands.

“I know, I’m the best, aren’t I?” you replied, already poking the straw into yours and taking a sip.

Oscar gave you a small shake of his head but didn’t argue. He was not a fan of the drink, you both knew that early on, but he appreciated the gesture. He poked the straw in, took a small sip, and scrunched his nose lightly. You just laughed quietly to yourself, looking out at the pool.

The water glistened under the moonlight, a perfect reflection of the pale orb in the sky. Silence between you was comfortable, just the two of you simply drinking your juice boxes, watching the faint ripple of water and the shadows cast by the surrounding bushes. But then, a sharp flash of light broke through the calm, your heart jumped as the beam of a flashlight swept across the area. You then froze, juice box in hand, while Oscar turned to look at you, confused.

“Finish your juice box,” you whispered urgently, quickly sipping the last of your drink and tossing the empty juice box into a trash bin.

“What “ Oscar whispered back, voice incredulous. “Why?”

“Just do it!” you urged, voice tight as your eyes scanned the area for a hiding spot.

Lscar grumbled, not really happy that you were hurrying him with his juice box, but he drank it quickly. You were already moving, searching desperately for somewhere you and Oscar could hide, but there was nothing. No bushes dense enough, no shadows deep enough. The pool shimmered ominously in your peripheral vision as the flashlight beam drew closer.

“Hold your breath,” you whispered sharply, grabbing Oscar’s wrist.

“Wait, what—” he started, but you didn’t give Oscar the chance to finish.

You yanked him forward, making him drop the juice box to the ground, and without a second thought, you pushed him into the pool. The water was shockingly cold against your skin as you followed him in, the splash louder than you had hoped. You gestured quickly at Oscar, motioning for him to stay under and not make any movement. His expression was a mixture of disbelief and panic, but he nodded, holding his breath as the two of you sank just beneath the surface.

The water muffled everything—whistle of the night, rustle of leaves, even your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. Above you, the flashlight beam danced across the pool’s surface, light refracting and breaking into shimmering fragments underwater. You held your breath as tightly as you held onto the pool ladder near you, praying you wouldn’t need to come up too soon.

Bright light lingered near the spot where you and Oscar were submerged. You could feel the tension radiating off of Oscar, his body still beside yours. The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, every muscle in your body tensed. Finally, the light shifted, moving away from your side of the pool. You waited until the beam disappeared entirely before you tapped Oscar’s arm and motioned upward.

Breaking the surface as quietly as you could, you took in a deep gulp of air. The guard’s faint muttering was distant now, but there was no time to relax. Grabbing Oscar’s wrist again, you pulled him towards the swimming pool ladder, the two of you moving quickly but silently. Once out of the pool, you didn’t even wait to catch your breath.

“Run!” you hissed, tugging him along.

The security had heard the faint splashing as you climbed out and turned, his whistle piercing through the night. “Hey! Stop right there!”

You didn’t look back. Your feet pounded against the concrete as you made a dash for the gap in the fence, snatching up the bolt cutters on the way out. You could not risk leaving it behind, your father would definitely notice that they were missing. Oscar groaned behind you, clearly annoyed but following without hesitation. He was the last one through the gap, and just as you turned to grab his arm and pull him forward, the security’s shouts grew louder.

“Go, go, go!” you urged, practically dragging him by his hand as you sprinted down the street.

The sound of your shoes hitting the pavement echoed in the quiet street of your neighborhood, both your breathing still heavy from running, then noticed the way his right sleeve moved awkwardly against his arm. In the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp, you caught sight of a tear in his hoodie, a dark streak seeping through the fabric. Without thinking, you reached out and gently grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait, Osc, hold on,” you said, pulling his arm closer to inspect it.

Oscar blinked down at you in surprise. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“You’re bleeding,” you murmured, tugging the torn fabric back slightly to reveal a shallow but angry scratch on his skin. The blood was fresh, glinting under the light.

He tilted his head at the sight of it, his expression calm. “Huh? I didn’t even notice.”

“I’m so sorry, Osc!” you blurted out, guilt immediately rising in your chest. “It must’ve happened when we were going through the fence. I didn’t—”

“Hey, stop it,” he interrupted, tone firm but soft. “It’s not a big deal. Seriously.”

You hesitated, still holding his arm as if that would somehow make it better. Oscar shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t apologize. It’s fine.”

Even though his words were reassuring, the sight of the wound made you feel uneasy. You let go of his arm reluctantly, murmuring a quiet apology one last time. Oscar just rolled his eyes, though there was no annoyance behind it.

“Come on, let’s get home before we freeze.” he smiled.

The two of you made your way to his house, the familiar sight of the front porch of his house coming into view. You slowed your steps as you approached, realizing that sneaking back inside was not going to work. Oscar’s soaked clothes clung to him, dripping water onto the pavement, and your own shoes squelched with each step. There was no hiding this from anyone.

Oscar gave you a pointed look. “You’re ringing the doorbell.”

You sighed but didn’t argue, stepping up to the door and pressing the doorbell. It wasn’t long before you heard soft footsteps from inside. The door creaked open, and Nicole stood there, face shifting from sleepy confusion to startled concern the moment she saw both you and Oscar.

“What on earth…?” she muttered, eyes scanning your drenched forms. She glanced behind you at the perfectly dry pavement and then back at you both, brow furrowing. “It didn’t rain tonight, what happened?”

You opened your mouth to explain, but she quickly ushered you both inside. “Come in, come in. You’re going to catch a cold standing out there like that.”

Once you were in the warmth of the house, she left for a moment and returned with two towels, handing one to you and the other to Oscar. You wrapped the towel around yourself, the fabric soaking up the cold water clinging to your skin.

“I’m so sorry,” you began, clutching the towel tightly. “It wasn’t my intention to get Oscar dragged into this.”

Nicole raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt, so you took it as a sign to continue. “We were just hanging out at the public pool, and when the security showed up, we didn’t have anywhere to hide, so we, uh, hid in the pool.”

At that, Nicole’s lips twitched, and then she laughed, a soft, warm sound that immediately eased the tension in your chest. “You two are really something else,” she said, shaking her head.

You blinked at her, surprised by her reaction. “You’re not mad?”

She smiled at you, expression fond. “No, of course I’m not mad. It’s just water. But next time, maybe pick a place where you won’t need to dive into a pool to avoid getting caught, hm?”

You nodded quickly, relieved. “I promise! And please don’t tell my parents.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Nicole smiled again, waving a hand dismissively. “Dry yourselves off, and Oscar, make sure you clean that scratch on your arm before you head to bed.”

Oscar glanced at the tear in his hoodie and nodded. “Yeah, I got it mum.”

Nicole turned to head back upstairs, but she paused, looking over her shoulder. “Oh, and you can stay the night if you want,” she said to you. “It’s so late, and you’re already here.”

You shook your head politely. “Thank you, but I’ll head home.”

She nodded in understanding, giving you both one last look. “Alright then. Oscar, don’t forget to lock the front door and turn off the lights before you head to bed.”

With that, Nicole headed back upstairs, her footsteps soft on the carpeted stairs. You and Oscar were left standing in the entryway, still damp but no longer worried about the consequences.

Oscar glanced at you, lips twitching as if he were about to laugh. “Well, that went better than expected,” he said, running a hand through his wet hair.

“Yeah,” you said, tugging the towel tighter around your shoulders. “Your mum’s the best.”

As a compensation for the troubles you had caused Oscar and waking up his mother, you decided to patch up his wound. You know exactly where their first aid kit was kept, so you wasted no time in retrieving it from the cabinet under the sink. The house was quiet now, save for the faint creaks of the floorboards beneath your wet shoes as you moved. With the kit in hand, you motioned for Oscar to sit at the kitchen counter.

“Come and sit, take off your hoodie. I’ll patch up your wound, it’s the least I can do for causing troubles,” you said softly, gesturing to the torn and bloodstained fabric.

Oscar hesitated for a moment but eventually tugged the hoodie over the head, wincing slightly when his arm brushed against the sleeve. He tossed the hoodie onto the back of a chair and sat down, resting his injured arm on the counter.

You opened the first aid kit and pulled out a bottle of antiseptic, some cotton pads, and a bandage. Setting everything down neatly, you grabbed a damp cloth first to clean the dried blood off of his skin. The scratch was not deep, but it stretched across his arm in a jagged line, red and raw.

“Alright, this might sting a little,” you warned, soaking a cotton pad with antiseptic and dabbing it gently onto the wound.

Oscar sucked in a sharp breath, face scrunching up. “A little?” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Feels like you’re pouring fire on it.”

You couldn’t help but grin slightly at his reaction, though you kept your focus on his arm. Stop being dramatic, it’s not that bad.”

“Says the person not being burned alive right now,” he shot back, though his tone was light.

You rolled your eyes, pressing the cotton pad a little more carefully against the scratch. “If you keep moving, it’s going to take longer. Hold still.”

Oscar sighed and complied, sitting as still as he could while you worked. Once the wound was clean, you grabbed the fresh bandage and carefully wrapped it around his arm, making sure it was snug but not too tight.

“There,” you said, trying off the bandage and stepping back to inspect your handiwork. “All patched up!”

He glanced down at his arm and flexed it slightly, wincing a little. “Thanks, Doc,” he said with a small smile.

You began gathering the used cotton pads and other supplies, discarding them into the trash and returning the first aid kit to its usual spot. As you wiped your hands on the towel draped over your shoulders, Oscar leaned back in his chair, eyeing the fresh bandage.

“Think it’s gonna leave a scar?” he asked casually.

You paused for a moment, glancing at the scratch before shrugging. “Probably. But at least it’ll be a cool story.”

Oscar snorted. “Yeah, breaking into an abandoned pool and almost getting caught by security. Real cool.”

You smirked, folding the towel neatly and setting it aside. “You’ll thank me when you’re older and tell this to your kids. Your crazy aunt gave me this scar.’”

He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “Guess I’ll have to keep you around just for the stories, huh?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile on your face. “Anyway, it’s late, or early, I guess. I should head home.”

Oscar stood up as you grabbed your jacket, which was still damp but less soaked than before. “I’ll walk you to the front door,” he offered.

The two of you made your way to the front door, house completely silent except for your footsteps. Oscar unlocked the door and held it open for you, the cool night air rushing in.

“Goodnight,” you said softly, stepping out onto the porch.

“Night,” Oscar replied, lingering in the doorway as you walked down the steps.

The streets were quiet as you made your way home, slipping into your yard and heading straight for the tool shed. You carefully returned the bolt cutter to its original place, making sure everything looked untouched. With that done, you grabbed the ladder that was leaning against the side of the house and quietly climbed up to your bedroom window. Halfway up, you paused and turned your head, glancing across to Oscar’s house, his bedroom window was lit dimly from the inside, and there he was, standing jusy behind the glass. Oscar noticed you looking and mouthed a goodnight, with a smile.

You smiled back and gave him a slight wave in return before turning back to your task. Pulling yourself through the open window, you landed softly on your bedroom floor, finally letting out a breath you had not realized that you were holding.

Years had passed since that night at the pool. Life, as it always did, moved forward, and the close bond you and Oscar had once shared slowly faded into memory. When Oscar left for the UK to pursue his racing career, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness, even as you supported him wholeheartedly. It was a bittersweet goodbye without an actual farewell—you didn’t get to see him before he left. Instead, you relied on Nicole to pass along your best wishes, trusting that she would tell him everything you could not.

Not long after Oscar’s departure, your own life took a drastic turn. Your parents had finally decided to move to Sydney for better work opportunities, a decision that uprooted you from the neighborhood you had ever called home. The weeks leading up to the move were a whirlwind of packing boxes, sorting through childhood memorabilia, and saying goodbyes to the people who had been part of your life for so long—the Piastris were among the hardest to leave behind. Nicole hugged you tightly, and Chris offered his usual kind words, and Oscar’s sisters promised to write, though you all knew how unlikely that was to happen.

When the moving day came, you left quietly. There wasn’t much time for sentimentality—just final glance at the house you grew up in before climbing into the car. Sydney will be a fresh start for your family—as how your parents had put it, but you could not shake the feeling that you were leaving a piece of you behind.

The transition to Sydney was not easy, but somehow, you managed. The city was bigger, busier, and an unfamiliar territory, yet you adapted, throwing yourself into a routine that kept your mind occupied. You rarely thought about the past, though every now and then, something would remind you of Oscar—a fleeting mention of his name in news and online articles, or a memory that surfaced at the most unexpected times.

Nine months after moving to Sydney, something changed yet again. What started as fatigue and unexplained bruises turned into something far more serious. One day, your parents rushed you to the hospital after you fainted at home. Series of tests were run, questions were asked, and finally, a doctor say you down with an expression that left no room for doubt.

Stage two leukemia.

The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. You felt entirely detached, as though they were speaking to someone else. Your parents’ reactions were immediate—your mother bursting into tears and your father was gripping your hand tightly. But you were just sitting there, silent and still. You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You didn’t ask why this was happening to you. Instead, you felt a strange sense of calmness wash over you, a quiet acceptance that settled over you like a blanket. Maybe it was shock, or maybe it was the realization that no amount of questioning or anger would change what was already done.

Later that night, after the initial flurry of doctors and paperwork, you sat with your parents in the sterile quiet of your hospital room. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, casting a pale glow on their worried faces. You looked at your parents, both were still trying to process what they had been told, and made a request.

“I don’t want anyone else to know,” you said firmly.

Your father frowned, forehead creasing deeply. “What do you mean? People will want to support you—”

“I mean it, dad,” you interrupted gently but resolutely. “Let’s keep this to ourselves. I don’t want anyone worrying about me.”

Your mother hesitated, voice breaking. “What about Nicole and Chris? They’re family to us—they’d want to know.”

You shook your head, your gaze steady. “No. Please. If they find out, they’ll tell Oscar, and I just don’t want him to worry. He’s got enough on his plate, he doesn’t need to hear about this.”

There was a long pause. Your parents exchanged a glance, the kind of silent conversation that only comes with years of partnership. Finally, your father sighed and nodded.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “If that’s what you want, we’ll respect it.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, leaning back against the pillows.

Just like that, the secret was sealed. Life shifted into a strange new rhythm—hospital visits, treatments, moments of hope, and days of despair. Through it all, you kept your diagnosis close to your chest, unwilling to burden anyone else with the weight of it.

It had been nearly a year of chemotherapy—long days of sitting in cold hospital rooms in silence, hooked up to IVs that dripped chemicals into your veins. Each session left you feeling more drained than the last, your body growing weaker as the fight dragged on. Still, you clung to the silver of hope that the treatments were doing something, anything, to slow down the disease. But hope has a way of unraveling.

Your latest round of tests came back, and the news was worse than you could have imagined. The chemotherapy was not working. Instead of improving, your condition had worsened, and now the doctors were delivering the words you had dreaded since the beginning.

Stage four.

You sat still inside the small consultation room, the sterile white walls closing in around you as the doctor explained your options. Words such as aggressive treatment and clinical trials floated in the air, but you were not really listening to what the doctor was saying. Your parents were, though—you could see the desperation in their faces as they clung to every word, searching for something to hold onto.

Later that night, at home, you lay in bed staring blankly at the ceiling with the weight of the diagnosis pressing down on your chest. You thought about the past years, about how much you had endured and how little had come from it. The endless cycle of nausea, fatigue, and pain had left you feeling like a shadow of yourself. What was the point of continuing if it wasn't even making you better?

The next morning, you asked your parents to sit down with you in the living room. They looked at you with concern, sensing that this conversation was different. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before speaking.

“I want to stop the chemotherapy,” you said quietly but firmly.

Your mother’s eyes widened, a hand flying to her mouth. “What? No—you can’t mean that, honey. We’re fighting this, remember? You’ve been so strong—”

“I’ve been strong,” you whispered gently, meeting her gaze. “But I’m tired, mum. I’m so fucking tired. This treatment is no longer working on me. We all know damn well that it’s not working.”

Your father’s face was tense, his hands gripping the armrest of his chair. “The doctors said there are other options. Experimental treatments, new drugs—sweetheart, they haven’t given up on you, and neither should you.”

You sighed, trying to find the right words to make them understand. “I know you want me to keep fighting, and I love you for that. But this isn’t living anymore, every single day feels like a battle that I’m losing. I don’t want to spend whatever time I have left feeling like this.”

Tears welled up in your mother’s eyes as she reached for your hand. “There has to be something else that we can do. We can’t just stop.”

“I’m not giving up,” you said softly, squeezing her hand. “I’m just choosing a different path. The doctors mentioned alternatives, things that might help me feel better without the chemo. I want to try those instead, I want to focus on quality of life, not quantity.”

There was a long silence as your parents absorbed your words. Your father looked down at the floor, his jaw clenched, while your mother wiped at her tears. Finally, he spoke, voice low and strained.

“If this is what you want, okay, we’ll support you. But it’s not easy for us to accept.”

“I know,” you whispered, voice breaking. “I know it’s not easy. But this is what feels right for me.”

Your mother nodded through her tears, her grip on your hand tightening. “We’ll talk to the doctors tomorrow. We’ll figure out the alternatives.”

You leaned into your mother’s embrace, feeling a mix of relief and sorrow. It was not an easy decision, but it was yours, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe.

You never thought that you would be back to where it all started. The sun was warm on your back as you stood in front of the old house, taking in the neighborhood that had once been so familiar. Everything seemed different now—houses, gardens, and even the way the air smelled, but the tree with the tyre swing still stood proudly in the front yard. The sight of it tugged at your chest, stirring a mix of nostalgia and longing. You remembered how you and Oscar used to spend hours climbing its sturdy branches, swinging so high on the tyre that your parents would often scold you to be careful.

You took a tentative step toward the tree, wondering if the names you and Oscar had carved into the bark were still there. You hadn’t really thought about that in years, but the memory was vivid of how the two of you had sat side by side, each clutching a small pocket knife that you were not supposed to have, giggling as you carefully etched your initials into the wood. Before you could reach the tree, a voice called out your name.

You turned around quickly, heart skipping a beat as you saw her—Nicole. Nicole just stood there, just as warm and welcoming as you remembered. Her face lit up in recognition, and before you could say anything, she crossed the distance between you and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, arms wrapping around you with a familiar kind of affection that nearly brought tears to your eyes. “It’s been so long! Look at you—you’ve grown up so much.”

You smiled nervously as she pulled back, her hands still resting on your shoulders. “Hi, Mrs. P. It’s been a while.”

“Too long, my dear,” she said, voice tinged with both happiness and surprise. “I heard your family was back in town, but I didn’t think I’d run into you so soon! How are you? How are your parents?”

“They’re good,” you replied, voice steady despite the sudden nervousness creeping into your chest. “They’re inside, actually, talking to the realtor.”

Nicole nodded, eyes scanning your face with that same maternal kindness you remembered from your childhood. “And how are you, sweetheart? It’s been ages since I last saw you.”

Your throat tightened for a moment. She did not know. No one ever did, except your parents. You forced a small smile and nodded. “I’m doing okay. Just taking it one day at a time, you know?”

She smiled warmly, completely unaware of the weight behind your words. “That’s good to hear. It’s so nice to see you back, Brighton hasn’t been the same without you.”

You shifted slightly, glancing around the neighborhood before returning your gaze to her. “How’s everyone by the way? The whole family, especially the girls.”

“Oh they’re all doing great,” Nicole said brightly. “The girls are growing up so fast—you wouldn’t even recognize them! Then Oscar…”

At the mention of his name, your heart seemed to skip. You hadn’t thought about him in a very long time, and now, hearing his name felt both comforting and surreal.

“How’s Oscar?” you asked, trying to sound casual despite the flutter in your chest.

Nicole’s face lit up with pride. “Oh, he’s doing wonderfully! You wouldn’t believe it—he’s made it to F1! He was signed with McLaren.”

The words hit you like a burst of sunlight, flooding you with an overwhelming sense of happiness that you could not even describe. Your lips parted in surprise, and you felt your chest swell with pride.

“He did it?” you asked softly, almost in disbelief.

Nicole nodded, smile widening. “He did! It’s been such a journey for him, but he’s finally there. All those years of hard work have paid off.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away, a wide grin spreading across your face. “I always knew he would make it. I never doubted it for a second.”

Nicole chuckled, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “He worked so hard for this, and I know he would love to see you. Oscar’s been so busy, especially with the races, but I’m sure that he’d be thrilled to know you’re back.”

You hesitated for a moment, the thought of seeing him again stirring a mix of emotions you were not quite ready to unpack. “That’s amazing,” you said finally, voice filled with genuine admiration. “I’m so proud of him.”

Nicole smiled knowingly, as if she could see just how much you meant it. “You should tell him that yourself sometime. I know that he’d love to hear it.”

You nodded, though you were not sure if you would.

You and your family are back yet again in Brighton. The day was unusually quiet, the kind of silence that made you feel every sound—rustle of leaves in the breeze, distant hum of cars passing by, faint creak of the porch beneath your weight. You were sitting there, knees pulled to your chest, gazing out at the familiar neighborhood that had shaped so many of your memories. It was strange to think that after today, this house, street, and view would no longer be yours.

Your parents were just inside the house, tying up loose ends with the realtor, discussing the final details of the sale. You had excused yourself, not wanting to be a part of it. The mere thought of walking through the now-empty rooms, stripped off the warmth and life they once held, felt too heavy. So you stayed outside, perched on the porch steps, letting the sights and sounds of Brighton seep into you one last time.

The air carried an unusual faint chill, and you hugged your arms around yourself as you scanned the street. It was still the same in many ways—neatly trimmed lawns, rows of houses with their uniform yet distinct façade. But it also felt different, as if time had moved on without you, leaving you as an observer rather than a participant. As your eyes wandered, something, or rather, someone had caught your attention. You straightened slightly, squinting to make sure that you were not imagining things. Walking down the sidewalk, with an easy familiar stride, was Oscar.

For a moment, you were struck by how much he had changed. He carried himself differently now, more confident, assured, as if the years away had molded him into someone who fully belonged in the world he had always dreamed of. But that was not what held your attention. Beside Oscar, her arm lightly brushing against his, was a girl. She was gorgeous in an effortless way that made it impossible to look away. Her hair shimmered in the sunlight, her laughter rang out softly as she spoke to Oscar, and her smile was the kind that lit up her whole face.

You felt it then—a sharp, unbidden pang in your chest. It was not jealousy, not exactly. It was something deeper, aching. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from them, from the way they walked together, so perfectly in sync, so natural. They looked so good together, like a pair that had been meant to find each other. And you? You just sat there, still and silent, feeling like an intruder on a moment that was not meant for you to see.

You hated the way how your mind began to spiral, unearthing old, buried feelings that you had tried so hard to forget and ignore. You thought you had moved past it, but now, sitting there, it was undeniable. You had loved Oscar, or at least something close to it. You never admitted it to anyone, not even to yourself. But it had always been there, in the way your heart quickened when he smiled at you, in a way you always wanted to make him laugh, in the way you looked for him in every crowded room.

But you never told him. How could you? He was Oscar—steady, kind, driven, and you were you. A troublemaker. Reckless. Always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. You had convinced yourself a long time ago that someone like him could never feel the same way about you, that you were not the kind of person he would ever want.

But now, watching him with her, it only proved what you had always known deep down. They looked perfect together, in a way you could never imagine yourself fitting into his life. She had the kind of refinement and grace that seemed effortless, while you were rough around the edges and acting on impulsive decisions.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look away, but it was already too late. The image of them, of Oscar, was already etched into your mind, and as you sat there, you chest heavy with an ache you couldn’t shake, you knew that saying goodbye to this house and street was not the hardest part of leaving Brighton.

The hardest part was letting go of something you never truly had.

You were standing by your family car, hands crossed to your chest, waiting for your parents to finish up inside when you heard someone call your name. Turning, you saw Nicole walking briskly towards you, face lighting up as she reached you. Before you could even say anything, she had already extended an invitation for you and your family to come over to their house for the afternoon.

You hesitated, glancing towards your parents who were just stepping out of the house. A quiet panic bubbled inside you, this was not what you were expecting, and you certainly were not in the mood to socialize. But you did not want to be rude, especially to Nicole who had always been warm and kind. So, with a quiet nod, you agreed.

The Piastri house hadn’t changed that much. The familiar scent of home cooking and the subtle hum of conversation greeted you the moment you stepped through the door. Your parents were warmly embraced by Nicole, their chatter filling up the air as if no time had passed since your last visit. You lingered near the entryway, unsure of where to place yourself, when you heard excited voices. Hattie, Edie, and Mae appeared out of nowhere, voices high-pitched with excitement as they spotted you.

Before you could even say a word, they wrapped you in a tight group hig, their arms squeezing you with an intensity that left you breathless. You tried to laugh it off, but it came out as a wheeze, your words muffled by the weight of their embrace.

“Alright, let her breathe!” Oscar’s voice cut through the chaos.

The three of them reluctantly stepped back, each of their faces flushed with excitement. You caught your breath, offering a weak smile as they began firing a series of questions at you in rapid succession.

“How have you been?”

“What are you up to these days?”

“How are you finding Sydney?”

The questions came at you like a tidal wave, and you barely managed to mumble a response before another question followed. It was overwhelming, too much all at once, and just when you felt yourself starting to falter, Oscar intervened again.

“Okay, that’s enough interrogation,” he said, tone light but firm as he stepped between you and his sisters. “Give her a minute to breathe, yeah?”

Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. Now, it was just you and Oscar, and the silence between you felt louder than anything his sisters had said. You looked at him, unsure of what to really say or where to start, and in the end, you settled for the safest and simplest thing you could ever think of.

“Congratulations by the way,” you said, voice quieter than you intended. “On making it to F1.”

His lips curved into a smile, soft and genuine. “Thanks. It’s been a crazy few years.”

You nodded, really unsure of how to respond, and the silence threatened to stretch on uncomfortably. But then he added, “I’m back in Australia for the Grand Prix.”

“Oh, that’s amazing,” you said, meaning it. “I’m proud of you, Osc. Really.”

Oscar tilted his head slightly, a smile turning into a more playful one. “You still don’t watch the races, though, do you?”

You laughed softly, the sound surprising even you. “No. It’s still not my thing.”

“Figures,” he said, laughing along with you.

The moment felt almost normal, a small glimpse of the easy connection you used to share. But it was fleeting. Oscar shifted slightly, his expression changing as he turned towards the doorway.

“Oh, by the way,” he said, tone casual. “I want you to meet Lily, my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

Lily. There she was. She stepped into view, her presence effortless and magnetic. Up close, she was even more stunning than you had realized, her features flawless and her demeanor warm. She smiled at you, and it was not forced or polite, it was kind, genuine, disarmingly sweet, and most of all, welcoming.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she said, extending a hand. Her voice was soft, yet it carried an ease that made you feel immediately out of place. “Oscar had told me so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” you shook her hand, offering a small smile in return. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

As she spoke, her kindness and charm were really undeniable, and you found yourself unable to summon any ill will towards her—it even made you feel bad for even thinking about something badly about Lily. She was lovely, perfect even, and though you wanted to find a reason to dislike her, you couldn’t. Lily was everything you were not—poised, polished, radiant.

The three of you stood there, exchanging conversations. You couldn’t help but take in the way Oscar looked at Lily—the softness in his eyes, the way his smile lingered when he spoke to her. It was clear how much she meant to him, and as much as it stung. You felt a lump rise in your throat, but you swallowed it down, forcing yourself to smile and nod along to the conversation.

It was going to be a very long day, and you just have to get through it. You reminded yourself that this was not about you—it never had been.

The Piastri household was buzzing with life as the afternoon was painted with golden hues. Inside, everyone seemed immersed in their own words. Your parents were deep in conversation with Nicole, their laughter and voices carrying through the air as they caught up on years of life. Hattie, Edie, and Mae were busy entertaining themselves, their giggles occasionally echoing from another room. Oscar and Lily sar close together, their connection evident in the way they talked and laughed, though they were kind enough to include you in the occasional exchange.

Observing what was happening around you, you can’t help but feel out of place, as though you were floating on the edges of a scene that didn’t belong to you anymore. You forced a polite smile, and excused yourself with a mumbled explanation about needing to grab something from the car. No one seemed to question it, and you slipped out of the house unnoticed.

As you closed the door behind you, you let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding. The tension that had coiled tight in your chest while you were inside slowly began to unwind. You stuffed your hand into your black leather jacket pockets and started down the quiet street, letting your feet guide you without much thought.

The familiar streets brought a wave of nostalgia, and as you walked, your mind wandered back to simpler days. Eventually, you found yourself wondering if that small family-owned store—one where you and Oscar used to visit after his karting victories, was still there. It felt like eons ago, but the memory was sharp and vivid—you and Oscar bursting through the shop’s door, with Oscar still giddy from the races, and celebrating his win with an ice cream as though it were the most important ritual in the world.

When you turned the corner, there it was. The modest storefront stood just as it had all those years ago, the paint already slightly faded but otherwise unchanged. The familiar bell above the door chimes as you step inside, and the scent of sweet, aged wood mixed with the faint aroma of candy hits you instantly. The store looked exactly the same. Shelves lined with old fashioned sweets, rows of snacks, and that unmistakable freezer filled with ice cream in the corner. Your eyes scanned the small shop, and behind the counter stood great old Uncle Roger, his face lighting up with recognition as he spotted you.

“Well, well,” he said, settling down a box he had been unpacking. “If it isn’t trouble itself!”

A wide grin spread across your face. “Hey Uncle Roger,” you greeted warmly. “You still remember me?”

He chuckled, stepping around the counter to stand in front of you. “Of course, I do! How could I forget the little rascal who used to hide in my back room to hide from the chaos she caused and would sometimes scare my customers away?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh, really?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Need I remind you of the time you pulled that prank with the balloons and the flour? Or the time you locked that bou Tommy out of the store and wouldn’t let him back in?”

You laughed again. “Okay, maybe a little chaos.”

“And poor Oscar,” he continued, tone light. “You used to drag him into all your mischief. That boy was too patient for his own good.”

You softly chucked as you nodded. “Guilty as charged,” you admitted. “Though, to be fair, Oscar was a willing accomplice most of the time.”

Uncle Roger let out a hearty laugh, the sound filling the small shop. “That he was. Good kid, though, and look at him now—a big shot race. His folks must be over the moon.”

“They are,” you said, smiling faintly.

“And what about you?” Uncle Roger asked, rone softening as he studied you. “What have you been up to all these years? You look different. Grown up.”

You hesitated, not wanting to delve too deeply into everything. “Life has been…pretty interesting,” you replied vaguely. “Moved to Sydney, tried to figure things out. It’s been a ride, that’s for sure.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing there was more to the story, but he did not push. “Well, you’ve always been a fighter,” Uncle Roger said kindly. “I’m sure whatever it is, you’re handling it like a champ.”

You smiled at his words, though a part of you felt the weight of them in a way he could not even understand. “Thanks, Uncle Roger,” you said softly.

He grinned again, stepping back towards the counter. “Now, I assume you didn’t just come in here to reminisce. Let me guess—you’re here for the ice cream, aren’t you? Same flavor as always?”

You laughed, a genuine sound this time, and nodded. “It wouldn’t feel right to leave without it.”

“Coming right up,” he said, already moving to the freezer. “Some things never really change, do they?”

The hours slipped by without you even realizing it. Time seemed to pause within the walls of Uncle Roger’s store, the air filled with the nostalgic hum of its old ceiling fan and the occasional chime of the doorbell. You had taken it upon yourself to help behind the counter, ringing up purchases and chatting with customers as though you had been working at the store for years. It wasn’t part of the plan, but when Uncle Roger had laughed and handed you an apron, you could not resist.

“I’ve always wanted to work at a place like this,” you had told him earlier with a grin, and he’d chuckled. “Well, here’s your chance to experience it. Just don’t scare off the customers,” he’d teased before heading to the back to work on inventory.

Now, perched on a stool behind the counter, you twirled a lollipop between your fingers, its sugary sweetness lingering on your tongue. The small television mounted by the corner played a rerun of an old sitcom, the laughter track punctuating the quietness of the store. You glanced at the clock, realizing just how much time had passed since you had walked through the door, but you didn’t mind.

The familiar chime of the doorbell pulled your attention back to the counter, and you straightened instinctively. “Hello, welcome to Uncle Roger’s!” you greeted brightly, a practiced smile already in place.

When your eyes landed on the customer, your heart skipped. It was Oscar.

Oscar’s smile was warm and slightly amused as he approached the counter. “I had a feeling that you would be here,” he said, leaning casually against the edge of the counter, eyes flicking to the apron you wore, and his smile widened. “But I didn’t expect to find you working.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Well, it’s not everyday you get to live out a childhood dream. I figured, why not?”

He chuckled, shaking his head lightly. “Of course you would.”

He made his way to the drinks section, scanning the shelves before grabbing a couple of items. When he returned, he placed the drinks on the counter in front of you. You glanced at them as you reached for the scanner, hands immediately pausing when you recognized the brightly colored packaging.

It was a sunshine punch. Two juice boxes.

Your eyes flickered to Oscar briefly. “Sunshine punch, really?” you asked casually, though you couldn’t hide the slight surprise in your tone. “I thought you hated this stuff.”

He shrugged, expression unreadable. “Maybe my taste has changed,” he said simply.

You just hummed un acknowledgement, though you couldn’t help but wonder. From what you had remembered, he could barely stand the smell of it, let alone drink it. Then you wondered, maybe it was for Lily and him, you thought silently, and the thought of it tugged at something in your chest.

As you rang up the items, you kept your tone professional, if not, a bit playful. “Would you like to bag these?” you asked.

Oscar shook his head, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “No bag, thanks. Gotta save the turtles, right?”

You laughed softly at that, handing him the total. “Fair point,” you said, watching as he counted out the cash. You handed him his change, slipping into a mockingly formal tone. “Thank you for shopping at Uncle Roger’s, please come again!”

The two of you burst into laughter at how silly you sounded, with your laughter filling the quiet store. It felt easy, natural—like stepping back into a moment frozen in time. But as the laughter faded, a sigh escaped your lips, unbidden.

Oscar laughed outright at that, shaking his head as he pocketed his change. “You sound way too serious. Are you sure you haven’t secretly been doing this for years?”

You chuckled, leaning your arms on the counter. “Hey, I’m just trying to be professional. Gotta make a good impression on the boss.”

“How about we go to that public pool that we used to go to as kids?” Oscar said as he lingered near the counter while you glanced back at him, processing his unexpected suggestion.

“The abandoned pool?” you repeated softly, a mix of surprise and curiosity in your voice.

It had been years since you had even thought about that place, let alone considered even going back there. The idea felt surreal.

“Yeah, it’s still around,” he said with a small shrug, tone casual, though there was a glint of something, maybe akin to nostalgia, in his eyes.

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah, sure. Alright, let’s go,” you agreed.

You head towards the back of the store, pushing open the swinging door to find Uncle Roger hunched over his clipboard, meticulously counting boxes.

“Hey Uncle Roger,” you called gently, not wanting to startle him.

He looked up from his work, expression softening when he saw you. “Finished already?”

You gave him an apologetic smile. “I think I’m going to clock out for the day. Oscar and I are heading out for a bit.”

Uncle Roger’s gaze flickered to the counter, where Oscar was waiting patiently. A wide grin spread across his face as he stepped out from behind the storage shelves.

“Well, now. Look who decided to stick around,” he said, tone warm and teasing. “And in my shop, no less. Oscar Piastri, the Formula 1 driver!”

Oscar laughed lightly, hands tucked into his pockets. “You make it sound way more impressive than it is, Uncle Roger,” he replied modestly.

“Nonsense,” Uncle Roger said with a wave of his hand. “I always knew you were destined for greatness the moment you sat in that kart. It’s good to see you, son.”

Oscar smiled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “It’s good to see you too.”

Uncle Roger’s attention turned back to you, eyes twinkling. “Having you two here today, it’s just like the old times,” he said with a wistful sigh. “You, running around causing trouble, and Oscar, trying to keep up.”

You chuckled, feeling a wave of warmth at his words. “Well, as you said, some things never really change,” you said lightly.

Uncle Roger patted your shoulder. “You’ve been a big help today, my dear. I’ve been meaning to start on that inventory for weeks, but I couldn’t leave the counter. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Anytime,” you said earnestly. “I’ll visit whenever I’m back in Brighton, I promise.”

He nodded, expression softening even further. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Before leaving, you stepped forward to give him a hug, the kind of hug that lingered just long enough to let him know how much his kindness meant to you. You removed the apron and switched it for your black leather jacket. Oscar chimed in with a quick ‘take care, Uncle Roger,’ and you both made your way out of the store, the bell chiming softly behind you.

Relief mingled with a touch of surprise as you nodded your head. “Alright then.”

When you arrived at the abandoned public pool, it was like stepping back in time—a time capsule. The cool air carried a faint scent of earth and old concrete, and the quiet hum of the town surrounded you. You immediately made your way to the part of the chain-link fence that you had cut through all those years ago. A crude, jagged hole that had somehow withstood the test of time. You crouched down to inspect it, your fingers brushing the edges of the worn out metal.

“I can’t believe that it’s still here,” you said softly, more to yourself than Oscar.

The faintest smile tugged at your lips when you noticed the hole had clearly become a regular entrance for others. “Looks like I set the blueprint for sneaking in, huh?”

Oscar chuckled behind you, voice warm. “Yeah, you’re a trendsetter,” he teased.

You ducked through the opening in the fence, Oscar following close behind. The pool area was almost unrecognizable, yet unmistakably the same. The once-pristine tiles were faded and cracked, the pool itself empty and hollow, walls were now layered with colorful graffiti—messages, drawings, and names scrawled over one another in a chaotic tapestry. Though the old sunbeds still lined the deck, many were now broken and rusted. The whole place felt frozen in time, yet irrevocably changed.

Your gaze landed on one particular sunbed, its white paint chipped and the straps slightly frayed. “Oh, that’s the one,” you murmured, walking over to it.

Dusting it off with your hands, you lowered yourself onto the sunbed, letting the weight of the moment settle over you. Above, the stars were scattered across the vast expanse of the night sky, their light faint but steady. The air was still, and for a while, it felt like the world beyond the place didn’t exist. Oscar settled down on the sunbed beside you, legs stretched out, and arms resting on his knees. Like you, his gaze was fixed on the sky. For a long time, neither of you spoke, the silence between you comfortable—familiar.

You were so lost in your thoughts, mind drifting through memories of this place, that you didn’t notice Oscar moving until you felt something brush against your hand. Turning your head, you saw him holding out a juice box of sunshine punch. The drink you thought that Oscar bought a shop were for someone else, turns out that it was for the two of you.

Your breath hitched slightly as your eyes darted from the juice box to his face. “You bought this for me?”

Oscar smiled, a little sheepishly. “For us,” he corrected. “Figured it’d be fitting.”

A soft laugh escaped you as you took the juice box from his hand, the cool surface pressing against your palm. “Thanks, Osc,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

You popped the straw into the box, taking a slow sip. The familiar tangy-sweet flavor hit your tongue, and for a moment, you could almost imagine that you were back to being kids again—hanging out in the abandoned public pool, celebrating one of Oscar’s karting wins with ice cream from Uncle Roger’s, inciting chaos, and never ending laughter.

Breaking the stillness, Oscar’s voice came, quiet but steady. “How are you?”

It was a simple question that has an easy answer to it, but the question hung in the air, heavy despite its simplicity. You paused, gaze fixed on the sky above. After a moment, you decided to answer, keeping your tone light.

“I’m fine.”

Oscar turned his head towards you, his expression curious but patient, waiting for you to elaborate. You took another sip of your drink, stalling for time. Finally, you added, “you know, the usual. Just…life.”

It was not much of an answer to Oscar’s question, really, and you knew it. But it was the only answer that you were willing to give him. You’re glad that he didn’t push, though his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked back up the sky.

“Any plans?” he asked after a pause.

You exhaled softly, lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “Plans,” you repeated, as if testing the word. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve stopped making them.”

Oscar’s brows furrowed slightly at your answer, and you felt his gaze on you again. You tilted your head back, eyes tracing the constellations.

“Plans are funny, you know?” you continued, voice thoughtful. “You make them, and then shit happens. Sometimes, you end up where you thought you’d be, and other times…” you trailed off, shrugging lightly.

Oscar tilted his head slightly, watching you.

You smiled faintly, letting out a soft laugh. “It’s like what I told you back then? Last time that we were here, on the exact same sunbeds we’re sitting on—wherever life takes me, right?”

He smiled at that, the memory lighting up his expression. “Wherever life takes you,” he repeated softly, as if testing the words in his own voice.

“You know…Lily’s amazing,” you said, tone light but sincere. “She’s a very lovely girl, Oscar. I mean, she’s gorgeous, obviously, but more than that. She’s kind, and has this certain warmth to her that makes it impossible not to like her.”

Oscar glanced at you, a small smile forming on his lips. “She really is,” he agreed softly, voice carrying a sense of pride.

You nodded, your own smile growing. “You two are like a perfect match. Yin and yang, you know? She really balances you out. You know that you’ve always been on the quieter side, but Lily brings out the best and talkative part of you.”

Oscar chuckled at your statement, eyes briefly meeting yours. “She definitely doesn’t let me stay quiet for long.”

You laughed softly, though your thoughts remained bittersweet. “I saw the way she looks at you,” you continued. “It’s so full of love. It’s the kind of look people dream of, you know? You’re really lucky to have her.”

His expression shifted slightly, as though he was not sure how to respond to the unexpected depth of your words. He gave a small nod, his smile turning a little shy.

“I’m proud of you, Oscar. Really.” you added, voice a little quieter now. “For finding someone like Lily. She’s good for you, and I’m happy knowing that she’ll be there for you.”

There was a pause before you continued on, tone suddenly turning more painful, though there was a weight beneath the lightness of it. “At least now I know that someone will be by your side when I’m gone.”

Oscar frowned slightly, he felt a little chill and was caught off guard by your words. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, confused.

You hesitated for a moment, quickly realizing how your words could have sounded. You forced a small laugh, hoping to brush it off. “I just mean, you know, since I had moved to Sydney,” you said, tone casual. “I’m not here anymore. I can’t be by your side like I used to back when we were kids.”

His expression softened, though he still seemed a little bit puzzled by your words. You just smiled softly, looking up again as you added, “but it’s okay. You’ve got Lily now, and she’s amazing. You’re in good hands.”

The walk back from the abandoned public pool was quiet. The kind of quiet that was not uncomfortable, but heavy with so many unspoken words. The sound of your boots scuffing against the pavement and the faint rustling of leaves in the cool night air were the only things breaking the silence. Your hand stayed inside the pockets of your black leather jacket, the smooth lining a small comfort against the cold night.

Oscar walked beside you, his own steps steady and unhurried. You could feel his presence, solid and familiar, yet neither of you made any effort to fill the stillness. There was nothing pressing to say, and perhaps, that was enough.

When you finally turned the corner leading back to your neighborhood, the headlights of your parent’s car came into view, cutting through the dim light of the street. Your parents were standing beside it, their postures relaxed but expectant, while Nicole leaned casually against the hood, arms crossed. As soon as they spotted you, your mother straightened up, relief softening her features.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, voice a mix of mild concern and amusement. “We were starting to wonder where you’d gone off to.”

Oscar was quick to answer, tone light and easy. “We were at Uncle Roger’s shop, just catching up.”

Your father nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips, while Nicole’s expression softened, her gaze flitting between you and Oscar. “It’s so good to see the two of you spending time together again,” she said warmly.

Your mother stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “We should get going, sweetheart,” she said softly, eyes kind but tired.

The goodbyes came swiftly after that, each one carrying its own weight. Nicole pulled you into a tight embrace, warmth and familiar scent grounding you for a moment. “Take care of yourself, okay?” she said, voice quiet but firm.

When Nicole let go, it was Oscar’s turn. He stepped closer, arms wrapping around you with a firmness that caught you off guard. It was not one of those quick, polite hugs—it was the kind of embrace that lingered, as if he were trying to hold onto something fleeting.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” he murmured, voice low and sincere. Then he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, a small, boyish grin appearing on his face. “And you have to come to my race one of these days. No more excuses.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Alright, we’ll see,” you said lightly, though you both knew it was not a promise.

With that, you turned and walked towards the car. As you reach for the door handle, something makes you glance back over your shoulder. Oscar was still standing there, hands tucked into his pockets, watching you with an unreadable expression. You gave him a soft smile, lifting your hand in a casual salute. He returned the gesture, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Sliding into the backseat of the car, you buckle your seatbelt as your father starts the car. The low rumble of the engine filled the silence, and as the car began to pull away, you could not resist a one last look at Oscar through the rearview mirror. Oscar was still standing there, framed by the faint glow of the streetlights, his figure growing smaller and smaller until he disappeared from the view entirely.

You did not look back again, you never looked back. But something in you stirred—a quiet, unshakable feeling that this night, this moment, would never come again. Neither of you could have known that this would be the very last time you would see each other. The very last time Oscar would ever see you.

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cybrheartheart · 1 day ago

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OMFG, this is soooo important. I didn't have this; my family didn't do anything together except watch TV because my dad was retired and just needed to rest after his weary years of life. And my egg donor was never there in my life. I never learned crap from her because she was never there.

I learned more from my teachers and neighbors than anyone else, and once I got too old, they didn't want anything to do with me because I wasn't theirs and I had trauma that no one wanted to deal with, because I wasn't theirs.

I have a deep encompassing black hole in my life because of this lack of empathy for someone who just needed someone to be there for me...someone to actually be there and teach me hands on. Please be there for the next generations to come, because they won't have the systematic support that children who fall in the cracks have had when we were growing up, and even the little amount of support we have left these days in the US.

Be there for your children, or be there for those children who are not yours...be they your grandchild, nibling, neighbor kid, or students. Be a safe space, a safe harbor for their lives, and be the example I've never had in my life.

Create life in this time of destruction and harm that will be ahead...and know, we have each other, we have community, we have support, if we're able and willing to create it, even for those kids who seem weird, do weird things, and just embarrass and humiliate themselves because they just can't help it...since they're doing it because they haven't been taught the right way to do it in a way that will help them learn.

Teach why it is important for them to cook, to clean, to take care of themselves, to bathe and shower and clean areas that no one will talk about (hands off, of course), give them your silence so their voice can be heard, give them a place where they won't be looked at with judgement. Give them a loving manner without conditions. Allow them to talk about things that spew out of their minds, random things that no one else will talk about, and give them the opportunity to live without groomers opening them up to abuse.

When children are clean slates, they are open to abuse, to inappropriate touching, to violence, to malicious control, to brainwashing (gaslighting, negging, etc.), to abduction, to kidnapping, to illicit drugs*, and so much more.

Fill your children to the brim with your presence, with your time, with your attention, with your energy, otherwise someone else will fill them up with something worse, trauma, pain, suffering, emotional or psychological torture, and will resent you in their teens and into adulthood.

Don't get me wrong, my dad was always there, but that doesn't mean people were not able to get to me. He invited family and friends into the home all the time to spend time with me, to give me the parental figure I didn't have, but it didn't satisfy because they were never there but to see him and I was an afterthought. And thought he was there, he had people to keep me company and that one person abused me while he wasn't there, and he never knew, he never would have allowed me to stay with them during his heart attack.

One week of my life that damaged me beyond repair and forced me into a position to tell no one. I had no one to trust, had no one's attention, no one to understand with a look that something was wrong with me and I didn't want to go anywhere with this person. I was isolated and it traumatized me for life, and it's hard for me to trust anymore. I can trust mentally, but my body will not allow me to trust, my psychology will not allow me to trust, and it is hardest to reach out when I really needed someone, because I didn't have anyone who was willing to give me a safe space, a safe harbor.

Give children the chance to trust you. Trust is earned, not forced on others. Give them safety, security, and protection...even if they don't have that at home, school, or other places. Give them yours. Always. Choose them. Always.

*And as a side note, since illicit drugs are a lot of the time these days laced with fentanyl. Illicit drugs will most often not just be addictive, but be more often than in the past, lethal. Hospitals use patches to administer fentanyl because lethal doses are so miniscule. When it comes down it the addition of fentanyl leads to instant death. And a lot of the time, you don't know what illicit drugs are cut with, baby powder, heroin, cocaine, rat poison...but fentanyl is a game changer entirely.

Someday your hands will be old and wrinkled, the skin spotted and bunching over your knuckles. And a child will watch you make something. It's a simple task, you'll have done it a thousand times before. But to that child, the smooth, confident way your hands move will seem like impossible magic. You have to keep living.

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fairestwriting · 3 days ago

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RAHHHH, I LOVR YOUR WRITING!!!!

Can I kindly request for Leona, Jade, and Idia with a Hyper! Reader?

Like, Reader is up for everything and anything and is always either preparing for shenanigans or doing them.

ah yes. the trio i am definitely not biased towards when it comes to writing stuff (TYSM im glad you like it!!! i hope you enjoy this too <33

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

It’s a good thing that you’re so lively, you can just have energy for the two of you, is the sort of thing you’ll hear from him a lot. Always seasoned with his signature snarky feeling, sometimes he’s more exasperated, and other times, he can actually sound quite fond and sweet.

The “Herbivore” nickname isn’t going away anytime soon, that’s for sure. It’s more than just a little jab at how non threatening you come off— You honestly kind of remind him of a rabbit. If you ask him to elaborate he says it’s because you’re “always hopping around and sticking your nose into other people’s business”. If you ask him for further explanation he says you’re just proving his point by being too curious.

To anyone who knows how to read him, it becomes quite visible that he’s really very unsuccessful at concealing how endearing he thinks your antics are. He’ll never miss an opportunity to tell you he’s absolutely not going to join you on whatever you’re up to that day, and yet… he’s always there to say these exact words.

You might manage to convince him to take you out on some fun dates, things like going to amusement parks or arcades. He actually really enjoys it, despite always playing up that unamused, grumpy act. Most of the time he’ll just stand on the sidelines and watch while you have your fun, but it’s not that hard to bait him into following you to the roller coaster. At the end of the day, he tells you he hopes you’re satisfied because he won’t be indulging you again too soon— Something you can easily prove wrong in about a week or so.

𐙚 Jade Leech

He’s always not-so-secretly overjoyed to hear about any new troublemaker type that might pop up into Azul’s radar. These people are always the most interesting to observe, after all. So even before you two actually spoke, you’ve been keeping him more than engaged.

Jade has no desire to actively cause anything that might count as mischief… or at least that’s what he says. It’s not a full blown lie, but the key word here really is “actively” — Any antics of yours that he can support will be supported. Whether by conveniently making others too intimidated to get in your way, or sharing little hints of possible interesting things to do around school. It takes him some time to start actually tagging along, even if it’s just to stand around and watch you having your fun, but when he starts to do it, he’s pretty much become your new henchman.

While he mostly keeps to himself, if you show any interest in going on hikes with him, or learning about mushrooms and such, you’ll find that he can match your energy level quite easily. Jade is actually a bit surprised at your enthusiasm when it comes to that, he’s always wondered how it’d be like to explore the woods with a partner. Very quick to make new hiking plans, even quicker to think of multiple creative ways to use up whatever you picked while out.

He finds himself smiling and laughing a lot when he’s by your side. Of course, he already does both often in general, but it’s different when he’s with you. You always have some new, interesting topic to talk about, paired with a remarkable skill to find entertaining points about seemingly anything, it’s really contagious to him.

𐙚 Idia Shroud

Thinks it’s a miracle someone like you ever became interested in him. Shouldn’t a pessimistic, anxious introvert just come off as boring to someone who’s so bright and active? For a good while, Idia just couldn’t understand how you’d even fit him into your world. You two are just so different—

He would’ve probably rejected you out of sheer hopelessness if it wasn’t for the fact that… pairing a cheerful character with a gloomy one is, in fact, a pretty popular romance trope in anime. A part of him, sort of shyly and almost guiltily, hoped that he would get to have that in real life one day.

The fact you’re even open to indulging his interests definitely helps to bring you two closer. He was so anxious about showing you anything he liked, even if it was some popular game everyone in school is talking about, it’s just too nerdy for someone like you, isn’t it? Sometimes he’s still comically surprised whenever you mention liking a game or something like that. But he can get over his nervousness pretty quickly when you suggest playing together, even if it’s just on call.

When you’re messing with other people, he likes watching it from afar. Texts asking for updates on how your latest plans are going. If he can, he’ll even bail you out of trouble, it’s not like it’s that hard to make one of the school cameras just stop working for a little bit… And he really likes your reactions to him doing things like that, the way you praise his skills with so much enthusiasm. It really makes him feel like he’s won in life, honestly.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #jade leech #idia shroud #leona kingscholar x reader #jade leech x reader #idia shroud x reader #twst imagines #twst headcanons #lis writing

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blushsturns · 13 hours ago

Note

can you write like either a blurb / new series on bsf matt x inexperienced reader? not necessarily like she’s innocent but more like she’s just never done anything, and he like teaches her everything and stuff

bsf!matt x inexperienced!reader ♡ lessons

warnings: this work contains explicit content, but it is all consensual! m!receiving, f!receiving, pet names, pure filth.

w/c: 6307

you and matt have been best friends for as long as you can remember. he was always there for you, no matter what. nick and chris were your best friends too, but you always had a special place in your heart for matt. he understood you, listened to your feelings, spent time with you, and always protected you. people always assumed you two were dating because you were just that close. the bond you two had was impeccable and so special to you.

when you got your heart broken, matt was there to pick up the pieces. he’d hold you tight, remind you that you deserved so much better, and find ways to make you feel better like having a movie night or going for a late-night drive to get the greasiest, indulging fast food to help soothe your soul.

little did he know, matt didn’t even have to try very hard. just by being around him, you felt safe and secure. you always wondered what it would be like to be loved by him. sure, he loved you, but you always assumed he looked at you as his girl best friend and nothing more. when those thoughts would arise, you’d push them to the back of your head.

friday night you had a date with a guy that your friend set you up with. you really didn’t want to go, but you’ve already put it off two times before and couldn’t get it out of this time. you were worried because you haven’t dated very much. sure, you’ve had a couple boyfriends, but they all weren’t right for you and ended up breaking your heart in the process. your last boyfriend got fed up with you because he complained that you didn’t ‘put out’ like other girls and didn’t satisfy his needs. it really took a toll on your confidence.

it’s not that you were innocent. you knew all about sex and foreplay, you’ve been kissed before and you knew what to do when it came to sexual endeavors, but the problem was how to do it all. maybe you were inexperienced and that was your problem when it came to relationships.

an idea popped into your head when you were hanging out with matt. you were lying next to him in his bed and watching a movie on his tv, but your mind wasn’t focused on the screen in front of you. “hey, matt?” you broke the silence, turning your body onto your side to look over at him, biting gently onto your bottom lip in a nervous manner.

he immediately turned his head away from the screen to look over at you, his eyebrow furrowed up as he stared at you, his ocean blue eyes focused solely on you now. “what is it, ladybug?”

the nickname he gave you always caused your cheeks to turn a bright shade of pink and butterflies to roam in your tummy and you weren’t sure why. it’s not like this was the first time he’s called you that, or that it had any other meaning behind it. you flashed him a small smile, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly, blowing a tiny raspberry out past your lips. “well, i was wondering if i could ask you something?”

he was really curious now as he grabbed the remote and paused the movie so that there wasn’t any distractions. he’d rather pay attention to you, anyway. “you can ask me anything.”

matt could tell you were nervous to ask him as you bit onto your bottom lip again, staring directly at him with your cheeks flushed. “well, you’ve had sex and done sexual things with girls, right? how was the experience?”

he nearly choked on his own spit in surprise at your sudden questions, sitting up now onto the bed, his attention fully and directly on you. he wondered why you were randomly asking him these kinds of questions since it was out of the ordinary and not usually something you discuss as friends. “ladybug, why are you asking me these questions?”

you let a soft sigh emit from your lips before blowing another raspberry past your lips, placing a strand of your hair over your ear as you tried your best to keep your eyes locked onto matt. he looked baffled at the fact that you’d ask him such questions because you’ve never done anything like it before “well, i’m curious. i have a date on friday and i’m nervous.” you chewed onto your bottom lip for a moment before speaking again. “my past relationships never worked out and i never felt confident, like sexually with them. i’m thinking i might need some tips.”

your cheeks were extremely hot at this point and felt as if they could stay a permanent pink color that had tinted all over your cheeks. you looked at him the entire time, trying to read his facial expressions. he looked completely surprised at the sudden twist in conversation but also seemed quite curious at the same time.

“and you want tips from me?” he pointed to himself as if he didn’t already know the answer. you nodded your head, a soft giggle emitting from your lips. “yes, silly. who else would i feel comfortable asking? i was wondering if you could maybe show me a couple things. just so i can be prepared for this friday.” you bit down onto your bottom lip again as you awaited his reply. sometimes it was really hard to read matt, even with his body language or facial expressions.

he looked like he was pondering this for a moment before finally speaking up. “okay, i’ll help you but only because i care about you and want the best for you. i’ll kick a guy’s ass if they hurt my ladybug ever again, got it?”

another soft giggle emitted from your lips at his words, nodding your head a little too eagerly, but you couldn’t help it. excitement rolled through you, but also a bit of nervousness. you knew what you were asking of him, and you hoped it wouldn’t ruin the amazing friendship and bond that you both have built to last a lifetime. “can we..start now? i was thinking maybe you can let me know if i’m a good kisser?”

you really semed to pique matt’s interest now. his eyes averted down to your lips, licking his own lips, before looking back up into your eyes, a taunting smile appearing onto his lips. “okay, that can be arranged. c’mere.” he motioned for you to scoot closer to him on the bed, his smile only widening by the second.

even though this was your idea entirely, your heart rate began to quicken with nervousness running throughout your entire body. you nodded your head at his command, scooting closer to him and immediately settling into his lap, wrapping your legs around him comfortably. your pajama shorts rose up slightly to expose more of your thighs, your hands pressed against his chest. you giggled softly as you stared up at him, noticing his cheeks were also becoming slightly flushed at the sudden position you both were in. “hi.”

“so, this is actually happening.” matt said right away, a soft laugh leaving his own lips as he moved his hands to place firmly against your hips and squeezed gently. “hi, ladybug. okay, well if you’re ready i’ll show you how it should feel when a boy is kissing you and what to do that will drive ‘em crazy.”

you nodded your head at his instructions, your cheeks still violently warm as you moved one of your hands to place against his broad shoulder. your hand pressed firmly against it, a shaky breath leaving your lips. “yes, please.”

his lips curved up into a devilish smirk, moving one of his hands to place his index finger underneath your chin, your eyes immediately locking together in an intense gaze. your heart was already beating rapidly out of your chest, and you were so sure that not only could he feel it, but he could hear it too. “move your other hand here.” he took ahold of your hand that was in your lap and placed it on his other shoulder to keep you steady on his lap.

before you even had any more time to process what was happening, you felt matt’s lips press firmly against yours causing a soft gasp to emit from your lips. it took a couple seconds for your brain to actually register what was happening considering this was your best friend in the whole entire world. you eventually settled into the kiss with your eyes fluttering closed and pressing your lips back against his deeply. your hands stayed rested onto his shoulders, the pads of your thumbs rubbing slow circles against his shoulders through the fabric of his shirt. butterflies roamed in your tummy at the feeling of his lips against yours, electricity running throughout your veins.

it’s weird, you’ve never had this kind of feeling before with anyone else you kissed. it was a good feeling. more than good, actually. he pressed his lips a little deeper onto yours, a soft hum emitting from his lips throughout the kiss which almost drove you absolutely insane. you melted into him, moving your arms to wrap around his neck to pull him impossibly closer, your fingers now tangling into his tousled brunette locks. he hummed again, his tongue tracing your bottom lip which caused a soft gasp to emit from your lips. you immediately parted your lips to allow his tongue to enter your mouth, your tongues now colliding together slowly and teasingly causing a soft whimper to leave your lips.

you couldn’t control the sounds that were spilling from your mouth, and matt didn’t seem to mind it. complete opposite actually considering his hand was now moving down your back to your ass and used the back of his palm to push your ass up into him. another gasp emitted from your lips as he pushed your hips into his and you instantly felt his hardening bulge through the fabric of his sweatpants. this was like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, and it left you hungry for more.

your tongues fought together in a dominant battle as he used both hands to place onto your ass, continuing to encourage you to grind your hips against his hardened cock. you allowed him to push your hips into his, loving the feeling of his hands on your ass and the feeling of his cock hardening and twitching against you. matt really knew what he was doing, and it was such a turn on to see. you knew that matt has been with other girls before, but fuck, he really knew what he was doing and how to get a girl going.

you could feel your arousal dampening your panties through the thin material of your shorts as his hardening cock continued to push up into your center. you were the first one to pull away to catch your labored breathing, a soft whimper emitting from your lips at the friction of your hips circling against him. you opened up your eyes to stare down at him with rosy cheeks, your hips stilling but pressed firmly down against his cock through the fabric of his sweatpants that you wish could just fly off him this very second. your heartbeat rapidly in your chest, immediately biting down onto your bottom lip in a nervous manner, still tasting his lips against yours. “wow.” you breathed out, a tiny giggle emitting from your lips. “that was..wow. you really know how to make a girl feel good, even from just a kiss.”

his lips curved up into a slight smirk, his hands gripping your ass once more, his fingers kneading into your flesh through the thin material of your pajama shorts. “not just any kiss. a full on makeout session. can you feel how excited i got?”

your eyes moved down to the front of his sweatpants, noticing his evident, prominent bulge through the material. he was fucking huge. without even thinking, you moved one of your hands down to press against it, watching it twitch underneath your touch with a soft grunt coming from the back of matt’s throat. you nodded your head at his question, your lips curving up into a daunting smile. “this is all from kissing me, matty?”

he nodded his head confidently, moving one of his hands to grip your face with force causing you to gasp in surprise at the sudden movement. your lips were inches apart, his hot and heavy breath lingering against your lips as he murmurs, “damn right it is. what are you gonna do about it?”

your eyes widened in surprise at his words with your hand still pressed against his cock through the fabric, feeling him twitch against your hand. knowing that he got this hard for you and you only were such a turn on. your panties were pretty much soaked now with your own arousal, your breath hitching as your own breath lingers against his lips. “you want me to take care of you?” you asked shyly, biting onto your bottom lip once again.

he nods his head confidently, his lips curving up into a sly smirk. “yes, ladybug. think you can do that for me? i’ll walk you through the steps. you’re learning, remember?”

after the intoxicating kiss that you just had with your best friend, you had completely forgot that you were doing all this for a reason. for another boy. you don’t know why that made the pit of your stomach feel unnerved, but you decided to push that to the back of your head and focus on the task at hand. even though this was matt, your best friend, you were a little worried. any time that a boy would ask you to touch them or go down on them, you’d make any excuse in the book. your favorite one was that you played hard to get and liked to build suspense for each and every time you hung out. eventually, they caught on to your excuses and didn’t want to deal with it anymore. it was sad that boys only seemed to want one thing, but you wanted to be prepared.

you nodded your head, your breath caught in your throat. your fingers danced along the outline of his cock through the fabric of his sweatpants, his cock twitching at the sensation. “i can do it. just tell me what to do.”

he hissed through his teeth at the feeling of your fingers tracing over his hardened cock, pushing his hips up slightly into your touch, looking up at you with lust and desire filling his gaze. you’ve never seen him like this before and you were loving every second of it. “well, you can start by getting these pants off me.” he let out a soft chuckle, moving his hand to grab onto yours to pull it up towards the hem of his pants.

your shaky hands helped him tug his sweatpants off his body, unhooking your legs from his waist so he could shimmy his way out of them and kicking the onto the floor. he was left in his boxers, his hardened cock restraining against the fabric. you were extremely nervous, but also excited. this was matt, your best friend. you felt comfortable and safe with him and glad that he was the first one you were doing this with.

while on your knees next to him, you looked up at him with the most innocent expression you could muster up. “you’re so big, matty. i had no idea.” your fingers shakily move to slide between the waistband of his boxers and immediately began tugging them down and off his legs. an immediate gasp escaped your lips at the sight of him. he was fucking huge. your mouth practically watered and you could feel your center begin to throb at the sight. “shit.” you muttered out as you stared at him, licking over your lips in a hungry motion. his cock was really fucking nice, the tip of it already leaking a bit of pre-cum.

“like what you see, baby?” he smirked up at you as his cock sprang free, the cold air causing a slight hiss to leave his lips. you nodded your head slowly, a small smile creeping up onto your face. you watched as he spit into his hand and began to lather up his cock with his own hand from the base to the tip as he smeared the pre-cum that was coated there.

“so tell me what to do.” you ask him innocently, biting gently onto your bottom lip.

“wrap your hand around it like this.” he grabbed your hand and immediately wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, your fingers locking around it. his cock immediately twitched at the feeling of your hand finally against his flesh as he let out a soft grunt. “fuck, yeah, like that. then you can begin pumping at it. don’t be afraid to add some extra pressure.”

his words were reassuring and helped calm you as you listened to everything he said. you nodded your head as your hand began to pump his cock up and down slowly as you gripped him a little tighter like he commanded. you must’ve been doing it right because he immediately threw his head back against the pillow, a satisfied grunt leaving the back of his throat. “fuck, just like that. such a good girl.” he cooed proudly.

you felt the confidence building up inside of you at his words and watching his reactions. he seemed to be enjoying it which meant you weren’t so bad at it after all. you continued to pump his cock at a steady pace, moving your hand up each and every time and circling your thumb along the tip to gather more of the pre-cum and lather it along his cock. he angled his head towards you to watch you, his ocean blue eyes visibly darker with desire filling his gaze.

watching him like this was only turning you on even more. you could feel your own arousal coating your panties, your center throbbing as you let out a soft whimper. you could begin to rut your hips against the bed for friction, but you wanted to focus solely on matt and the task at hand in front of you. “i’m doing it, ain’t i? do you feel good, matty?”

he nods his head at you, his vision hazy and filled with lust. “yeah, baby. just a little faster and you can squeeze harder. you won’t hurt me. feels s’good, promise.” he reassured you as he sat up slightly with his elbow propped up onto the bed, moving his other hand up to place a strand of your hair over your ear.

you lean into his touch for a brief moment before immediately getting back to it; wrapping your hand around his cock tighter, giving him a harder squeeze as you continued to pump him in your hand steadily. this elicited some drawled-out moans from matt, his hand moving over to your chest and immediately began to grasp your breast through the material of your tank top. your nipple hardened at the feel of his hand against you, the pad of his thumb instantly finding your hardened nipple and began to circle it in slow, circular motions causing a soft sigh to emit from your lips.

as good as he made you felt, you couldn’t get distracted and had to make sure you were fully satisfying him. without hesitation, you leaned down to swipe your tongue along the tip of his cock, your hand still wrapped around the base of it. matt’s eyes widened in surprise at your sudden movement, placing both of his elbows on the bed now to keep himself propped up. “what are you-“

you look up at him as you hear the surprise in his tone, flashing him a small smile before flicking your tongue against his tip once again to get a taste; the salty taste of his pre-cum now coating your tongue. “just guide my head if you have to. i wanna try everything. is that okay?”

“it’s more than okay, sweetheart. fuck, such a good girl.” he grunted his words out, moving one of his hands over to run his fingers throughout your hair.

you flashed him another grin before moving your head back down and immediately parting your lips to take the tip of his cock between them, your eyes closing shut. you weren’t completely clueless. you’ve seen porn, you’ve read stories. you knew the basics; you’ve just never done it in person before. not until now.

matt groaned at the feeling of your mouth on him, his fingers running throughout your hair as he watched you the entire time. he was in absolute awe of you and couldn’t look away. you kept your hand wrapped around the base of his cock as you hollowed out your cheeks and began to take his cock down your throat, inch by inch until you felt the tip hit the back of your throat causing your eyes to water and you began to gag slightly. you pulled away a bit to relax, a couple of tears spilling down your cheeks from your mouth being so full and your damn gag reflux. “are you okay?” matt asked in worrisome tone, his hand pulling on your head with a bit of force to pull you off him to get you to look at him.

you immediately nodded your head, taking in a deep and shaky breath, a string of saliva at the corner of your lips. “just trying to figure it out. i’ll get it. promise.”

he nodded his head, running his fingers throughout your hair to make you feel reassured and relax you. “just don’t push yourself, ladybug. you’re doing amazing. i promise.”

you flashed him a reassuring smile, nodding your head before positioning yourself more comfortably in front of him on your knees as his cock twitched against hand. you leaned down once again, your tongue rolling along the tip of his cock before dragging you tongue down his shaft to the underside of his cock across his veins. your eyes darted up as you heard his pretty moans, his head thrown back onto his shoulders. his cheeks were flushed, and his chest was heaving up and down.

your hand gripped the base of his cock tightly as you suddenly leaned down once again to take his cock in between your lips once again and down your throat. you started off slow this time, hollowing your cheeks to get enough room as you began to bob your head in a slow motion. matt groaned loudly, his fingers tugging your hair with force now to keep your head directly onto his cock, not that you were going anywhere anytime soon.

you relaxed your throat muscles as you began to bob your head with a bit more speed. each time you came up to the top, your tongue would dart across the tip of his cock causing his hips to jerk up against your mouth and making your head move back down onto his length. “fuck, such a good girl f’me.” he groaned out breathlessly, tugging onto your head to keep it in place.

your own pussy throbbed at the feeling and taste of his cock in your mouth, but you weren’t focused on your needs right now at all. you just wanted to satisfy matt and possibly get him to cum down your throat. you continued to bob your head up and down against his length, your hand squeezing the base tightly as you looked up at him through your eyelashes for his reactions. he looked so fucking beautiful, and you weren’t sure how you could have anyone else’s cock down your throat if they weren’t your best friend’s.

you could tell he was getting close. his cock twitched inside of your mouth, causing a soft whimper to leave your lips. he rutted his hips up into your mouth, causing your mouth to take more of him into your mouth. your eyes watered as you blinked them and allowed the tears to fall down your cheeks, bobbing your head at a faster pace. “fuck. i’ gonna cum baby. you might wanna pull away unless you want me to cum down your pretty throat.” he warned you, his fingers still tugging onto your hair to keep your head in place.

“want to.” you said breathlessly when you pulled away for a moment to catch your breath, a string of salvia hanging from the corner of your mouth. “need the practice.” you muttered before immediately sinking your head back down against his cock, bobbing your head up and down against him at a steady pace and allowing the tip to graze the back of your throat causing muffled moans to leave your lips against his cock.

his cock twitched repeatedly into your mouth, a string of moans fell from matt’s lips as he shouted out that he was about to cum. before you knew it, sticky, salty ropes of cum shot inside of your mouth and down your throat as your head was being tugged on to be held in place as he rutted his hips up into your face, loud groans leaving the back of his throat. he emptied his load down your throat, soft moans leaving your lips and muffling against his cock.

once he released your head from his spent cock, you pulled away and immediately swallowed what was inside of your mouth, licking over your lips before flashing him a devious smirk. “that doesn’t taste so bad at all.” you cooed at him, a soft giggle leaving your lips. a bit of cum was still present at the corner of your lip and matt immediately used the pad of his thumb to wipe it away. your heart was beating rapidly in your chest and your jaw ached now, but it was well worth it. especially by the look on matt’s face, he was spent, blissed out, and extremely proud of you.

“fuck, ladybug. you did that. you fucking did that. you were incredible.” he flashed you a tired, but extremely proud grin. he moved his hand to run throughout your hair once again. “i think it’s time that i return the favor. what do you think, hm?”

your cheeks were completely flushed as you stayed perched on your knees, feeling your own arousal soaking your panties through the fabric. just by tasting him, touching him, getting him off made you incredibly turned on and your heart continues to beat rapidly in your chest at the thought of how amazing matt probably is at making a girl feel good. “i’ve never had anyone-“

he cut you off with his index finger immediately pressed to your lips, his words coming out soft and reassuring. “i’ll show you how a real man should make a girl feel. you just relax, okay?”

you nodded your head at him, excitement and nervousness rolling through you. he motions for you to lay back against the bed with your head hitting the pillow. matt immediately spreads your legs open with the palms of his hands, positioning himself in front of you. you stared at him, your cheeks permanently flushed at this point and biting gently onto your bottom lip. he used the pads of his thumbs to caress your inner thighs, circling them in a slow motion, causing your body to relax against the mattress.

his hand traveled up from your inner thigh to the hem of your pajama shorts and began tugging them down your body and allowing them to fall off the bed. you were left in your soaked panties and thin tank top, your cheeks only warming up even more by the second. he stared at you longingly, a slight smirk tugging onto his own lips. “absolutely beautiful. i can tell how soaked you are, baby.”

you cover your face with your hands to try and hide, a soft groan leaving your lips and you try to close your legs, but matt immediately spreads them again before pulling your hands away from your face and placing his hands in yours. his face was inches apart from yours, his eyes staying locked onto yours with intensity filling his gaze. “you’re beautiful. you don’t have to hide, it’s just me.”

his words were reassuring and comforting and all you could do was nod your head, your lips curving up into a shy smile. “i trust you.” you murmured softly.

he smirked at you, his eyes staying locked onto yours for a brief moment before pulling his gaze towards your center. he used the pad of his thumb to begin circling your clit through the fabric of your lacy panties, causing a soft gasp to emit from your lips.

you’ve touched yourself many times before, but having someone else touch you was a completely different experience. he slowly slid your underwear over to the side to expose your soaking wet pussy, causing a shudder to run down your spine from the cold air hitting against you. his breath hitched as he stared down at you, licking over his lips in a hungry motion, a soft hum emitting from his lips. “so pretty, baby.” he spoke softly, his middle finger running up and down your dripping folds, his finger immediately coated with your arousal. “so fuckin’ wet.”

you moaned softly at the feeling of his finger against you, biting gently onto your bottom lip to try and contain your moans, but you knew it would be impossible. you looked down to watch matt as he positioned himself in front of you, so he was directly in front of your soaking wet pussy, his mouth practically drooling at the sight. his finger continued to run up and down your soaking wet folds, dipping his finger into slightly into your hole to gather the slick before pulling his finger back up, lazily rubbing your clit in slow circles. “f-feels good.” you breathed out, your gaze never pulling from his movements. you felt your heartbeat picking up once he dipped his finger right back into your tight entrance. you used his free hand to slip underneath the back of your thigh to pull you even impossibly closer against his face.

“i’m gonna taste you and use my fingers, okay ladybug? tell me how it feels.” he looked up at you for your approval and all you could think to do was nod your head, your brain cloudy and foggy and unable to comprehend anything else but matt and the way he made you feel. he slid your underwear off you so that they wouldn’t be in the way and allowing them to fall onto the ground with the midst of clothes already piled there.

he slowly slipped his finger deeper inside of your tight pussy as you immediately clenched around the single digit causing a soft groan to leave his lips. you watched him the entire time, his focus intently on you and making sure that you felt good. your brain was clouded, your body was floating, and your heart was pounding incredibly fast. you’ve fingered yourself before to experiment and get a feel for what it would actually feel like, but you already could tell the difference. this was even better.

his finger immediately was coated with your slick arousal as he began to pump it in and out of your tight entrance, causing a low moan to leave your lips. without hesitation, he slipped his ring finger inside of you as well, causing a soft gasp to escape your lips at the sudden fullness. the sounds of your slick arousal coating his fingers with each and every thrust echoed throughout the room, and this was probably could’ve embarrassed you from how fucking soaked you were, but all you could focus on was how good it felt.

he tilted his wrist with his palm facing out to slide his fingers even deeper inside of your gummy walls causing your head to throw back against the pillow, louder moans leaving your lips. “oh fuck!” you cried out in ecstasy, pushing your hips up slightly as you felt every inch of his fingers pumping into you.

just when you thought the pleasure was already intense, he leaned down and immediately flicked his tongue along your clit repeatedly before taking it between his lips and sucking onto it, a soft moan leaving his lips and muffling against you. you gasp out in pleasure, instantly extending your arm out to find the top of his head and grabbing a fistful of his hair, moans falling from your lips.

he moaned against you as the sweet taste of your arousal coated his tongue, his fingers still pumping in and out of you at a steady pace, going deeper and harder with each and every thrust as his tongue swiped across your clit repeatedly. he looked up at you through his motions for your reactions, your eyes opening to lock them with his and the sight of him between your legs was such a fucking turn on. you’ve always wondered what it would be like to be eaten out, and holy shit, this didn’t disappoint.

he used the command motion with his fingers inside of you to hit your sweet spot, his tongue rolling around your swollen nub causing you to gasp out breathlessly, “so so close!” you were so close to approaching your orgasm and you had no idea it was even possible to feel this immense amount of pleasure at one time, if at all.

matt moaned again against your pussy that muffled against you, his tongue tracing up and down your slick, his fingers repeatedly hitting your sweet spot causing you to let out breathy moans. he pulled away only for a moment, licking over his lips as your arousal coated his lips and his chin. “cum f’me, pretty girl. come on. wanna taste you on my tongue.”

his words were the final straw. your fingers tugged into his hair harshly to keep his head still on your pussy as you let out a string of profanities and moans, pushing your hips up into his as the fire coursed throughout your veins, white stars dancing along your eyelids, your free hand gripping against the bed sheet. “fuck, matty. g-gonna cum!” your gummy walls immediately clenched around his fingers tightly as you came around his fingers and tongue. your sweet arousal coated his tongue, his fingers that were still pumping inside of you helping you rock through your orgasm.

he moaned against you, his tongue lapping up your arousal. your swollen nub became overly sensitive very fast, a soft groan leaving your lips as you try to push his head away from your center while you come down from your intense high. he pulled away from you, his eyes opening as he stared up at you with a satisfied smirk on his face, licking over his lips to get the remainder of your arousal that had glistened upon his lips. he slid his fingers out of your tight heat, causing you to whimper at the sudden loss of contact. he got up onto his knees in front of you, his eyes staying locked onto yours the entire time. you watched his every move with your arousal coating his fingers as ran his tongue along his fingers to clean them, humming softly at the delectable taste of you. “so so sweet, for such a sweet girl.”

your cheeks were extremely warm, a soft giggle emitting from your lips as you tried to control your heavy breathing. your mind was still foggy from your intense orgasm, your center now sore from the intensity of it all. it was well worth it, though.

you always knew matt would be fucking amazing at things like this and he exceeded every expectation. “wow.” you breathed out, another laugh emitting from your lips. “that was..wow.”

he let out a soft chuckle at your words, his lips curving up into a slight smirk at your reaction. “so, how do you think the lessons went?”

“absolutely incredible.” you said almost instantly, scooting up onto the bed and looking up at him with a small smile. “do you have any more lessons for me?”

he nodded his head at your words, his lips curving up into a wider smirk as he places his index finger against your chin to keep your eyes locked together, your breath hitching in your throat as your lips linger together. his hot and heavy breath falls against your lips as he whispers, “well how about this. take what i have taught you for now and use what you want with it with your own discretion, but don’t have sex with this guy, okay? save that for me and only me. got it?”

you had almost forgot all about the guy you had a date with on friday. the entire reason why all of this had happened in the first place. you nodded your head slowly, flashing him a small, innocent smile. “are you saying you wanna be my first, matty?”

he moved his head down to begin pressing soft kisses to the crook of your neck, a soft hum emitting from his lips. your eyes fluttered closed, your head tilting up slightly, a content sigh leaving your lips. “fuck yeah i do. i think you got me hooked, ladybug.”

how the hell could you go on a date with another guy after this?

taglist:

@sturnshood @strangelife122 @jessie-essie @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturnslutz @sturns-mermaid @matthewsturnsgf @christmastreecake @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @oopsiedaisydeer @sophand4n4 @xclusivedesires @mattsplaything @katiebug3851 @poppingmypussy4chris @mattsbunnyxx @pair-of-pantaloons @chrissweetheart @slutformatt17 @sturnl0ve @pasteldreams @h3arts4harry @marrykisskilled @wh0remikasas @sturnzslut @camzeecorner @alesturniolos @emely9274 @2muchofaslvt @y3sterdaysproblem @sturnslux3 @bowsandsturniolos @moustacherryismyhusband @rafesapprentice @ivysturnss @headzgonewest @strawberryghost3 @il0vey0um0st @violetstxrniolo777 @bigbeefybitch @raesturns @courta13 @sofieeeeex @tylerthecreatorsglazr @sturniolochrismatt

a/n:

thank you for the request! if you have any more requests or just wanna talk, hit up my inbox! :)

-nessa ღ

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #sturniolo #sturniolotriplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fic #sturniolo triplets fic #sturniolo triplets smut #blushsturnsღ

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cvntroach5000 · 18 hours ago

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LaDS Men - "Been having fun without me?" 🔞

suggestive, slight crack, dialogue heavy, no use of y/n, reader is deadpan and unbothered

content warning: mentions of sex toys, implied masturbation, discussions of sex

While helping you move to a new apartment, he accidentally stumbles upon your box of sex toys.

Xavier ✨

He walks into your bedroom, pouting as he holds the box.

"You know, you can just call me whenever you feel... You know."

Of course Xavier Mr. Jealous-Of-Himself Lumiere would have beef with a box of sex toys.

You walk over to his slouched form, pulling him down to hug him to your chest and massage your fingers over the nape of his neck.

"If you want, we can use these together next time."

He buries his face deeper into your bosom, ears practically glowing red.

"I guess that's acceptable..." He grumbles.

His grouchiness persists and you can tell what he's thinking about as he continues to help you unpack. But it's nothing blowing his back out can't fix.

Zayne ❄️

He can deduce the contents of the box without looking inside and doesn't really want to intrude on your privacy by peeking in. He carries the box to your bedroom, calling out to you from the doorway.

"Love, I found this box in the bathroom. Where would you like me to put it?"

"Just leave it on my bed for now, I'll put it in my closet later. Thanks."

Masturbation is completely normal and using sex toys is a novel way of making the process easier and more pleasurable. He forgets about that box almost immediately, instead focusing on helping you unpack.

Rafayel 🪸

Feeling nosy, he immediately inspects the contents of the suspicious box and is very smug about his findings.

"Oh, that's fun! You didn't tell me you had such a collection. Since I've already seen yours, how about I show you mine and we play together, hmm?"

"Sure, but please don't get aroused right now, there aren't any good, clean surfaces to achieve coitus on and I'd like to get most of the unpacking done today."

He places the box on your bed, blowing a raspberry on his way back to the door.

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry, cutie. I'm your perfectly behaved unpacking partner for today. Buuut, if we happen to be done early, I won't say no to you sitting on my face~"

Sylus 🥀

When he finds a peculiar box amongst your belongings, he doesn't hesitate to peak inside. Your relationship is equal, and just as you can go through his things as you please, so does he with yours.

"I see you've got some interesting items in this box, sweetie. If you want, we can add things like this to our bedroom activities. Just tell me what kind you'd be interested in and I'll take care of it."

You hum, the gears clearly turning in your head as you've never really considered the possibility before, "Ok. I'll think about it and let you know."

"That's what I like to hear."

He goes back to unpacking, a little more satisfied than he was previously.

Caleb 🍎

He suppresses the wave of possessiveness that washes over him in favor of taking the opportunity to try and fluster you.

"Well, well, well... Look what I found. So... I think it's sufficient to say you missed me while I was gone?"

You blink at him before softly raising your eyebrows.

"Gone as in presumed dead?"

"Y-Yeah?"

"Caleb, are you implying I masturbated while thinking of my deceased foster brother?"

"Well, when you put it like that—"

Ok, this was not going in the direction he wanted it to.

"Either way, while you were gone, not only did I masturbate thinking of completely different people, I also engaged in intercourse with several other individuals. Now that I have answered your frankly intrusive question, I ask that you put my things on my bed and return to your station. Thank you."

Even though it's his arm that's cybernetic, his brain short-circuits and he stands dumbly in your doorway for another five minutes before finally complying with your orders and dejectedly going back to his task.

#caleb will NOT be catching a break on this blog #the curse of the second fav li be upon him #love and deepspace #roach on the typewriter #lads x reader #lads smut #lads sylus #lads xavier #lads rafayel #lads zayne #lads caleb #lads rafayel x reader #lads xavier x reader #lads zayne x reader #lads caleb x reader #lads sylus x reader

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jinmindeulle · 2 days ago

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vulnerable | k. mingyu, j. wonwoo (1)

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 kim mingyu x fem!reader x jeon wonwoo

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 3.3 k

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 angst, fluff | friends-with-benefits!mingyu, neighbor-and-highschool-crush!wonwoo | you decide! mingyu (pt. 2) or wonwoo (pt.3)

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 mentions about sex i guess?

when mingyu realizes that things are not going like he'd like between you two, he asks for some distance. lucky for you, your high school crush was waiting for you some doors away.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

“I don’t wanna fuck tonight”

For how Mingyu plopped himself onto your couch as soon as you opened the door to your apartment, it was pretty clear that he had just come by to spend the night cuddling with you — and you weren’t complaining. You loved being engulfed by your friend’s bulky arms and how he couldn’t get enough of you, even when you were fully clothed and talking about Love Island.

“What’s got you so sulky?” you asked, kissing the top of his head as you walked past him on your way to the kitchen. “You’re lucky I just got started with dinner”

“My boss is a pain in the ass — by the way, those shorts look fire on you” after giving the longest sigh you had ever heard coming from him, the man turned his head your way and winked.

You looked down at your legs and chuckled. Those shorts were the oldest, most worn-out you had in your closet. “I bet they do. Wanna talk about that boss of yours?”

“Nah, work belongs at work. Whatcha cooking?”

“I was craving some japchae.”

“Remind me again, how are you just my fwb?”

A soft giggle escaped your lips, and you just turned around to get started on your dish, not noticing how serious his question had been. The truth was, he was your best friend, with benefits, of course, but that was a line that Mingyu had never wanted to cross when you first started fooling around.

The first time had been your fault, and Mingyu was always ready to throw that on you whenever he had the chance. You were a little bit drunk, not enough not to remember what happened the next day, but far away from the perfectly reasonable woman you normally were.

The thing was, even when you were in all your senses and could discern wrong from right, Mingyu had always been an attractive fellow. Aside from his obvious heavenly looks, you felt satisfied and joyful when he favored you over other plans and even other girls. Mingyu looked at you with a softness that you knew only saved for you, and that had gotten into your heart… just a little.

The pint of beer he treated you that night for helping him set up his new wardrobe made it easier for you to lean a little closer and press your lips to his.

He looked at you with extremely big eyes but a smirk that you rarely saw while alone with him. “Sorry. You wouldn’t stop rambling” you said, which was partly true. Gyu had just started working as the editor-in-chief of a well-renowned newspaper and liked to tell you all about his new co-workers.

When you took it back to your place, it was obvious that Mingyu was okay with the idea of you kissing him. Now, he was the one bringing his lips to yours after you closed the door behind you.

“I wanna keep being friends”

Though it broke your heart a little, you had to admit you were fine with his proposal — just because it meant you gained new rights with the one man you had shared most of your life with. In between hot kisses, you nodded and in a mutual agreement, decided to let it happen.

“You cannot violate the contract, Gyu” taking the veggies out of the fridge, you reminded him of the spoken agreement you had come to that day. We can kiss, we can have sex. We are not exclusive, we cannot be jealous. We can make it stop when one of us asks to. Keep it private.

“We never said anything about the label” Mingyu got up from the couch and decided to help you out, chopping the carrots you had saved for later.

“What part of ‘We are not exclusive’ equals having a label?” you asked, too concentrated on measuring the right amount of sauce to see the look he gave you.

“But we act as exclusive”

What was wrong with him today? He had never dared to question whatever thing you got going on after the ‘main event’, so him throwing so many daggers at you regarding your situationship was weird enough to trigger you.

“What’s on your mind? It’s been almost a year of our little fuck-buddies thing and you never asked such dramatic questions”

He sighed and stopped working on the carrots, pressing his left hip to the kitchen counter and leaning on it. After some minutes of silence, he crossed his arms on his chest. “I don’t know. I guess the not-exclusive part but quite literally being exclusive has been on my mind lately. What makes us different from a couple?”

As you finished seasoning the beef, you cleaned your hands and faced him, not sure if you were getting his troubles. “Are you worried that because we are not fucking other people we are becoming ‘a couple’?”

“Don’t you think so? I mean…” he scratched the back of his head, avoiding your eyes as the thought of you being a couple started to become a reality in his mind. “We act like boyfriend and girlfriend when we are around, we have amazing sex, we-w-we,” he stuttered “We adore each other”

“What I don’t get is,” you came closer to his broad form, looking up to his eyes “Why are you so worried about that?”

“Because I-I” his stutters were not so common on him, and that made you arch an eyebrow. He was not being his usual self “I don’t want us to be a couple” He sentenced.

Bold of you to assume that he was falling in love with you.

Nodding with a lump forming in your throat, you took a step back and dealt with your disappointment as well as you could “What do you suggest, then?”

“Go out with other people. Reject me from time to time, tell me you’ve got plans even when you don’t. Share your bed with another man. Just… don’t let me be the only one around you.”

“Then leave. I’ve got other plans”

. . . . . . . . . .

You hadn’t seen him ever since he left your dorm that eerie evening — over a week ago. He had shot you some texts, but the realization that you were actually feeling things for him beyond what he was willing to offer put a restraint on your replies. They were shorter, emojiless, and a bit bitter.

Mingyu had wanted to see you two times, Thursday first and Saturday last. I’ve got plans, your default reply to both, and probably to all the invitations that were to come from him. He was getting what he had asked for: no more couple behavior.

As you finished massaging your night cream with the ‘miraculous’ gua sha onto your jawline, your phone buzzed. An unknown number had sent you a text.

Hi, Y/N

I know this is weird, but I heard you recently moved

And I think we’re neighbors

What an idiot, this is Jeon Wonwoo

The heat that you felt creeping on your cheeks was not normal, but you were used to it. Jeon Wonwoo had been the crush of your teenage (and not so teenage) years, all the way through high school and even your part-time job at Mrs. Lim’s café right before starting college.

The seventeen-year-old version of you would be giggling and running around your dorm at just the thought of him and his cute-ass rounded glasses.

Oh my, hi Wonwoo!

That’s awesome! I moved here a month or so ago, but I never saw you around

I’m at 12A

Wbu?

As you saved his contact, you thought about how bad in love you had been with him in the past.

He was the type of guy you had fantasized about for many years, even after meeting Mingyu. Wonwoo was serious at work and even in high school — his responsibilities had always come before anything else and you loved that about him. You just knew he was going to be a successful man in whatever he decided to do in life. And he got all the girls ogling at him, no matter where he went.

That had been about eight years or so ago. You couldn’t wait to see how handsome he had gotten with time.

No way

I’m at 16B

You home now?

I’d love to catch up

Just finished preparing some bibimbap

Oh. Dear. Lord.

You entered your closet as fast as you could and discarded the pajama set you had on with the ease that not even Mingyu could master. Your eyes fell on a casual summer dress that was your go-to whenever you needed an easy but cute way out and quickly threw it on.

Before throwing your night skincare routine to the trash with some light makeup, you replied to Wonwoo’s texts.

Sounds yummy!

Be there in 5

After combing through your (thankfully recently) washed hair, you sprayed your favorite perfume on and took a deep breath.

“Okay, little Y/N, here we go”

Nothing could have prepared you for what was waiting for you behind the 16B door.

Jeon Wonwoo was as painfully handsome as he had been as an adolescent. Years had perfectly sat with him and that made your gut relive that tingling sensation you hadn’t felt for a long time. His glasses were still there — a more modern version of his older ones, but they screamed Wonwoo.

“Oh wow,” he smiled, eagerly blinking, as if he had a blurry vision “I-I didn’t expect you to be quite literally the same as in high school” he smiled, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Should I feel offended by that?” you giggled, looking down at your feet to avoid displaying the same dorky smile you did when around him.

“Of course not! You were always a sight to see. I-I mean, you look beautiful, Y/N. It’s so nice to see you again”

You couldn’t help but think about how many times you had wished for him to look at you like that. To tell you those sweet things and leave you a blushing mess. After what had happened with Mingyu, having your longest-to-date crush in front of you seemed like you were already using all the luck you had available in life.

“Come in!” he interrupted your thoughts, moving aside so you could enter his place.

What came after that felt like a dream. Wonwoo was a dream.

His apartment was very similar to yours, and what didn’t surprise you at all was how well-kept it looked. Though it was all neatly white and gray, bits of his personality were spread around them. Some artwork hung behind the couch, in front of which stood a very big SmartTV. He had two shelves with a handful of PlayStation games and cutesy plants.

But what caught your attention the most was a small cat scratcher in the corner of the living room.

“You have a cat?!” You asked, eyes sparkling with anticipation as you turned to face him.

“Well… I’m about to have a cat” he chuckled, signaling you to walk to the kitchen with his head. As you followed suit, he continued “I’m waiting for my brother to bring it home tomorrow”

“Oh my God, it must be the cutest thing ever!” you cried, holding your cheeks with your hands as he showed you a picture of the small creature on his phone “It’s so tiny!” you whined, feeling excitement for what was about to come for Wonwoo “Please invite me over when it arrives” you pleaded, taking his arm to emphasize the importance your request.

“You will be here, don’t worry”

The security with which he delivered that statement sent shivers down your spine. That confidence was new to you — this Wonwoo was new to you, and you couldn’t wait to explore him.

His bibimbap was delicious, and conversation flowed effortlessly between the two of you.

Wonwoo had been working as a corporate lawyer for quite some time. Just as you had predicted, he handled big responsibilities like negotiating contracts, dealing with lawsuits, and advising companies on legal matters. He even mentored younger employees and, in his words, was respected but not necessarily liked.

“I don’t believe that” you shook your head, putting down the chopsticks after finishing the delight he had cooked.

“That’s me at work. I have a hard time with stupid-ass people”

“Now that I think about it… you did have a hard time with stupid-ass people at the café too”

“See? Not much has changed” He smiled at you, taking the empty plates and putting them into his small dishwasher. “So.. how’s life?”

That was a hard one. Of course, you were not about to rant about how Mingyu, a guy he had never met, had decided to end whatever you had just because he didn’t like commitment. Wonwoo didn’t need to know the hardships of your recently deceased situationship, so you opted to open a door you were now comfortable with opening.

“26, single, working from Monday to Friday, reading books, and watching reality shows from Saturday to Sunday. A great catch, huh?” the joke-not-so-joke was well-directed because it had the effect you had intended.

“If you take into account that I’m 28, also single and working from Monday to Friday, playing video games and maybe working out from Saturday to Sunday, I surely think you are an amazing catch”

But that left you speechless. Wonwoo had never been that direct, even when you had teased him about the long lines of girls drooling on him during high school.

“That job of yours did wonders for your flirting skills, let me tell you” you giggled, feeling the same old tingling sensation on your stomach.

When it finally hit you that the following day was Monday and the clock was close to 12 sharp, you regretfully made your way to the door. “It was so good to see you again Wonwoo. Thank you for the delicious food”

“I had a blast. Thank you for accepting the last-minute invite. So.. ’ll see you tomorrow?” his gentle smile and glistened eyes made you want to kiss him right then and there. But it felt too rushed, too desperate. And Mingyu was still on your mind, no matter how much you hated him lately.

“I get home from work at around 7. Sounds good?”

“Do you still like ramen?”

“Hands down my favorite dish of all time” you nodded eagerly, excitement creeping around you.

“You will taste the best one as of yet”

“Can’t wait”

. . . . . . . . . .

You loved your high-pressure job. As expected when working in finance, your team usually makes big decisions about the company’s mergers, stock trading, and investments. It demanded a lot of strategic thinking, and thankfully you were quite good at it. However, that also meant that you would end up exhausted, literally collapsing on your couch every single day.

But that Monday evening could not be the case.

As soon as you went out of the elevator, you could see his tall frame resting on the wall beside your apartment door, clearly waiting for you. You stood still for a second and considered going down the hall again before he could see you in an attempt to avoid the awkward conversation that was about to happen. But Mingyu was faster and turned around just when the elevator door closed.

“Are you moving anytime soon?” he crooked his eyebrow, waiting for you to get inside.

“What are you doing here?”

“Trying to make up with you”

You felt silent as you opened the door, Mingyu’s gaze burning into you, his body too close for your liking. You could smell his manly perfume and that hit in places you would rather not. He had the same effect on you as he always did, and you hated yourself for letting him in so easily.

“I have to leave soon, so make it short” you discarded your bag and waited for him to speak, hands on your hips.

Mingyu stood by the door, studying your every move. You could see his brain making mental gymnastics to understand your new demeanor with him because you had never treated him like that. So crude, so direct, so painfully detached. But that was what you wanted him to feel — he had made you want that.

“When I said that I didn’t want us to be a couple I didn’t mean to stop seeing each other. I suggested you start seeing other people and spending a little less time on our own. But you cut ties altogether” It hurt you to see him looking at you with glistened eyes, and even though he tried to hide it, you noticed how his lower lip trembling. That… you didn’t expect that “I love hanging out with you. I love what we had.”

“I don’t get you,” you shook your head when you finally wrapped your head around what he was saying “You were clear when you said that you wanted us to still fuck around but not all the time. And I understood. So, when I finally comply with your wishes, you tell me you loved what we had?”

“I don’t see what you don’t get” he took a step forward, reaching out to brush your fingers with his “I was happy with how things were going, but I just… I needed to make sure we were following the rules”

The contradiction was so clear to you that your head was about to explode. “You were happy but because we were not following one stupid rule, which you considered to be more important than what we had, you had to ruin it”

Mingyu opened his mouth to respond, but you shook your head and prevented him from saying anything else “You clearly have some shit to reflect on, Gyu. I love you and I had a great time with you, but I just cannot keep on doing this if you are worried about what we are rather than how we feel. Have you stopped to think about why we never slept around with other people? Why we were so comfortable with one another, no matter if we had sex or not?” you pressed your hands to his cheeks, taking in how vulnerable he looked. His eyes were fixated on yours, standing still in his place, listening attentively “The rule was there because we decided to create it at a time when we didn’t know where this was heading. It felt natural because we were transforming a friendship into something else… we thought we were going to stop on a middle ground between friendship and a couple's relationship. But by now you and I know we were exclusive, we were around each other all the time — we just were private.”

“I-I…,” Mingyu mumbled slowly reaching to put his hands on yours, still holding his face “I never realised it” The weakness with which he delivered it made your heart twitch.

“I know. I think, deep down, we were aware of what we were — putting on the label was the scary part. But, Gyu…,” you smiled a little and decided it was best to end the conversation there “We don’t have to do this. You don’t want commitment, and that’s fine”

“I don’t know what I want” he closed his eyes, slowly taking a breath.

“Go home and take your time.”

It felt like a farewell. You were sure he was not ready to commit with you, or any other woman. You loved him, yes, and you were willing to wait for him to decide, no matter how disadvantageous the situation was for you. But you also knew there was someone else waiting for you in 16B.

So you kissed Mingyu, taking his lips with soft care, sighing when he took you by the waist and pressed you against his hard chest. He hugged your lips with his in a desperate attempt to get all he could from this last one, and hopefully remember how you felt for the nights that he was about to spend all alone, wishing to have you by his side.

“Go” you whispered against his lips, taking him by the arms and pushing him away.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N”

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

part 1 | you decide... mingyu (2) or wonwoo (3) soon!

please like and reblog!

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yeoningz · 15 hours ago

Text

FOR LOVERS｡ ࿔✶⋆.˚ 강태현

⧼ 🎐 ⧽ 一 pairing｡ ⸝⸝⸝ kang taehyun ✗ fem!reader genre ｡｡｡ est. relationship, smut, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

you've never had to call out your safeword before, but during a rough punishment taehyun takes it too far. luckily, he's right there to pick up the pieces when you fall apart.

warnings｡ ⸝⸝⸝ minors do not interact .ᐟ rough sex, explicit language, bdsm elements, established relationship, safeword use, traffic light system, aftercare, dom!taehyun, sub!reader, pussy slapping, vaginal fingering, degredation + dirty talk, lots of pet names (and one use of "whore" and "slut"), cuddles and kisses, sharing a bath word count｡ 1 . 8 k | ⧼ 💿⋆˚࿔ ⧽ 一 to library｡

[notes｡] this is a rewrite + repost of an old fic from last year on my old blog! i care very deeply about this cute sweet lil fic and i hope you all enjoy it for taehyun's birthday <3 caught between the pages will be finished and posted by this weekend, so look out for that! reblogs and feedback are deeply appreciated!

TAEHYUN WAS THE sweetest lover you've ever had. He just had a knack for making you feel wanted, cherished even in the simplest of moments. It was in the way that he memorized every minute detail about you; exactly how sweet you liked your coffee in the mornings, the perfect song to play when he tries his hardest to get you to dance. What flavor of ice cream was your favorite to your deepest hopes, desires and dreams, and every little thing in between. The way he would leave you notes between the pages of your books, or listen intently to your silly pointless stories, his big dark eyes like portals into his soul as he looks into yours and never looks away. He treated you as if you had hung the moon and the stars, just for him to enjoy as the two of you spend a nighttime picnic gazing up to the sky. Every day he reminds you time and time again that his heart is wholly yours.

He was a much different man in bed. Rough, controlling, mean when he's pounding away inside of you, his strong hands pinning you down and throwing you around as if you weighed nothing. He dominates you completely, body and mind, his nasty words and painful pleasure turning your brain to mush. And God, you love it— love how small and powerless he made you feel, fucked brainless, drowning out all of your worries until all you could think about was him and his cock.

Usually, when you've had a particularly hard day, Taehyun's dominance is just what you need. His big cock and his filthy mouth taking out all of your stress and leaving you sleepy and satisfied. When you had came home home from work and dropped to your knees at his feet, admitting to him that you had touched yourself on your lunch break in hopes that he would punish you accordingly, you were sure that this time was just like any other.

But something just felt wrong.

You've never had to call out your safeword before, never had it even crossed your mind in the countless times you and Taehyun had sex, but the syllables teeter on the tip of your tongue, threatens to fall from your quivering lips with every thrust of his fingers inside your sore, abused cunt.

Sparks of discomfort crept up on the onslaught of pleasure, your pussy overstimulated past it's limit— three times had he made you cum on his thick, deft fingers, and he seems to have no intention of stopping any time soon. You had told him you could take it, but now... you weren't so sure.

"Tyunnie," you hiccup, squirming underneath his broad frame as he pins you to the bed, the wirey muscles of his arms and pecs flexing from the exertion of pumping his fingers in and out inside of you. "Slow down!"

Taehyun tuts, swiftly pulling his fingers out of your wet hole, and for a swift second you breathe out a sigh of relief— but his hand quickly returns with a hard, stinging slap to your puffy pussy lips, right over your throbbing clit. You shriek from the surprise and the pain, writhing against the bedsheets and pulling hard at the ropes that tied your hands up above your head. your wrists stung from the friction, the pain clashing with the ache in your body in a way that made your head pound.

“I said don’t speak unless spoken to, whore. Stupid slut can’t even follow simple directions." Taehyun growls with a smirk, hot breath caressing the shell of your ear "Take your punishment like the good girl I know you are. What’s your color?”

He's so attentive, still completely absorbed in the scene even while checking in on you. Deep in his dominant headspace, punishing you for breaking his rules, he still always put you and your pleasure first. It makes your heart swell in your chest, overcome with outporing love, and it grounds you enough that the feeling starts to ebb away. His calloused fingertips circle your swollen pearl with practiced precision, your body trapped beneath him with one of your shaking legs hiked up over his shoulder.

“G-green.” you whimper despite your growing qualms. You couldn’t bring yourself to even call out a 'yellow'; you’ve done plenty like this before, plenty worse than this, and never once did it make you feel this way, bother you this much. Surely you could take it. You were just being dramatic.

"That's my good girl." Taehyun purrs, his mask of anger slipping away for him to press a soft kiss to the back of your knee. He looks so gorgeous in the lamp light, honeyed abs shining, dripping sweat, that you didn’t have the focus to prepare yourself for another wet, messy slap to your pussy, this time even harder.

It was an act you usually enjoyed, begged for even, couldn’t get enough of; but something much different than pleasure was building inside of you. Something you had never felt before... at least, not with him. Instead of hot, untamed desire, there was overstimulation and discomfort… too much for you to bear.

You thought you would never have to say it, but one more vigorous pass over your clit has you shrieking out from underneath him, “Red!”

Immediately, Taehyun jerks back like he had been burned, dark wide in shock. “Oh god, baby, are you okay?” he gasps, his shaking hands rushing to untie your wrists from the headboard, “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, angel, where does it hurt—?”

You weren’t sure how you expected him to act, but you certainly didn’t expect him to act like this. All of the color had drained from his face, his eyes wide and panicked as he struggles to calm down his breathing. Taehyun was usually so stoic, so composed; you’ve never seen him this anxious before.

“I’m okay—“ you start, but never get the chance to finish; he gathers up your wrists in his hands and brings them to his face to inspect them for injuries, rope burn; your squirming and pulling had caused the cords to dig tight into your wrists and bite irritated pink marks into your skin. You didn't even notice they were aching until he freed them, too caught up in trying to swallow down your shock. His worried gaze is so intense it burns into your skin, sends your tummy erupting with butterflies. You can’t help but let out a weak watery giggle as he gently soothes over the marks with his thumbs. “Tyunnie, i’m okay, I promise. It wasn’t the ropes.”

“What was it then? What happened, honey?” he presses still, angelic voice soft and gentle, a high contrast to the wild look on his face. “What do you need?”

“It was just… too much.” you mutter meekly, averting your eyes, your face hot. It sounds so trivial when said aloud— you were beginning to worry that maybe you had overreacted. Taehyun wouldn't get mad at you for that... would he?

“Too much?” he echoes, cupping your cheek in his palm. “What was too much?”

“…Everything.” you admit after a moment of hesitation. “It was just all... I don’t know. it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” Taehyun retorts immediately, his brow furrowing. Any attempt you make to soothe his worry seems to do the opposite.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, everything just felt off—“

“Hey.” he snaps, cutting you off; he bends his head to look you deep in the eyes, cinnamon honey gaze so sharp and passionate that it takes your breath away. “Nothing is wrong with you, Y/N. It’s okay for it to be too much sometimes. Don’t you dare feel guilty about stopping me.”

“Well, I—“

“I mean it. Please, baby, I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

Your bottom lip wobbles a bit as you rack your frazzled brain for something to say. Luckily, Taehyun beats it to you. “What do you need, angel?” he repeats, his fingers carressing your chin.

“You.” you whimper, reaching out to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Hold me, please?”

You’re enveloped in Taehyun's thick arms in an instant, strong and warm as he cradles you against his chest, tucks your head underneath his chin so you can listen to his heartbeat. You’re completely enveloped by him, the comforting scent of his cologne, his chest rumbling when he starts to hum a soothing melody. Tears wet your eyelashes and you blink frantically to keep them from overflowing.

“Of course, baby, I love you so much, my strong girl. Do you want me to run you a bath? We can take it together if you’d like— I’ll wash you, take care of you. I’ll take care of you all night.”

And he does.

The warm soapy bath water washes away all of your worries, leaves your mind blissfully blank as Taehyun massages shampoo through your hair; with your back pressed against his broad chest, snug in between his legs in the tub, you've never felt safer, more at home.

His princess, protected from all of the evil in the world. Her face peppered with gentle kisses when she leans her head back against his shoulder and closes her eyes.

“Angel?” Taehyun asks quietly, breaking the comfortable silence. His soft plump lips ghost your temple, feather light against your warm wet skin. It’s difficult to focus on what he’s saying and not just the rough, husky timber of his usually light voice.

"Hm?"

"Why didn't you stop me sooner?"

You crack your eyes open. “…What do you mean?”

“why did you push yourself like that instead of telling me right when things stopped feeling good? We use the light system for this exact reason.” he goes quiet for a moment before timidly adding “... You trust me, right?”

“Of course I trust you, Tyun!” you rush to reassure him, the water in the tub sloshing over the rim when you turn to face him. Neither of you pay it any mind. “It wasn’t you, baby, I... I didn’t want to disappoint you. It was a punishment.”

To your dismay, taehyuns face crumples at your admission. He tucks a strand of wet soapy hair behind your ear. “Y/N… using your safeword would never disappoint me. I don't care if it was a punishment-- I want you to use it, honey. Anytime you need to. I want you to let me know how you’re feeling.”

“…I’m sorry.” you whisper, bowing your head— Taehyun was quick to lift it back up with his knuckle beneath your chin. Looking into his big beautiful eyes was like looking directly into the sun.

“Don’t be sorry. Don't ever be afraid to use your safewords ever again, okay?”

“Okay.” you echo, a small smile creeping it’s way onto your face. “I love you.”

Taehyun presses his lips to yours in the chastest, sweetest kiss of any he had given that night. “I love you more.”

𝒯O𝔐ORROW X 𝒯O𝒢E𝒯HER 𝒯A𝒢L𝒾S𝒯 ⪼

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pjmmania · 3 days ago

Text

If Snow Decides to Fall

7. “Something to celebrate.”

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has liked, commented, or reblogged this story. I truly didn't imagine it gaining this much traction. I hope all of you continue to read. Anyway, a LOT happening in this chapter, so I won't take any more of your time;)

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy, smut, explicit language, references to alcohol abuse, misogynistic language, explicit language, mental health struggles

Taglist: @marihoneywk @amarawayne @chimmy-licious

Back to Chapter Index

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Fuck.”

His grunt was muffled against the back of your neck. Unable to help it, his fingers dug painfully into your inner thigh, which he was holding up to give him a deeper entry. His seed burst into you as you both moaned.

This was you way of celebrating your first morning waking up next to each other, with you fully moved into the apartment. This was your home now, your bed.

“I love you.” you exhaled.

Spent, Jimin pulled out of you and kissed your temple, “I love you too, you little minx.”

His hand smoothed over your hip to find rest ok the side of your belly. At almost twenty weeks, you were definitely looking pregnant.

A faint smile drew across your face, “Hormones, or whatever.”

“Mm,” he kissed your neck again, “Glad I could satisfy. You’re so fucking hot like this, baby.”

You laughed and turned your head so you could kiss his lips slowly, the world slipping away for a moment. It could now only be you and him, locked faithfully together with your unborn child nestled comfortably within you.

True, there had been some bumps in the road with your argument, the Namjoon situation, and with your parents, but the two of you were breaking through all of that. Your relationship felt stronger and better than ever before.

When your lips parted, he sighed. You read his mind immediately, with the trip to LA looming over both of your heads. The flight would be early the next morning.

“Don’t go down this road again,” you whispered, “Doctor Yoon gave it the green light, and pregnant women fly every day. Plus, I won’t be alone. Chae will be with me.”

“I know,” he spackled his worries over with a grin, “It’s a very long flight, though. It’s going to feel so uncomfortable for you and I don’t want it to affect your sleep. Lack of sleep can raise your blood pressure.”

You giggled a little bit, adoring how much he cared for you . You sat up and scooted off the bed so you could head into the bathroom, “Countless things can raise my blood pressure, Jimin. Now why are you the one getting all worried, hm? You were the one who told me not to be concerned. Doctor Yoon approved this trip, and she would have said something if she was worried about my or the baby’s health.”

“You’re right, but do me a favor for my own sanity?”

“Hm?”

“Tell Chaeyoung about it,” he pleaded, “That way, she will be able to look out for you when I’m not there. It would make me feel a lot better with not being able to watch you like a hawk.”

You would be with her for most of the trip. For PR reasons and to avoid rumors, stylists were always flown separately from the boys.

You picked up his boxers off the corner of the bed and threw them at his face, “If that’s what will get you to relax, then fine.”

He chuckled as he balled up the underwear in his hands. As you disappeared into the master bathroom, he decided he wasn’t done toying with you. Smirking mischievously, he rolled out of bed and followed you.

You were brushing your sex-knotted hair in front of the mirror. The changes to your body were immaculate in his eyes. The fullness of your breasts and belly was so maternal. It created some kind of spiritual beauty that he’d never imagined. He adored how you had a little extra cushion on top of your hip bones and in your face. Your hair was silkier. Even your lips were a bit puffier.

And to top it all off, his cum was leaking down your legs.

As you brushed, he stood behind you, drinking in the sight through your reflection in the mirror. His hands cupped around the bottom of your bump, lips planting on your shoulder.

“You are the most stunning creature I’ve ever seen.”

You yawned deeply, putting your plastic hairbrush down. Your head fell back to rest on Jimin’s collarbone, eyes closed.

“And the most tired.” Jimin chuckled, kissing your jaw.

You grinned with a hum, letting him sway you gently, “Getting fucked at twenty weeks pregnant can be taxing.”

His low chuckle was another octave below normal, as it was the morning, “You asked for it sweetheart. Don’t think I don’t know what it means when you shift your ass against me like that.”

“You were asking for it,” you giggled, rubbing your belly along his hands, “Your morning wood and the way you held me tighter was quite the tell.”

The two of you stayed like this for a minute or so.

“At least it’s Sunday. You have all day to recuperate.”

You gently broke free of his hold and went to jump in the shower, “Not entirely. I haven’t packed a thing for this trip."

She was folding her boyfriend’s boxers and sorting them into a small pile on his bed. It was in her nature to offer assistance with things like this whenever he had a lot on his plate.

Namjoon finished whatever emails he had to send and made his way into the bedroom to contribute to the stuffing of his own suitcase. He paused in the doorframe and crossed his arms, letting his back rest against the post as a smile crept onto his face.

She was beautiful even performing the most mundane of tasks.

“Hana,” he sighed, “You really don’t need to be folding my underwear.”

Her round, dark eyes met his with humor, “I know. I guess I just wanted something to do.”

He could have sworn she became more endearing every day. With a laugh, he removed himself from the doorframe and went to crouch on the floor beside her, beginning to fold a pair of pants.

“Should be a fun trip.” Hana said.

Namjoon drew in a breath and spoke it out, “Yeah…should be.”

She pursed her lips, trying to appear amicable to his perspective, “You don’t need to pay her any mind, you know. You could decide to simply go away on business with your closest friends in the world and be content.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, his hands pausing all motion, “As a friend, that’s impossible.”

Hana rolled her eyes. As much as she adored the man beside her, she was beginning to wonder how correct his speculations were on this matter.

“Joonie, I love you, but this grudge of yours seems to be getting you nowhere. If you can’t be in close proximity to this woman, why on earth did you agree to that get-together with everyone?”

“That has nothing to do with her. I just miss being around the guys like that. I don’t intend on so much as speaking to her.” his tone reeked of bitterness.

She rubbed his shoulders, “What happened to the wise Namjoon? This is unlike you. I hate to say it, but I can see why this has grown a rift. I don’t believe you are being reasonable.”

Her tone was so gentle that it couldn’t possibly stir anger.

He continued to fold his clothes and pile them into his suitcase, “I can understand how it appears that way, I really can. But baby, you weren’t there when Seoyeon broke his heart. I have never seen a man so shattered. Jimin has always been a sensitive soul. And though he’s strong, I fear that another incident like that would break his spirit irreparably. He can’t handle that again. You weren’t…you weren’t there, Hana. He was drunk all the time, he stopped caring about anything, saying really…worrying things.”

He'd never mentioned it before - the episode. It was one of the worst moments of his entire life. Flashes of that dark morning ran through his mind, causing him to wince.

Her heart dipped, “I see. But, she pulled him out of it, right? She showed up and he’s been happy ever since.”

Namjoon bit the inside of his cheek, his tone dropping, “I see what you’re saying, and I even agree. I don’t deny that she makes him happy.”

“But…You’re trying to get him to give up on his happiness.”

“He was happy with Seoyeon too, Hana.”

She stood up, heading into his closet to grab some socks, “What evidence do you have, beyond mere speculation? I know you said she apparently she's told people that the father has wealth...but you don't know for sure that it's even true. Even if it is, are you sure that proves your theory?"

He groaned, "Why are you pressing so much? And yes, I believe it gives me a reason to be worried for Jimin."

"I don't think so." she muttered.

Namjoon huffed, turning his head to look at her, "Well I do."

"I think-"

"You're the world to me, baby, but I don't care to know what you think right now."

She ignored his warning, plopping some pairs of socks into his suitcase, "I think that at this point, you simply want to be right. You have dug your heels so deep that it's no longer about reason. You just want to win."

Now a heat began to rise between his ribs, "If 'winning' means that my younger brother doesn't go past the point of no return, then yeah, Hana. I want to fucking win."

The young woman softened. Her resolve to go to battle weakened once she realized there existed a story untold. Instead, she knelt beside him, looping her arms around his tense neck.

She kissed his cheek, “I’m sorry.”

He let out a breath and pulled her in for a quick hug, “I am too. And maybe I’m wrong. I just can’t risk feeling comfortable with her right now. I’m the only one in the group with his guard up. Until there is proof that her intentions are genuine, someone has to be vigilant.”

Hana grinned sympathetically, pushing some of her highlighted brown hair behind her ear,“You’re a really good friend, Joonie. But maybe the lack of any wrongdoings is the proof, you know? If she was really going for fame, she could have gone public a long time ago. You said they’ve moved in together, right? And still nothing?”

It gave him pause.

“Yeah, they have.”

She landed one final thought before the topic would be dropped, “Try to open your mind just a little bit, hm? If you want to be a good friend, then you also need to be prepared to be incorrect. Otherwise, you might miss out on something really amazing happening for Jimin. For all of you, really. One of you is going to be a father. If Y/N isn’t some gold digger, then this is good, right? Something to celebrate.”

Your knuckle was firm around the handle of your wheeled carry-on. You were waiting in line to show your passport so that you could then proceed into the security area for bag checks. Chaeyoung had texted you that she'd gotten out the door late and that her husband would be dropping her off in a short while. You didn't blame her - she had her twins to care for and say goodbye.

You were dressed in your most comfortable clothing possible, without overheating yourself on this humid first of September. The top you had on was Jimin's - an indistinguishable plain white t-shirt. He'd owned it for years and it came from a non-designer brand. It had a couple holes along its hem and a small tear on the right sleeve.

This new stage in your gestation had you growing out of your normal clothes, and almost none of your tops fit. For bottoms, you had a pair of black biker shorts. These were the only real maternity wear you had thus far, accommodating your swelling bump well enough to not make you feel suffocated.

Standing in line gave your mind time to wander. You thought about how you’d bid your boyfriend farewell at the apartment. You had to be at the airport earlier than he did. A small smile came to grace your features as you thought about his gentle touch, the way he held you and kissed you, making you feel secure as the most important person in his life. How he got on his knees to give the baby a kiss before you went out the door, his hair wet and slicked back after just getting out of the shower.

Any reminiscing was cut short by the sound of a young woman’s squeal. It was soon followed by a swarm of others, and a rush of quickened footsteps in one direction. As everyone else in the waiting line did, you lifted your head to see what the commotion was about.

You should have known.

Behind and enclosed by their security guards, the members entered the airport. They were closeby, but you could only faintly catch a glimpse of Jimin before a group of people gathered to block your view.

People were clambering to see them, buzzing past you like a flock of birds. One young woman, blinded by the frenzy, ran into the back of your shoulder, barreling you forward.

Unable to catch yourself on your suitcase, you fell to the white terrazzo floor with a thud that no one could hear above the screaming. Thankfully, your body’s protective motions kicked in and you landed on your palms first, giving yourself a split second to reinforce yourself on your knees, guarding your belly from impacting.

The woman who was standing behind you was quick to come to your aid. She had long espresso hair and bangs, dark eyes filled with concern, “Oh gosh, are you alright?”

She put her hand on your back and the other held your forearm as she helped you to your feet.

“Yes, I’m okay,” you said with a raised voice so she could hear you, “Thank you so much.”

You hadn’t noticed you were doing it, but your hands were on your bump, making it more apparent. It was as if you were trying to soothe your mind, or your child, or both.

The woman glanced down, “Oh, I didn’t even realize. Are you out sure you’re alright? I can call for the medical staff to check you out.”

You offered a nervous smile and waved your hand, “No, no I’m okay. I appreciate it, though.”

The woman’s eyes were in your torso for a moment. Then she sighed, placing her hand on her own abdomen, which was rounded unmistakably. She looked further along than you were.

“No worries. We have to look out for each other, don’t we? BTS shows up and suddenly no one cares about running over a pregnant woman.”

You laughed lightly, “Yeah, apparently so.”

The line began to move a little, and you both shuffled forward where you could.

“So how far along are you?” she asked, her tone oozing with a honey sweetness.

“Twenty weeks.”

“Halfway,” she chuckled, “I’m Twenty-eight.”

Your brows raised as you gladly engaged her, “Wow. You look great, by the way.”

She beamed, “Thank you. Believe me I don’t always feel that way, but I’ve been assured that it will be worth it.”

It was a pleasure to be able to relate to someone like this, “Same. Is this your first?”

The woman nodded.

“Me too,” you sighed, moving up in the line once more, “Anyway, where are you traveling?”

“Los Angeles,” she said, “My husband is wrapping up on some business there. We’re going to treat this as something of a babymoon.”

You giggled, “I am too! Not for a romantic getaway, though. For work.”

“Oh, how funny,” she laughed, “Let’s grab a decaf together then, as we wait to board. Takeoff isn’t for another hour or so.”

You were the next person in line now, waiting to be called forward by one of the security officers to show your identification.

“I’d love that,” you smiled, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

She nodded her head, “Seoyeon.”

It took all willpower to not appear shocked and slightly horrified.

Your mind made every attempt to rationalize so you wouldn’t freak out.

Perhaps this was a coincidence. There was certainly more than one woman with that name. She didn’t have to be that Seoyeon.

You feigned a smile, pointlessly hoping that somehow Jimin or Chaeyoung would come and whisk you away from her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Seoyeon.”

“Next, please.”

The security officer’s voice rang out, calling you up.

You turned away from her and all traces of contentment disappeared. You went slightly pale as you approached the desk, taking out your passport to show.

The officer examined your identification and instructed you to look into the face scanner. Once you were clear, you took off into the next zone. Your mind was spinning as you took off your shoes and put them and your bag into bins. So much that you didn’t hear the airport personnel calling you up when it was your turn to step into the body scanner.

When you were through security, you sat on a small bench and jammed your shoes back on, which was tricky with your feet being as swollen as they were. Seoyeon was right behind you.

She sat on the bench next to you to put her own shoes back on, smiling, “At least after all the waiting, they take you through quick.”

You mustered up a chuckle, “Yeah.”

The pair of you got up at the same time, a couple of pregnant women feeling uncomfortable for varying reasons.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing her bag, “There’s a coffee shop this way.”

Reluctantly, you wheeled your carry-on after her. A part of you wanted to decline, and another was curious to know if this was really her. Was this really the woman who’d broken Jimin’s heart? The one he’d been in love with for longer than he’d known you?

Chaeyoung had mentioned that she ended up marrying a wealthy man, and this woman was dressed in fine clothing. Her suitcase was designer, but that didn’t confirm anything.

You just wanted to know.

You ended up sitting down at the coffee shop with her, ordering yourself a decaf iced latte. Sitting across from her, you got a much clearer view of her face. She was gorgeous. Aside from nearly perfect hair and a flawless complexion, her lips were a pretty bow shape, stained with a nude rose color. Her eyes casted a twinkle. She even smelled lovely, like jasmine.

“So,” she sighed happily, removing the paper wrapping from her straw while glancing at your shirt again, “You said you’re going to LA on a work trip. What do you do?”

You had no idea how to answer. If she was the Seoyeon and you told the truth about your job, then maybe your answer would trigger a response in her to give you confirmation. Then again, would you want to share that information? You were meant to be discreet, and certainly in your situation, you were in no place to be risky.

You used taking a sip of your coffee as a means of buying yourself time to think of a response.

“I’m in fashion,” you said after swallowing, “There’s a shoot I’m working on.”

She seemed intrigued, “Wow, that sounds amazing. I once envisioned myself going into a creative field like that. But I’ve been around the industry a bit and I found it…challenging.”

Though still lacking one hundred percent certainty, that comment didn’t help her case. You came closer to believing it was her.

You took another sip of your cold, bitter drink, “Did you? How come?”

“Ah, it’s not important,” she waved it away with a laugh, regaining a sense of nonchalance, “Just isn’t my scene. I mean you saw with BTS coming through here. It’s pandemonium, chaos.”

You raised your brows, “Yeah. Anyway, what do you do?”

She hummed as she sipped on her drink, “I work at my husband’s firm, but I will likely stay at home after the little one gets here.”

Her husband’s firm. You recalled Chaeyoung saying she’d married a CEO. One step closer.

The more it sank in that this was likely the woman, the further the pit in your stomach dug.

“That’s nice,” you nodded, “I’m doing the same.”

“My,” Seoyeon’s eyes were on your collarbone, “We seem to have a lot in common, don’t we?”

You smirked, masking your rising repugnance, “We do.”

At last, your saving grace arrived, though it was awkward as could be. Chaeyoung appeared and spotted you. Her beaming smile faded slightly when she saw who was with you. Despite your own discomfort, you had to play it off as if you had no idea who you were talking to. Your coworker never told you the name of Jimin’s ex. If you gave any indication that you had connected the dots, it could raise suspicion in your friend. You should have had no way of knowing.

“Hey!” she approached you both, “So sorry I’m late. Have you been waiting for me long?”

“No, not at all.” you said.

The woman sitting across from you seemed to recognize her.

Her face was pleasant as could be and she looked at Seoyeon, and then back at you, “Do you two know each other?”

"We just met," you said while glancing across the table, "This is-"

"Seoyeon," Chaeyoung nodded, bowing to her politely, "I remember perfectly. Um, I don't know if you remember me..."

She nodded, "Ah, yes. I do recall your face. You're a stylist, correct?"

Your colleague affirmed, "I'm Chaeyoung."

Then she seemed to put the pieces together, looking at you while sipping her coffee again. When her lips parted from the straw, she grinned at you with a dimmed enthusiasm, "Oh, so you're a stylist too. The same company?"

You both nodded in reply, and her eyes grew a hint of skepticism. She knew you were with BTS, and that you knew her ex. But she didn't know the half of it, and that gave you the upper hand.

"I see," Seoyeon trailed off, unlocking her phone, "Oh! I didn't realize the time. I forgot to mention that my husband is expecting a call from me."

Then she rose from her chair and grabbed her bags, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. And to see you again, Chaeyoung. Please excuse me."

"Of course. It was nice to meet you as well. I hope you have a great babymoon." you bid her farewell.

With her coffee in hand, she left the cafe area and started in the direction of the gate. Then Chaeyoung sat down in her place, her expression changing to one of flabbergastment.

She put both of her palms down on the table, "Okay, first of all, I'm sorry I'm late. The twins were cranky and I had trouble getting out the door."

You smirked, "It's fine."

"Second of all," she wasted no time in lowering her volume, "That woman is Jimin's ex. The one I told you about."

You pretended to be surprised, though you knew it in your gut already, "Oh, shit. But I thought you said she was a total...well, bitch. Honestly, she was very kind. We started getting acquainted after she helped me up. She seems nice."

"Wait, you fell?" Chaeyoung's eyes were full of concern, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. It happened when the guys showed up, actually. There was a bit of a scuffle and I got shoved," you shrugged, "Anyway, that's not the point. Funny enough, she's going to LA too."

Your friend looked disturbed, "Right...We may have to give the company a heads-up."

You almost choked on your cold beverage, "What? W-Why?"

"Just out of precaution. Y/N, this person came close to blowing the lid on their relationship and causing a giant press nightmare for the boys. I'll never forget how torn up Jimin was..."

You looked down, "I understand that. But why would she pose a threat now? She's married, she's having a baby of her own. I feel like she's moved on by now. Plus, she was clearly intimidated by us. You saw how she got up and walked away. We made her uncomfortable, maybe even ashamed. I know she probably brings back bad memories, but it's in the past."

You were conscious of the fact that you were partly trying to convince yourself, but you also felt that it was logical. Seoyeon wasn't who she was back then. She was a married, pregnant woman who seemed to have no time to get involved in drama again.

Chaeyoung sighed, "Well I guess for my own moral clarity, I'd still like to notify someone. They'd rather have all the facts, you know?"

There was a pit in your stomach, "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

You finished your coffee before you realized, sipping away nervously as you thought about how you would break it to your boyfriend. If she told Management, they'd certainly give him a call.

To your right and across the wide hallway, there were the giant window panels with a view of the tarmac. A smaller jet roared as it glided down the pavement, lifting off the ground in a tilt.

"That's probably them," Chaeyoung said quietly, "The boys."

Lost in thought, you nodded, voice low, "There they go."

The flight was halfway over. His thumb and his index finger kept rubbing together subconsciously. He was unable to sleep, though weary.

He shifted in his roomy reclining seat. It could turn into a makeshift bed, if wanted. Many of the other members, or at least the ones he could see, had taken advantage of this luxury feature. Some light snoring could be heard - Namjoon’s, but he was sitting on the opposite end of the cabin. The two men still were hardly speaking, even when in close proximity.

Taehyung was nearby and awake, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. His face reflected the light of his screen, as the cabin was dark. It was nearing dusk, still plenty of light outside, but all the windows were shut to allow for better sleeping conditions.

Alert and bored out of his mind, Jimin checked his phone once again to see if you’d replied to his texts. He knew better, aware that you probably put your phone on airplane mode, but couldn’t resist. However, when he saw no reply from you, he sighed and decided to open the window next to him. Perhaps watching the skies could occupy his thoughts for a while.

Taehyung heard his sigh from across the aisle and looked over.

There was never mistaking Jimin’s inner feelings, especially with this second youngest member. Only a couple months apart in age, their bond had always been unique - rocky at times like siblings, but overall especially linked.

The younger cleared his throat and said quietly, “Talk to me, Jimin. What’s up?”

He looked over with a pained expression, not even bothering to conceal anything, “I’m sitting here, on a private jet. With so much space in my seat that you could fit two of me. I can recline and stretch my legs. I could even press this button here and the chair will vibrate on my back.”

He looked around to make sure that no flight attendant or outside individual was nearby. Luckily, their security guards and the attendant were sitting on the other end of the plane, out of earshot.

Jimin leaned closer and lowered his voice, “Meanwhile, my pregnant girlfriend is flying commercial, probably uncomfortable as hell. It just feels so wrong. I should have pushed for her to be onboard with us.”

Taehyung chuckled, “You know why you couldn’t have done that. Then, we’d have to have Chaeyoung as well, and there’s no room.”

“It’s not funny, Tae,” his brows furrowed shaking his head out of annoyance, “We found out at the ultrasound that her blood pressure is too high. If she doesn’t sleep or eat well or keep her stress down, it could be dangerous for both of them.”

His bandmate’s face softened, as did his tone, “Oh shit…I’m sorry, I didn’t know. But she was given the okay to travel anyway?”

Jimin sighed, “Yes. It was more of a warning, not an immediate risk. I know I’m kind of being irrational. If the doctor said it’s fine, then I should trust that. I’m just worried is all.”

Taehyung grinned a little and reached across the aisle to put his hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle shake, “Well I think that probably just comes with the territory of being an expectant father. It would be concerning if you weren’t worried.”

He nodded, “That may be true, but that does nothing to change my guilt about her comfort. If anyone should have a nice, cozy place to sit for this long journey, it should be her.”

“I agree with you, I do,” the younger said with more reservation, “But it just had to be this way, unfortunately. Y/N has proven she’s tough going through all of this. She’ll be fine and when you two get home you can spend all the time you want doting on her.”

The thought made Jimin chuckle as he leaned back to his original position in the seat, “Actually, she wants to spend time decorating when we get back. She brought all of her wall art and fake plants with her. Safe to say I think my apartment is about to undergo a feminine transformation.”

Taehyung laughed in return, “Nothing wrong with that. You barely decorated your place to begin with. It could use some wall art and fake plants and shit.”

“And throw pillows,” he laughed quietly as he thought of you carrying in that giant black trash bag full of them, “So many pillows…”

The other shrugged, “Eh, let her make it what she wants. Make the place more homey before the little bundle of joy gets here. You have a nursery to build too, my friend.”

His head his the back of the seat, “I know. So much to do. We haven’t even discussed names yet.”

“You still have months for that.” Taehyung said.

There was a silence that fell between them, both daydreaming for a moment. Jimin pictured what was currently a guest bedroom transformed into a nursery, perhaps painted a different color. Toys littering the floor. A crib along the wall with a mobile hanging overhead. A small, precious new person tucked safely in its confines. He couldn’t stop envisioning a baby girl in a pink onesie.

“You’re so ooey-gooey,” Taehyung chuckled, “Looks good on you.”

He shrugged, but he couldn’t contain his smile, “It’s been a lot, but thank you.”

*The next day*

Your alarm went off, and you were already awake from the hunger. You got in late the night before and found a small bite to eat, but you were still ravenous.

Hotel breakfast would begin in half an hour, giving you enough time to shower and refresh. After breakfast, you and Chaeyoung would head over to the site of the music video shoot and get to work.

Stepping out of the shower, your phone was vibrating on the sink counter. It was Jimin. You felt guilty when you saw his name appear, having missed a call from him last night. You were just too tired.

You picked up, “Morning.”

His soft, hoarse morning voice brought you comfort, as always, “Hey. You alright sweetheart?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Just exhausted.”

“I am too,” he said, “How was yesterday?”

“Fine," was your answer out of habit, but then you remembered the news you had to share with him about the person you met, "Actually, um, there was a slight hiccup of sorts. I, uh...I got pushed."

You chickened out, squeezing your eyes shut and putting a hand to your forehead as soon as the regret hit you. He had to know - the company would inevitably reach out to him once Chaeyoung explained it. Though you knew it was best to be the one to tell him, it was unbearably awkward, and you didn't want to add more stress to the pile. It would mean opening a whole new can of worms.

What Jimin heard was more than enough to send him into a tizzy, "What? Was it deliberate? Were you hurt?!"

"N-No," you stammered, "It happened while you guys were entering the airport. That rush of people. Someone blew right by me and knocked me over. But I'm alright. I landed on my hands and knees.”

You heard him let out a long breath, “Oh, good. Y/N, please don’t scare me like that. You know I already feel bad about not being with you.”

A pang of guilt jolted in your chest for avoiding the truth, “Sorry, I know. Um…I guess what I’m trying to tell you is something else. After I fell, a woman helped me up. She-”

You heard the sound of a door in the background, followed by a muffled voice.

Jimin muttered something before getting back to you, “Shit, baby I’m going to have to let you go. We need to head down for the overview while they are prepping the set. Um, we’ll find a minute to talk there, okay?”

“Oh,” you stiffened, “Yeah, sure. I’ll see you there soon.”

“Great, eat a good breakfast, hm? I love you.”

You pulled a subtle smile, “I will. Love you too.”

Once you hung up, there was no reason to do anything other than get ready for your day. You took care of your hair and makeup, and put on whatever clothes that would fit you and permit you to look the least bit presentable. Then, you grabbed your purse and went down to meet Chaeyoung for breakfast.

The morning was pleasant with her. She made little to no mention of Seoyeon - just talked about the shoot and the baby. It had been a while since she checked in with you.

She forked a bite of scrambled eggs, “So, how is everything? You just had your ultrasound, right? All good?”

You smiled as you chewed, “Yep, all good. And no, we didn’t find out the gender.”

She laughed, “That was going to be my next question. I’m intrigued that you used ‘we’ instead of ‘I’, though. Care to explain?”

Her smile was for lighthearted gossip, so it didn’t bother you that much. You’d gotten used to lying to her face.

“Yes, the father was there,” you sighed, sitting back in your chair, “He missed the first one and really appreciated being there for this one.”

“And did you appreciate him being there?”

You grinned, “Yes, as a matter of fact I did. We get along…And I think he will make the most incredible father.”

Chaeyoung subtly pointed her index finger at you, “I’m detecting a blush on your cheeks. You’re really into this guy, huh? Do I get to know his name now?”

You giggled to hide your dismay, “Once again it’s a no. I told you, he’s private. Maybe I like him too much to disregard his wishes.”

She teased, “Oooo, alright I can get behind that. I’m sort of jealous of you, actually. Having a baby, enjoying a fun little love affair. And on top of that, you’re traveling across the world. You’re killing it.”

You nodded and smiled, but your spackle job crumbled. Bit by bit, your pleasant expression faded, and then soured. Your heart was racing. Your gut was churning. Tears pricked your eyes and you gulped, all while maintaining a nodding motion of your head.

It was all railing you over at once.

Your secret relationship with one of the most famous men in the world. Your unexpected motherhood. The friend of your partner who hated you. Your probable job loss. Your parents who weren’t speaking to you. The ex girlfriend who had re-appeared like some cruel joke from the universe.

It hardly came out as a whisper, “Y-Yeah.”

Chaeyoung’s lightness dropped immediately. She leaned in, concern plaguing her features, “Hey…Hey, what is it? Did I say something?”

A tear rolled down your cheek as you shook your head, reaching for your napkin so you could dry your eyes, “No. I’m sorry, I’m okay. I just…It’s been difficult at times. And on top of all of it, the OBGYN gave me a warning about my blood pressure. It’s been elevated and I feel like it’s just been one more thing to worry about.”

Her hand found yours, “I get it. I’m sorry, I should have known. I should have remembered that feeling, when everyone is so happy and excited that you’re pregnant but you feel like complete shit on the inside.”

You forced a short-lived grin, “Yeah, it’s hard.”

If she only knew.

Chaeyoung patted the back of your hand a few times as she leaned to her side, apparently digging for something in the purse that lay by her feet, “I was going to save this for another time, but I guess now’s as good as ever.”

She pulled a small, thick book out of her purse and set it on the table, “For you.”

You picked it up, sniffling, “A baby naming book.”

The sweet woman smiled softly, “When I felt overwhelmed carrying the twins, a little escape would always help me. I found that going through all the names in this book was a comfort. I got to forget about all the hard stuff and focus on my babies. What their names might be. Who they might become. Only the good stuff. Maybe give it a shot?”

You wiped another tear and smiled, grateful to have a friend, “Chae…This is so kind. Thank you so much. This probably doesn’t come as a shock, but I haven’t started thinking about names yet.”

She shrugged happily, “Well you will now. It’s fun.”

You both finished your meal and ordered a ride to the Los Angeles Theatre, the set of the music video.

“Holy shit,” Hoseok smirked, bobbing his head as he checked himself out in one of the building’s ornate gold mirrors, “You guys did amazing with the looks. Wow.”

You and Chaeyoung laughed, watching all the guys look at each other’s clothes in delight. They were all dressed and made up, waiting on the director to give them the signal to begin filming.

Jungkook, who was in a corset, was particularly pleased, “Yes. Chef’s kiss, ladies. Thank you. They match the venue perfectly.”

Chaeyoung murmured in your ear, “I wish my waist was that fucking small.”

You covered your mouth as you giggled, “Mine certainly isn’t.”

Even Namjoon seemed content, joking here and there with Yoongi. Ironically, his was one of your favorite outfits of all. It was a black suit with a simple yet bold cargo detail on one side, a satin band to highlight his torso. Nothing highly elaborate, but cool. Complete with lug-sole boots, it was the perfect mix of debonair and rugged.

While the others goofed around in the spare time, Jimin approached both of you stylists. It was the first glimpse of him up-close since you said goodbye at your apartment the day before. He looked beyond words, hair dyed a bluish black for this concept. It was the first time in a while you’d seen him with anything other than his natural hair, but he pulled almost anything off.

He bowed slightly as he greeted you, wishing he could bring you into his arms instead, “Thank you both. How was your flight?”

Chaeyoung crossed her arms, “Ah, you know. Awful.”

You elbowed her gently and reassured Jimin, “It really wasn’t that bad.”

Your colleague rubbed your back, endeared by your fib, “Says the one who is five months pregnant. It’s alright to admit it sucked.”

You shrugged a little and looked at your boyfriend, “Alright it did kind of suck. I had to periodically get up and take walks up and down the aisle, just to stretch. I was able to sleep a bit, though. It was just a lot of sitting.”

You knew that would ease his concern a level.

“Speaking of sitting,” Chaeyoung said, craning her neck to either side in search of something, “Let’s find you a chair, shall we? Being on your feet for long periods will increase your blood pressure, girl.”

Before you could say a word, she was off to find something for you to sit in. Jimin looked quite pleased with this. He inched closer to you and grinned, “Thanks for telling her like I asked. She’s a good friend.”

You nodded, “She is. She also gave me a baby naming book.”

He chuckled, “Ah, so when we get home, we can talk about names while finding a way place for the million throw pillows you brought, hm?”

You laughed, narrowing your eyes in jest, “I would love that actually, thank you very much.”

A comfortable silence arose between you two. He just took you in, dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved black top that likely wouldn’t fit in a matter of weeks.

Maybe this was the time to tell him. You didn’t know when Chaeyoung aimed to get in touch with the company, but you doubted she’d wait very long.

You checked your surroundings quickly before muttering, “Jimin, I-”

Then a deeper voice called to him, “Hey.”

Both of you looked to find Namjoon, the members filtering away to the filming area behind him. His hands were in his pockets, eyes switching between you and Jimin for a second. Even a brief stare from him was intimidating. Then he cocked head towards the set, “We’re starting.”

Jimin’s eyes went cold, but not bitter. He nodded without a word before turning to you once more, “Sorry, really quickly, what were you going to say? Is it what you wanted to tell me earlier?”

You froze for moment, locked in a dilemma. You hated to let it slip by again, but you had to. It could wait until the end of the shoot.

“Uh, nothing,” you grinned, “Later.”

He agreed reluctantly, “Alright. Go sit down, please.”

Then he went off to join the guys. The shoot commenced right on schedule. For a while, you and Chaeyoung sat in the background, watching them perform to a much more contemporary choreography than normal. The song was called “Black Swan”. It was beautiful and artistic - and Jimin was perfectly in his element. He sank into his craft wholeheartedly, fluid and precise with every movement, right down to his finger tips.

Watching him do what he was born to do made you warm inside. You were proud of him, while also relieved that he had his performances to escape the chaos. It was like his character disappeared, and he took on a new persona. He was freer.

In between takes, you and Chaeyoung would refresh their looks wherever you could. They would film certain parts of the choreography in different places. Each setting called for different looks, and it was your job to help them get settled quickly.

At one point, they were directed to take shoot both still shots and parts of the dance at this grand staircase. The wardrobe for this setting consisted of black suits with black, reflective rhinestones in varying places.

You divvied up the task of lint rolling all the jackets. You and Chaeyoung went through each member with haste, to a point where the only two left were Jungkook and Namjoon. She went in the direction of the youngest member before you could, leaving you to handle the one you wasn’t particularly fond of you.

Maintaining your dignity and a sense of security, you approached him as you would anyone else.

Jimin was subtly but dutifully observing from a distance.

You smiled at the tall man, who was blonde now, “Hey.”

He offered a congenial grin in return, “Hey.”

You felt so pathetic, rolling the sticky paper down his sleeves.

“How are you, uh, feeling?” Namjoon asked.

You didn’t know if he was trying to be genuine or if he simply didn’t want to deal with an awkward silence. Caught off guard by the remark, you took a moment to answer in a hush, “I’m alright. I appreciate you asking. How are you?”

“I’m doing okay,” he said, biting the inside of his cheek, “Look, I don’t know if this is the place, but I’m sure you know what’s been going on between me and him.”

You glanced at Jimin. He was leaning against the large and gorgeous post of the staircase, now with a fire in his eyes. His head was tilted slightly downward as he glared at the situation unfolding before him. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could see something was off-kilter. If Namjoon was about to try anything with you, he’d have hell to pay.

You started to lint roll the back of his jacket, “I have heard, yes. It’s…That’s not what I want for you guys.”

“Me too.” he lamented.

The real regret was palpable in his voice. It made you pity him, in a way. It reminded you that he wasn’t truly a good man, with a good heart.

Namjoon continued, “I realized I never gave you the chance to defend yourself. So I’m asking you now, Y/N…Do you, in any way, have bad intentions towards Jimin? Do you seek notoriety out of all of this, even the slightest bit?”

Your stomach was in a coil. In one respect, you were glad to have been given the chance to speak for yourself, but it was such an unexpected move on his part that you fumbled for an answer.

You took a deep breath and let the words out as confidently as you could, “I do not and have never thought so lowly of him that I would deceive him like that. My feelings have always been real. That is the truth.”

He was quiet as you went about your work. When you finished, he nodded to you and walked away to go join the guys.

You knew your boyfriend was still looking at you, searching for your eyes to know if you were okay. You avoided his gaze, feeling somewhat dirty. It was odd - you had told Namjoon the truth, but you felt shameful that someone really felt the need to ask you that.

You tore the used lint paper off the roll and crumpled it in your hand as you and Chaeyoung reunited off-set. You sat back down on your collapsible chairs behind all the crew, fading into the background once again.

As the leader of the group climbed the staircase to his position as directed, Jimin grabbed his wrist. It looked like a gentle hold to everyone who might have been able to see it, and he was mindful to keep a composed demeanor. His face was totally neutral.

He and Namjoon shared a look. You noticed and prayed he wouldn’t start anything.

From afar, you watching Jimin crane his neck the tiniest length to one side. His lips didn’t move. He just wanted the other to see his expression. He wanted him to know he’d seen that little interaction, and he wasn’t happy.

The tense moment was over in a couple of seconds, and they went back to performing for the camera.

Well into this portion of filming, Chaeyoung nudged your arm and whispered to you, “What were you and Jimin talking about?”

Your heart dropped, “Nothing. Just joking around. You know how he is.”

She sounded apprehensive, “You didn’t tell him about Seoyeon, did you?”

Timidly, you replied, “No.”

“Good,” she sighed, “I wouldn’t want him to know that I told you about her. Oh well, he will be getting a call from Management sometime today, most likely. I told them early this morning. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe. They know you had no way of knowing who she was.”

You nodded, “Right…Thanks for doing that. H-How do you think he’ll take it?”

She shrugged, pursing her lips as both of you watched the guys go about their routine, the song playing in the background, “Honestly, I don’t know. He’s been really great without her. But this is going to come out of nowhere and it might stress him out. It's just a little mess.”

You looked at your shoes, “Yeah.”

You and him kept sharing periodic eye contact throughout the rest of the shoot. It was like he was monitoring you, and you could only assume he’d demand to know what his bandmate had said to you during that little rendezvous.

Each time his eyes floated over to yours, your heart would ache. You held so much adoration for this man. The lengths he would go in order to care for you were more than you could have imagined for yourself. He didn’t just want you to be happy - he chased after it.

You put your hand on your belly, letting in the bond. A part of that wonderful man was growing inside you. His legacy and yours.

As your thumb stroked up and down, you felt a light tapping from within.

It was here, finally. The child in your womb was moving with enough force for you to feel it.

Tears welled up. After everything, this baby was growing strong. Your world had been turned upside down. You’d been under more duress than ever in your life, yet your child was healthy. You were both soldiering through it all.

You closed your eyes, relaxed in your chair, and smiled as the taps continued.

Chaeyoung caught this. While she was grinning, she was confused, “What’s got you so gleeful?”

You looked at her, “The baby’s moving.”

Your friend shared your excitement as you peered back to find Jimin. He was focused on his work. You couldn’t help but think your little one was trying to dance with him.

The boys were celebrating in Hoseok's hotel suite late at night. They always did this after completing a music video shoot, which was no small feat. Someone ordered a few bottles of champagne to toast, and more drinks were bound to flow afterward. However, one could cut the tension between two of the members with a knife. Now it could finally be brought up, and Jimin wouldn't miss that chance.

As soon as the leader plopped down on the sofa, Jimin sat next to him.

The air between them wasn't hostile - just strained. It wasn't enough to deter any of the other members from having fun with one another. They hardly noticed at all.

Jimin leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs, holding a champagne flute in the middle of his legs. He simply sighed. Namjoon situated his right ankle on his left knee and let his posture relax and recline.

The younger of the two chuckled ironically, "Do I really need to ask?"

Namjoon smirked, taking a sip from his glass, "Did I chew into your girlfriend? Of course not."

"She looked uncomfortable with you from where I was standing."

"Yeah, well you were standing pretty far away."

"Namjoon," Jimin's teeth were nearly at a grit, "What did you say?"

The older let out a breath and shifted forward, meeting his eyes and softening his tone, "Out of fairness, I asked her if her intentions were benevolent."

No longer could he maintain his cool, but he kept his voice low, "What?"

"Yeah, I flat out asked her. We were being cordial, and so I just thought I'd give her the chance to speak for herself."

Jimin's tone was dripping with revulsion, "Well how very generous of you, Joonie. How very gracious. You showed her so much respect by asking her if she's a fucking gold digger!"

The raised voice drew the attention of the others.

He went on, "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Don't you realize that by asking her that question, you were essentially calling her that?!"

"Jesus Christ, you guys," Yoongi groaned, "What now?"

The infuriated man gulped down the rest of his drink and set the glass firmly down on the table in front of them. Then he stood up and looked at Namjoon, gesturing to the group with his hands with flaring nostrils, "Tell them, huh? Tell them what you just told me."

The man on the couch put up his hands in self-defense before calmly stating, "Today at the shoot, I asked Y/N if she has good intentions."

Several eye rolls and sighs came about.

Jungkook was almost as frustrated as Jimin, "What the hell, hyung?"

"That's a bit much." Taehyung remarked.

"I was seriously trying to be fair, okay?" the head of the group objected, "I felt bad that this whole drama centered around her has been happening behind her back. I wasn't trying to fucking intimidate her. We were talking like adults and I honestly thought it would be the right thing to do."

"You thought it would be good to ask our friend's pregnant girlfriend if she's only in it for fame and money?" Hoseok scowled.

"I'll admit that it sounds so much worse when you put it like that, but yes."

Jimin threw his hands up in his exasperation, “It sounds bad because it is!”

Jungkook came to his aid, patting his back to try to get him to calm down, “Hey, just relax. The yelling doesn’t help anything.”

“No, I’m fucking sick of his foolish, insane agenda! It was bad enough when you were saying these things to me, but now you go and take it straight to Y/N?! She’s carrying my child! She doesn’t need you and your ridiculous false assumptions cast down from up there on your high horse!”

This time, Jin tried to soothe the enraged member, “Alright let’s just take a breather, okay?”

He put his hands on his shoulders, but Jimin broke out of it immediately, “Stop acting like you know everything, Namjoon! Just because you are the leader of this group on paper doesn’t mean you are the fucking alpha! You don’t know!”

Namjoon couldn’t take it anymore. He shot up, “I know you, Jimin! And I knew you at your very worst! At your lowest! You don’t remember?! The day Seoyeon ended things, who was at your side?!”

Yoongi tried to stop him, “Joon, you don’t-”

“Who, Jimin?! Who checked on you every day, only to find you drunk and saying you didn’t want to live anymore?! Who helped you wash the bloodstains from your shirt after you broke a fucking fifth of whisky and cut yourself trying to clean it up wasted?!”

Jimin was still fuming, but speechless. He was just a tight ball of nerves.

“I did! I fucking did! I don’t ever want to see you in that state again and I won’t apologize!”

“SHE IS NOT SEOYEON!”

Just then, his phone began to ring. With veins popping out of his neck and a face red, he stopped.

Everyone was frozen, shocked by the outburst. They’d never seen him scream at anyone like that.

The phone kept ringing.

Aggravated beyond words, Jimin rolled his eyes, “Where’s my goddamn phone?”

Yoongi found it resting on the dresser against the wall. He picked it up and looked at the screen, eyebrows furrowing, “Uh, it’s Management…”

The anger slowly drained from his demeanor. They rarely called out of the blue, but when they did, it was almost never good.

Jimin calmed his breathing and pushed a tuft of hair out of his face, taking the device out of Yoongi’s grasp.

Everyone remained quiet as he answered.

“Hello?”

“Jimin,” a familiar manager’s voice came through, “Apologies, I know it’s late over there.”

“It’s alright. What’s going on?”

There was a brief pause before the reply.

“Seoyeon is in LA. And I’m afraid she met and spoke to the styling team that traveled with the group.”

#jimin x reader #bts #angst #fanfic #jimin #park jimin #romance #bts fanfic #bts fic #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #fluff #bts smut #pregnant

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fairestwriting · 2 days ago

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title: next time you’re free

ೀ pairing: vil x gn!reader

ೀ summary: With the end of the school year approaching, you begin to reconsider whether you’ve truly been living up to your role as Ramshackle’s dorm leader, eventually deciding your future juniors deserved better than a broken down mess of a dorm— And while fitting the renovations into your already packed schedule wouldn’t be easy, you’re sure you could manage, you’d just have to try a little harder…

ೀ word count: 4,364

⋆˙⟡♡ commissioned by a really sweet person who wanted to stay anonymous! i’m still really honored to be the first person you buy from TvT thank you so much for the support!

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ if you’re interested in my commissions you can read my guidelines here ! ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Setting down the stack of notes in your hands, you lean back on the couch of the Ramshackle common room. That really took a lot more writing than I thought, you think, slight aches poking at your wrists and neck — The couch is old and kind of saggy, not providing much support to your body, but you welcome the feeling anyway. Besides, you think, we should be getting a better one very soon...

“Grim?” You tentatively raise your voice to call for him, looking towards the hallway his room was located in. “Are you still up?”

You wait one, two, three seconds. Then more, eventually losing count.

“I guess not…”

Murmuring to yourself, you let out a sigh. Well, it’s not like he would have helped much, but…

Your mind wanders as you glance to the side, at the big window on the wall showing the pitch black of the night, then at the ceiling. One of the lights flicker a little bit, struggling to fight against the sheer weight of the night, you notice. It blurs on the corners that are farther away from it. You hadn’t noticed that earlier today—

Frowning, you take your planner back from the coffee table.

You take that extra note, fitting it at the bottom of a page. When you close it, swallowing your growing unease, it snaps shut neatly, making a satisfying click noise. The royal purple cover stands out among the muted colors of your dorm.

You take the moment to just stare at it. So fancy, you think as your fingertip runs over the firm cover, feeling the texture of the metallic arabesque designs on the corners. It’s essentially just a notebook like any other, and yet...

Well, it couldn’t really be a notebook like any other. It was a gift, first of all.

It’s only been a few days since you started using it, receiving it directly from Vil after a meeting with all the dorm leaders — The meetings always left you feeling restless, like you should be doing more than you actually are. But this specific time, the determination you got was way stronger. Special, really...

You’re not even sure if you could consider him a friend, you never guessed he thought of you at all— You two did speak semi often, since you’d visit his club to help out every once in a while, but besides that, not much. So, to think he would be the one person to take interest when you brought up Ramshackle needing renovations…

It’s not like you had ever been a slacker in the first place, but you weren’t really keeping up with everyone else either. You helped out with many clubs, you were very involved as a student, but as the year came close to ending, you started to feel the weight of your role as a dorm leader, too.

Fixing the dorm was the bare minimum. Your possible future juniors deserved more than just that— And now you knew, too, that you weren’t the only one who believed this, either. You’ve heard it from Epel, you knew what catching Vil’s eye meant… more or less.

╰┈➤ you can read the rest on ao3 here!

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #lis writing #commissions tag

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happyk44 · 15 hours ago

Text

[ID: A bingo card titles "ASPD Bingo". Unlike typical bingo cards, this one does not have a free space in the center box.

The B column reads:

Acts interested but couldn't care less

Doing [X destructive behaviour] to deal with boredom

"It doesn't matter as long as I'm not caught"

"This could have major consequences" does it anyway

Something is wrong TM

The I column reads:

Suspicious of others

"People actually care about [X moral standpoint]???"

Getting surprised or irritated when people are "too emotional"

Planning ways to get away with something

All hell breaks loose if feeling weak or controlled

The N column reads:

Acutely aware you should Feel Something but aren't

Feels like everyone else somehow functions with something you don't

"I got what I wanted and I'm still not satisfied"

Sorry my "attempts at empathy" limit has ran out

Impulse

The G column reads:

"I lost interest already"

Would rather stick to your thing even if kills you

I missed another social cue

Angerrrrr

Relationships and obligations can be tiring

The O column reads:

Everything feels so hard

"This is so fucking stupid"

Combative

Feel controlled and trapped by everything that makes society function

Forgets other people don't function transactional

/end ID]

I have yet to see an aspd specific bingo

So I made one

Not all of these will be applicable to everyone.

#pics #reblogged #described images #antisocial personality disorder #personality disorders

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alexthebordercollie · 23 hours ago

Note

Going to bounce off of what you talked about with your thoughts regarding Stan's relationships and just say I totally know what you mean about shipping two characters together because it's funny!

Heck I ship Lazy Susan with both Stan and Ford because I just think the idea of her being with either of them to be extremely funny and cute lmaoo.

So sorry for the late reply (not been posting much for a while been sick and busy) but I actually have been playing around with Emma-Stan as a possible PapaFord ship ^3^

My Emma-may is mixed race and from a Ciphertologist family. She was too little when Billville was disbanded to remember it, but her family still practices behind closed doors. It was an incredibly toxic environment with very mentally unwell caretakers, and rumors that the Dixons were devil worshipers made her a social pariah. She befriended Fidds, who was the dweeby awkward baby of a family of five sons. Emma was his cool, scary friend who drove away the bullies and the two weirdos stuck together in a small town where neither of them were very popular.

She was Fiddleford's best friend, and as they got older, everyone just expected them to end up together. When Fiddleford went off to college, he promised to come back and marry her after getting his degree, which he did indeed do. Emma didn't know any other way at the time to get away from her family but to leave with Fidds. Their marriage grew increasingly rocky over the years due to Fidds being a closeted gay man (unbeknownst to Emma) and Emma being increasingly bored and frustrated by life as a housewife and mother. Emma-May is naturally hot-headed and brash and always has been. She's a loud strong strong-willed woman who doesn't fit well into other people's boxes. She's actually very clever in her own right and learned programming from Fiddleford. She got into making video games as a hobby. She simply never had access to the kind of educational opportunities Fiddleford got. I was going to make this a comic but I was having a hard time drawing this one for whatever reason so I decided to write a short fic instead I hope it still satisfies even though there are fewer pictures. -3-

That's your Ex-Wife?

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

"Thanks for comin' to help out."

Stan picked up the twang from around the corner. Heading out the kitchen side door and back to the truck. Ford's neurotic string bean of a boyfriend had speed walked ahead of them on the way over a caught Emma-May before they did. She'd gone off to run an errand with their boy and Fidds had let the Pines brothers in to start bringing in boxes without her. It sounded like she was back. Certainly sounded like Stan expected Fiddleford's wife to sound.

"Oh no it's nothin' it's the least we could do." Fidds insisted as he pulled another box from the back of the truck.

Stan watched as the box jerked Fidds arms down. He struggled for a second to catch it and tried to support the weight with his back. Flashing a pained smile around the truck.

"Yo Fidds, ya need help with that?" Stan offered as he approached.

He registered the woman's voice before he saw her face.

"Oh look, if it ain't the home wrecker," she snarked in that southern drawl.

Stan stopped shy of taking the box from Fiddleford and looked past him.

Holy shit, that was Emma-May?

Stanley didn't know much about Fiddleford's ex-wife. He'd seen the two argue on the phone a few times. Caught her voice in passing once or twice. Their son Tate had come to stay with them a few times while his folks were working out the divorce.

Stan knew Emma-May was hot headed woman but nothing could have prepared him for just how hot she was.

A light-skinned black lady greeted him curtly with her hands on her hips. Caramel skin and a mess of chocolate freckles. Dame looked like dessert. She had on a low-neckline paisley blouse with free titties underneath like the best kind of feminist hippie. Not that Stan was a fan of either of those things but he could certainly be convinced of both if it meant he got a peak of nips through the thin orange fabric. Fuck man… He'd been expecting a traditional southern housewife but those daisy dukes were giving anything but.

Stan coughed and cleared his throat as he registered what she called him. Homewrecker.

"Oh hey," Stan cooed, brushing back his mullet before offering her five fingers. "You must have me confused for my brother toots," He corrected. Stan held out his hand and flashed his best smile. "Stanley Pines, the hot twin," he introduced playfully.

"Hey!" Ford interjected as he rounded the corner just in time to hear Stan's introduction.

Eh fuck em, he could take a joke. Not like he had anyone to impress. He was already raising to kids with his live in partner. His bachelor life was dead, he could stop trying now. As if he ever had.

Emma-May popped the gum in her mouth and looked down at Stan's hand for a moment before she took it with a playful smile. "I see that," She snarked playfully back. She had a firm grip and gave Stan's hand a good shake. "Dunno how I ever got ya'll two confused, my bad sug."

Stan couldn't help but beam. Straightening up his coat as he pulled back to rock leisurely on his heels. "No hard feelings doll, it's an honest mistake."

Fiddleford groaned and rolled his eyes. "Yes Stanley here moved in to help out with the twins," he explained.

"I recall," Emma-may assured him. Arms crossed as she looked Stan up and down. "Tate's mentioned ya, says yer fun."

"Glad someone around here appreciates me," Stan laughed and hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. "He's a good kid."

Ford leaned in around Stan's shoulder and pointed back towards the house. "The twins are in the kitchen by the way," he warns. "I assure you the dog kennel I have them in is both entirely necessary and completely safe."

Emma-May jerked back a moment. Stan couldn't see her eyes but he could make an educated guess. "Ya'll keep yer babies in a kennel?!" She snapped at Fidds.

Fiddleford shrunk back holding the box to his chest. "I promise it ain't what it sounds like-"

"Newt can climb walls and Nick will chew through anything weaker than aluminum," Ford clarified, emphasizing his point with a hand gesture.

Emma-may winced and looked between the two Pines brothers before looking back at Fiddleford slightly horrified.

Fiddleford chuckled awkwardly and shrugged. "Welcome to Gravity Falls."

Emma-may snatched up the box Fiddleford was struggling with and hoisted it over her shoulder without breaking a sweat. "I swear ya better not make me regret comin' here," she snapped.

"I sure hope not," Stan stressed. "Man already blew it once, can't let him scare you off before someone else gets a shot."

Emma-may looked back a little surprised. She cracked and laughed into her knuckles. A cute little pig snort of a laugh. "Are you volunteering over there sharp shooter?" she teased.

Stan shot finger guns back at her with a click of his tongue and a wink. Grinning ear to ear.

Emma-may laughed harder and threw her head back. She slapped a juicy thigh and took a second to collect herself. Fuck, that laugh, Stan could get used to that laugh.

"Ain't ya bold mother fucker-"

"I mean," Stan shrugged, leaning in playfully. "Go big or go home, might as well aim for the hottest mama in town."

Emma-may smirked back at him. "Well, good luck with that slick. Let me know how it works out fer ya."

Emma turned to head back inside and Stan certainly couldn't complain. He'd never be disappointed watching that fine ass leave. Holy Moses, those shorts! That denim was working overtime to contain that much ass.

A harsh throat clearing pulled Stan's attention away. He turned to see Fiddleford glaring at him red faced. The twiggy blonde scarecrow looked so puffed up he pop a blood vessel. "What the fuck was that!?" he hissed, waving franticly in the direction Emma-May had left.

Stan looked back towards the open front door then turned his attention back to Fiddleford. "What?"

"Did you seriously just hit on my ex-wife?!" Fiddleford bocked in exasperation.

"Did you seriously leave a dime like that for my dweeby brother?" Stan huffed indignantly. Crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm right here." Ford whined from behind Fiddleford.

"Can it Sixer, this ain't about you," Stan dismissed.

"Could ya go check on the kiddos Sugarbear?" Fiddleford cooed sweetly.

Ford rolled his eyes and turned back to the truck bed. Scooping up a couple boxes and heading back inside. Fiddleford watched him leave before turning on Stan again. Jabbing his chest with a boney finger. "You listen up and you listen good," he warned. "You keep yer greasy paws off Emma-May, we clear?"

Stan furrowed his brow and frown. Who the hell does this guy think he is? Stan shoved Fiddleford back. Man was ninety pounds soaking wet, Stan wasn't about to let this little weasel push him around. He didn't care if he was his brother's boyfriend.

"Where do you get off getting all possessive now?" Stan snapped back. "You're the one who cheated, you didn't want her then but as soon as someone else is interested you wanna act you own her?"

Fiddleford growled back at him before collecting himself. Pulling back to rub the faint scar on his temple. "Look, we go way back ya understand? She's my best friend."

"I thought Stanford was your best friend," Stan snarked back with giant air quotes.

Fiddleford glowered at him. "I know how ya treat women Stanley," he leaned in again. Practically nose to nose with Stan. "If you hurt her, god have mercy on my soul cause I'm goin' to hell," he threatened.

Stan laughed and pulled back. Slapping Fiddleford's shoulder. "Ah fuck! HA! For what? Crying at me? You gonna tickle me with those noodle arms?" Stan hugged his gut to contain his laughter and wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh man, go right ahead and do your worst Fiddlesticks I ain't scared," he grinned back at Fiddleford.

"I mean it Stanley," Fiddleford insisted.

Stan gave his shoulder a light jab and watched the other man wobble and rub his arm. Still twisting up that squishy baby face of his with the meanest look he could muster. Stan offered him a sincere smile and a hand extended. "Look you wanna play better man be my guest. If I fuck up you better put your money where your mouth is."

Fiddleford frown down at Stan's hand before hesitantly reaching for it with a raised eyebrow.

Stan took Fidds hand and pulled it in. "And if I make that southern bell ring you back off like a real gentleman, ya got that?"

Fiddleford's frown wobbled irritably before he spat out a reluctant, "Fine."

#gravity falls #au #papa ford au #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #young stanley #stanly pines #emma may dixon #emmastan #fiddauthor

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coco-loco-nut · 21 hours ago

Text

Eternal Sunshine

pairing: pato o’ward x reader

summary: ok, maybe you have a type. at least this time he might treat you right

masterlist requests open

——————————————

They say that in the darkest skies you see the brightest stars, that suffering is essential to growth, that it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. You never believed it to be true until you met your boyfriend. He kind and funny and ridiculously handsome, and he arrived at one of your lowest points.

——

You shouldn’t be here, your mind screams at you to turn around and leave, but it’s the same one that wanted you to be here in the first place.

The track used to feel like home, for five years you got to watch your boyfriend drive and enjoy the secrecy of your relationship. You both put in a lot of effort into keeping the spark alive, even if it meant shuffling some things around. That was until he decided he to cheat on you. It was easy for him, you weren’t public so it was easy to lie that he wasn’t in a relationship. Turns out he’s been cheating for over a year.

But this isn’t Formula One, this is IndyCar. You chose this to get your fix and move on. It would be satisfying to see someone crash into Oscar, maybe he can feel the pain you felt.

“Are you lost?” a deep voice comes from beside you and you look at the man speaking to you.

“A little,” you smile nervously, you haven’t been recognized yet. Maybe you should’ve chosen a race that wasn’t right outside of L.A.

“Luckily for you, I’m an expert,” you don’t know why he seems familiar. You notice his McLaren shirt, similar to your own - except yours was a fuck you to Oscar. You stole some of his official gear when you packed your bag and left.

“Are you a McLaren fan?” you ask, trying to place why he seems familiar.

“I guess you could say that? Are you?” the man asks, and you can’t help to notice some resemblance to Oscar, but he is far more handsome.

“I, um, same. I’m new to Indy, but I’ve loosely followed the F1 team for around five years,” you choose your words carefully. Pato looks at you closer, knowing he’s seen you somewhere before. Your pass says that you have VIP access, so he doesn’t question it as you walk with him.

“I’m Pato,” your brows furrow slightly as you give him your middle name as a cover. Where have you heard that name before. Your eyes catch sight of a video screen and they widen in horror.

“This is embarrassing, you’re a driver,” you are at a bit of a loss for words, mortified at your carelessness. He has got to be so mad, you straight up lied to his face.

“And your name is actually Y/n. I’m surprised to see someone of your talents here. Especially without security,” Pato’s unoffended smile disarms you, making you mentally sigh a breath of relief.

“Sorry for all the secrecy, it used to be the only way I can attend races,. I guess my disguise didn’t work then,” your smile is bittersweet, it’s almost freeing to be at a race without worrying if your relationship is going to be put on blast.

“I understand. I’m actually a big fan myself, so I recognized your voice. I introduced Lando to your music last year,” Pato says but you know the last part isn’t actually true. He may think he introduced your music to Lando, but Lando couldn’t reveal he knew you and your music well. He was one of the very few people who knew about you and Oscar.

“That’s so cool,” even if it’s wrong, maybe even vain, you love hearing things like that. “Did you get to go to the tour last year r hen?” you follow, curious how much he truly listens to your music.

“No, I wasn’t able to make it between races and other duties. I wanted to though,” he replies, scratching his neck while contemplating if he should ask a question or not. He has you as a captive audience though, so it doesn’t hurt to.

“That’s a shame,” you realize that you’ve started walking with Pato, but no one’s stopped you yet.

“Will you be releasing new music soon?” he sees a flash of hurt in your eyes and immediately regrets asking.

“I’ve both lost and gained inspiration, so there may be something in the works sooner than expected,” Pato immediately understands your words. It was widely known that you were in a long-term relationship, but no one knew who you were dating. It seems like you are no longer in one now. You really will have to hide when that bit of news breaks.

“I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay, it’s actually good, in a way. I’m starting to get over what happened,” the last part feels like a lie, but you don’t feel as heavy as before.

“I’m sorry, you are probably busy and I’m yapping on and on. I should probably get ready for practice anyway,” Pato realizes, flushing slightly with embarrassment.

“It’s okay,” you smile and something inside you tugs at your heart at the thought of him walking away and never talking to him again. “Would you like to get drinks or something after the race on Sunday?” you ask quickly, voice slightly shaking with nerves. You watch his eyes light up before he reels himself in to act cool.

“Yeah. I’d give you my number, but I know that you will run into me soon,. Enjoy all the racing” he grins, disappearing into the crowds. You continue to walk around, finding a spot to watch the end of the IMSA practice.

You slip back into your brooding as the sounds of engines put you on edge. It used to be a sound that was a comfort.

You want to kick yourself, how could you let a man - no, a boy - play you like that. And now here you are, wide-eyed and talking to another driver. Stupid. Not only does he drive for Arrow McLaren, but he’s the reserve driver for the F1 team.

All you can think about is how Oscar and Lando would react, how Pato would react if you started something and he found out about Oscar. The words they could use to hurt you. Whore. You would be moving on quickly, but then again, so did Oscar. He moved on while you were still together. Manipulator. Even if you don’t intend on it, it would be very easy to assume that you are using Pato for revenge, as a low blow. So many more.

“Fuck,” you whisper. You have a lot to think about before the end of the weekend.

Pato was right, you run into him (literally run into him) on Sunday. You just finished and early lunch and got on a call with your agent to discuss an opportunity.

“Sorry, I gotta go,” you apologize, hanging up the call.

“When I said you will run into me, I didn’t mean literally,” the smile on his face tells you he isn’t actually mad. In fact, he seems delighted. Yet the uneasy feeling of nerves bubbles in your stomach, you can’t hurt him. You know what you have to do, you have to tell him the truth. Lay it all out and let him make an informed decision, even if it hurts you to talk about.

“Sorry, I was distracted, and I guess I still am. My agent was trying to convince to, um, you know that doesn’t really matter,” you shift your focus to the present moment.

“I’m glad I ran into you, I was going to offer a garage tour,” Pato brushes you odd behavior off and your eyes light up. The look sends a thrill down his spine and butterflies in his chest. He feels like a teenage boy talking to his crush.

“Really? I’ve never been, not even when I-,” you catch your words, quickly clearing your throat, “not even when I attended an F1 race a few years ago,” the excitement from your voice is gone. Pato can tell there is a story there, but he takes your initial reaction and runs with it. Oscar never brought you to the garage. Even Lando offered, but you both said it was too risky. Oscar never even introduced you to the team, other than Lando.

“Follow me!” he leads you through the Arrow McLaren area, and you end up back at his motorhome. Pato did make sure to take pictures during it, especially with you and his car. You don’t think twice when you follow him in and sit down.

“I kinda like this a lot more than F1, it seems more humble in a way. It’s a spectacle like all racing is, but F1 is so flashy and honestly some people wouldn’t realize if there wasn’t a race. As long as all the other entertainment is there,” you unintentionally start on a tangent. Pato realizes he can learn a lot about you by reading between the lines.

“You sound like you have a bit of experience,”

“They, uh, COTA wants me to perform at F1 grand prix. They claim I will be the biggest attraction,” you huff, you really weren’t supposed to say anything, but if anyone would understand it would be Pato. Plus, he’s in the industry and you deep down you know you can trust him.

“They aren’t wrong. I know at least Lando would rather watch you than drive,” Pato smiles cheekily, dissolving your frustration.

“He’s had a private concert before, I’m sure he’ll live if I turn it down,” you abruptly stop laughing when you realize what you revealed. Pato’s brows furrow as he processes your words, maybe you misspoke. Here goes nothing, you have to come clean now.

“Lando and I were kinda friends, we met through my ex,” you reveal some of your truth. Careful to keep some of the cards in your hand hidden. The ones too painful to share.

“Oh, that’s cool! How did your ex know Lando?” Pato asks, almost wondering how you didn’t know who he was when you met. You quickly weigh the pros and cons. If you are going to get drinks with him after the race, he deserves to at least know and make his decision from there.

“My ex is Oscar Piastri,” your voice is quiet at you look at your hands, picking at a nail. Pato observes you as his stomach drops.

“Oh, how, uh, how did you meet?” he tentatively asks, trying to get an answer but not shut you down.

“I grew up as a huge racing fan and I thought he was cute, so I messaged him and that was that. You know my music,” you watch him smile to himself and then meet your eyes.

“Well, I’m glad I’m your type then, unless it’s just Australian racers,” Pato teases and your lips quirk up, relieved that he isn’t mad.

“No, apparently just men who drive for McLaren,” you chuckle. “He um, he cheated on me, and that isn’t part of my type. Hopefully that’s a part of the Australian thing,” your voice is quieter, but not dejected. That’s as much as you are willing to give for now, somethings are still too painful.

“I think he’s stupid to do that. And to not show you off. Plenty of guys would kill to meet you, to be on your arm and the one you come home to. I know I would,” Pato reassures you as he reaches out and squeezes your hand.

“It isn’t weird?” you ask. He just shrugs, looking at you in a way that makes you like a million butterflies are in your stomach.

“It’s not like you came here searching for me. Based off of your story, I doubt you came here looking for a relationship either. Besides, I initiated our first conversation, and you just came here for… why did you come here?”

“I missed racing, and this is really close to LA,” you say honestly. “I really didn’t know who you were, by the way. I wasn’t allowed to be around the F1 team, and everything I new about the team was from Oscar, so I never really thought to ask who the reserve driver was,” you add on.

“I believe you. For the record, I think you should perform at the race. It might be therapeutic not having to hide your presence there,” Pato offers his opinion. Silently adding that it might be nice to show Oscar you don’t have to hide.

“You have a great point,” your smile sends a thrill down his spine.

“Pato!” a girl barges into the motorhome, drawing both of your attentions. “Oh my god, you’re,” she stares at you with wide eyes.

“Hi,” you stand up to greet her.

“Y/n, this is my sister, Elba,” Pato says as she tells him something in Spanish that sounds borderline angry.

“In that case, maybe we should watch the race together?” you want to get off on the right foot, especially if you want to pursue something with him.

“Really?” her eyes light up as she shoots Pato a look again. “Pato, why are you trapping her?” she asks her brother and you fight a laugh.

“I’m not-“

“I ran into him today, literally ran into him, and he offered to show me around,” you offer an explanation.

“I promise I’m much cooler than him,” she tells you. You admire their sibling dynamic, there’s clearly a deep bond for them to interact as they do.

“Why are you even here?” Pato puts an end to things before his sister steals you away.

“Making sure you are ready, you have ten minutes,” she says, walking over to you and linking your arms. Too late, Pato, you are being stolen.

“Oh shit,”

“That’s what I thought,” she hums, walking the two of you out so he can change.

“Drinks on me,” you tell her, knowing you will get along well. And you do, three drinks later you are telling her all about Oscar and even playing a sample of a new song. She happily takes in all the industry insights and background of your music. You answer most of her questions, even one’s like who your least favorite artist to work with is.

You both don’t even notice when the Arrow Mclaren team takes a picture of you laughing in their hospitality area. You only noticed after the race when your phone started to blow up.

“Everything okay?” Elba asks as you stare at your phone with a frown. You are in the safety of Pato’s motorhome, away from prying eyes.

“My publicist is freaking out. I wasn’t supposed to officially be here and being spotted with you as made the public assume things,” the pinched line between your eyebrows tells Elba just how frustrated you are.

“So you aren’t allowed to have friends,” she scoffs. Even if she can tell there is a spark between you and her brother, there’s no need to push that at the moment. A devilish smile creeps onto her face as she looks at you. “I bet those rumors are killing Oscar,” she says while watching the frustration melt into satisfaction.

“I would never use you or your brother like that, but I have to admit I like the idea,” you smile.

“Hello sister and supposed girlfriend,” Pato walks in, causing you to sit up a little. He clearly isn’t bothered by it. Secretly, he loves it, he wasn’t lying earlier about being romantically interested.

“Do your ears burn?” Elba asks, eyebrow raised like this isn’t Pato’s motorhome.

“No?”

“Hm, okay,”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that a photo of Elba and I would cause so much trouble,” you apologize, a little embarrassed at the public’s reaction. You went from never having a public photo of you and Oscar to having articles being written about you and Pato when you aren’t even together yet.

“So I shouldn’t post the photo of you with my car?” Pato asks lightheartedly.

“Post whatever you’d like,” your words are truthful, it’s a good photo and people already know you are hanging out.

“Good, you look very cute in it,” Pato’s words cause your cheeks to flush.

“I should go, my car is here. Congrats on your podium,” you stand, sneakily leaving a slip of paper on the chair behind you.

Pato and Elba watch you disappear. Guess you aren’t getting drinks tonight.

“You really like her, don’t you?” Elba asks, watching as Pato stares at the door you left from.

“She’s different. I should be thrown off about Oscar, but she didn’t know me. She loves racing too. I want her, but I’m willing to wait,” Pato says wistfully. Elba subtly picks up the paper that you dropped.

“Well, she lefts this. Maybe it’s a good start,” Elba leaves Pato to himself.

Pato, sorry I had to leave quickly. Text me when you get to this address, 10pm…

Your handwriting is neat with the details listed at the end. A quick google search of the name tells him it’s a members-only upscale bar. It’s so exclusive it has a dress code and no address listed online.

His stomach churns with nerves as he sends a text to you letting you know he’s there. A moment later a man in a suit opens the door for him. He’s never been so nervous for a date.

“Mr. O’Ward, follow me,” Pato runs his hands nervously down his button-down, smoothing non-existent wrinkles. The tie feels tight as he steps further into the bar. Pato spots you wearing a sleek black dress with hair perfectly styled. You look absolutely breathtaking as you stand to greet him, pressing a light kiss to his cheek.

“Sorry for the formality, it’s just the best place for privacy,” you apologize.

“It’s okay. This is a really cool place,” Pato looks around, shocked at the big names sitting near him.

“I ordered some food, if that’s okay, but the waiter will be back soon for drink orders,” you tell him. relaxing into the seat.

“That’s perfect,” Pato takes a look at the menu, noticing there’s no prices.

“Don’t worry about the cost, I’ve paid for everything already,” you answer his thoughts, practically reading his mind.

“But-“

“I asked you out and invited you, you weren’t going to pay regardless,” your smile tells him to enjoy being treated so he does.

“How was your first Indycar weekend?” he asks after you order drinks.

“I enjoyed it, I think I might have a new favorite driver,”

“You mean I wasn’t your favorite in the first place?” Pato teases.

“No, it was Nico Rosberg, jury is still out if he’s moving from number one,” your eyes crinkle.

“Will that change if I show you pictures of my dog?”

“Absolutely,” you lean in to look at his phone. You may be a cat person, but you love dogs almost as much as you love cats.

Your first date turns into two, then three, then four, then nights spent together. Pato even occasionally joins you at the studio while you record your new album. The summer flies and you make some appearances at races as Elba’s friend - which isn’t untrue. Your fans connected the dots when you posted a dump that included Pato’s dog and Pato posted the photo of you with his car from your garage tour.

She joins you and Pato at COTA. You’ve spent the whole week both stressed and nervous as you practiced your set and announced your new album, eternal sunshine.

“Are you okay?” she asks as you nervously walk through the paddock.

“No, but it’s okay,” you frown, glancing at your pass. Your cream linen outfit is neutral, you didn’t even touch the Arrow Mclaren gear that Pato gifted you when packing for the weekend. He insisted that you didn’t have to accept Mclaren’s offer to be a guest on the day of your performance, but you told him that you would stick with Elba. Your PR team thought it would be a good idea too, especially since you are known to support the Indycar team.

“We can take a shot before going over,” she suggests.

“It’s not even noon,”

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs. You follow her as she leads you to a bar, ordering two shots. You’ll just drink extra water before performing tonight. It doesn’t stop the nerves pooling in your stomach as you approach the papaya area, but it does make your brain not care as much.

“Y/n!” Lando practically falls over himself running over to greet you.

“Hey Lando,” your smile is tight, glad it’s him and not Oscar, but not happy to see him this early in the day. You thought you had another hour at least.

“I’m sorry, I was going to reach out but I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me,” his words fall on your deaf ears.

“Save it. If you want to apologize, keep him away from me,” your words are resolute.

“Too late,” Elba says under her breath and suddenly you wish you took more than one shot. You don’t know Pato approaching from behind you, you are honed in on the person now in front of you.

“I see you have a type,” the first words every girl wants to hear from her ex. Certainly not ‘i’m sorry’ or ‘i am the worst, you deserve better than me’. You squeeze Elba’s wrist, silently telling her to stand down before she yells.

“Right, well, he doesn’t cheat on me in my house and bed multiple times, shamelessly apologize when I walk in on it and then send photos to me together with the same girl in that bed a week later. So, I’d say he isn’t like you at all. And if you think you are my type, then you are sorely mistaken,” your eyes narrow. Lando gives Oscar a WTF look, clearly unimpressed with his teammate. He didn’t know the whole story, all Oscar told him was you broke up.

“It’s a shame no one will know who she’s talking about on her album. Except for the ones that are clearly about Pato. Trust me, you’ll know which ones those are,” Elba can’t resist herself, and you are proud of it. You probably shouldn’t have let her listen to two of the demos though.

“What?” Oscar’s eyes widen, not expecting you to tell the world about your break up. Lando is silently thrilled, he can’t wait for your new album. It’s too bad he will have to wear headphones while listening to it.

“You seriously didn’t expect me to not write about it, did you?” you raise your eyebrow. “I wrote about the good and will sure as hell write about the ugly. Be glad I respect you just enough to not name drop you,”

“Hermosa, let’s go,” Pato wraps an arm around your waist, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, gently removing you from the situation. You startle slightly, not having realized his presence.

“Just wait until she sings tonight,” Elba shoots another comment at Oscar, channeling the spite that you won’t show. Just because you are taking the high road doesn’t mean she has to.

“Elba,” Pato’s sharp voice calling back to her tells her enough and she walks away. Sending one final nasty look over her shoulder before catching up with you and Pato.

“Dude, what the fuck,” Lando turns to his teammate.

“I, she broke up with me,”

“You cheated on her. Multiple times apparently. You know what? We are not having this discussion here. Lucky enough no one was around to see this whole fiasco. Just, stay away from her,” Lando shakes his head, leaving Oscar to wallow in his thoughts.

“Hey, none of that was your fault,” Pato keeps you close, your breathes deep and shaky as you hold yourself together. He brings you into a small empty room, Elba closes the door behind you as tears streak down your cheeks. You sit on the floor, leaning against the wall.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying,” Pato crouches in front of you, thumb wiping away a tear.

“You weren’t ready to encounter him again. I’m so proud of how you handled it, and it’s okay to cry,” he reassure you, which makes you cry harder. Elba bites back a comment about the aforementioned boy, but he should be careful to not run into her again. She’s only nice when not talking to someone who hurt her friend. Pato moves to sit beside you, pulling you into his lap. He lets you cry it out, something you refused to do when you found out about Oscar’s infidelity. You’ve been so strong for so long, you’ve never given yourself the chance to feel your feelings.

“How much of it did you hear?” you tearily ask, a little ashamed that you revealed a part of the story you never told Pato. So much pain put out for the world to hear in a fit of anger.

“Most of it,” Pato answers and you know he knows.

“This is not how this weekend was supposed to start,” you rest your head against Pato’s now damp shirt. Elba stepped out to grab water for you and give you some privacy.

“No,” he agrees, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. Pato won’t vocalize it, but he’s worried about you being in the Paddock for his free practice drive in Mexico.

“Am I doing the right thing by being here? Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to perform,” your voice is thick with that post-cry sound.

“Absolutely, this was hard but I think it will help with your healing. He can’t touch you anymore, he’ll risk your fans knowing he is the one who hurt you,” Pato is reassuring himself too, it was terrifying to find you face to face with Oscar.

“Right,” your tears have stopped.

“Hey, we need to get lunch before sound check,” Elba pops in, carefully tossing the bottle of water to Pato.

“Right,” you sniff, carefully removing yourself from Pato’s hold and standing up.

“Drink this, you need to rehydrate. Fuck, and I need to go to a meeting,” Pato kisses you, letting it last a second too long before leaving you and Elba.

“I can hurt him, make it look like an accident. Then Pato can race this weekend,” Elba suggests. You know she won’t and can’t, but you crack a smile anyway.

“I don’t deserve you or Pato,” you hug her.

“Let’s fix your mascara and get out there. We’ve avoided your team this long, I don’t know how much longer we can manage,” you and Elba find Mclaren hospitality and take advantage of the drivers being in a meeting. You two are gone by the time they get there.

You make your way to the concert stage for a sound check with your band. The hot Texas heat beating down on you.

“I’m making changes to the set list,” you hand them the revised one. “We are doing three songs from the new album. Opening with True Story, then we will do The Boy is Mine and Eternal Sunshine later in the show. Maybe ending with Boy is Mine,” you tell them.

“But those aren’t your singles,”

“It’s a gift to the fans, it’ll help get hype around the album,” you lie, you just feel that they will send the message to Oscar. It’s your little piece of revenge.

“Sounds good, we will practice those later,” your guitarist says. You run through a couple of your hits so the sound levels can be adjusted, before going into a meeting with your team.

“We have an interview set up with F1 TV in half an hour. It’s some type of quiz with Hinchcliffe while doing a hot lap,” your publicist tells you as you hydrate and stretch.

“Right, well, let’s get ready,” you head to the dressing room that is air conditioned, thankfully.

“So, the rumor is that you are a big motorsport fan,” Hinch starts off the interview.

“Ever since I was a kid. I’ve been to a few grand prix before, and now I get to perform at one,” you reply, happy to talk about racing.

“Is Mclaren your favorite team then?”

“No, but I’ll never tell who is,” your playful expression is opposite to the one you wore earlier. No one can tell that you had been crying.

“Well, you’ve been a frequent guest at Indycar races. Who is your favorite driver, me or Pato?”

“I don’t think I can answer that either,” you smile, playing along with the bit.

“So it’s me. Great taste,” he accelerates off the starting line.

“I’ve always wanted to do one of these,”

“Triva while on a hot lap? We all have our own aspirations,” he takes a turn quickly and you cheer in excitement. You confidently answer his questions.

“Can we go again? Can I drive?” you ask, not wanting to unbuckle.

“Unfortunately that’s all the track time we have today,” you sadly unbuckle, giving the in-car camera a thumbs down.

“Thank you for the ride,” you tell him after getting out.

“Thank you, I don’t think I’ve had anyone tell me to go faster. Good luck on your performance tonight,” he is a little shocked at how well you handled it.

“Thank you, I’ll give you a backstage pass if you let me drive,” you say once the cameras stop filming and the mic is removed.

“Unfortunately I cannot this time. Get Pato to rent a track for you. Has he taken you on a lap yet?”

“No, he will in Mexico. Don’t tell anyone, but you are my favorite commentator,” you take your bag from an assistant and hand him a pass.

“I will be holding this over Buxton’s head,” Hinch waves the pass before you part ways. You find Elba and Pato to watch qualifying before you have to get ready for the concert. Elba leaves to get food, claiming that now is the right time while everyone else is busy on track.

“Are you nervous,” Pato asks, his fingers entwined with yours as you stare at the screen.

“A little, but I changed the set to add some of the new album,” you keep your eyes trained on the Ferrari on the screen.

“I have a request from the social media team,” your head turns to look at your boyfriend at the uneasiness in his voice. “They want Oscar and Lando to watch the concert with me, they think,”

“They think it will show team togetherness since you will already be there to watch me,” you sigh, mulling it over. “Fuck. If I say no then it makes me look like an asshole,” your frown deepens at the thought.

“Lando said he will make sure Oscar is gone by the time you get offstage,”

“No, they will want a video or picture of me interacting with them,” you run a hand through your hair and Pato regrets asking on behalf of the team.

“It’s not a big deal if you say no. I can watch from the front row with them and come backstage once you are done. Then the social team still gets what they want,” Pato reassures you with another option.

“Yeah, I think I like that more. Plus, I can sing to you easier that way,” your frown goes away as you lean into him. He removes his hand from yours and wraps his arm around you. “The pass I gave you should let you immediately come backstage, and I’ll have my team inform security to let you through,”

“You are going to kill it, I’m excited to see you onstage,”

“I’m excited too, I can shake off the rust. Oh, and Lando can come backstage with you. Since you introduced him to my music,” Pato lightly groans with embarrassment as you giggle.

“I had no idea you knew him when I told you that! It’s his fault that he didn’t tell me he knew your music,” Pato defends himself.

“Am I too late?” Nolan appears in the doorway, a little out of breath.

“Nolan?” you ask, a little like an excited puppy. You would lay down your life for him, he’s like your baby brother now.

“I couldn’t miss the concert. I tried to be here an hour ago, but the traffic is insane,” he shakes his head as he greets Pato with that weird male handshake.

“Sometimes I think you love Nolan more than me,” Pato says as you hug his teammate.

“I doooo,” you dramatically sway back in forth in the hug.

“I knew it,” Pato shakes his head lovingly. “Oh and surprise. I figured you’d like the extra support,” Pato got your team to give him an extra pass after Nolan dropped some not so subtle hints about wanting to be here.

“Hey Nolan,” Elba returns with a plate of food for you.

“Where’s mine?”

“Um, you can eat later. You aren’t going on stage in a few hours,” Elba waves her brother off.

As every minute in qualifying ticks by you increasingly get both nervous and excited. As Q3 reaches its halfway point, your phone buzzes to summon you away before the crowds start.

“You are going to be amazing, I’ll be front and center,” Pato hugs you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“I will be there too,” Nolan interjects.

“I’ll be backstage before the show,” Elba promises. You thank them and head out. You are immediately thrown into warm ups and hair and makeup.

“15 minutes,” the stage manager warns. You check your phone one last time before grabbing your water and heading to the stage.

“Good luck, you got this, you are an icon,” Elba starts to hype you up, and your laugh makes her join your laughter.

“I’m more worried for my fans, they aren’t expecting new music to be performed,” you shake your head as you are directed to a platform.

“You will smash it,” she says as she’s led to the wings. You focus on your breathing and hydration.

The lights go dark and the crowd silences. A cue tells you to start your first surprise. Your voice is alone in the dark as you start singing. You start rising in the darkness during the first gimmie love section of the intro and as soon as the platform locks into place and your beat picks up a golden light flushes the stage. The show’s begun.

Pato soaks in the vision of you up on the stage and how Oscar has to mask his shock. It didn’t take long for Oscar to realize that bad light you paint of him, the opposite of how you’d written him in the past. You send a subtle smile Pato’s way, one he returns as an eager grin.

“Dude, your girlfriend is killing it,” Lando yells over the music. You are currently singing one of your first hits, and the energy is high.

“I want her to adopt me,” Nolan agrees. Even the songs you wrote about Oscar feel directed at Pato now, and that’s a new level of hurt. The final blow comes as you end the show with your newest steamy song, and everyone know who you are singing about and to.

“Holy shit,” Pato says as he listens to your words, he hasn’t heard this one yet and it’s capital H-O-T. You strut upstage, back to the audience as you end the song. During the final word, ‘mine’, you turn your head back to look at the crowd, quickly finding Pato’s eyes and sing the word. The lights go dark, and it’s somehow more electric than your start.

“I’m actually speechless,” Lando says as Nolan grabs Pato’s shoulders, shaking him.

“Dude,” he is practically jumping. “You are her’s and she let everyone know,” Nolan says.

“Imagine having a song like that written for you, that must be so cool. Right, Osc?” Lando turns to his teammate, still mad about the recent facts he learned about. Oscar swallows, nodding.

“Yeah, that certainly seems very cool,” Oscar begrudgingly agrees.

“Mr. O’Ward and guests, your presence is required backstage,” security arrives just as expected. Oscar follows but before they reach you, the group is stopped. They couldn’t just leave him to a crowd of fans.

“Alright guys, smile,” the Mclaren admin takes a quick picture while they wait for you to finish taking off your mic pack and monitors.

Still high off of the performance, you practically jumping into Pato’s arms, not looking at who else was around. Elba trails you, a jacket in hand for when you get cold from your sweat evaporating away.

“You were incredible, mi amor,” he holds you, letting you kiss him, arms around his neck.

“Hey, we get it, the boy is yours. You literally just sang about it,” Lando jokes as you pull away from Pato. The way you two look at each is different than when you and Oscar were together. Fondness? Sure. But the look you and Pato give one another is deeper.

“I would like to bleach my eyes,” Elba agrees.

“Mind if we get a couple photos?” the Mclaren admin asks and your social team also approaches to get some. You stand between Pato and Nolan. Elba is on the other side of Pato, Lando beside Nolan, and Oscar on the other side of Lando.

“I take it you guys liked the show?” you ask, proceeding as if Oscar wasn’t there. The more you act like nothing happened and you don’t know him, the worse he will feel.

“It was incredible,” Nolan answers for the group.

“I’m glad,” you smile tiredly. The physical exhaustion of the performance hitting you. “Thank you guys for coming, I hope you do well tomorrow,” you give Nolan and Lando hugs, offering just a nod to Oscar. Fans know he doesn’t like physical touch like that, so it doesn’t seem abnormal.

Your fingers intertwine with Pato’s as you practically drag him back to your dressing room, locking the door behind you. You plop down into the comfy chair and Pato helps remove your heels.

“I have to admit, a part of me wanted to climb onto that stage and carry you off of it when you were singing to me,” Pato gently massages your calves.

“I wouldn’t have been opposed. Just wait until the album comes out,” your sly grin widens as he stands up and steps closer to you.

“Be careful with what you say, hermosa,” his voice deepens as you tilt your chin up at him.

“I can be quiet. These clothes need to come off anyway,” your breath hitches as he lifts you up, lips crashing together. His hands slide to your back, working your outfit off.

You spend the next few months laying low as you plan a short tour after your album released on Thanksgiving. You even train with Pato. It’s surprising how similar your training is to his and it keeps both of you accountable.

Everything really hits you again the first time you walk the red carpet with Pato. He’s so proud to be at your side, showing you off and supporting you. It’s nothing you’ve ever had before. He’s here when your album isn’t eligible for awards until next year, when you just have to be here for the appearance.

“Thank you for being here,” you whisper in his ear as you sit at a table, tearing up a little as your hands are joined underneath the table.

“Of course I’m here, you support me. I like being your WAG,” Pato turns towards you, feeling as if he is doing the bare minimum. “Amor, I would go anywhere for you, just like you would for me,” he brings your hand up from under the table and kisses your knuckles.

To him, this is just a scratch of the support he wants to provide you. It feels like nothing in comparison to what you’ve done for him. You scheduled a whole tour around the month of May so you could spend it living out of a motorhome with him.

“I love you so much,”

“I love you more.”

#f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #indycar #indycar imagine #pato o’ward x reader #pato o’ward imagine #pato o’ward

47 notes · View notes

seitmai · 2 days ago

Note

Ahh many thoughts

You surreptitiously suck in a breath and school your face to remain completely and utterly professional. But your chest bursts into a triumphant fire at the judge’s verdict.

I could not hold it in like that lmao

Sarah gives you a nod, and then she’s approached by the brother of your client - whose been trying to hold back his clear crush on your paralegal until the case was over, and you’re happy to see him shoot his shot. He’s a sweet kid, just about her age, and she’s had terrible luck in the romance department. This could be a path out of the woods for her of those post-grad men who still desperately tried to cling to their frat boy glory.

Good Luck Sarah 🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Now, now. We're professionals here. We don't gloat." "Speak for yourself," Sarah quips, earning a round of laughter from the table.

Valid 🤷🏻‍♀️

The victory feels sweeter shared with these people who helped you prepare for the case and who understand the long hours and emotional toll of the job.

Oh I 100% agree!

Your eyebrows shoot up. "The Donovan case? Andy, that's not even your case. It's being handled by the DA's office." He nods, pacing the room. "I know, I know. But I've been looking into it, and something's not right. The evidence doesn't add up."

Uhh👀

“Someone with too much money, too much power, and too much influence is somehow pulling strings to pin this the way they want. You can help me identify the right players. But, what’s more, you have the necessary clout and influence in this town to go to the DA and be taken seriously, and I don’t have that yet.” “It’s eating you up to admit that, isn’t it?” you finally say. He puts his hands on his hips and lets out a deep sigh. “Yeah, it does. Satisfied?”

Yes absolutely and it feels food to hear it 😌

A muscle in his jaw ticks. He licks his lips. “Do you think it’s possible that the cases I’m losing now are for the defendants that should be put behind bars, the ones I have no guilt taking money from, and that I’m just that good that they never question that I’m making sure they get what they deserve?”

I can respect that

"Okay," you say slowly, "I'll listen. But I need to know everything. No holding back, no surprises later. If we're going to do this, we do it right." Relief washes over Andy's face. He nods vigorously. "Of course. Everything I have, it's all yours."

🤝🏻

Andy appears at your side, and you turn slightly to look at him. “Why are we in a hotel room discussing this? Secrecy? If you’re that worried, it won’t be hard to track you here.” “I…” he laughs. “No, actually. It’s worse than that.” “Oh, Andy,” your voice is wary, “don’t tell me you live here.”

At least it's a nice hotel, could be worse 🤷🏻‍♀️

“I didn’t know this was where you landed,” he says, “but when I got here and heard you were one of the top lawyers in this town, I felt a mix of curiosity and pride and... something else." His voice drops lower, a hint of vulnerability creeping in. "I thought about reaching out, but..." You turn to face him fully, your breath catching slightly at his proximity. "But what?"Andy's eyes search yours, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. "But I was ashamed. Of how things ended between us in law school. Of how my life had fallen apart. I didn't want you to see me like that, but I didn’t want to run away and start my new chapter making a cowardly choice by picking some place else."

🥺🥺🥺

"I know this isn’t the right time," Andy starts, his voice low and husky, "but I can't ignore this anymore." Before you can respond, he closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. For a moment, you're too stunned to react. But then, as if a dam has broken, you're kissing him back with equal fervor, years of unresolved tension pouring out.

"We were too busy hating each other back at law school, but I've thought about this for years," he murmurs. "About you." “You hated me?” you ask. “No,” he admits. “Me either,” you say truthfully.

Well glad that that finally got resolved 😅

Gently, he turns you back to face him, and then in one fluid motion, Andy lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carries you to the bed, laying you down gently on the soft mattress. Andy kneels above you for a moment, pausing, his eyes roaming your body with undisguised desire. He’s already taken you once, so it’s no surprise, but his gaze is overwhelmingly intense, almost reverent, as if he's committing every curve and freckle to memory. "You're beautiful," he murmurs, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

😮‍💨🥰😮‍💨🥰

You run your fingers through his hair, down his back, feeling the play of muscles under his skin. There's an intimacy to this moment that surprises you - it's not just about physical pleasure, but a connection that feels deeper, more meaningful. Unexplored potential from years before spilling into reality now.

It waited all these years together be explored

Andy's hands knead the muscles of your shoulders, working out knots you didn't even realize were there. His touch is firm but gentle, alternating between deep pressure and feather-light caresses. You feel yourself melting into the mattress, tension draining from your body.

I need a massage like that too💆🏻‍♀️

You nod, acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressed against yours. "The case..." "Is still our priority," Andy finishes for you. "We can't let this distract us from what's at stake."

Let's keep our heads in the game

You sit up slowly, the sheet pooling around your waist. Andy's eyes roam your body appreciatively before meeting your gaze again. "But I don't regret it," he says firmly. "Do you?" You consider for a moment, then shake your head. "No, I don't. But we need to be careful." You nod, leaning into his touch. "And when we're not working?" A slow smile spreads across Andy's face. "When we're not working, we can explore... this." He gestures between you two.

I can work with that 😌

You hesitate, knowing you should probably leave, maintain some distance. But the thought of curling up in Andy's arms is too appealing when he’s so willing.

No way I would say no to a cuddle invitation like that

Happy Friday, Aspen!

Legal Temptations

Characters/Pairings: Andy Barber x curvy Millennial female!Reader Word Count: 6.4k Summary: After battling with Andy Barber in the courtroom, your relationship takes a turn when you receive an unexpected message from your rival requesting a secretive meeting to discuss a high-profile murder case. Intrigued but cautious, you can't turn down the invitation from Newton's former Assistant District Attorney and your former law school rival.

Content/Warnings: explicit smut: vaginal fingering, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), ; mild exhibitionism (sex in front of a window), first time anal play/rimming; dirty talk; a lot of plot BEFORE we get to the smut

Notes: Sorry it's not Friday, Jen, and sorry this has also sat in my inbox for months! I kept on wanting to do something new with Andy and wanting to post it on a Friday, but things kept on getting away from me. Now I'm just posting and to hell with previous intentions, hahaha. But kicking off my series of Valentine Storygrams seemed like a good time to trot him out!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“I find the defendant guilty as charged.”

You surreptitiously suck in a breath and school your face to remain completely and utterly professional.

But your chest bursts into a triumphant fire at the judge’s verdict.

You’ve won, yet again, against Andy Barber. And rightly so. Your client was the victim, plain and simple. But it’s the third time in three months.

And it feels damn good to know you did.

As the courtroom erupts into a flurry of murmurs and movement, you gather your papers with practiced efficiency, sliding them into your briefcase. You avoid looking at the defense table.

The judge's gavel cracks through the air. "Court is adjourned."

You rise, buttoning your blazer with one smooth motion. Only then do you allow yourself a brief glance at your opponent. Andy's jaw is clenched, his shoulders tense as he leans in to whisper something to his client. A twinge of sympathy flickers through you - you know all too well the sting of defeat. But you still can't help savoring this moment, this victory. It's not just about winning – it's about justice served, about protecting the innocent and punishing the guilty.

As you stride towards the exit, your heels clicking authoritatively on the polished floor, a hand catches your elbow. You turn to find Sarah, your paralegal, grinning widely.

"Drinks to celebrate?" she asks, her eyes sparkling with shared victory.

You nod, allowing a small smile to curve your lips. "Absolutely. The usual place in an hour?"

You make your way out of the courtroom, nodding politely to colleagues and spectators. In the hallway, a reporter approaches, microphone extended.

"Counselor, another impressive win. Any comments on the verdict?"

You pause, choosing your words carefully. "We’re obviously pleased with the verdict. That's all I'll say for now. Any further comments will come through official channels." You offer a polite but firm smile, sidestepping the reporter with practiced ease.

As you’re about to get into your car, you look back at the courthouse and spot Andy Barber exiting the building, his face masking frustration and defeat. For a moment, your eyes lock. There's a flash of something—respect, perhaps, or resignation—before he turns away, striding purposefully towards the parking lot.

You shake off the encounter and settle into your car. Between the drive home to change into something more casual and then the drive to your usual celebratory spot, you’re able to decompress, shed the courtroom persona, and remember who you are outside of the high-stakes world of criminal law.

By the time you push open the door of O'Malley's, your favorite low-key bar, you're feeling more like yourself. Sarah is already there. She’s landed you a good corner booth, and two of the other paralegals from your office and your assistant are there, too.

As you slide into the booth, Sarah pushes a glass of your favorite scotch towards you. "To justice," she says, raising her own glass in a toast.

"To justice," you echo, clinking glasses with the group. The warm burn of the liquor is a welcome sensation after the tension of the day in court.

Your assistant, Mark, leans in eagerly. "So, boss, give us the details. How did Barber's face look when the verdict came down?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Now, now. We're professionals here. We don't gloat."

"Speak for yourself," Sarah quips, earning a round of laughter from the table.

As the conversation flows, the weight of the case finally lifting from your shoulders. Sarah’s receiving and responding to a few texts, apparently having agreed to give her number to the client’s brother. The victory feels sweeter shared with these people who helped you prepare for the case and who understand the long hours and emotional toll of the job.

Sarah leans in, her voice lowered conspiratorially. "So, what's next? Rumor has it the DA's office is eyeing you for a big case."

You take a sip of your drink, considering. "Nothing's confirmed yet, but there have been some interesting conversations. We'll see."

Just then, it’s your phone that buzzes. Glancing down, you see a text from an unknown number:

Congratulations on the win. We need to talk. Meet me at hotel bar at Clark’s, 10 PM tonight. Come alone. -AB

Your brow furrows. AB. Andy Barber. What could he possibly want? And why the secrecy?

You don’t respond right away. It’s only just past eight. You have time to consider the situation.

But ultimately, your curiosity wins out, and around nine, you make your excuses and leave your staff at O’Malley’s.

On your way to Clark’s, your wheels turn over the enigma that is Andy Barber.

He showed up in town almost six months ago, relocated from Massachusetts where he’d been the assistant district attorney before his son had been accused of murder. You had followed the tragic unfolding of events - the family ostracized from their community, brief reprieve when Jacob had been cleared, and then the tragic accident where his son and his wife ended up in critical condition. Jacob passed away, never coming out of his coma, and though Laurie recovered, a year later, their marriage never did, and they divorced in a fairly civil proceeding.

You had really felt for him initially.

But once you started coming up against him in the court room, you were reminded why you had hated him all through law school. He was always good at what he did, and he was smug about it. The two of you had competed for everything. Top spot of each class, the most competitive internships, nearly coming out even, but he edged you out for valedictorian of your graduating class, leaving you as salutatorian.

He’d gone public defender, and you’d moved back to your home state and gone into private practice, and you really hadn’t thought of him again until he made the news - because the son of an ADA being hit with murder charges made the national news circuit.

But back at law school, he’d gotten under your skin, and as much as you tried to ignore it now, he was doing it again.

You arrive at Clark's Hotel ten minutes before the agreed time, your mind still churning with questions. The hotel bar is dimly lit, all dark wood and leather, exuding an air of discreet luxury. You scan the room, but there's no sign of Andy yet.

Settling at the bar, you order a club soda. You need to keep your wits about you for whatever this meeting might bring. The bartender slides your drink across the polished surface just as you feel a presence at your elbow.

"Thanks for coming," Andy greets you in a low voice.

You turn to face him, taking in his appearance. He looks tired, the lines around his eyes deeper than you remember from the courtroom. His suit is slightly rumpled, as if he's been wearing it all day.

"What's this about, Andy?" you ask, cutting straight to the chase.

He glances around the bar, then back to you. "Not here. I've got a room upstairs. We can talk there."

Your instincts flare with caution, but curiosity wins out. You nod, following him to the elevator.

The ride up is silent, tension thick in the air. As the elevator doors slide open, you follow Andy down the plush carpeted hallway. He stops at room 712, swiping the keycard and holding the door open for you.

You hesitate for a moment before stepping inside. The room is spacious but dimly lit, with a view of the city skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows. Andy moves to the mini bar, pouring himself a generous measure of whiskey. He offers you one, but you decline with a shake of your head.

"Alright, we're here. What's going on?" you ask, your patience wearing thin.

He takes a long sip of his drink before turning to face you, his expression grave. "I need your help," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You raise an eyebrow, skepticism clear in your voice. "My help? With what?"

Andy runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration you remember from your law school days. "It's about the Donovan case."

Your mind races. Robert Donovan, a prominent businessman, found brutally murdered in his penthouse apartment. The Donovan case is the high-profile murder trial of the year - possibly of the decade - and set to begin in a few weeks.

Your eyebrows shoot up. "The Donovan case? Andy, that's not even your case. It's being handled by the DA's office."

He nods, pacing the room. "I know, I know. But I've been looking into it, and something's not right. The evidence doesn't add up."

You cross your arms, leaning against the wall. "What do you mean?"

Andy takes a deep breath, then launches into a detailed explanation. He talks about inconsistencies in witness statements, forensic evidence that doesn't quite fit the prosecution's timeline, and a potential alibi for the defendant that wasn't fully investigated. As he speaks, you find yourself drawn in, your legal mind picking apart the details.

"The blood spatter analysis," he says, pulling out a file from his briefcase, "it doesn't match the prosecution's theory of how the murder happened. And look at this," he points to a photo, "the angle of the wound suggests the attacker was left-handed, but Donovan is right-handed."

You lean in, examining the evidence. It's compelling. "Andy, this is... fascinating. But why are you showing me this? Why not take it to the DA? Or the press?”

You take in a deep breath and study his face.

Impatient, he implores you by name - first name, not last name like he always did in law school and like he had these past months.

“It’s eating you up to admit that, isn’t it?” you finally say.

He puts his hands on his hips and lets out a deep sigh. “Yeah, it does. Satisfied?”

“Mildly,” you admit, a hint of a smirk on your face. “But Andy, why should I trust you? Word around town is you’re hit or miss on your cases, and I’ve just beat you on all three when we’ve come toe to toe.”

He arches a brow. “You think I’ve lost my edge?”

“You were brilliant Newton - on track to be the DA, you won everything.”

You arch an eyebrow. He doesn’t lose everything, and he certainly didn’t make any rookie mistakes on the cases he is losing.

“I’m willing to entertain that premise.”

“Alright, that’s all I need. Now what about Donovan?”

You mull over everything he’s shared so far. Your gut says he’s not wrong.

He says your name again, prompting you back into the moment.

You lock eyes with Andy, searching for any hint of deception. But all you see is earnestness and a hint of desperation.

"Okay," you say slowly, "I'll listen. But I need to know everything. No holding back, no surprises later. If we're going to do this, we do it right."

Relief washes over Andy's face. He nods vigorously. "Of course. Everything I have, it's all yours."

You move to the small desk in the corner of the room, pulling out a chair. "Alright then, let's get to work. Start from the beginning."

For the next few hours, you and Andy pour over the evidence, dissecting every detail of the Donovan case. As the night wears on, your skepticism fades, replaced by a growing certainty that something is indeed very wrong with this case.

Around two am, you lean back in your chair, rubbing your eyes. "This is big, Andy. Really big. If what we suspect is true, it could implicate some very powerful people."

Andy nods grimly. "I know. That's why I needed your help. I won’t be able to do this alone."

You sigh and press your fingers to your temples, massaging away what stress you can, though it seems futile. “This has to stay between us for now. If there's even a whisper of this getting out before we're ready..."

"I know," he interrupts. "Believe me, I understand the stakes."

As he gathers the files, you move to the window, gazing out at the city below. The lights twinkle like stars, hiding the secrets and machinations of the powerful. You can't help but wonder what you're getting yourself into.

Andy appears at your side, and you turn slightly to look at him. “Why are we in a hotel room discussing this? Secrecy? If you’re that worried, it won’t be hard to track you here.”

“I…” he laughs. “No, actually. It’s worse than that.”

“Oh, Andy,” your voice is wary, “don’t tell me you live here.”

“I haven’t gotten around to finding a place.”

“Six months, Andy!”

He smirks and cocks his head. “You’ve been keeping track of how long I’ve been in town?”

You look away, feeling your cheeks flood with heat.

He takes a step closer, not touching, but near enough that you can feel the warmth of his body.

You turn to face him fully, your breath catching slightly at his proximity. "But what?"

Andy's eyes search yours, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. "But I was ashamed. Of how things ended between us in law school. Of how my life had fallen apart. I didn't want you to see me like that, but I didn’t want to run away and start my new chapter making a cowardly choice by picking some place else."

The admission hangs in the air between you, heavy with unspoken history. You remember the fierce competition, the heated debates, the undercurrent of tension that had always existed between you two. And now, years later, here you are, standing toe to toe once again.

"Andy," you start, unsure of what to say. But before you can continue, he takes a step back, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry," he says quickly. "That's not why I asked you here. We should focus on the case."

You nod, trying to ignore the sudden pang of disappointment. "Right, the case. We need a plan."

As Andy moves back to the desk, you can't help but feel a mix of emotions - frustration at his deflection, curiosity about what might have been, and an overwhelming sense that you're on the precipice of something monumental with this case.

Leaving the window, you join him at the desk. "We need to be methodical about this. We can't afford to make any mistakes."

Andy nods, his professional demeanor firmly back in place. "Agreed. I think our first step should be to re-interview some of the key witnesses. There are inconsistencies in their statements that we need to explore further."

You tap your finger on the desk, thinking. "That's risky. If word gets back to whoever's pulling the strings, they might move to cover their tracks."

"True," Andy concedes. "But if we're careful, we might be able to gather crucial information without raising suspicions."

You consider this for a moment. "Alright, but we do it discreetly. No official channels. We'll need to come up with a cover story for why we're asking questions."

As you and Andy begin to outline your strategy, you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement. You feel it in every meaty case, that feeling never going away though you’ve been practicing for years.

"We obviously need to be careful about who we to to with this information," Andy says.

"I have a few trusted contacts in the police department who might be able to help us discreetly.”

“I’ve already established a few contacts on the street. And what about your paralegal, Sarah? Could she be brought in on this?"

You consider for a moment. "Sarah's reliable, and she has a knack for research. She could be invaluable. But let's wait before bringing anyone else in. For now, it's just us."

"Just us," Andy echoes, his eyes meeting yours. There's a beat of silence, heavy with unspoken words.

You clear your throat.

"Right," you say, breaking the tension. "Let's focus on our next steps. We need to start gathering concrete evidence to support our theory."

Andy nods, visibly refocusing. "I've been thinking about that. There's a security guard at Donovan's building who was working the night of the murder. His statement seemed off. Like he was holding something back."

"Good catch," you reply, impressed despite yourself. "We should try to talk to him first. Maybe we can convince him to come clean."

"Agreed. I'll set up a meeting, make it look casual. We don't want to spook him."

As you continue planning, the sky outside begins to lighten. You glance at your watch, surprised to find it's nearly five am.

"We should probably call it a night," you say, stifling a yawn. "Or morning, I guess."

Andy looks up from the notes he's been scribbling, seeming equally surprised by the time. "You're right. We've made good progress, and we’ll need to be sharp for this."

You start gathering your things, your mind already racing with the day ahead. As you reach for your coat, Andy's hand brushes against yours. The touch sends an electric current through your body, and you freeze, suddenly hyper-aware of his proximity. You turn to face him, and the intensity in his eyes takes your breath away.

"I know this isn’t the right time," Andy starts, his voice low and husky, "but I can't ignore this anymore."

Before you can respond, he closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. For a moment, you're too stunned to react. But then, as if a dam has broken, you're kissing him back with equal fervor, years of unresolved tension pouring out.

Your hands find their way into his hair as he cups your face in his hands. The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more desperate.

Andy breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as you both catch your breath. "We shouldn't," he whispers, but his actions betray his words as his hands roam your body.

"No, we shouldn't," you agree, even as you start unbutton his white shirt. You know you should leave, should maintain professional boundaries. But the pull is magnetic, undeniable.

His hands reach for your hips but slide up your waist, fingers slipping beneath your sweater, and your feel your skin light up at every point of contact.

"We were too busy hating each other back at law school, but I've thought about this for years," he murmurs. "About you."

“You hated me?” you ask.

“No,” he admits.

“Me either,” you say truthfully.

Before you can say anything more, his lips are on yours. This second kiss is tentative at first, a question. But when you respond, wrapping your arms around his neck, it quickly becomes heated, desperate. Years of competition, of unspoken attraction, of what-ifs, all pour into this moment.

Your back hits the cool glass of the window, and you gasp at the contrast with Andy's warm body pressing against you. His hands are everywhere, pushing your sweater up and off your shoulders, reaching for the button of your jeans.

Your fingers fumble with more of the buttons of Andy's shirt as he trails hot kisses down your neck. The cool glass against your back contrasts sharply with the heat of his body pressed against yours. Your head spins, overwhelmed by sensation and the surreal nature of the moment.

"Wait," you gasp, placing a hand on his chest. Andy freezes immediately, concern flashing in his eyes. "Are you sure about this?" you ask, searching his face. "There's no going back."

Andy cups your face in his hands, his gaze intense. "I'm sure," he says, his voice low and gravelly. "But I’ll stop if you want to me to stop—"

You silence him with a kiss, pouring all your pent-up desire into it. That's all the confirmation Andy needs.

Clothes are shed hastily, hands roaming newly exposed skin.

Andy spins you around, your bare skin pressing against the cool glass of the floor-to-ceiling window. The city sprawls out before you, bathed in the soft light of dawn. The sky is a canvas of pastel pinks and oranges, the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon.

His warm body molds against your back as his lips find the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You shiver, partly from the chill of the glass, partly from the heat of his touch. Your breath fogs the window as Andy's hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

The city below is beginning to stir, early risers starting their day, unaware of the passionate scene unfolding high above them. There's a thrill in being so exposed, yet so hidden.

Andy's fingers thread through yours, pressing your palm against the glass, his other hand guiding the head of his thick cock to your entrance as he enters you slowly. You gasp at the sensation, your eyes fluttering closed. He’s big, so big.

Andy's hand grips your hip, holding you steady as he starts to move. The slow, steady rhythm is almost agonizing, but you can feel every inch of him stretching and filling you. You moan, your head falling back against his shoulder as the pleasure builds.

His pace picks up gradually as he leans down to kiss your neck again, his teeth grazing over your skin. Your fingers curl against the glass, your body moving in sync with his.

It's like a symphony of sensations – the warmth of Andy's body against yours, the coolness of the glass on your skin, the sounds of pleasure mingled with the noises from outside. It’s been years since you were intimate with anyone, and you have forgotten how good it feels to have a man inside you instead of a toy.

You lose yourself in it all, chasing after that elusive release that seems just out of reach. But then Andy's hand slides between your body and the glass, his fingers finding their way to your sensitive bundle of nerves. He presses down just right and everything around you fades away as you come undone in his arms.

Andy follows soon after with a low groan, pulling out just before he spills his seed over your lower back and ass, his body shuddering against yours with pleasure. You collapse against the glass, and he presses against you, both breathing heavily and trying to catch your breaths.

As reality starts to creep back in, you realize how exposed you are – a naked couple pressed against a floor-to-ceiling window for anyone below to see. Panic sets in for a brief moment before being chased away by a warm contentment at being wrapped up in Andy's embrace.

"Good thing we’re seven floors up," he whispers into your ear, seeming to read your mind. He presses a kiss to your shoulder before pulling back slightly and reaching for tissues from a nearby table to clean his spend from your back.

You laugh softly as you start to look around for your clothes. "Definitely not something I ever thought I'd do. And never thought it would be with you."

"I'm glad we did though," Andy says with a smile that you feel against your neck as he presses in behind you, not letting you move away just yet.

The rising sun paints your bodies in a golden glow, highlighting the sheen of sweat on your skin. Andy's free hand traces the curve of your breast, and you sigh happily.

Andy kneels above you for a moment, pausing, his eyes roaming your body with undisguised desire. He’s already taken you once, so it’s no surprise, but his gaze is overwhelmingly intense, almost reverent, as if he's committing every curve and freckle to memory.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

There's no rush, no desperate urgency. Andy takes his time, exploring your body with gentle hands and soft lips. He traces the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist. Each touch sends shivers through you, generating a slow, simmering heat.

Andy's lips trail lower, across your stomach, down to the inside of your thighs. Your breath hitches as he settles between your legs, his intent clear. The first swipe of his tongue has you arching off the bed, a gasp escaping your lips.

As Andy’s tongue expertly circles your sensitive clit, you can’t help but lose yourself in the sensation. His skillful fingers tease and caress your folds, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Your moans grow louder as he delves deeper, his lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to drive you wild. You lose all sense of time, only focused on the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

With each flick of his tongue, you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Your body tenses as you reach your peak, crying out in ecstasy as a powerful orgasm rocks through you.

Andy continues to pleasure you until your body finally relaxes, then he crawls back up to kiss you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

"Wow," is all you can manage to say, still catching your breath.

"Mmm," Andy hums against your lips. "You taste amazing."

His tongue dances with yours, exploring every corner of your mouth. The intensity builds as he presses his body against yours, one hand tangling in your hair while the other caresses your side.

The kiss seems to go on forever, stealing your breath away. Just when you think you might need to come up for air, Andy breaks away, only to trail kisses along your jaw and down your neck. His lips find that sensitive spot behind your ear, and you shiver with pleasure.

"Turn over," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

You comply, rolling onto your stomach. Andy's weight shifts on the bed as he positions himself over you. His lips return to your skin, starting at the nape of your neck. He places soft, feather-light kisses down your spine, taking his time to savor every inch.

His hands glide along your sides as he moves lower, kneading the muscles of your back. You feel the tension melting away under his touch. Andy's lips follow the curve of your spine, his stubble lightly scratching your skin and sending tingles through your body.

As he reaches the small of your back, he pauses. You feel his breath, warm and heavy, against your skin. Then his tongue darts out, tracing a sensual line back up your spine. You arch into the touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

As his hands work their magic, Andy's lips continue their exploration. He places open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder blades, occasionally nipping at the sensitive skin. Each touch sends sparks of pleasure coursing through you.

His hands are firm yet gentle, eliciting soft sighs of pleasure from you. As they move lower, massaging down your back, you feel yourself melting into the mattress.

His lips follow the path of his hands, peppering kisses across your shoulder blades and down your spine. The combination of his strong hands and soft lips has you practically purring with contentment.

Andy doesn’t pause when reaches the curve of your lower back this time. His hands grip your hips, lifting them slightly. You understand his intent and rise up onto your knees, keeping your chest pressed to the bed.

Andy's hands caress your ass, kneading the flesh appreciatively. You feel exposed in this position, but the reverence in his touch chases away any self-consciousness. His thumb traces your folds, finding you still slick with arousal.

"God, you’re already so wet," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “Getting wetter and wetter for me.”

Andy's hands caress your thighs as he positions himself behind you. "I want to taste you again," he says, his voice low and husky. "You think you can take more?"

You nod eagerly, anticipation building as you feel his warm breath on your sensitive flesh.

"I dreamt of having you like this in the library our last semester," he confesses and you groan. "Spread your legs a little wider for me."

You comply eagerly, shifting your knees further apart on the soft sheets. Andy's thumbs gently part your folds, exposing your most intimate areas to his hungry gaze.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he coos, leaning in so you can feel his hot breath on your sex for a moment, and you fist the sheets.

Andy starts with gentle kisses along your inner thighs, working his way higher. When his tongue makes contact with your core, you gasp at the sensation.

"You taste so good," Andy murmurs against you. "I could do this for hours."

His tongue explores every fold and crevice, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on your most sensitive spots. You moan as he circles your clit, pleasure building with each pass.

"That's it, let me hear you," Andy encourages. "I love the sounds you make."

He slips a finger inside you, curling it to hit just the right spot as his tongue continues its ministrations. The dual stimulation has you writhing, pushing back against his face.

"So responsive," Andy says appreciatively. "So wet and ready for me. You're close, aren't you?"

You can only whimper in response as he increases the pressure. Andy's skilled tongue works over your sensitive flesh, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit. His hands grip your hips firmly, holding you in place as you writhe with pleasure.

"More," you gasp, fisting the sheets. "Please, Andy, don't stop."

He obliges, redoubling his efforts. His tongue delves deeper, exploring every fold and crevice of your sex. You feel the familiar tension building, a tingling heat spreading through your core.

"That's it," Andy encourages, briefly pausing his ministrations. "I can feel you getting close. Your pussy's clenching, begging for release."

He slides a second finger inside you, curling them both to hit that perfect spot. Combined with the relentless attention of his tongue on your clit, you reach for the peak of a third release, but then he slows.

You whine and shift against him. He chuckles. “Oh, I want to torture you more while I enjoy your eager body.”

“Andy!”

“You love it,” he says, “and I have a feeling you can take so much more.”

Andy's hands caress your thighs as he shifts his position slightly. "I want to explore every inch of you," he murmurs, his breath warm against your sensitive skin.

Andy's hands gently part your cheeks, exposing you fully. You feel a moment of vulnerability, but it quickly gives way to arousal as his tongue traces a path higher. When it reaches your puckered entrance, you gasp at the new sensation.

"Is this okay?" Andy murmurs against your sensitive skin.

You nod, words failing you as he begins to explore this uncharted territory. His tongue circles your opening, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention. The feeling is unlike anything you've experienced before - strange at first, but quickly becoming intensely pleasurable.

Andy takes his time, his movements slow and deliberate. His hands knead your ass cheeks as his tongue works its magic, occasionally dipping lower to tease your dripping core before returning to its primary focus.

As you relax into the sensation, Andy becomes bolder. The tip of his tongue presses against your tight ring of muscle, not quite entering but applying delicious pressure. You moan, pushing back against him, silently begging for more.

"You like that, don't you?" Andy says, his voice husky with desire. "Your body's so responsive, so eager for my touch."

He resumes his ministrations.

"Relax," Andy soothes, his hands massaging your lower back. "Just feel."

His tongue circles your entrance, tracing lazy patterns that send tingles of pleasure through your body as he continues.

He alternates between broad strokes and more focused attention, occasionally dipping his tongue inside. The sensation is intense, making you moan and push back against his face.

"That's it," Andy encourages. "You're doing so well. Does it feel good?"

“Yes,” you whimper as he increases the pressure.

Your body trembles with pleasure as Andy continues his intimate exploration. His skilled tongue works you into a frenzy, alternating between your sensitive openings. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he slides two fingers into your dripping core while his tongue focuses on your puckered entrance.

The dual stimulation is overwhelming. You cry out, fisting the sheets as waves of pleasure crash over you. Andy doesn't let up, working you through your orgasm and beyond it.

When the aftershocks finally subside, Andy places a gentle kiss on your lower back before moving up to lie beside you. He gathers you into his arms, stroking your hair as you catch your breath.

"You're incredible," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You snuggle closer, basking in the afterglow. For a moment, you forget about the case, about the complications. You're just two people, connected in the most intimate way.

But reality starts to creep back in as your breathing returns to normal. You lift your head to look at Andy, finding his eyes already on you.

"We should talk about this," you say softly.

"Us? Two lawyers? Talk about something?”

You laugh softly at Andy's quip, but the seriousness in his eyes belies his light tone. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and brushes his thumb over your cheek.

"I know," he says, his voice low. "This complicates things."

You nod, acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressed against yours. "The case..."

"Is still our priority," Andy finishes for you. "We can't let this distract us from what's at stake."

You sit up slowly, the sheet pooling around your waist. Andy's eyes roam your body appreciatively before meeting your gaze again.

"But I don't regret it," he says firmly. "Do you?"

You consider for a moment, then shake your head. "No, I don't. But we need to be careful."

"Yes," Andy agrees. He sits up too, running a hand through his tousled hair. He looks at you another moment, and then his hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "I think we need to keep this separate from our work on the case. When we're working, we're colleagues. Nothing more."

You nod, leaning into his touch. "And when we're not working?"

A slow smile spreads across Andy's face. "When we're not working, we can explore... this." He gestures between you two.

A smile tugs at your lips. "I like the sound of that."

Andy leans in, his lips brushing yours in a gentle kiss. It’s slow, and there’s a sweetness in the depth of it that scares you a little, not expecting that.

But you kiss him back, savoring the moment before reluctantly pulling away. "We should probably get some sleep," you say, glancing at the clock. "It's almost 7 AM."

Andy nods, but his hand trails down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "Stay," he says, his voice low and husky. "We can grab a few hours of sleep here, then get started on the case."

You hesitate, knowing you should probably leave, maintain some distance. But the thought of curling up in Andy's arms is too appealing when he’s so willing.

Andy's warm body envelops you as he pulls you down to lie beside him. His arm securely wraps around your waist, offering comfort and warmth. You nestle closer, finding solace in the rise and fall of his chest beneath your head. The rhythmic beat of his heart lulls you into a peaceful state in the early morning hours, your eyelids finally surrendering to the heaviness of sleep. As the world fades away, you know what’s coming next will be one of the most difficult challenges of your life professionally and personally, but at least in this moment you will take solace in the tenuous safety of this connection.

I started this story months ago, was pretty disenchanted with at the time (thanks @biteofcherry for talking me through that), but now that it's had time to age, I went back in, did some rewriting, and I'm happy with where it has finally landed.

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