#and if you’ve found any ways to be better about it

[tastesousweet]

01 : Who’s the New Guy?

hamzah has a summer gig as the pool boy for one of his friends and y/n can’t help it if she’s just so intrigued by this friend of her brother’s.

01. 02. 03.

crushes came to you quite often.

you remember playground crushes; the boys you liked to stare at from afar as you played in the sand as a child. or the boys who frequented your prestigious ballet studio who were pretty and rambunctious which aided your curiosity. there was presley in high school who you found undeniably cool with his tattoos and effortless guitar playing skills; things ended with your heart torn at the fact that he admitted to enjoying your admiration and desire for him more than you and your entirety. he must’ve thought you were some ditz with the way he spoke to you that night : “i’m sorry, but i’m no liar, i never said i loved you, let alone liked you. in what world would we ever be together, y/n?”

your older sister, mina, has always told you boys are nothing but compliant lap dogs to the other boys around them; she warned you that you’ll never find one that would hold you because just because you asked (or even better if you didn’t have to ask), that he would make sure his buddy is wrapping his arms around a girl before he found it okay to do so. give and take, a fight for validation. a constant look around to ensure they’re accepted among themselves, “they’ll never learn to care if you except the bare minimum from them and it’s only worse that you’re so quick to accept any “love” without them having to at least try, y/n.”

she told you not to get caught up in the drama that came with boys (their breaking hearts and such) — or the other catty girls who were in competition to hold a guy’s attention for longer than a night in bed or date night out.

your older brother (who's also mila's twin) always claimed that your sister was spitting out a mouthful of bullshit whenever she’d start her hate-speech against men. this would typically lead the two to begin their own brawl, leaving you to solemnly look the other way, to find a safe piece of eye-candy that would surely turn your pupils into tiny black hearts.

while you tend to get a little fantastical about your intense desire for devotion and affection, your first, grounded love came in the form of ballet.

at age four you found yourself captivated by a small ballet theater production of sleeping beauty, you still fondly remember your great aunt accompanying you and the way she cried the entire time. you haven’t known a time where you weren’t amazed by the way you could move your body. you remember stretching yourself obsessively and eventually by age six you were watching late night shows with your family while maintaining a full split in front of the tv.

yet now, at nineteen that childhood dream you’ve worked towards your entire life feels like an overwhelming, burnt-out nightmare with clouded vision and harshly barked orders of “higher!” “now tighter!” “follow through!” “be consistent!” from your roster of highly established instructors, all fighting around in your head.

those first two years of school gave you a glimpse of what you’ve always thought you wanted — early mornings, strict diets, long days of structured dancing, endless nights of studying, eye bags covered in concealer, headaches from tight ponytails or buns, icing your knee caps on weekends, losing your mind and your poise demeanor without a doubt by the end of each semester. and above all you missed your parents, so bad.

so, after much pouting (and a few phone calls that consisted of you crying and blubbering about how broken down you’d become), your parents allowed for you to spend your summer break at home with them (rather than your usual confinement to an acclaimed, private ballet institution for the entire break), under the guise that you’d be training with your old high school instructor to ensure you maintain your pristine skill level. you were sure that obligation was easy enough, as you’d already been through the hell of it in the spring.

now the sun beats on your glowy skin as you lie on a cream lounge chair. the bikini you wear is a soft kiss of pink, decorated in tiny black polka dots, that leaves little to imagine. your long legs are crossed at the ankle, bare feet exposed with your toes painted an elegant matching shade of pink. your book is now abandoned at your hip as you gaze, with squinted eyes, at the boy stood across the lawn’s wide stretch of concrete. his focus is on cleaning your family pool — rarely stopping unless he finds it completely necessary to wipe away a growing layer of sweat from his forehead.

he’s hasn’t given you any attention, barely a glance over, nothing close to an introduction. yet he’s somehow become your new person of interest with such little effort or time. you’ve covered yourself in sunscreen (in a slow fashion just in case he wanted a teasing show mid-shift), flipped onto your stomach to show off the curve of your ass as you read a few chapters of a memoir (trying to focus on the words written in times new roman to avoid getting distracted by the tall man), you’ve gone inside to grab a pair of sunglasses (to have a reason to walk by him and gain a shield that allows you to stare without your eyes on display), after ten minutes you decided sunglasses made the world far too dark and you would rather he know you’re staring at him than stare and get a poor view.

there was something about his warm, beautifully tanned skin and toned arms working against his white wife-beater that hugged him well. and his face was so inviting — you liked it when he had a question about a certain pipe and went to ask your dad about it, as he listened he cracked a smile and gave a nod of his head in understanding. it’s unbearable that you don’t know his name, but you can imagine it’s something cute that you’d like the sound of when hearing your voice deliver it.

after a much needed bathroom break, you make your way back outside with a deep red, raspberry popsicle in your hand. you lick over the cold dessert a few times as you move closer to where the boy sits, obviously exhausted, with his head tilted down towards his knees.

“hi,” you speak, standing in front of him.

he seems to be caught off guard by your presence, flinching slightly before looking up (attempting to refrain from scanning over your exposed body), “uh, hey?”

“are you finished?” you question with a slight head tilt.

“oh, not really, i just have t’pressure check the jets in the hot tub. that’s my bad, ill get back to it.” he goes to stand but you place your hand gently on his shoulder so that he stays.

you both look at your hand’s placement then into each other’s eyes. you smile awkwardly, taking your hand off of him and begin pretending to dust something off of his shoulder, “… just some sorta feather or …” you clear your throat and retract your hand again, “sorry, um, i just thought i’d introduce myself. because- well, i live here and i guess i … just wanted to know your name,” you speak softly and bring the popsicle to your mouth to suckle a little more.

your eyes look at him with a sense and emotion he’s not sure anyone has in his entire life. you’re like a viper or siren, some sort of creature that’s hypnotizing him with beauty and desire. as he speaks you continue lapping the popsicle in your mouth, he clears his throat, “hamzah.”

“hamzah? i like it.” you love it.

“yeah?” he looks down at the popsicle that’s now slick from your mouth’s warmth, then he’s looking back in your eyes, “thanks.”

“how’d my parent’s find such a cutie to come pour chlorine in the pool?” you flirt.

“i mean i do more than pour chlorine in a pool, y’know i check the piping, change the tank …” your stare is so captivating it’s hard for him to not feel like blushing, “i’ll, uh, tell you all about it later. t’answer your question, i’m friends with leo and needed a summer gig before goin’ back to school.”

you can’t believe it’s true — your brother doesn’t have nice friends. your brother even doesn’t have friends with real jobs let alone any that plan to complete college. you laugh softly, “no, you’re not? i know all of my brother’s friends.”

hamzah shrugs his shoulders, “i mean, i guess we weren’t the closest in high school,” he pinches his eyes slightly, “you are the younger sister, right? the one who’s got all that dance business goin’ on?”

you shake your head in slight embarrassment at your description, “yes, that’s me with the “dance business”” you smile, “i’m y/n.”

“cool. s’nice to meet you,” he reaches his hand out and you place yours in his hold as you two shake hands.

── .✦

you were pouring a glass of water when the idea came to you; you knew hamzah was bound to be leaving soon but you craved to hear more from him. all it took was a slight (but very intentional) tumble of the words, “i wanna invite that new pool boy to stay dinner,” for your father to immediately agree.

he continues to stir at the sizzling vegetables in his pan, “oh! that’s a wonderful idea, sweetheart, open that for for me?” he nods towards the sliding glass door.

you try not to display your excitement too blatantly, but can’t help that your socked feet glide over to the door.

your father’s immediately calling out, “hey hamzah! c’mere a minute would’ya?”

hamzah immediately bolts over, he’s out of breath and surprised to see you leaning against the open door, “hey,” he directs to you but it’s sounds more like a gasp for air than a word.

“no running by the pool,” you whisper back, watching as his face of confusion turns into another smile.

“fair,” hamzah shrugs.

“hamzah, we were hopin’ you’d stay for dinner tonight?”you father speaks loudly, and the way he says it makes it sound like more of a statement than a question.

his face lights up, “sur-”

“say yes,” you warn through your teeth, knowing your father’s irritation with any use of a word as dismissive as “sure”.

“yes, um, yes that sounds great. thank you, sir.” he can see you giggling beside him, and when your father turns away he playfully nudges your side with his elbow.

── .✦

dinner was full of undying conversation and many overlaps in dialogue. never a dull moment.

“y/n, pass the mashed potatoes,” your brother calls out.

you whine, “leo, i just said my entire body hurts from training, i’ve passed it back and forth like four times already.”

“oh my god, and somehow your complaining just ruined my appetite, anyway. i can always count on you, y/n.” he laughs under his breath.

“that’s enough, now.” your mother speaks up, “but y/n, i’m getting worried, do you think you need some extra sessions dedicated to stretching?”

“i’m fi-”

“shoot, hamzah could give you some tips on stretchin’.” your brother jokes, “weren’t you in ballet?”

hamzah is completely flushed, “like, barely, my parents forced me when i was, like, seven-”

he’s cut off as soon as you register what this could mean for you, “wait, you’d really help me?” you ask with a sense of genuine curiosity, and a big, encouraging smile of course.

“hamzah i never knew you were so, multitalented.” your mother comments.

leo laughs, “he’s n-”

hamzah clears his throat and wipes his mouth with a small napkin, “well, yeah, i’ll help out wherever i can.”

“really?!” you’re relieved that he actually agreed.

“oh good fucking luck,” your brother sighs under his breath and claps a hand against hamzah’s shoulder.

── .✦

“don’t forget you need to meet me at the studio at 6 to beat the rush, wear something flexible, and remember to bring your smart brain and lots of patience — i can be kinda bitchy that early in the morning!”

hamzah sighs, returning to standing a few inches above you now that he’s done tying his shoes in your foyer, “as opposed to bringing my dumb brain and all of my impatience —” he smiles at you and but your face is plain and straight, “right. yeah, i got it all. you also wrote it down for me on my hand, remember?” he shows his hand with purple, glittery ink covering the palm.

your arms are crossed as you explain, “yes but that’s just unreliable- it’ll be gone by morning…” you shrug and watch as he pulls a sweatshirt in over his head, “and i need to tell you these things in case you forget about me and don’t set an alarm.”

he laughs as adjusts the sleeves of the mossy green sweatshirt, “i won’t.”

“cool.”

“so i’m wakin’ up at 10 and goin’ for breakfast then meeting up with you?” he jokes and immediately catches your hand in his own before you get the chance to push his shoulder. he laughs as he brings you close, keeping your hand in his as he offers a warm side hug. “i’ll be at the studio before 6, how about that?”

you nod as you pull away, “you better.”

“uh huh,” he opens your front door and finally calls out “good night!” to your family, who all echo the sentiment back to him. before he fully walks out he turns to you, with your hold on the tall wooden door, “bye, i’ll see you in, like, nine hours or somethin’.”

“bye, thank you,” you smile and watch him rush over to his car parked on the street, “don’t forget, hamzah!” you holler and watch his figure throw a thumbs up into the air before he climbs into his slightly janky car.

── .✦

you both were a couple of yawning, baby fawns with the amount of slow blinks and constant, accidental bumps into each other as you walked into the quiet studio and found your way into a private practice room.

the colors of the walls and equipment were various muted browns and light grays. you set your duffle bag on the ground and stretched your arms above you, “so, what exactly are we doing?”

hamzah rubs at his eyes, he’s clad in basic grey sweatpants and another white wife-beater, his hair is its usual curly with slight frizz from sleep, “umm, you’re the professional here?”

“hamzahhhh, you said you would help!” you drag while adjusting yourself onto the floor, stretching out your legs on either side of you.

“yeah! but i wasn’t expectin’ to have any stretches made! im not a yoga instructor, i was just gonna be your little assistant.” he moves to the ground with you.

“m’kay, here,” you flutter your fingers to encourage him to mimic your position and hold onto your forearms, “and now flatten your back and lean forward,” you both complete the action then return to sitting up.

“what do they always say? come on, deep breaths, in!” you both hold “and out,” you both release.

you smile at him,“you’re a natural, look at you!” you compliment.

the two of you complete your entire yoga flow that you’d do almost every day at university, before progressing into the most random yoga poses you’d heard of under the guise of “let’s just try it!”

there were a few fails due to lack of balance or the need to burst into laughter but generally you two worked well together.

just before you two left you asked hamzah to help you stretch deeper, as you lie flat on a mat, lifting your leg up boldly. “i just need you to kneel down and push my leg all the way into my chest for me …” you bite at your bottom lip to suppress a smile.

hamzah finishes his sip of water, watching you lie there in that tight yoga piece, dangling a foot in the air and inviting him to be so close to you. “yeah? ‘kay, guide me.” he sets the bottle down and kneels in front of you as you asked.

“mhm, yeah here i’ll just,” you move your leg onto his shoulder and bring his hand to your lower thigh, just above your knee, “right … there.” you let your hand linger on his before looking back at him. he’s already focused on your face and your next command, “just lean forward and bring my leg with you,” you accidentally let out the tiniest, whiniest little groan.

“m’sorry,” he whispers with wide eyes.

“no, don’t. it’s good, i needed this,” you remind.

“yeah, just breathe, you’re doin’ good.” he coaches while pushing your leg further.

── .✦

“mmm! if the girls in my class knew i was eating this i’d be skinned and shunned from the program!” you shake your head, raspberry jelly dribbling from the side of your lips. you’re more than grateful hamzah suggested you both stop by a small shop, only a block away, for some post-yoga sweetness.

hamzah continues to walk back towards the studio with you next to him, crinkling wax paper wrapping into his pocket, “that’s gnarly as fuck, you couldn’t even have like a single plain donut? just one?”

“no, and half of ‘em have heart palpitations at the thought of honey nut cheerios. i think donuts would end them, unfortunately.” you wipe your face.

“well, damn maybe ballet-in’ kinda sucks?”

“maybe.” you sigh and bring the large jelly donut up to his mouth as he bites, “what’d you think it was like?”

he shrugs, chews a little, then answers, “i dunno- fun?”

you let out a soft laugh and take another bite. you’re just a little annoyed that hamzah makes it far too easy to crush on him — how dare he be so pretty and kind and actually interested…?

── .✦

a/n: hiii first part of my short series for hamzah! yaaayyy!! hope u all liked this, i did not proof read too in depth so im kinda just prayin it makes sense. love ya! <3

[hisfavegirl]

Fire Of Passion - Aegon Targaryen x Twinsister!Reader.

Summary : Despite your love for him, being Aegon’s betrothed was no easy feat. His wandering nature often drove you to anger, jealousy, and despair. The nights when he stumbled into the Keep reeking of wine and sin were endless. Yet, somehow, you always found yourself forgiving him, pulled back by the way his silver hair glimmered in the firelight or the softness of his lips against yours as he murmured promises of change.

Word Count : 13k

Warning : Teasing, P in V, edging, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulated, aegon being sub, fingering, rough sex, public sex (kinda).

Aegon Targaryen Masterlist.

House Of Th Dragon Masterlist.

and also big thanks to @zaldritzosrose for let me using yours beautiful dividers 🫶🏻.

The early morning light filtered softly through the heavy drapes of the Red Keep as you made your way to Aegon’s chambers. Your heart pounded with a mixture of anger, hurt, and a lingering sense of betrayal. The sound of your maid’s quiet sobs outside your door had confirmed what you feared: Aegon had yet again overstepped the bounds of decency, disregarding the love and trust you had tried so desperately to maintain between you.

As you approached his door, you took a deep breath, steadying yourself before pushing it open without knocking. The familiar scent of wine and stale air hit you as you entered, and there he was—Aegon, sprawled lazily across his bed, the evidence of his indulgences scattered around the room.

“Aegon,” you said, your voice cold and firm, startling him awake. His bleary eyes blinked open, and he sat up slowly, a look of confusion turning into one of guilt as he recognized the fury in your gaze.

“Love —” he began, but you cut him off sharply.

“Don’t,” you hissed, stepping closer, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “I don’t want to hear your excuses, Aegon. Not this time.”

He sighed heavily, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and rubbing his face. “I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean to?” you interrupted, your voice rising in anger. “How many times have I heard that from you? You didn’t mean to hurt me, you didn’t mean to disgrace me, but you keep doing it.”

Aegon looked away, guilt shadowing his features. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I know I’ve messed up.”

“Messed up?” You laughed bitterly. “You’ve done more than just ‘mess up.’ Do you have any idea what it feels like to have a servant cry to me about how you forced her to your bed?”

“I was drunk,” Aegon defended weakly, standing and trying to approach you, but you stepped back, the sting of his actions too fresh. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Drunk or not, it doesn’t excuse what you did!” you exclaimed, your hands trembling at your sides. “You are a prince, Aegon. You have responsibilities, to me, to our family. Do you think this is what I signed up for? To be humiliated, over and over again?”

“I know I’ve hurt you,” Aegon said, his voice low and filled with remorse. “I hate myself for it. I love you, and I don’t know why I do these things. I don’t know how to stop.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the pain in his voice conflicting with the anger in your heart. “If you love me, Aegon, then show it. Stop hurting me. Stop hurting yourself.”

Aegon reached for your hand, his grip gentle yet desperate. “I want to change. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just… don’t give up on me.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for the sincerity you so desperately wanted to believe in. “This is the last time, Aegon. I mean it. If you can’t change, if you won’t try, then I can’t stay.”

“I will,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear to you, I’ll be better.”

You nodded slowly, the ache in your heart easing just a little. “Then prove it. Not with words, but with actions.”

As you turned to leave, Aegon caught your hand, pulling you into a gentle embrace. “I will,” he whispered. “For you, for us.”

You allowed yourself a brief moment of solace in his arms, hoping against hope that this time, he would keep his word.

You felt your body soften in Aegon's arms, the tension slowly dissipating as you let out a long, shaky breath. His embrace was warm, familiar, and for a moment, it almost felt like everything might be okay. Aegon's lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, "Stay a little longer, won't you? Join me for a bath."

His request was gentle, almost pleading, and you couldn't help the small, soft laugh that escaped your lips. The anger that had been simmering just moments ago melted away, replaced by a warmth that only he could ignite.

You felt the unmistakable press of his cock against you, a clear sign that your presence, even in anger, had stirred something in him. He always had a way of finding your fiery temper irresistible, and you knew it.

"Aegon," you murmured, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes, still tinged with remorse, now held a glimmer of mischief.

"You're impossible." He grinned, his hands lingering at your waist as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck. "I can't help it. You're even more hot when you're angry."

You rolled your eyes, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth despite yourself. "Flattery won't get you anywhere this time."

"Won't it?" Aegon teased, his voice low and seductive. He kissed your shoulder, trailing his lips along your collarbone. "Stay, just for a little while."

You bit your lip, momentarily tempted by his touch, but you knew better. "As much as l'd love to, I can't. Mother's waiting for me."

Aegon groaned softly, his arms tightening around you as if reluctant to let go. "She can wait a little longer."

You laughed again, placing a hand on his chest to gently push him back. "No, Aegon. I've kept her waiting long enough."

He sighed, resting his forehead against yours. "Fine," he relented, though his disappointment was evident. "But tonight... you're mine."

Your heart fluttered at the possessiveness in his tone, and you nodded. "Tonight."

With a final, lingering kiss on your lips, Aegon released you, watching as you stepped away. "Don't keep me waiting too long," he called after you as you made your way to the door.

"I won't," you promised, casting him a fond smile over your shoulder before slipping out of the room.

As you walked through the corridors of the Red Keep, the echoes of your conversation with Aegon lingered in your mind. There was still a long way to go, but for the first time in a while, you felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps, just perhaps, things could be different.

As you entered your mother’s chambers, the warm light filtering through the windows highlighted the intricate tapestries and elegant furnishings. Your sister, Helaena, sat beside your mother, engrossed in a discussion with the royal seamstress. Swatches of fabric in shades of gold and emerald lay spread across the table, and the delicate beading of your wedding gown caught the light as the seamstress adjusted it on a nearby mannequin.

Helaena’s face lit up as she saw you. “Oh, there you are! We were just discussing the final touches on your gown. Isn’t it beautiful?”

You gave the dress a cursory glance, the weight of the upcoming nuptials pressing on your mind. With a playful, yet slightly sarcastic smirk, you remarked, “I’m sure it’s lovely. Not that it’ll matter much after the ceremony when Aegon will be more interested in getting me out of it.”

The room fell into a brief, stunned silence. Helaena stifled a giggle behind her hand, while the seamstress suddenly found the hem of the gown incredibly fascinating. Alicent, however, fixed you with a sharp, disapproving glare.

“Must you always be so improper?” she chided, her tone stern but tinged with exasperation. “This is a sacred ceremony, a union blessed by the gods. You should show more respect.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, moving to the chaise and reclining comfortably. “Oh, Mother, don’t be so serious. The gods have had plenty of opportunities to bless this union.”

Alicent’s lips pressed into a thin line, her knuckles whitening as she clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “You should conduct yourself with dignity and decorum, especially now. The eyes of the court will be on you.”

You softened slightly, recognizing the worry in her eyes. “I understand, Mother. I’m sorry if I offended you. It’s just… Aegon and I have always had a more… informal way of expressing our affections.”

Alicent sighed, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “I know, but appearances are important. Especially for you both. The realm needs to see unity, strength, and propriety.”

Helaena, sensing the need to lighten the mood, chimed in with a gentle smile. “Besides, you’ll look like a queen in this gown. Aegon won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

You chuckled softly, reaching out to squeeze Helaena’s hand. “He never does, no matter what I’m wearing.”

Alicent’s expression softened at your exchange, her maternal pride shining through her worry. “Just promise me you’ll try to behave during the ceremony. For the family’s sake.”

You nodded, meeting her gaze with sincerity. “I promise, Mother. I’ll do my best to make you proud.”

Satisfied, Alicent turned back to the seamstress, resuming their discussion about the final alterations. As you watched her, a pang of guilt tugged at your heart. You knew your playful irreverence often caused her worry, but it was your way of coping with the pressures of your impending role as Aegon’s wife. Still, you resolved to temper your wit with grace, at least for the sake of those who cared for you.

As the conversation continued around you, you leaned back, allowing yourself a moment of peace, knowing that soon, the weight of the crown would rest upon your shoulders.

You leaned back lazily on the chaise, your fingers idly tracing patterns on the soft fabric as your mother, Alicent, meticulously examined a selection of ornate headpieces laid out before her. She moved with a determined grace, her eyes scanning each intricate design, from gold filigree adorned with emeralds to delicate silver circlets set with sapphires. Her determination to make your wedding with Aegon a grand affair was evident in every careful decision she made.

“This one,” she murmured, lifting a diadem encrusted with shimmering green and gold gems. “It will complement the gown beautifully, and it symbolizes the strength of our house.”

You sighed softly, watching her with a mixture of affection and resignation. You knew that, for Alicent, this wedding was more than a union of love—it was a statement, a declaration of power and legacy. “Mother, does it truly matter which headpiece I wear? Aegon will hardly notice, and the court will have their opinions regardless.”

Alicent turned to you, her gaze steady but softened by a hint of concern. “It matters because you are not just marrying Aegon. You are a princess of the Seven Kingdoms, daughter of the king and queen. This wedding must be a testament to the strength of our house, to the purity of your Valyrian blood.”

You shifted slightly, the weight of her words pressing down on you. “I understand the importance, Mother. But sometimes, it feels like this wedding is more about politics than love.”

Alicent’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face. She moved to sit beside you, placing a gentle hand on yours. “I know you love Aegon. And he loves you, in his way. But there is more at stake than just your happiness. Your marriage secures the future of our house, strengthens our claim, and ensures the legacy of our bloodline.”

You nodded slowly, understanding the weight of her intentions but still feeling the tug of frustration. “I love him, Mother. I truly do. But I also know that if I hadn’t agreed to this marriage, Father might have conceded to Rhaenyra’s request to marry me to Jace. And that was something you could never allow.”

Alicent’s jaw tightened, and she looked away, her hands clasping in her lap. “Rhaenyra has always sought to undermine our family, to claim what is rightfully yours and Aegon’s. I could not stand by and let that happen. Your union with Aegon solidifies our position, our power.”

You leaned forward, capturing her gaze with yours. “I understand why you did it. But sometimes, I wonder… what would have happened if I had been betrothed to Jace? Would we have found a different path to peace?”

Alicent shook her head firmly. “There is no peace with Rhaenyra. Not while she vies for the throne. Your marriage to Aegon ensures our survival. It’s not just about love, it’s about duty.”

A heavy silence fell between you, the unspoken tensions of the past lingering in the air. Finally, you sighed, offering a faint smile. “I do love Aegon, Mother. And I will do my duty. But I hope, in time, we can find a way to bridge the divide in our family.”

Alicent’s eyes softened, and she reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I hope for the same, my dear. More than anything, I want you to be happy. And I believe that, together, you and Aegon can bring strength and unity to our house.”

You leaned into her touch, finding comfort in her presence despite the weight of her expectations. “I’ll do my best, for you, for Aegon, and for our family.”

Alicent smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “That’s all I ask.”

As you both sat in the quiet of the chamber, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the walls, you felt a renewed sense of resolve. Your marriage to Aegon was more than a union of love—it was a battle for the future of your house, a fight you were determined to win.

The sun had set, casting a warm, golden glow over the Red Keep as you made your way to your chambers. Your mother, had released you from her meticulous planning session, but only briefly. She had made it clear you were expected to join her for supper in her private solar, a family gathering meant to discuss the final arrangements for your upcoming wedding to Aegon.

After bathing and slipping into a fresh gown—a deep green silk adorned with subtle gold embroidery—you made your way down the familiar corridors, your footsteps echoing softly against the stone floors. The palace was alive with the muted hum of evening activity, servants bustling about, and the occasional murmur of conversation floating through the air.

As you approached the entrance to your mother’s solar, the soft murmur of voices reached your ears. You pushed open the heavy wooden door, stepping into the warm, inviting space illuminated by a cluster of candles and the flickering light of the hearth.

Inside, the scene was both familiar and comforting. Your mother sat at one end of the table, her posture graceful and poised, engaged in a quiet conversation with Helaena. They were discussing the floral arrangements and decorations for the wedding, their voices a gentle hum of excitement and anticipation. Helaena, with her dreamy expression, nodded along, her delicate fingers toying with a small bunch of lavender.

On the other side of the room, Aegon lounged in a chair, a goblet of wine cradled in his hand. His face was flushed with the warmth of the drink, a lazy smile playing on his lips as he exchanged words with Aemond, who stood by the fireplace, arms crossed, his expression as stoic as ever.

You entered quietly, your presence noted by Aegon, who lifted his gaze and offered you a lopsided grin. “Ah, the bride-to-be has graced us with her presence,” he drawled, raising his goblet in a mock toast.

You arched a brow, making your way over to him. “Is that your first or third goblet of the evening, Aegon?”

Aegon chuckled, taking a long sip. “Does it matter love? It’s a celebration, after all"

“A celebration that hasn’t happened yet,” you reminded him, though your tone was light. You glanced at Aemond, who offered you a subtle nod in acknowledgment.

“Mother insisted on this supper,” Aemond interjected, his voice calm and measured. “She wants everything to be perfect.”

“Of course she does,” you replied, moving to sit beside Aegon. “Perfection is her forte.”

Alicent looked up from her conversation, her eyes softening as she observed the interaction. “I want this wedding to be memorable,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “For both of you. It is not just a union, but a symbol of the strength and unity of our house.”

You met her gaze, offering a small smile. “We appreciate everything you’re doing, Mother.”

Helaena chimed in, her voice airy and melodic. “The flowers will be beautiful. White roses and lilacs, with touches of gold ribbon. It will look like a dream.”

Aegon leaned closer to you, his breath warm against your ear. “A dream, indeed,” he whispered, the mischief in his eyes unmistakable. “But I’m more interested in what comes after the wedding.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, gently elbowing him. “Behave yourself, Aegon.”

He laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Only if you promise to keep me entertained.”

The supper proceeded with a mixture of light-hearted banter and serious discussion. Alicent’s attention to detail was evident in every aspect, from the seating arrangements to the choice of music. Aemond contributed thoughtfully, offering strategic suggestions on security and logistics, while Helaena continued to dreamily discuss the aesthetics.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself relaxing, the tension from earlier dissipating in the warmth of your family’s presence. Despite the complexities and challenges that lay ahead, for this moment, you were simply a daughter, a sister, and a bride-to-be, surrounded by those you loved most.

The meal was a lavish affair, the table laden with dishes that smelled as divine as they looked. You sat beside Aegon, attempting to focus on your food and the polite conversation around you. Alicent was discussing the final guest list with Helena, while Aemond offered a few terse comments about security.

But your concentration was waning.

Aegon's hand had found its way under the table, resting on your thigh. At first, it was a gentle presence, a reassuring touch meant to calm your nerves. But as the minutes passed, his fingers began to trace slow, deliberate circles, inching higher with each pass. The warmth of his hand against your skin sent a flush of heat through your body, your breath hitching slightly.

You speared a piece of meat on your plate, bringing it to your mouth in an attempt to stifle the soft moan that threatened to escape. Aegon, seemingly unfazed, continued his conversation with Aemond, discussing the details of the upcoming wedding as if his hand wasn't setting your body on fire beneath the table.

"The banners should reflect the combined strength of our house," Aemond was saying, his tone serious. "Black and red, to honor our Targaryen heritage."

"Indeed," Aegon replied, his voice smooth. His thumb pressed into your thigh, making you grip the edge of the table tightly. "And gold, to represent our status as rulers."

You closed your eyes for a moment, struggling to control your breathing. Each subtle movement of Aegon's hand sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you bit your lip to keep from making a sound. He was utterly shameless, his fingers slipping ever so slightly higher, teasing the sensitive bud just beneath your small cloth.

Alicent turned her attention to you, her smile warm. "What do you think, dear? About the color scheme?"

You opened your eyes, swallowing hard before offering a strained smile. "I think... it sounds perfect, Mother."

Aegon's fingers pressed just a bit harder, and you nearly dropped your fork. Your heart pounded in your chest as you fought to maintain your composure. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "You're doing so well, love" he whispered, his tone laced with amusement.

You shot him a warning glance, but the twinkle in his eyes told you he was thoroughly enjoying your predicament. His hand continued its maddening exploration, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You gripped your napkin, twisting it in your lap as you struggled to keep from moaning aloud.

Just as you felt yourself teetering on the brink, Aegon withdrew his hand. The absence of his touch was both a relief and a cruel disappointment. Your body ached with unfulfilled desire, and you exhaled shakily, glaring at him from the corner of your eye.

Aegon, ever the tease, simply smirked and took a leisurely sip of his wine, acting as if nothing had happened. He returned to his conversation with Aemond, leaving you flustered and frustrated.

As the meal continued, you did your best to regain your composure, though your mind was already plotting how to repay Aegon for his teasing later that night.

The warm glow of the torches in your mother's solar illuminated the room as you sat across from your mother, her voice steady as she went over the finer details of your upcoming wedding. Helaena sat to your side, absentmindedly twirling a strand of her pale hair while humming softly to herself. The mood was peaceful, but your thoughts were anything but.

Your mind drifted to the earlier moment at the dinner table, the warmth of Aegon's hand on your thigh, the way his touch had teased you and left you craving more. You barely heard Alicent's words as they blended into the background, replaced by the memory of his whisper against your ear. Your body still tingled with the remnants of his teasing.

"Are you even listening?" Alicent's sharp voice cut through your reverie, jolting you back to the present.

Your head snapped up, and you saw her frowning at you, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "I-yes, Mother, I'm listening," you stammered, though the guilty flush on your cheeks likely betrayed you.

She was asking if you preferred red or gold accents on the canopy," Alicent said, her tone tinged with exasperation. "It's an important decision. These are the final touches that will be remembered."

You blinked, struggling to focus. "Gold," you said quickly, hoping that was the right answer. "Gold will complement everything beautifully."

Helena giggled softly, her dreamy smile never fading. "You're thinking of something else, aren't you? Or someone else."

Your cheeks burned hotter, and you shot her a glare. "Don't be ridiculous, Helaena."

Alicent sighed, setting down the fabric samples in her hand. "You've been distracted all evening. This is your wedding we're planning. Surely you understand how important this is."

"I do," you said, nodding quickly. "I'm just... tired, Mother. It's been a long day, and I want to be sure l'm giving this the attention it deserves."

Alicent's expression softened slightly, though there was still a trace of disapproval in her eyes. "Very well. We can continue this tomorrow morning. But I expect you to be more present. This is not just about you; it's about the legacy of our house."

"Yes, Mother," you said, rising from your seat.

"Thank you for understanding." Helena watched you with an amused tilt of her head as you made your way to the door.

"Sleep well, sister," she said in her lilting tone. "And try not to dream too much of Aegon."

You gave her another sharp look, but she only laughed softly, returning her attention to the embroidery in her lap. Alicent dismissed you with a wave, already engrossed in discussing floral arrangements with Helaena.

As you stepped out of the solar and into the dimly lit corridor, you released a heavy sigh. The air was cool against your flushed skin, and you allowed yourself a moment to breathe. Your thoughts, however, were already racing ahead, wondering if Aegon was waiting for you in your chambers. With a shake of your head, you began the walk back to your room, determined to face whatever teasing or mischief awaited you.

The door to your chamber creaked softly as you pushed it open, stepping inside to find Aegon lounging on the bed, his silver hair catching the light of the flickering candles. He looked entirely at ease, leaning back against the headboard with a sly grin playing on his lips, one hand resting on his knee.

As soon as his violet eyes met yours, he straightened slightly. "Lock the door," he said, his voice low and inviting.

You hesitated for a moment, but the look he gave you left no room for argument. With a small sigh, you turned and slid the bolt into place before walking toward him. The sound of your soft footsteps on the stone floor seemed to echo in the stillness of the room.

When you reached the bed, Aegon wasted no time. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer until you were standing between his knees. He gazed up at you, his smirk softening into something more affectionate. "You were so good tonight," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Obedient, even."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress the warmth that spread through your cunt at his praise. "Obedient? Is that what you call it?"

"Yes," he teased, leaning forward to rest his chin against your stomach, his fingers drawing small circles against your sides. "You didn't complain, didn't lash out-at least not publicly."

You threaded your fingers through his hair, the silky strands sliding easily through your touch.

"And what about you, Aegon?" you countered, your tone sharp but playful. "What do you call your behavior at supper? Teasing me like that and then leaving me to suffer?"

His smirk returned, mischievous and unapologetic. "Ah, that," he said, tilting his head to kiss the fabric of your dress where it clung to your hip. "That was just a little fun. You looked so beautiful struggling to stay composed. It's a sight I'll treasure."

You groaned, tugging his hair lightly in frustration, though you couldn't help the small laugh that escaped you. "You're insufferable," you muttered, though your tone lacked true venom.

"And you love me for it," he replied, his arms tightening around you. He nuzzled against your stomach, his lips brushing faintly over the fabric. "But you're right. I left something unfinished, didn't I?"

You looked down at him, your heart racing at the way his eyes glinted in the dim candlelight. "More than something," you said pointedly. "You're the one who started it, Aegon."

He chuckled, the vibration of it sending a shiver through you. "Then I suppose I owe it to you to finish what I started," he murmured, his voice dripping with promise.

But before he could do anything, you tugged his face up gently, forcing him to meet your gaze. "Don't think you're getting off so easily," you said. "You're going to pay for teasing me like that."

Aegon's smirk widened as he let you guide him, leaning into your touch as though he would happily follow wherever you led. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he said, his voice a soft hum as his hands began to trail upward, brushing against your back.

"You're impossible," you whispered, leaning closer as his lips hovered near yours, a breath away.

"And you adore me for it," he replied, his voice low and teasing. Then his lips met yours, and the world melted away as you gave in to the undeniable pull of him, forgetting for the moment all your frustration, your teasing words forgotten as you surrendered to the warmth of his embrace.

As your lips melded with Aegon's, you could feel his smirk against your mouth, his confidence as palpable as ever. But tonight, you weren't going to let him have the upper hand. Slowly, deliberately, you guided him back onto the plush bedding. He complied without resistance, his gaze locked on yours, curious and expectant.

The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his sharp features as you reached for the soft silk cloth draped at the edge of the bed. Aegon raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking in amusement. "What's this?" he murmured, his tone laced with intrigue.

"You like playing games, don't you?" you replied, your voice low and teasing. "Well, it's my turn now."

Before he could respond, you captured his wrists and guided them above his head. His violet eyes widened slightly, though the smirk remained firmly in place. "You're full of surprises tonight," he said, his voice husky as he allowed you to tie his hands securely to the ornate headboard.

"Stay still," you instructed, your tone firm but playful as you tightened the knot just enough to ensure he couldn't escape. "You're not in control anymore, Aegon."

He chuckled, though there was a flicker of vulnerability in his expression. "And what exactly are you planning to do, my fiery little twins?"

You leaned in, letting your lips hover just above his. "Make you pay for earlier," you whispered, your breath brushing against his mouth. Then, without another word, you pulled back, ignoring the frustrated groan that escaped him.

Standing at the foot of the bed, you began to undo the laces of your gown, deliberately taking your time. The silk fabric slid off your shoulders with agonizing slowness, revealing inch by inch of your skin. Aegon's jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with desire as he tugged lightly at his restraints, testing them.

"Gods, you're cruel," he muttered, his voice thick with frustration. "You know exactly what you're doing to me.

You smiled coyly, letting the dress pool around your feet. "Oh, I know," you said, stepping closer but staying just out of reach. "You've had your fun teasing me, Aegon. Now it's your turn to feel helpless."

His gaze roamed over you, a mix of admiration and torment etched onto his face. "You're playing a dangerous game," he warned, though his voice betrayed his enjoyment of your control.

"Am I?" you asked innocently, climbing onto the bed and straddling his waist. You leaned down, your lips brushing lightly against his neck, his collarbone, before pulling back again, leaving him yearning for more.

Aegon groaned, his muscles straining as he tried to break free from the silk bindings.

"You're driving me mad," he admitted, his voice hoarse. "Untie me, and I'll show you exactly how mad."

You chuckled softly, running your fingertips down his chest, savoring the way his body reacted to your touch. "Not yet," you said, your tone teasing. "I want to hear you beg first."

His head fell back against the pillow, a low growl escaping him. "Beg? You've truly lost your mind if you think l'll-"

You silenced him by leaning in, your lips capturing his in a searing kiss. When you pulled away, his breathing was ragged, and his defiance had softened. "Please," he murmured at last, his voice almost a whisper.

Aegon tugged at the silk restraints around his wrists, his frustration growing by the second as he realized he was utterly at your mercy. His violet eyes burned with a mix of desire and exasperation as he looked up at you. "You're enjoying this far too much," he said through gritted teeth, his breath hitching when your fingers grazed his stomach.

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "Oh, I am. Did you think l'd just let you get away with teasing me earlier? You forget, dear brother, that we share the same blood. The same fire. The same madness." Your voice was low and sultry, and the way you trailed your fingers down his chest made him shiver.

Aegon groaned, tilting his head back against the pillow as you pressed a lingering kiss to his neck. "You're insufferable," he muttered, though the tremor in his voice betrayed just how much he was enjoying himself.

"And you love it," you shot back, a smirk playing on your lips. You shifted slightly, your body pressing closer to his, and he inhaled sharply, his restraint fraying with every passing moment.

"Let me touch you," he demanded, his voice thick with desperation. "I'll do anything. Just untie me."

You raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise.

"Anything, you say?" you teased, running your hands down his sides. "But what if I prefer you like this? Helpless. Powerless. Completely at my mercy."

His jaw clenched, his pride warring with his need for you. "You're cruel," he growled, his muscles tensing as he tried once more to pull free. But the silk held firm, and his efforts only made his predicament all the more tantalizing.

"You think this is cruel?" you asked, leaning down to nip at the sensitive skin of his collarbone. He let out a low, guttural sound that sent a thrill through you. "This is nothing compared to the torment you put me through at supper."

Aegon's breathing grew heavier, his frustration palpable as you continued to tease him. "You've made your point," he admitted, his voice strained. "I was wrong to toy with you earlier. Now untie me, and I'll make it up to you."

You laughed softly, your lips ghosting over his as you murmured, "Not yet. I'm not finished with you." Your hand trailed lower, brushing against the growing evidence of his arousal.

He groaned again, his head falling back as he struggled against the restraints. "You're driving me mad," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't take this anymore."

You tilted your head, pretending to consider his plea. "Hmm," you mused, your fingers dancing along his skin. "I could untie you... or i could keep you like this a little longer. After all, it's not every day I get to see you so... vulnerable."

Aegon's eyes snapped open, and he glared at you, though the effect was diminished by the way his body betrayed him. "I'll get you back for this," he vowed, his voice laced with both frustration and a begrudging admiration.

"Oh, I don't doubt that," you replied, your smirk widening. "But for now, you're mine."

You moved with deliberate slowness, your fingers trailing down Aegon's thighs as you worked to remove his pants, your eyes never leaving his face. His frustration was palpable, his teeth clenched, and his violet eyes blazing with a mix of anger and longing. Every brush of your hand was intentional, every movement designed to tease him further.

"Gods, you're insufferable," he growled, his voice thick with pent-up desire. When your fingers accidentally-or purposefully-brushed against his hardened length, he let out a low, guttural groan, his hips jerking slightly in response.

You smirked, your own excitement growing as you saw the way he struggled against the silk binding his wrists. "Oh, poor Aegon," you teased, feigning sympathy as you finally freed him from his pants. "You look so... frustrated."

Aegon glared at you, his breathing uneven. "You'll pay for this," he promised, his voice low and dangerous, though the effect was somewhat undercut by the way he was practically writhing beneath you.

You laughed softly, your fingers tracing the muscles of his abdomen as you slowly crawled back over him. "Is that so?" you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear. "Because from where l'm sitting, it seems like you're the one paying."

He tugged at the restraints again, his muscles flexing, but the bindings held firm. "Untie me," he demanded, his voice rough with need. "Let me touch you, or so help me, l'll-"

"You'll what?" you interrupted, a playful glint in your eyes as you straddled him. "Struggle harder? Moan louder?" You leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "Face it, brother, you're completely at my mercy."

Aegon growled in frustration, his head falling back against the pillow as you continued your assault on his senses. Your lips moved lower, leaving a trail of kisses along his chest, your tongue flicking over his sensitive skin. His body tensed beneath you, every muscle straining as he fought to maintain some semblance of control.

"You're driving me mad," he admitted through gritted teeth, his voice laced with both anger and desperation. "Is this what you wanted? To see me like this?" You paused, your lips hovering over his skin as you looked up at him with a wicked smile.

"Exactly," you purred. "And you look so beautiful when you're helpless, Aegon." His jaw tightened, and he glared down at you, though the effect was ruined by the way his body was betraying him. "When I get out of these restraints—"

"You'll what?" you interrupted again, pressing another kiss to his chest. "Tie me up? Take control?" You smirked, your hand brushing against his arousal again, drawing another tortured groan from him. "Oh, l'm counting on it."

Aegon's breathing grew heavier, his body arching into your touch as you continued to tease him. "Gods, you're impossible," he muttered, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"And you love it," you shot back, your voice full of confidence as you leaned down to capture his lips in a searing kiss. For a moment, his frustration melted away, replaced by raw, unbridled passion. But when you pulled back, leaving him on the edge once again, his glare returned.

"You'll regret this," he promised, his voice low and dangerous.

You laughed softly, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "Maybe," you admitted. "But for now, I'm enjoying every moment of it."

Your fingers moved with maddening precision, grazing against Aegon's cock just enough to send a shiver through him, but never enough to give him what he so clearly craved. His head fell back against the pillow, his lips parting as a low, frustrated groan escaped him. His wrists strained against the silk bindings, the muscles in his arms flexing as he struggled against the restraint.

"Gods," he muttered, his voice rough with need. "You're torturing me."

You tilted your head, a playful smile curving your lips as you leaned down, your breath warm against his ear. "Torture? Oh, Aegon," you whispered, your tone dripping with mock innocence, "this is just the beginning."

He opened his eyes, the frustration blazing in his violet gaze making your heart race. "Don't test me," he growled, his tone both a warning and a plea. "Untie me. Let me touch you."

You chuckled softly, running a single finger down his chest, tracing the faint scars and defined lines of his torso. "And miss out on seeing you like this?" you teased. "I don't think so."

Aegon groaned, his hips bucking slightly as your hand move slowly against his cock. His jaw tightened, and he turned his head to glare at you, though the effect was diminished by the way his body betrayed him, trembling under your touch.

His eyes darkened, and he bit down on his lip, trying to stifle another groan as you resumed your slow, deliberate movements. "Faster," he demanded, his voice strained. "For the love of the gods, go faster."

You shook your head, your smile widening. "Where's the fun in that?" you replied, your tone teasing. "You've always been so impatient, Aegon. Maybe this will teach you some restraint."

His response was a string of curses muttered under his breath, his chest heaving as you continued your torment. "You're going to regret this," he warned, though the quiver in his voice betrayed how close he was to breaking.

"Perhaps,'" you said, your voice soft as you leaned down, your lips brushing against his collarbone. "But for now, I'm enjoying myself."

His head snapped up, his gaze locking onto yours. "You're cruel," he hissed, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "But I'll make you pay for this. You know I will."

You laughed, your hand finally stilling for a moment as you met his gaze. "I look forward to it," you said, your voice a low purr. Then, with deliberate slowness, you resumed your movements, drawing another deep, shuddering groan from him.

"Gods, I hate you," he muttered, though the way his body arched into your touch told an entirely different story.

"And yet," you said, a playful lilt in your voice, "you're completely at my mercy."

Your moan loudly as you settled yourself fully onto him, your hands gripping Aegon's face firmly, forcing him to meet your gaze. His lips parted in a shaky gasp feeling how your walls squeezed him tightly, his violet eyes darkened with both frustration and need as they bore into yours. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his as a small, satisfied smirk curled on your lips.

"Not so fast," you whispered, your voice a Silken tease.

"Gods," Aegon groaned, his head tipping back against the pillows. His hands strained against the silk bindings at his wrists, the muscles in his arms flexing as if he could break free through sheer will alone. "You're tormenting me."

You chuckled softly, brushing your lips along his jawline, trailing kisses down to his neck.

"You deserve it," you murmured, your voice laced with a mix of amusement and punishment. "Do you think I forgot what you did? Do you think I'll let you off so easily?"

Aegon gritted his teeth, his hips jerking upwards in an attempt to quicken your excruciatingly slow movements. But you placed your hands on his chest, pressing him back down firmly. "No," you said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

He let out a frustrated growl, his violet eyes snapping back to yours. "You're cruel," he muttered, though there was a hint of admiration in his voice.

"And you're impatient," you countered, your lips brushing his in a featherlight tease. "Perhaps this will teach you to be more considerate next time."

Aegon groaned again, his body writhing beneath you as you continued your torturously slow pace. "I'll do whatever you want," he said, his voice desperate now. "Just-please. Please, my love."

You paused for a moment, your eyes narrowing as you leaned in closer. "Do you mean that?" you asked, your voice low, a challenge in your tone.

"Yes," Aegon gasped, his head nodding frantically. "I'll prove it. Whatever you ask, I'll do it."

You tilted your head, considering him for a moment before a sly smile spread across your face. "Then beg," you said simply, your voice a soft command.

His eyes widened briefly, surprise flashing across his face before it was replaced with determination. "Please," he rasped, his voice raw with need. "Please, my love. I need you. I can't take it anymore. I'm yours. Always yours."

Satisfied with his answer, you finally began to move faster, drawing a sharp, broken gasp from his lips. His head fell back, and his body arched beneath you, every muscle taut with the overwhelming sensations you were giving him.

"Good boy," you murmured, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to his lips.

Aegon moaned against your mouth, his hands flexing against the silk ties. "Untie me," he pleaded, his voice muffled against your lips. "Let me touch you. Let me worship you."

You shook your head, your lips curling into a wicked grin. "Not yet," you replied, your voice soft but firm. "This is still your punishment, remember?"

"But-"

"No," you interrupted, placing a finger against his lips to silence him. "You'll take what I give you. And you'll thank me for it."

Aegon let out a strangled moan, his eyes fluttering shut as he surrendered completely to you, his body trembling beneath yours. And as the night went on, you continued to hold him in the palm of your hand, ensuring he would never forget who truly held the power between you.

Aegon's groan echoed in the room as you continued to ride him, pushing him further into a frenzy. His pleas and broken gasps grew louder with every passing second, and as you decided to finally release his hands, you saw the flash of determination in his violet eyes.

The moment his wrists were free, he wasted no time. In one swift motion, Aegon grabbed your waist and flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath him. A wicked grin spread across his flushed face as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. "You've had your fun, love," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "Now it's my turn."

Before you could respond, he thrust into you with a force that knocked the air from your lungs. A loud, unrestrained moan escaped your lips as he began to move with a relentless pace, leaving no room for your earlier teasing.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you against him with every thrust, and the intensity of his movements left you breathless.

"Aegon-" you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he buried his face in the curve of your neck.

"You think you can tease me like that and get away with it?" he growled, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. "You'll pay for every second you made me suffer."

His teeth grazed your neck, and you felt a sharp nip that made you arch beneath him. His hands roamed your body, one gripping your thigh to hook it around his waist while the other slid up to your throat. His fingers wrapped around your neck with just enough pressure to leave you dizzy with pleasure, and he smirked as he watched your reaction.

"You like this, don't you?" he taunted, his voice low and dripping with satisfaction. "Seeing me lose control like this, knowing it's all because of you."

You could barely form a coherent response, your head tilting back as he tightened his grip slightly. "Aegon... please..." you whispered, though whether you were begging him to stop or keep going, even you didn't know.

"Please what?" he pressed, his lips trailing down your collarbone as his pace quickened.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you gasped, "Don't stop... gods, don't stop."

Aegon chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "I wasn't planning to," he murmured before capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

The kiss was messy and desperate, both of you too consumed by the moment to care about finesse. His hand on your throat loosened slightly, his thumb brushing over your jaw as he deepened the kiss. His other hand gripped your waist, anchoring you as he fuck you with an unrelenting rhythm.

"You drive me mad," he muttered against your lips, his voice rough with a mix of frustration and adoration. "Every time I look at you, l lose control."

Your breaths mingled as he pressed his forehead against yours, his violet eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "Say it," he demanded, his voice a low growl. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

"Again," he ordered, his pace never faltering.

"I'm yours, Aegon," you cried out, your voice breaking as the overwhelming pleasure threatened to consume you.

"That's right," he murmured, a triumphant smirk curling on his lips. "You'll always be mine."

Aegon's grip on your hips tightened as his movements grew impossibly faster, his focus completely on the sight of you trembling beneath him. Your hands gripped the sheets desperately, your cries filling the room as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you.

"Aegon-please!" you gasped, your voice hoarse from crying out his name. "I... I can't take any more."

But your plea only seemed to spur him on. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Yes, you can. You're mine, remember? I'll decide when you've had enough."

Your body betrayed you, arching into him despite the overwhelming sensations. His hands roamed your body possessively, as if to remind you of his claim. He pressed a kiss to your jawline before nipping at your skin, leaving another mark to join the others he'd made throughout the night.

"Aegon, please," you whimpered, your voice breaking as another wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you gasping. "I can't... it's too much..."

But he didn't stop. If anything, your pleas only seemed to spur him on. A dark smirk played on his lips as he leaned closer, his silver hair falling over his face, casting shadows over his violet eyes.

"You can handle it," he murmured, his voice low and dripping with confidence. "You were made for me. For this."

You arched beneath him, your hands clutching at the sheets as he pushed you further and further toward the edge. The heat between you was unbearable, and you could feel every ounce of his passion and love pouring into you.

"Aegon, please," you begged again, your voice barely a whisper as your body trembled uncontrollably.

"You're beautiful like this," he muttered, his voice low and rough. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his violet eyes dark with lust. His hand came up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek. "So beautiful... and all mine."

You could barely respond, your body writhing beneath him as you teetered on the edge once more. "Aegon... I-"

"Come on, love," he encouraged, his voice softening just slightly. "Let go for me. Let me see you fall apart."

With one last sharp thrust, you shattered completely, your vision going white as you cried out his name. Your body tensed and then melted beneath him, every nerve alight as the overwhelming pleasure consumed you.

Aegon leaned down, his hand moving to cup your cheek as he kissed you deeply, his lips claiming yours with a desperation that left you breathless. When he pulled away, his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart race.

Aegon followed moments later, his movements becoming erratic as he groaned deeply, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His body trembled against yours as he spilled into you, his grip on your hips tightening as if grounding himself in the moment.

For a few moments, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing.

Aegon eventually shifted, his lips brushing against your temple as he murmured, "You're perfect."

You turned your head slightly to look at him, your body still trembling from the best sex you've ever had with him.

"You're relentless," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"And you love it," he teased, a lazy smirk spreading across his lips.

You rolled your eyes, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. "I hate how well you know me."

Aegon chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss you again. It was a slower, gentler kiss this time, a stark contrast to his earlier intensity.

"I'll always know you, love," he murmured against your lips. "You're my twin, my equal... my everything."

His words sent a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the physical. For all his flaws and infuriating habits, you knew deep down that Aegon loved you just as fiercely as you loved him.

As he pulled you into his arms, the two of you lay tangled together in the aftermath, your bodies and hearts entwined. The world outside the chamber faded away, leaving only the two of you and the bond that tied you together so deeply.

The soft knock on the door of your chambers startled both you and Aegon awake. Your mother’s voice followed, firm yet calm as she called your name. “It’s late, my dear. We still have much to discuss regarding the wedding preparations. I expect you in my solar shortly.”

You sighed, burying your face into the pillows for a moment. Aegon chuckled softly behind you, the deep rumble of his amusement vibrating through your body. “She’s relentless, isn’t she?” he teased, running his hand lazily down your spine.

Turning your head, you gave him a mock glare. “She’s doing this for us, Aegon. For our marriage.”

Aegon smirked, his fingers brushing the marks he’d left on your neck. “I suppose she wouldn’t be as enthusiastic if she saw these,” he mused, his tone laced with pride.

You swatted his chest lightly. “And whose fault is that?” you replied with mock indignation. Rising from the bed, you began searching for a gown that would conceal the evidence of your shared passion.

Aegon propped himself up on one elbow, watching you with a satisfied grin as you selected a high-necked emerald dress. “It’s a shame you have to cover them. They suit you,” he said, his voice dripping with smugness.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, shaking your head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you love me for it,” he replied without missing a beat.

Despite your exasperation, a small smile tugged at your lips. After quickly donning the gown and tying your hair back neatly, you moved to leave the room. Aegon caught your hand, pulling you back toward the bed.

“Don’t let her work you too hard,” he murmured, his eyes softening slightly. “You’ll need your strength later… for me.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Behave yourself while I’m gone,” you said before slipping out of the room.

Walking through the Red Keep’s halls, you could feel the lingering warmth of Aegon’s touch on your skin. The thought made your cheeks flush, but you composed yourself quickly as you neared your mother’s solar.

When you entered, Alicent was already seated with a pile of fabric samples and sketches of floral arrangements. Helaena sat beside her, humming softly to herself as she admired a cluster of tiny pearls meant for your gown.

“Finally,” Alicent said with a mix of relief and mild frustration as she looked up from the papers before her. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten our plans.”

“Forgive me, Mother,” you said with a small bow. “I overslept.”

Alicent’s sharp eyes studied you for a moment, her gaze lingering on the collar of your dress. You were certain she was trying to discern whether you were hiding something. “Hmm,” she murmured. “Well, you’re here now. Let’s begin.”

As Alicent began explaining the latest changes to the seating arrangements and decor, you found your attention wandering. Helaena noticed and leaned closer to whisper, “Did Aegon keep you up late again?”

Your face grew hot, and you avoided her knowing smile. “I’m just tired,” you replied softly.

Helaena giggled, her amusement clear. Alicent glanced at the two of you, raising an eyebrow. “Is there something you’d like to share with the rest of us?”

You straightened, clearing your throat. “No, Mother. Please, continue.”

Alicent gave you a skeptical look but returned to her notes. As she began describing the ceremonial processional, you forced yourself to focus. The wedding was only days away, and you knew how much this meant to her.

Still, as you nodded along and gave the occasional suggestion, your thoughts drifted back to Aegon and the way he had looked at you that morning, his love and desire etched into every touch and word. You couldn’t wait for the day when you would stand before the realm as his wife, bound together in every possible way.

As your mother left the solar, satisfied with the progress of the wedding plans, you let out a relieved sigh. You turned to Helaena, thinking she might want to discuss something more lighthearted. But instead, she was looking at you with an amused glint in her eye, her hands resting delicately on the table.

“You know,” she began softly, “I could hear you last night.”

Her words made you freeze mid-motion. You turned to her, your cheeks immediately flushing red. “What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Helaena tilted her head, her expression innocent but teasing at the same time. “Your voice… and Aegon’s. It was, um, quite loud. It carried through the walls.”

Your hands flew to your face in embarrassment, and you groaned softly. “No… no, it didn’t,” you tried to deny, though your flaming cheeks betrayed you.

Helaena nodded, her soft giggle filling the room. “It did. I didn’t know you could be that… vocal.” She paused, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “It was hard to sleep with all that noise.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Helaena! Don’t say that,” you said, your voice muffled by your palms.

She laughed a little louder now, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. “I’m not blaming you! I’m happy for you, truly. It’s just… well, maybe you could keep it down next time?”

You peeked through your fingers, groaning again. “Was it really that bad?”

Helaena shrugged, her smile turning gentle. “I think half the Red Keep might’ve heard you.”

You stared at her, your mortification growing. “You’re exaggerating,” you said, though deep down, you weren’t so sure.

“Am I?” she countered, raising an eyebrow. Then, she leaned in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Next time, just make sure the door is locked properly… or at least stuff some pillows under it.”

You shook your head, standing up abruptly to avoid further humiliation. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” you muttered, turning toward the door.

Helaena laughed again, her voice light and carefree. “Oh, come now. You’ll laugh about this one day.”

You stopped, looking over your shoulder with a mock glare. “You’re impossible, Helaena.”

She just smiled at you, her laughter still bubbling up as she waved you off. “Go on, then. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Shaking your head, you left the solar, your face still burning. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to confront Aegon about his lack of restraint or avoid him entirely for the rest of the day.

Your steps carried you toward the balcony overlooking the training yard, where the sound of clashing swords echoed in the crisp morning air. Leaning on the stone railing, you caught sight of Aegon and Aemond sparring below. To your surprise, Aegon seemed focused, his movements more deliberate than you were used to seeing. It was a rare sight to see him with a sword in hand rather than a goblet of wine.

You tilted your head, observing how Aemond pushed him, his strikes calculated and precise. But then Aegon glanced up and caught sight of you watching. A sly grin spread across his face, and his focus faltered.

“Pay attention,” Aemond snapped, stepping back with an annoyed glare.

Aegon ignored him entirely, tossing the training sword aside and making his way toward you.

You arched an eyebrow as he approached, his grin growing wider. “Shouldn’t you be sparring?” you teased when he climbed the stairs to the balcony.

“I’ve been sparring all morning,” he replied, brushing off your remark. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between you, his hands finding your waist and pulling you close.

“Aegon!” you gasped, startled as he leaned in and kissed you, completely unbothered by the public setting.

You placed your hands on his chest, intending to push him away, but instead, you felt the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. It made your resolve falter just enough for him to deepen the kiss.

When he finally pulled back, you gave him a half-hearted glare. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible to resist,” he quipped with a wink, clearly pleased with himself.

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked around nervously, hoping no one else had witnessed the moment. “You’re supposed to be training, Aegon. Not… this,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you.

“I’m already good with a sword,” he replied, his voice dripping with confidence. “And besides, Aemond takes this far too seriously. I’d rather spend my time here with you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Aemond’s going to be furious.”

“Let him,” Aegon said with a shrug, leaning against the railing and pulling you into his side. “He needs to loosen up anyway.”

Down below, Aemond was glaring up at the two of you, his sword still in hand. “You’re wasting time, brother!” he called out sharply, his tone laced with irritation.

“Don’t wait for me,” Aegon replied lazily, waving him off. Then he turned his attention back to you, his grin softening into something more genuine. “I needed a break, and seeing you makes any day better.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you love it,” he countered, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

Despite yourself, you laughed softly. “Maybe,” you admitted, letting him hold you for just a moment longer.

You leaned closer to Aegon, lowering your voice to a whisper as you glanced around to ensure no one else could hear. “Helena said she could hear… everything last night,” you murmured, your cheeks heating with embarrassment.

Aegon’s grin widened wickedly as his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Everything?” he asked, clearly reveling in your discomfort.

You nodded, your voice dropping even lower. “She said it was loud enough to reach her chambers.”

At that, Aegon laughed—his deep, rich laughter echoing around the balcony, drawing the attention of a few passing servants below. You quickly shushed him, pressing a hand to his chest to quiet him.

“And that’s not all,” you added, your tone slightly panicked. “I think Mother suspects something. She gave me the strangest look this morning, and… I think she knows why I’m wearing this high-collared gown.” You gestured to the neckline of your dress, which you had purposefully chosen to hide the marks Aegon had left on your skin.

Aegon tilted his head, his grin softening into something more mischievous. “Well, if she didn’t know before, she definitely knows now.” He reached out and tugged lightly on the edge of your collar, revealing a faint glimpse of one of the reddish marks just above the fabric. “You missed a spot, my love.”

Your eyes widened, and you slapped his hand away, quickly adjusting the collar to hide the mark again. “Aegon!” you hissed, mortified.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh, let her see. She should be proud,” he said smugly, leaning in closer to you. “The whole of the Red Keep should know that I’m the only one who can make you scream like that.”

Your cheeks turned crimson, and you swatted his arm in frustration. “Do you have no shame?”

“Not when it comes to you,” he replied with a teasing smirk. “Besides, I am proud. And you should be, too. You’re mine, after all.”

You groaned, pressing your palms to your face. “You’re impossible, Aegon.”

“And yet, you adore me,” he countered, his tone playful.

You peeked at him through your fingers, unable to suppress the small smile that tugged at your lips. “I’m starting to reconsider.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if you had wounded him. “Cruel. My own twin sister, my beloved betrothed, turning on me?”

You rolled your eyes, stepping away from him to lean against the railing. “If Mother asks about the marks, I’m blaming you,” you said pointedly, though your tone lacked any real anger.

“She’ll know they’re my handiwork,” he replied smugly, moving to stand beside you. “And she’ll know just how lucky I am to have you.”

You shook your head, exasperated but unable to stop the warmth spreading in your chest. No matter how insufferable he could be, he always managed to make you feel special—and for that, you couldn’t stay mad at him for long.

Aegon grasped your hand firmly, tugging you down a quiet, dimly lit corridor. The sound of his boots echoed faintly as you struggled to keep up with his brisk pace, your skirts swishing behind you. The hall was eerily silent, a part of the Keep that had been abandoned long ago. No servants, no guards-just the two of you.

"Aegon," you murmured, glancing around nervously. "Where are we going? Someone might-"

"No one's here," he cut you off, his voice low and laced with urgency. He glanced over his shoulder at you, his violet eyes glinting with something that sent a shiver down your spine. "This part of the Keep is empty, remember? Just trust me."

Finally, he stopped near a narrow alcove by a stairwell, the faint light from a torch casting flickering shadows against the stone walls.

Before you could ask what he was doing, he spun to face you, his hands finding your waist and pulling you flush against him.

"Aegon, what-"

"I can't stop thinking about you," he murmured, his voice rough and filled with desire. His forehead pressed lightly against yours, his breath warm on your lips. "The way you looked last night... beneath me, trembling, crying out my name..." He groaned softly, his grip on your waist tightening. "It's driving me mad. I could barely focus during training this morning."

Your cheeks flushed as his words sank in, and you felt your heart race beneath his intense gaze. "Aegon, we shouldn't-"

But before you could finish, his lips captured yours in a kiss that stole your breath. It started soft and teasing, but quickly grew more urgent, more consuming. He pressed you back against the cool stone wall, one hand sliding up your side while the other remained possessively on your waist.

"Aegon," you whispered against his lips, your hands coming up to rest on his chest as his body caged you in. "Someone could see us..."

"Let them," he murmured, his voice muffled as he kissed along your jaw and down the side of your neck. "Let them see how much I adore you. Let them see that you're mine."

His lips found a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, and you gasped softly, your hands clutching at the fabric of his tunic. "You're impossible," you breathed, though your voice was weak with desire.

"I'm yours," he corrected, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His violet eyes were dark and burning with a possessive hunger. "Just as you're mine. No one else will ever touch you, look at you, or hear the sounds you make when you're beneath me. Only me."

The sheer intensity in his voice sent a shiver through you, and you found yourself unable to look away from him. "You're insufferable," you muttered, though there was no real anger in your tone.

"And yet, you love me," he replied with a cocky grin before his lips were on yours again, his kiss filled with a fiery passion that left you breathless.

His hand slid down your back, pulling you even closer against him as he deepened the kiss. You could feel the desperation in his touch, the way his body pressed against yours as though he couldn't bear to be apart from you.

Aegon's kisses deepened, his movements growing more deliberate and filled with purpose. His fingers deftly worked at the laces of your corset, the tension of the fabric giving way under his touch. The moment your gown slipped from your shoulders, cascading to the floor and pooling around your feet, the cool air of the corridor grazed your bare skin, sending a shiver up your spine.

Your breath hitched as you instinctively crossed your arms, but Aegon's hands caught yours, gently lowering them back to your sides.

"Don't," he murmured, his voice low and filled with reverence. His violet eyes roamed over you with such intensity that it made your knees weaken.

"You're perfect," he said softly, almost to himself, as if he couldn't believe you were real.

His hands traced the marks he had left on your skin the night before, the faint bruises standing out against your pale complexion. His thumb brushed over one on your collarbone, and you couldn't suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips.

When you whispered his name, "Aegon..." it came out as more of a plea than you had intended, and his lips curved into a satisfied smirk.

"You sound so sweet when you say my name," he whispered, his lips brushing against the spot where your neck met your shoulder.

You felt yourself leaning into his touch as he lowered himself to his knees before you. His hands slid down the sides of your body, lingering on the curve of your hips before one of them trailed down to your leg. Slowly, he lifted your foot, carefully placing it on his shoulder. The movement left you feeling exposed, vulnerable, and utterly at his mercy.

"Aegon, what are you-"

"Shh," he interrupted, looking up at you with a gaze that burned with both desire and devotion. "Let me worship you."

His lips pressed against the inside of your thigh, and your head tilted back, a soft moan slipping past your lips. Your hands gripped the wall behind you for support as your body threatened to give way beneath the sensations he was evoking.

"Aegon..." you said again, your voice trembling as your fingers found his hair, tangling in the soft silver strands.

His movements were slow, deliberate, and filled with an intensity that left you breathless. "You don't know what you do to me," he murmured against your skin. "How maddening it is to see you, to touch you, to hear you."

You could barely form a coherent thought, let alone a reply, as his hands and lips continued their worship. The weight of his touch, the heat of his breath-it was overwhelming in the most intoxicating way.

Your knees buckled slightly, and he steadied you, his grip firm yet gentle. "I've got you," he said, his voice low and reassuring. "'ll always catch you."

The vulnerability of the moment made your heart ache in a way that went beyond physical desire. This was Aegon-your twin, your other half, the one person who could unravel you completely and put you back together again.

As his lips continued their path, you couldn't help but whisper, "Aegon, you're insufferable."

He chuckled against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. "And you love me for it," he replied, his voice filled with smug certainty.

And he wasn't wrong.

Aegon's soft chuckle vibrated against your cunt, his lips and tongue never leaving their path of torturous affection to tease your sensitive cunt. Your body trembled beneath his ministrations, your hands tangling in his hair as your breaths came in short, uneven gasps.

"Aegon..." His name fell from your lips in a desperate plea, your voice trembling with both need and frustration.

"Yes, my love?" he teased, his warm breath brushing against your most sensitive spot, sending another shiver down your spine. He lifted his eyes to meet yours, his gaze full of mischief and pride as he took in your flushed face and trembling frame.

"You're cruel," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "Stop teasing me.."

Aegon smirked, his tongue darting out again in a slow, deliberate motion that made your back arch against the cold stone wall. "Oh, but you love it when I'm cruel, don't you?" he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that sent a wave of heat through your body.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling slightly, eliciting a low groan from him. "Aegon, please," you begged, your tone wavering between desperation and impatience.

His smirk widened as he pressed another kiss to your inner thigh, his hands gripping your hips to keep you steady. "What was that?" he asked mockingly, his tone playful and maddeningly calm. "I didn't quite catch that."

You glared down at him, your frustration growing with every second of his deliberate torture. "You know exactly what I want," you snapped, your cheeks flushing with both embarrassment and desire.

"Do I?" he replied, tilting his head as though in thought. "You'll have to be more specific, my love. Use your words."

"Aegon!" you hissed, the sound coming out as more of a moan as his tongue brushed against you again, so agonizingly slow it left you gasping.

"Yes, that's it," he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction. "Say my name. Let everyone in the Red Keep know who's making you feel this way."

Your body trembled beneath his touch, your resolve crumbling with each deliberate movement of his tongue. "I need you, to fuck me" you finally admitted, your voice soft and filled with desperation. "Now."

He paused, his eyes darkening with a mixture of desire and triumph as he rose to his feet, his hands sliding up your body to cup your face. "That's all I needed to hear," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was both tender and possessive.

Without another word, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you deeper into the shadows of the quiet corridor. His lips found yours again, his kisses growing more demanding as he pressed you against the wall.

"I'll give you what you want," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and filled with promise. "But don't think for a moment that I'm done teasing you."

You could only gasp in response as he finally gave in, his movements both commanding and tender, driving you to the edge of madness once more.

Aegon's pace was relentless, each thrust pulling a gasp from your lips as he buried himself deeper into you. Your hands tangled in his silver hair, pulling slightly as your nails grazed his scalp. The sound of your voice calling his name only spurred him on, his grip on your waist tightening to the point of leaving marks that would surely remain for days.

"You're mine," he growled against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he sank them into the sensitive flesh. The sharp sensation mixed with the overwhelming pleasure, sending a shiver down your spine. He soothed the bite with his tongue, leaving a trail of new marks that overlapped with the ones from the night before.

Your head fell back against the wall, your eyes fluttering shut as you surrendered to the sensations overwhelming your body. "Aegon..." His name was a breathless whisper, filled with desperation and need.

He lifted his head to look at you, his violet eyes dark with lust and pride as he took in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. "Say it louder," he demanded, his voice rough and commanding.

You obeyed, his name falling from your lips in a broken moan that echoed down the empty corridor. Aegon smirked, his chest swelling with satisfaction at the sight of you completely undone beneath him.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "My perfect little twin, made just for me."

Your nails dug into his shoulders as he shifted the angle, the new position making stars explode behind your closed eyelids. Your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him even closer as your body arched into his.

"Aegon, I can't-" you gasped, your voice breaking as the pressure building in your core became too much to bear.

"Yes, you can," he whispered, his voice softening as he pressed a kiss to your temple. "Give it to me. Let go for me, my love."

Aegon smirked wickedly as he hoisted you onto the sturdy surface of the table, your back pressed against the cool wood. His hands gripped your hips possessively, his violet eyes gleaming with both lust and triumph as he watched your flushed face and trembling body.

"You look divine like this," he murmured, leaning in to nip at your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive marks he'd left earlier. "My perfect twin, completely undone for me."

Your breaths came out in uneven gasps as he lined himself up and thrust into you once again, the new angle sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through your body. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he set a brutal pace, each movement precise and unrelenting.

"Aegon..." you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper as the overwhelming sensations consumed you.

"Say it louder," he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he slammed into you even harder.

You obeyed, his name spilling from your lips in a desperate moan that echoed down the empty corridor. Aegon chuckled darkly, clearly satisfied with the effect he had on you.

"You're mine," he declared, his voice rough and full of possessive pride. "No one else gets to see you like this, hear you like this, feel you like this. Only me."

You could do nothing but nod, your mind too clouded with pleasure to form a coherent response. Your body arched into his, seeking more of the intoxicating connection only he could provide.

Aegon's hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer as he buried himself even deeper inside you. The new angle made stars explode behind your closed eyelids, and you cried out his name again, your voice trembling with desperation and ecstasy.

"That's it," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Let go for me, my love. Show me how much you need me."

His words were your undoing, the coil inside you snapping as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you trembling and breathless.

Aegon wasn't far behind, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. With a low, guttural groan, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his body shuddering against yours as he found his end.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, your bodies pressed together as you caught your breath. Aegon eventually pulled back, his violet eyes softening as he took in your flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

"You're breathtaking," he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His tone was softer now, filled with a tenderness that belied his earlier intensity.

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. "You're insatiable," you teased, your voice still shaky from the aftershocks of your release.

Aegon chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips before carefully helping you off the wardrobe. He adjusted your gown, his fingers grazing your skin in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

"We should go before someone finds us," you murmured, glancing nervously down the corridor.

"Let them," Aegon said with a smirk, his arm wrapping possessively around your waist. "Let them see who you belong to."

You rolled your eyes again, though you couldn't deny the warmth that spread through your chest at his words. Despite his arrogance and unpredictability, you knew he was yours just as much as you were his.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @callsignwidow @giirlinblack

[multific]

From Strangers to Soulmates

Isaac x Reader

Summary: You were new in town, and barely even had time to get used to your new home when your parents told you that you would marry one of the boys in the village. 

The news came to you one evening, an arrangement sealed without your consent but with your future in mind. 

It was a shock, to say the least.

Isaac, they said, was the son of a nice man in town, a hard worker with a reputation for kindness. 

Your family spoke highly of Isaac, though you had never met, you doubted your parents met him for more than a couple minutes. 

You barely knew anybody, so, you knew better than to argue or say no.

When the day of the wedding arrived, you stood across from him in the church.

Isaac's warm smile eased your nerves. He was handsome and he looked kind.

Thank God.

“I know this is sudden,” he whispered softly as the priest recited his words, “but I promise to be a good husband to you.”

His sincerity surprised you, and you found yourself nodding with a smile across your face.

Married life with Isaac was nothing like the tales of hardship you had heard from others. 

Each morning, he woke early to tend to the small farm behind your home.

When you woke, he had already prepared breakfast as he greeted you, along with his cheerful humming.

One morning, as the rooster crowed, you stumbled into the kitchen to find Isaac already dressed, kneading dough with flour on his hands.

He glanced up and grinned. 

“Good morning, Love. Sleep well?”

“I wanted to prepare breakfast this morning,” you replied, leaning against the doorway. "But you were faster than me."

He chuckled, wiping his hands on a cloth before he placed a kiss against your temple. 

“Breakfast is almost ready. Go sit, I’ll bring it to you.”

He always insisted on taking care of you, though you often protested. When you brought him water or helped with chores, he thanked you with such genuine appreciation that your heart swelled.

Isaac was easy to love.

His kindness and sincerity made you feel at ease as you slowly began to fall in love.

In the evenings, after supper, the two of you often sat by the fire. 

Isaac would carve small wooden figures, birds, deer, and even a rabbit he once said was meant to be a cat.

“You’re teasing me,” you said, laughing as he handed it to you.

"What? It has... character.”

Despite your joy, you kept the carving on the mantle, just above the fireplace, treasuring every gift he gave because you knew he gave it from his heart.

On rainy nights, with the symphony of raindrops outside, he would read to you from the old Bible his mother had given him. 

His voice was steady and soothing, and though you weren’t particularly interested in his book, you loved the way his words filled the room.

As the weeks turned into months, the initial awkwardness between you faded. 

One evening, as you watched Isaac working by lantern light, you realized how much your feelings had grown.

“I never expected this,” you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

He looked up from his task, brow furrowed. 

“What do you mean?”

“To feel this way about you. To find happiness... love.”

Setting his tools aside, Isaac crossed the room and knelt before you, taking your hands in his. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier,” he admitted, his voice low and sincere. “You’ve made my life brighter than I ever imagined.”

You kissed him.

He took you to bed.

It was the first time you two had made love.

You finally became one.

That night, as you lay together beneath the blankets, he wrapped his arms around you. 

“I’ll spend every day making sure you’re happy. I love you.”

"I love you too."

And he did. 

From the quiet mornings to the laughter-filled evenings, Isaac’s love was constant, steady and unwavering.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[midnightjewel]

Glasses Are Hot, Babe

Did you really think he wouldn’t notice you squinting..?

A/N: As a glasses girlie who is deemed legally blind who refused to wear her glasses for a long time because I thought I looked ugly and gave myself astigmatism, this will provide comfort to me and those who are in the same boat

Characters Included: Denki, Shinsou, and Bakugo

****Suggestive themes (18+ only please!!) DNI with this fic if you’re a minor, I have plenty of sfw stories on my blog****

Denki

It was a casual Friday night in the dorms. The stress of the week was nowhere to be found in the chill environment of the common room that night.

You and your friends, the Bakusquad, as you liked to call yourselves, were unwinding from the hectic week as hero students.

It was a bit of a ways into y’all’s first year as hero course students but you and Denki had only recently come clean about the feelings you were harboring for each other a few weeks ago, meaning that you two were still in that awkward phase of your relationship.

Of course, you two were good friends before dating, it was just gonna take some getting used to. Holding hands, kissing, and what not. You weren’t complaining though. You bagged the hottest boy you’d ever laid eyes on and he was absolutely smitten for you which only made things ten times better.

You and the squad (minus Bakugo who had turned in hours ago) were watching vine and fail compilations in the common room. You and Denki were sharing his large Pikachu blanket, snuggled up together. It was just the squad in the living room, minus the few late night stragglers who were in the kitchen getting snacks every so often.

While the squad was having the time of their lives laughing up storms, you were developing quite the headache. Why? Because you’d been squinting and straining your eyes for the last hour and a half! Normally you had fancy blue light glasses to help with screens.

You sharply inhaled as the squad erupted into laughter at what was apparently some idiot had fallen off some children’s playground equipment. The loud environment only adding fuel to the fire of your headache.

Your inhale didn’t go unnoticed by your electric boyfriend. “You okay? Are you tired?” He questioned and you shook your head to say no.

“Just a headache from the tv” you casually say hoping he’d just drop it. Truth is, you’ve always been embarrassed to wear your glasses around others. You absolutely despised the way you looked and overall just thought you looked better without them.

“Yeah, you’ve been squinting” he hummed as you looked up at him from your spot on his shoulder “Can you see?” He inquired, you sat up and avoided eye contact

“No” you hang your head in shame “I can’t”

“You should think about getting glasses then” he laughs and you just glance at him. “I have glasses” you state and his eyes widen in response to what you said

“So why aren’t you wearing them? I’ve never seen you with glasses” he looked at you curiously “I don’t know” you shrug and look away from him “I think they’re ugly” you state and he looks at you with wide eyes, mouth agape.

“Show me”

And that’s how you ended up in your room, shirts off and you on top of your boyfriend in a heated makeout session “mph- wait Denki” you sit up and climb off of him

“Let’s not go to far” you giggle and he nods in agreement “Sorry babe, it’s just…” he sighs “Those glasses are hot, babe”

Shinsou

You’d never been one to wear your glasses, rather suffering in silence. You absolutely hated the way you looked with your glasses, or any glasses for that matter. No matter which ones you tried on at your eye doctor, you just felt ugly.

During the summer, transitioning from your first to second year at UA high school, you had gotten word that Hitoshi Shinsou was going to be joining class 1-A.

You were ecstatic, your stomach had butterflies every time you thought of you and him being in the same class. Oh god, he was so cute.

By luck, you ended up sitting right next to him in class. Long story short over the course of the first few weeks you two had grown incredibly close and your closeness had developed into a relationship that was going two months strong at this point in time.

And that brings us to today, in President Mic’s English lesson. Usually you were unable to even see the words on the pages in front of you, just following along with the reading of your teacher or classmates.

You’d shockingly never been volunteered to read aloud and you would absolutely never voluntarily read. However, much to your dismay, it wasn’t on a volunteer basis today. It was whoever was called on and your heart was practically beating out of your chest, waiting for the class to be over so that hopefully you could slip past this situation.

You glanced to the clock, only ten minutes left in class. You just might be able to get by without having to humiliate yourself.

“(Name), please read the next passage for us” President Mic spoke and you froze on the spot. You hesitantly looked down at the page in front of you. It was nearly impossible to make out what was on the page. All of the words fused together in your blurred vision.

“Uhm” you looked panicked as you tried to squint to make out any of the words on the page. This didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend who sat beside you.

The silence in the room was so loud and ringing in your ears as you were internally panicking. You were snapped out of your racing mind by a voice, a gruff one. It came from a few seats in front of you.

“Idiot, can you not read or something..?!”

It was Bakugo. It caused some stifled giggles around the room. You felt your body tense up in complete embarrassment as tears formed in your waterline. Hitoshi was furious!

“Hey, leave her alone!” the lavender haired boy spoke from beside you in the same melancholy tone that he always spoke with, but you could sense a hint of anger laced in there. He didn’t dare to make the situation more embarrassing for you by telling the blonde off in the way he truthfully wanted to

Thankfully the bell rang, saving you from the deafening awkward silence of the room. As the students pack up to go to lunch you slowly close your book and take your time putting it in your bag.

As most of the students had cleared out your teacher spoke up “(Name), can I speak with you when everyone leaves?” He inquired and you just nod in response

You stand up as you and Hitoshi were the only ones left in the room. “I’ll wait outside the door” he glances at you and you respond with a simple hum as you approached your teachers desk

“Are you okay? I apologize for Bakugo’s comment. I’ll have Aizawa speak to him” He states with genuine concern for your well-being. It was just the type of caring person he was.

“Yeah I’m fine” you shrug your shoulders not caring about eye contact, it’s not like you could completely see anyways. “Sorry I just got nervous” you make up an excuse

“I won’t ask you to read if you don’t want to anymore okay?” He says as if making a silent agreement between the two of you

“Mhm” you nod

“Alright, well I shouldn’t keep you for long. Your knight in shining armor is waiting for you” he winks causing you to smile “go enjoy your lunch and have a good day”

“Thanks, you too” you smile and walk out of the classroom to see your taller boyfriend waiting for you. He’s quick to embrace you, your face stuffed in his chest as you sniffled with tears filling your eyes once more.

“It’s okay pretty girl” he rubs your back as you quietly sob from the embarrassment you’d endured just a few moments ago

“I just…. I couldn’t see the words” you wipe your tears from your cheeks, looking up at his expression of confusion. “I can’t read without my glasses” you further explain causing some reassurance but still a genuine amount of confusion from your boyfriend. He had never seen you wear glasses before. In fact, he didn’t even know you needed glasses!

“Well why don’t you wear them, doll?” He furrows his eyebrows as you two intertwine hands and walk towards the cafeteria

“Because they look ugly on me” you shamefully admit and he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How could something make you, of all people ugly?! There was nothing in the world that could dull your beauty in his eyes.

“I want to see these glasses later” he squeezed your hand three times to which you responded with four squeezes silently saying “I love you too”

“Wow” his eyes widened “just… wow” he smiles at your embarrassed expression

“They’re horrible” you shake your head as you look in the mirror that sat on your vanity.

“No, they’re gorgeous” he reassures, causing the apples of your cheeks to burn from his complements.

Bakugo

3 years ago you were given the dreaded news that you’d need glasses in order to see properly. In all honesty, you hadn’t noticed before that your vision wasn’t normal. You had just assumed that everyone saw the world slightly burry. From the moment you tried them on you knew that they just didn’t work for you. You absolutely hated yourself in glasses.

Now at age 15 and in your first year at UA high school in the prestigious hero course your vision had only gotten worse throughout the years of refusing to wear the glasses you were given.

You knew from the first day of school that it was important to get a seat in the front for notes. But unfortunately the only available front row seat on your first day was right next to the resident hot head, Katsuki Bakugo. Who you had to admit was pretty cute….

After just a few months of getting to know him (against his will) you two had grown closer. You just refused to stop talking to him. And while he found it annoying at first, he just eventually accepted the fact that you weren’t going to shut up and he absolutely refused to give up his seat.

Today was a dreaded note taking day. You truthfully hated Thursday’s. The day right before Friday and note taking day for class 1-A.

“Just copy these and be quiet” Aizawa said as he put the many bullet points and paragraphs up on the projector so that the class could copy them. “Iida, turn the lights off and keep them in order” he groggily spoke as he zipped his infamous yellow sleeping bag and laid down behind his desk.

You proceeded reach into your bag and pulled out your (f/c) notebook along with a pencil. Looking up to the board was almost predictable at this point, you knew you would never be able to make out what was written.

As the lights were shut off, you can admit that it was only slightly better. But alas, you still couldn’t make out what the hell was even being discussed in these notes.

After squinting and struggling for what seemed like forever (3 minutes) your neighbor noticed and scoffed amongst the quiet chatter that was littered throughout the classroom.

“Are you going to write something or just squint like a dumbass?” He glanced at you. “I wasn’t squinting” your cheeks heat up at the sight of him. “Sure you weren’t” he grumbled and returned back to his own notes.

After struggling to pin point what was written, you just decided to start writing what you thought was the notes. It sounded like nonsense when you read it in your mind but you were too embarrassed to ask Bakugo for help, wondering if he would become suspicious and accuse you of needing glasses.

The thought of him seeing you in what you thought was the worst thing ever made a pang of embarrassment shoot through your chest. You exhaled at the thought of him calling you names.

Four eyes..

Fucking nerd..

You wouldn’t be able to handle your crush saying those things about you. It would definitely bruise your ego terribly.

For the next 30 minutes you wrote what you assumed was on the board from what you could attempt to see. Luckily you had finished just seconds before the bell rang, signaling that the day was over and you all could head back to your dorms.

As you went to close your notebook, Bakugo walked over to your desk, glancing down at your notes. “Unbelievable” he slightly laughed and walked away while shaking his head

“What’s his problem?” You say to Mina as she witnessed that whole thing. “I’ll never know” she shook her head, picking her bag up and waiting for you to do the same before walking out with you.

Once you two made your way to your shared dorm room floor you parted ways for a bit like you always did. You both used this time to relax and get caught up on homework before meeting back up in either one of your rooms to talk and catch up on gossip.

As you changed out of your school uniform and put on some comfortable clothes, you took your necessary supplies for homework out of your bag and put it on your desk.

Before you sat down in your rolling chair there was a slightly aggressive knock on your door. You deeply sigh and walk to open your door.

“What’s u-“ before you could finish the phrase a black spiral notebook was shoved at you and Bakugo practically let himself into your room.

“Sure come right in” you roll your eyes and laugh which caused him to scoff at the sight of your notebook on your desk

“We’re you seriously about to study with those dumb fucking notes?!” He glares at you and you simply don’t know how to answer that. “Uhm yes?” Was all you could manage to say

“I know they’re in here somewhere” he crosses his arms over his chest and frowns at you “What are you talking about?” You mimics his actions by crossing your arms over your chest

“I know you need glasses” he states and your eyes widen slightly “You fucking idiot!” He snaps “Straining your eyes like that it only gonna make it worse” he spots the glasses on your dresser and grabs them, proceeding to practically shove them on your face

“Katsuki stop, they’re hideous on me” you avoid eye contact and take them off your face “They’re hot” he looks at you with a no nonsense expression making you almost die on the spot

“What?” You whisper in disbelief

“You heard me” he gruffly states “Now put them back on and I’ll show you how sexy they are” he says moving closer to you

“That is…” he pauses “If you want to or whatever” he speaks his need for consent before continuing

“Yes! I want to!” You speak very eagerly causing him to laugh and lock your door

[giggle-guru]

Okay guys…this is my longest and most intricate audio yet! I’ve got a little bit of everything going on and I really hope that the additional audio is more immersive and not too overwhelming! I absolutely adored this one and I really hope you guys enjoyed it. Please please give me some feedback on it in regards to if you found this to be too much, too little, etc etc! I thrive off of your comments because they help me improve and cater them better to all of your needs! Now enjoy some Huskerdust with a lil wrecked Husker (and if any of you catch my reference in the audio you’ve got to let me know hehe…)

The cover art was made by @giggly-tickles whom I adore, so go send them some love! Below the cut with the script you can find the full version, or go check out their Tumblr! Thank you so much you’re a legend 😭

Script and artwork below the cut!

[Visual Note: Husker is at the bar, finishing up a long shift. He grumbles as he sweeps up his feathers from behind the bar once again, wings twitching in irritation. Angel Dust sits across from him at the bar.]

[Audio Note: Sweeping, various bar sound effects.]

Angel Dust: [eyebrow raised] Damn Husky. What’s goin’ on with ya feathers? Ya sheddin’ ‘em like crazy! I ain’t ever seen you sweep up so many before. You goin’ bald?

Husk: [eye roll] S’ none of yer business, Angie.

Angel Dust: [pouting] Aw, c’mon Whiskers! Ya can’t blame me for noticin’. I mean, it’s hard not to when there’s a whole bird’s nest behind the bar. Seriously, ya sick or somethin’?

Husk: [gruff] I said drop it. It’s nothin’ you need to worry about. And stop calling me Whiskers.

Angel Dust: [mock gasp] Oh, excuse me, Baby Cakes! Didn’t know we were touchy tonight. Now spill. Can’t always be on my ass ‘bout talking feelings and not tell me what’s goin’ on.

Husk: [sighs, rubbing his temples] I’m not touchy, Ang. Just… tired, alright? Look, I’m almost done closing up shop for to night. Why don’t you just go to our room and I’ll meet you there?

Angel Dust: [grumbling] Fine. But I’m gonna figure you out, one way or anotha. And don’t take too long, old man. I get lonely without ya.

[Visual Note: Angel walks away to their shared room, muttering to himself.]

[Audio Note: Footsteps, fading bar noise, quietly additional approaching footsteps]

Angel Dust: There’s gotta be somethin’ goin’ on. Sure, he’s grumpy as Hell, but he’s never like this. Maybe I gotta look somethin’ up or-

[Visual Note: Angel, lost in thought, stumbles into Lucifer.]

[Audio Note: Stumble. Footsteps pause.]

Angel Dust: Shit-! [glancing down] Didn’t see ya there Short King. My bad.

Lucifer: [scoff] It’s hard to see where you’re walking when you’re too busy talking to yourself. What’s going on?

Angel Dust: [waving him off] It’s nothin’, okay? Husky is just…actin' weird tonight. Like, extra weird. Feels like there’s somethin’ off with him, y’know?

Lucifer: [slight grin] Eh. Shocker. I get where he’s coming from.

Angel Dust: [confused] Shocker? Whaddya mean, shocker?

Lucifer: [brow raised] It’s molting season, Angel. It’s a natural process. Happens to demons with avian traits every so often. They shed old feathers to make room for new ones. I thought you two had something going on. Hasn’t he told you? Alastor uh…[clearing throat] helped me out last night.

Angel Dust: [eyes widen, realization dawning] Wait, what? Moltin' season? So that’s what’s been goin' on with him? [pauses] Why the hell didn’t he say anything? I coulda helped!

Lucifer: I mean preening is pretty…[clearing throat] I mean everyone’s wings are different.

Angel Dust: [squinting, smirking] Ohhhh, preenin’, huh? Is that what we’re callin’ it these days? What’d Alastor do, Luce, give ya a little feather massage?

Lucifer: [flustered, clearing throat] Ahem! I’m simply saying molting requires a certain… level of ca re. Especially for demons like Husk. It can be…uncomfortable.

Angel Dust: [laughing, leaning on the wall] Oh, I bet it can be. Don’t worry, Lucifer, your secret’s safe with me. Now I’m just wonderin’ how I’m supposed to handle my grumpy feather duster.

Lucifer: [irritated] I’d suggest you focus on your own partner instead of my affairs, Angel. Husk is stubborn, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out.

Angel Dust: [snickering] Sure, sure. Thanks for the tip, Baby Cakes.

Lucifer: [grimacing] Don’t call me that.

[Visual Note: Angel walks back to his shared room with Husk with a newfound confidence and plan - convincing Husker to let him help. He scoops Fat Nuggets up and lays on the bed with him.]

[Audio Note: Footsteps, door opening, door closing, pig oinking, bed squeaking]

Angel Dust: Fat Nuggets, baby! [leaning down to pet him, babytalking] We’re gonna help out ya daddy…yes we are…gonna get rid of that grumpy lil face-

[Audio Note: Door opening]

[Visual Note: Husk steps into the room still looking disheveled his wings twitching slightly as he glances at Angel and Fat Nuggets on the bed.]

Husk: [gruff] What’re you doin’? You havin’ a one-on-one with the pig about me now?

Angel Dust: [grinning, still petting Fat Nuggets] Maybe. He’s a good listener, y’know? And he doesn’t hide things from me unlike somebody I know.

Husk: [sighs] I ain’t in the mood for jokes, Angie. I’m beat.

Angel Dust: [patting the bed] C’mere, Husky. Sit your feathered ass down.

Husk: [narrowing his eyes] What’re you up to?

Angel Dust: [innocently] Who, me? Nothin’! Just thought we could have some quality time. Y’know, talk about stuff. Like…molting.

[Visual Note: Husk crawls into bed beside Angel]

[Audio Note: Bed squeaking]

Husk: [groaning] Dammit, Angel, I shoulda known you’d get it outta someone. Was it Lucifer?

Angel Dust: [snickering] Maybe. Short King’s got loose lips. [softly] Why didn’t ya just tell me, Husky? You don’t gotta deal with this on your own, y’know.

Husk: [shrugs, avoiding eye contact] Didn’t wanna make a big deal outta it. It’s just molting. Happens every so often, no biggie.

Angel Dust: [crawling over to him, kneeling in front of the chair] No biggie? Babe, you’ve been grumpier than usual, and I’m pretty sure you’ve been hidin’ how bad it’s buggin’ ya. C’mon, let me help.

Husk: [hesitating, wings twitching slightly] I don’t need help, Angie. It’s messy and…kinda embarrassing, alright? I don’t want ya seein’ me like this.

Angel Dust: [softly, reaching out to brush a stray feather off Husk’s shoulder] Husky, you’re actin’ like I haven’t already seen you at your worst. Hell, I practically live for the mess. Besides, isn’t that what we do? Look out for each other? You’ve seen me way past rock bottom before.

Husk: [sighing] You’re not going to let this one go, are ya Legs?

Angel Dust: [smirking] Not a chance. Now, lay down and let me get a closer look at those wings of yours. Trust me, I got magic hands.

[Visual Note: Husk hesitates, then finally gives in, lying down on the bed with his wings slightly spread out. Angel Dust grabs a soft brush from the nightstand and starts inspecting Husk’s feathers.]

[Audio Note: Soft rustling of feathers, gentle brushing sounds]

Angel Dust: [teasing] Damn, Husky, these wings are somethin’ else. Big, strong, and goddamn they need my TLC.

Husk: [gruffly] Shut it, Ang. Just do whatever you’re gonna do and quit yappin’- [few giggles]

[Visual Note: Angel continues gently moving around and picking apart the feathers, though now Husk begins to squirm]

Angel Dust: [teasing, mischievous] Ohhh, Husky. What’s this? You’re really jumpy tonight. Don’t tell me you’ve got ticklish wings.

Husk: [gruff, trying to stay composed] No. Obviously not. Just… finish the damn job, Angie.

Angel Dust: [grinning] Uh-huh. Sure. [deliberately brushing the sensitive area of Husk’s wing again] What about here? Oh, wait— there?

Husk: [giggling despite himself] Angie, cut it out.

Angel Dust: [laughing, feigning innocence] Cut what out? Babe, I’m just tryin’ to help you! You’re makin’ it real hard to focus with all that twitchin’.

Husk: [trying not to laugh] You know damn well what you’re doin’!

Angel Dust: [grinning wider] Ohhh, this is too good. The big, bad Husky’s got himself some ticklish lil’ wings! C’mon, Whiskers, just admit it—your tough-guy act’s fallin’ apart over here.

Husk: [gasping through his laughter, squirming away] Angie, shut up! You’re pushin’ it now, I swear to—!

Angel Dust: [laughing triumphantly] Oh, I’ve got you now, Husky! And too bad. I’m not stopping till I get all ya loose feathers out of there.

Husk: Shit! Angel, this is why I didn’t want to tell you, you little- [laughter]

Angel Dust: [grinning] You didn’t want to tell me because ya didn’t want me findin’ out ya just a sensitive lil cutie, huh?

Husk: [half-laughing, trying to stay in control] I'm not cute, and you better quit that before I—

Angel Dust: [giggling] Before you what? I’m just helping preen ya, you ought to be thankin’ me. I dunno what I’d do without these extra arms though, ya squirming like a damn worm!

Husk: [laughing] Thank you?! Angel, I didn’t sign up for this! Okay- okay stop it! This is fucking torture!

Angel Dust: [smirking mischievously] Torture? Babe, this is premium wing care—Angel Dust-style. Now quit wiggling. I’m almost done. Then I gotta remind ya where else ya sensitive-

Husk: [laughing] You fucking wish! No way in Hell am I letting you touch me again- ever! No more touching for you!

Angel Dust: [mock gasp] How dare ya revoke my kitty-pettin’ privileges! That’s it!

[Visual Note: Angel finishes preening - for the most part - and flips Husk onto his back]

[Audio Note: blanket movement and wrestling]

Angel Dust: [grinning] Now you’re really in for it Husky. I didn’t know ‘bout ya wings bein’ sensitive but I do know about-

Husk: [panic] Wait wait wait-!

Angel Dust: [laugh] Your hips.

[Visual Note: Angel moves one hand to squeeze his hips]

Husk: [shrieking] Angie! Angie no! You’re gonna kill me with this shit! I can’t breathe! It tickles! Fuck, it’s not funny!

Angel Dust: [laughing, his voice playful] Oh, but it is funny. Look at you, all grumpy and tough, but when I hit these spots? You’re just a cute witty kitty.

Husk: [managing to grab Angel’s wrist, panting slightly through his laughter] I said I’m not cute! If you don’t quit it right now, I will—!

Angel Dust: [smirking, leaning in close] You’ll what, Baby Cakes? You’re too busy laughin’ to do anything. Face it, I’ve gotcha right where I wantcha. Ya clearly ain’t as grumpy as before so I think I did somethin’. And this tummy is lookin’ like it wants some attention too.

Husk: [hissing through his teeth] Angel, fuck, no, no… I’m gonna—

[Visual Note: Husk tries to push Angel’s hand away, but Angel grins wider and gently presses on his stomach again.]

Angel Dust: [teasing] Oh, what’s this? You’re really not gonna— [pauses as Husk lets out a soft, involuntary purr] Ohhh… wait a minute… did you just… purr?

Husk: [flustered, voice strained] I didn’t… I didn’t purr, you little shit. Knock it off! [still giggling]

Angel Dust: [grinning broadly] Uh-huh. Sure, sure. But you did just purr. So ya lyin’ now. Thats a cute mix. Gigglin’ n’ purrin’ for me. [lightly pressing down on his stomach]

[Audio Note: louder purr slipping in]

Husk: [squirming, purring louder] Stop it! I’m serious, Angel! This is—this is—[laughing] okay, okay, I get it, I get it! I give! Angel-!

Angel Dust: Yeah? Admit it then, Whiskers. You love the attention, you loved me preening ya, you love me-

Husk: [laughing harder, eyes almost closing from how much he's squirming] Okay, okay, fine! I admit it! But you’re the worst!

Angel Dust: [laughing] Now that’s more like it! You’re a good sport, Husky. I knew deep down you liked it when I gave ya some care.

Husk: [gruff but still breathless] Oh, you’re so gonna regret this, Legs. You’re not the only one who can dish it out. Especially after all that bullshit.

Angel Dust: [giggling nervously] Wait, wait—hold on! Husky, we can talk about this—!

[Visual Note: Husk starts tickling Angel back, both of them laughing hysterically.]

[Audio Note: Feathers rustling, bedsprings squeaking, and confused pig noises]

Angel Dust: [gasping between laughter] Stop, stop! Okay, okay, I give! Mercy!

Husk: [laughing victoriously] Oh, no. You started this. You’re gettin’ the full treatment now, Angie!

Angel Dust: [gasping, laughing harder] You— [trying to squirm away, but Husk follows his movements] You’re evil! I didn’t think—! Oh God, please—! Mercy!

Husk: [laughing triumphantly] That’s what you get, Legs! I told you, didn’t I? No mercy.

Angel Dust: [gasping between laughs] I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I swear!

Husk: [stopping] That’s what I thought.

[Visual Note: The laughter fades into softer chuckles as they both collapse onto the bed, catching their breath. Husk’s wings relax, and Angel leans against him, still giggling faintly.]

Husk: [after a moment, quietly] Thanks for the help with these damn feathers, Angie.

Angel Dust: [softly] Anytime, Husky. Just don’t forget – you don’t gotta handle stuff alone. I’m here for ya, sheddin’ feathers and all.

Husk: [softly] Just... don’t tell anyone about this, alright? I’m not about to become the soft-hearted sap of the hotel. And I definitely don’t need anyone other then you using this shit against me.

Angel Dust: [whispering] Cross my heart, Husky. This stays between us... and Fat Nuggets. [laughs softly] He’s our little secret keeper.

[Audio Note: Soft oink]

Husk: [chuckling] That he is, huh? You really do know how to make a guy feel... less miserable.

Angel Dust: [grinning] What can I say? It’s one of my many talents. Love ya, Kitten.

Husk: [hum] Love you too, sweetheart.

[al-1-na]

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 ~ 𝟒

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

The move to New York happened faster than you expected. Drew wrapped up his commitments on the film and, true to his word, took some time off to figure things out with you. You found a small apartment in Brooklyn—tiny by any standard but perfect for two people who couldn’t bear to be apart anymore.

At first, it felt like a dream. Drew was there when you woke up, his sleepy smile the first thing you saw every morning. He walked you to the subway on your way to work, insisting on carrying your coffee and kissing you goodbye on the platform.

You introduced him to your favorite haunts—the bagel shop on the corner, the used bookstore where you’d spent countless weekends, the rooftop garden where you went to think. And he brought his world into yours, sharing stories about life on set, showing you his favorite films, and even letting you read an early script he was considering.

But as the weeks passed, the cracks began to show.

Drew had always been confident, charming, and self-assured. But in New York, where you had your own life and your own circle of friends, he sometimes seemed… lost. He wasn’t used to slowing down, to having days without a packed schedule or a clear direction.

One night, you found him sitting on the couch, staring at his laptop.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, sitting beside him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I guess I just feel… useless. You’re out there working, doing what you love, and I’m here trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing.”

You placed a hand on his knee, your heart aching for him. “Drew, you don’t have to figure it all out right now. This time is about us—about being together. You’ve been working nonstop for years. Maybe it’s okay to take a break.”

He looked at you, his expression softening. “Yeah, but what if I’m not good at this? At being still?”

“You’re not ‘being still,’” you said firmly. “You’re building something here, with me. That matters, too.”

He smiled then, pulling you into his lap. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”

“I don’t,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “But I know you. And I know you’ll figure this out.”

❥❥❥❥

The next few months were a mix of highs and lows. Drew started auditioning for theater roles, drawn to the idea of performing live, but the rejections stung more than he let on. Meanwhile, your job became more demanding, with long hours and late nights that left little time for the two of you.

One night, you came home to find Drew in the kitchen, a half-burnt dinner on the stove and a guilty look on his face.

“I was trying to make lasagna,” he admitted, gesturing to the mess.

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his waist. “It’s the thought that counts.”

But as you cleaned up together, the stress of the past few weeks bubbled to the surface.

“I miss you,” Drew said suddenly, setting a plate in the sink.

You turned to him, surprised. “I’m right here.”

“Not really,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “You’re always at work, and when you’re home, you’re exhausted. I get it—it’s not your fault. But I didn’t come here to feel like I’m losing you again.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Drew, I’m doing this for us. To build a life together.”

“I know,” he said, his hands running through his hair. “But what’s the point if we don’t have time to actually live it?”

Silence hung between you, the weight of his words sinking in.

Finally, you stepped closer, reaching for his hand. “I don’t want to lose us, either. Maybe I need to figure out how to balance this better.”

“And maybe I need to stop putting all this pressure on myself to figure out my next big move,” he admitted. “I think… I just got scared. Scared that if I’m not enough, you’ll realize you don’t need me.”

Your heart broke at his honesty, and you pulled him into a tight embrace. “You are enough, Drew. Always. This isn’t about what you do—it’s about who you are. And I love who you are.”

He held you close, his arms wrapped around you like a lifeline. “I love you, too,” he whispered.

That night, you stayed up talking, making promises to each other to try harder, to communicate better, to always put you two first.

❥❥❥❥

In the months that followed, you found your rhythm. Drew started working on an off-Broadway production, throwing himself into the challenge with his trademark dedication. You scaled back your hours at work, carving out more time for the two of you.

There were still tough days, moments when the city felt too loud or the pressure felt too heavy. But you faced them together, knowing that no matter what, you had each other.

And as you sat in the audience on opening night, watching Drew deliver a performance that left the entire theater breathless, you sat there admiring him, falling in love more than ever before.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @maybanksgirl69 @raeven-marie43 @niktwazny303

[kathlare]

beneath the stillness

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Max visits his best friend Lando, who has been avoiding everyone and struggling emotionally after encountering unresolved feelings related to his ex, Amelie.

Wordcount: 2.1 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

November 24th, 2022 - London, United Kingdom

Max hadn’t heard from Lando in days. Usually, that wasn’t a huge deal. Lando was a busy guy—he had races, media obligations, and his own life to deal with—but the silence had felt... different this time. It wasn’t like Lando to go off the radar without any warning. They were best friends, and after everything they’d been through together, he knew when something was up. So, with a feeling of growing concern, Max made the decision to go check on him.

It wasn’t the first time he’d felt like this about Lando, but every time he did, it was usually something related to Amelie. Max had known from the start that Lando had never quite gotten over her, even after their messy breakup. Lando had tried to move on with other girls, but there was always something—always her—lingering in the background. Max had seen it all, witnessed the way Lando would shut down after hearing news about her or seeing her posts on Instagram. Lando never really talked about it, but Max knew better than to ask. Still, he couldn’t help but worry.

Max rang the doorbell, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, a small sense of unease settling in his chest. Cisca answered the door, her usual warmth replaced with something like concern.

—Max, good to see you,— she said, giving him a hug. —Lando’s in his room, but... he’s not doing too well. He’s been a bit weird since he got back. You might want to talk to him.—

Max nodded, giving her a quick smile. —Thanks, Mrs. Norris. I’ll go check on him.—

He made his way up the stairs, the familiar creak of the wooden steps underfoot bringing a wave of nostalgia. Lando's family home was something of a safe haven for him, a place where they’d spent countless hours as kids, talking about everything from racing to the future to their stupidest inside jokes. But today, something felt off. The silence in the house was unsettling.

When Max reached Lando’s room, he hesitated for a moment before knocking lightly on the door. No response. He pushed it open slowly, and there Lando was—lying flat on his back, the duvet pulled up over his head like a shield. His usual cocky, upbeat demeanor was nowhere to be found. Max’s stomach tightened.

—Lando?— Max called, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

A low groan came from under the blanket. Lando shifted slightly, pushing the duvet off his face to reveal a tired, unshaven version of himself—his eyes bloodshot, his hair a mess, and his usual vibrant energy completely drained. Max couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen him look this bad.

—You look like shit,— Max said, a small grin tugging at his lips despite the concern gnawing at him. He crossed the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Lando didn’t respond, just stared at the ceiling with a vacant expression, clearly not in the mood for jokes.

Max sighed and nudged him gently. —Come on, mate. What’s going on? You’ve been off the grid for days. I know you’ve been home from Abu Dhabi for a bit, but... you haven’t said a word to anyone. What’s up?—

Lando’s eyes flickered briefly toward Max, and for a second, there was a hint of recognition, but he quickly looked away, clearly not wanting to engage. Max could feel the weight of the silence between them. Something was seriously wrong.

—It’s Amelie, isn’t it?— Max asked quietly, his voice low.

Lando’s head turned slowly, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. The silence between them thickened, and Max felt the tension in the room as if it had physical weight. He didn’t need an answer; he already knew. The way Lando’s posture had slumped further into the bed, the way he avoided looking Max in the eye—it was all too familiar. Max had seen this before.

Lando didn’t answer immediately, and Max could tell he wasn’t ready to speak. But eventually, Lando sighed deeply, the sound of his exhale filled with frustration and pain.

—She’s back...— Lando mumbled, almost as if the words themselves were a burden.

Max frowned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He studied Lando's face, waiting for him to say more, but it was clear that every word was a struggle.

—Back where?— Max asked gently, even though he already had an idea of what Lando meant.

Lando shook his head slightly, his gaze fixed on a crack in the ceiling. —Back in this. Back in my head. Back in my fucking life, apparently.—

Max raised an eyebrow. —I didn’t know she ever really left, mate.—

Lando let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. —Yeah, well, I tried. You know I fucking tried, Max. I did everything I could to move on, to forget her, to, whatever. But then she just, poof, shows up again. Like nothing ever happened.—

Max sat back, crossing his arms. —What do you mean "shows up again"? You saw her in Abu Dhabi, didn’t you?—

Lando scoffed, sitting up slightly and leaning back against the headboard. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept properly in days. —Yeah, I saw her. She was there, all smiles and pretending like I don’t fucking exist. She ignored me the whole time, Max. Like I wasn’t even there. And the worst part? She looked...— He trailed off, swallowing hard as if the words physically hurt him.

—She looked what?— Max pressed, though he already had a sinking feeling he knew the answer.

—She looked happy. Like, genuinely happy. And I just... I couldn’t handle it. Seeing her like that, knowing I wasn’t a part of it anymore... it fucked me up, mate.—

Max sighed, leaning forward again and resting his elbows on his knees. He watched his best friend closely, seeing the pain etched into every line of his face. He didn’t know what to say. He’d been there for Lando through the breakup, through all the flings that followed, through the long nights when Lando would get drunk and ramble about how no one would ever measure up to her. And now here they were again, back at square one.

—You’re not over her,— Max said simply, his tone not judgmental but matter-of-fact.

Lando shot him a look, his jaw tightening. —Of course I’m not fucking over her. How am I supposed to get over someone like Amelie? She was...— He stopped himself, running a hand over his face. —She was everything, Max. And yeah, maybe I screwed it up. Maybe I didn’t fight hard enough, or maybe I was just a stupid kid who didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Because she’s gone. She’s moved on.—

Max stayed silent for a moment, letting Lando's words hang in the air. He could feel the weight of his friend’s emotions, the rawness of it all. Lando rarely let his guard down like this, and it wasn’t something Max took lightly. He leaned back against the chair by Lando’s desk, crossing his arms and watching him carefully.

—You don’t know that she’s moved on,— Max said softly, choosing his words carefully. —I mean, yeah, she’s dating that footballer, right? But that doesn’t mean...—

Lando cut him off, a harsh laugh escaping his lips. —Rodrigo fucking Riquelme. Yeah, I know. Trust me, I’ve seen the photos. They look perfect together, don’t they? He’s this big shot, all successful and charming and shit. Meanwhile, I’m just the idiot who fucked things up and ended up on the sidelines.—

Max frowned. —Come on, don’t do that. You’re not just some idiot, and you know it. You’re Lando fucking Norris. One of the best drivers in the world, with a career people would kill for.—

—Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean shit when it comes to her,— Lando muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. —She doesn’t care about that stuff. She never did. That’s what made her... different.—

Max could see where this was going, and it wasn’t anywhere good. He’d been here before, in this room, having this conversation in various forms. Lando’s feelings for Amelie weren’t new; they’d been festering for years, growing roots that he couldn’t seem to cut. Max sighed, running a hand through his hair.

—So, what are you going to do? Just sit here and feel sorry for yourself?— Max asked, his tone slightly sharper than he intended. —Because that’s not going to help. If seeing her again stirred all this up, maybe it’s a sign you need to deal with it. Like, actually deal with it, mate. You can’t keep burying this shit.—

Lando looked at him, a flicker of defensiveness in his eyes. —What the hell am I supposed to do, Max? Go to her and what? Beg her to take me back? She hates me. Did you not hear the part where she ignored me the entire time in Abu Dhabi? She didn’t even look at me. It’s over.—

—Maybe it is,— Max admitted, leaning forward again. —But you’re never going to move on if you keep running from it. If you keep pretending like you’re fine and hooking up with girls who mean nothing to you. It’s not working, Lando. It hasn’t worked for two years.—

Max could see where this was going, and it wasn’t anywhere good. He’d been here before, in this room, having this conversation in various forms. Lando’s feelings for Amelie weren’t new; they’d been festering for years, growing roots that he couldn’t seem to cut. Max sighed, running a hand through his hair.

—So, what are you going to do? Just sit here and feel sorry for yourself?— Max asked, his tone slightly sharper than he intended. —Because that’s not going to help. If seeing her again stirred all this up, maybe it’s a sign you need to deal with it. Like, actually deal with it, mate. You can’t keep burying this shit.—

Lando looked at him, a flicker of defensiveness in his eyes. —What the hell am I supposed to do, Max? Go to her and what? Beg her to take me back? She hates me. Did you not hear the part where she ignored me the entire time in Abu Dhabi? She didn’t even look at me. It’s over.—

—Maybe it is,— Max admitted, leaning forward again. —But you’re never going to move on if you keep running from it. If you keep pretending like you’re fine and hooking up with girls who mean nothing to you. It’s not working, Lando. It hasn’t worked for two years.—

Lando didn’t respond, his gaze dropping to his hands. The room was silent again, the only sound the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Max felt a pang of sympathy for his friend. He knew Lando was hurting, but he also knew that the only person who could pull him out of this was Lando himself.

—Look,— Max said after a moment, his voice softening. —I’m not saying you need to do something drastic. But maybe it’s time to stop avoiding it. Stop avoiding her. If she’s going to be around again, you’re going to have to figure out how to deal with it. Otherwise, you’re just going to keep spiraling every time you see her.—

Lando let out a heavy sigh, leaning his head back against the headboard and closing his eyes. —I don’t know if I can do that, Max. Seeing her again... it messed me up. It’s like every feeling I’ve been trying to ignore just came rushing back all at once. And the worst part? I can’t even be mad at her. I can only be mad at myself for letting her go.—

Max didn’t know what to say to that. He’d always believed that Lando and Amelie had something special, something rare. But he also knew that timing and circumstances could ruin even the strongest of connections. He just hoped that, whatever happened next, Lando would find a way to heal.

—You’re not alone in this, mate,— Max said after a long pause. —I’m here. I’ll always be here. But you’ve got to stop shutting everyone out. You’ve got to let someone in.—

Lando opened his eyes, looking over at Max with a small, tired smile. —Thanks, man. I appreciate it.—

—Anytime,— Max replied, clapping him on the shoulder. —Now, why don’t you get up, take a shower, and maybe eat something? You look like you’ve been living under a rock.—

Lando laughed weakly, the sound more genuine this time. —Yeah, okay. Maybe I do need to pull myself together.—

Max grinned, standing up. —That’s the spirit. Baby steps, mate. Baby steps.—

As Max left the room, he couldn’t help but feel a sliver of hope. Lando had a long way to go, but at least he was starting to acknowledge his feelings. And maybe, just maybe, that was the first step toward figuring out how to move forward.

[lilgarbitch]

Running In Circles - Seven

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

CW: angst, drinking, Y/N being a little dumbass, I’M SORRY DON’T HATE ME

Word Count: 10.5k

Author’s Note: as quoted from an earlier post: i fear my desire to make men miserable is playing a large role in my work and i do apologize for that.

Part Six

Noah

“YOU WHAT?” Ruffilo shouted from across the room at me as he stood up in disbelief. I sat on the couch with my head in my hands, pulling at my roots.

“I don’t know why I did it.. I just. I had to do something to make myself feel better about the situation,” I said, shaking my head, my voice strained with stress.

“When I said to find your own way to get back at her, I didn’t fucking mean that, you dumbass!” He was now pacing, like he was the one who fucked up. Maybe I shouldn’t have come to him about this.

“I know. I just..,” I let out a deep sigh, falling back on the couch, “Maybe I did it to hurt her, or maybe I did it to hurt myself. I don’t know. I just couldn’t take this shit anymore.”

“Dude! You spent YEARS talking about this girl. You’ve written fucking songs about her. You get into one fight, and do this?” He finally stopped and stared at me, waiting for me to come up with a better explanation, but I couldn’t. Because I didn’t have one.

Footsteps creep into the living room, so I look up and see Jolly looking at us, confused.

“What’s all the yelling about?” he asked, looking between the two of us. I just anxiously chewed on my lip, so Ruffilo answered for me.

“This jackass decided to hook up with someone at his fucking birthday party.” He put a hand on his hip like a disappointed parent, waiting for Jolly to give any reaction. I turn to Jolly and he’s giving me a look, a mix of shock and confusion. I let out a groan, getting up and walking to my room. I don’t need this. I had hoped Ruffilo could give me any advice for this fuck-up I made, but I should’ve known I would just get scolded.

I fall onto my bed and shove my face into my pillow, letting out a groan. I don’t fucking know why I did it. I was pissed off at how close she’s gotten with Matt. And when random friend of one of the guys was chatting with me and I looked over and saw that fucking Ghost Face grinding against Davis, I just lost it. I don’t know why sleeping with a random girl was my decision, especially when it won’t even affect Y/N if she never finds out, it was just the only thing my irrational brain could think of. Maybe I did it hoping it would help me get over her, but it just made me feel so much worse. I know we’ve been ignoring each other, but she’s acting like she doesn’t even fucking care about me anymore. So, I thought that maybe I shouldn’t care either, but obviously, everyone thought that was the stupidest thing I could do.

I hear the rest of the guys get back from the store, hearing cheers as they probably showed everyone the food and alcohol they got, and all I could do was groan. This break was supposed to be fun. The party was supposed to be fun. I was hoping to take Y/N on a date or two, showing her my favorite places in the city. But no. She showed up for the party, ignored me the whole time, and was nowhere to be found when I came back..after making that terrible decision. Fuck. Why the fuck did it have to work out this way? Why’d I yell at her at the bar? If we could just sit down and talk, maybe we could at least be friends. I can’t stand finally having her in my life yet she just fucking ignores me. Fuck, I need a fucking distraction.

I stood up from my bed and headed downstairs, trying my best to sneak by so no one would notice me. I reach the kitchen and grab a random bottle we had on top of the fridge, before sneaking back to my room. Locking the door behind me, I go to sit on my bed and grab my phone, connecting it to my speakers before opening Spotify and clicking a random playlist.

Turning the volume up full blast, I twist off the cap of what I now see is a bottle of fucking vodka. Grimacing, I lift it to my lips and take a large swig before setting it down on my nightstand, making a disgusted face at the taste and burn.

My thoughts were brought back to the first night of tour, drinking with the group and watching her from across the bus. She took a shot of vodka and made the same face before catching me watching her and giving me the most beautiful smile.

A growl erupts in my throat. I need to get her out of my fucking head. How am I even going to look at her when tour starts again if I can’t even handle thinking of her?

I grab the bottle again and take an even larger drink, leaning against the wall behind my bed as I felt the liquid fire fill my gut. Distraction. I need another fucking distraction. Because this isn’t hitting me fast enough and the music isn’t overpowering my thoughts.

I open my phone and pull up Instagram, hoping to find absolutely fucking anything that pulls me from these thoughts. I scroll and scroll, every meme trying to be funny, and every picture of someone looking happy just pissing me off.

I keep scrolling before my eyes land on tattoos. Her’s. I pause and see that State of the Scene had posted a photo of her in a sound booth. My eyes trail down to the caption. “Lorna Shore’s Will Ramos posts Praising Deities’ Y/N Y/L/N, calling her the ‘next deathcore vocalist’ and that he ‘can’t wait for y’all to hear what she can do.’ Let’s hope she releases something new soon, as fans have been enjoying her covers of ‘To the Hellfire’ and ‘Sun//Eater,’ sung on her current tour with the band Bad Omens.”

All it took was one comment. A single fucking comment to push me over the edge.

“Are those hickeys on her neck?”

Before I could even think, a yell came spewing out as I threw my phone across the room, creating a loud band and a small crack as it shattered against the wall.

Tears came pouring down my face, now being unable to hold back every emotion that I’ve felt the past few weeks. I took one last swig of the vodka before setting it on my nightstand and lying down, pulling my covers over me. ‘Love Me to Death’ by Suicide Silence blasted through my speakers, proving that my phone wasn’t completely destroyed, but now I couldn’t fucking change it.

She has every fucking right to move on. I fucking did, too. But to get that confirmation that after barely a month of finally having her in my life, she’s fucking gone. I can’t take it anymore. My chest ached and burned. All I wanted to do was scream until the pain was gone. I wanted her. I needed her. How did my life turn into such a fucking train-wreck so fast?

Suddenly, someone knocks on my door. They try to say something, but between my sobs and the music, I don’t know what.

“FUCK OFF,” was all I said before shoving my head under my pillow, ignoring the rest of the world as I prayed for the alcohol to hit more and clear my mind.

Y/N

The other guys left after listening to my isolated screams, commenting on a few, and giving me a few ‘good lucks’ before going about their day. I made sure to thank Dave for letting me use his studio, and he said that it was here for me anytime. I doubt I’ll ever take him up on that offer, as I was still extremely intimidated by him, but I really appreciated it.

Will and I were now just messing around in the studio. We already spent a good hour or so working on how I could get certain screams and growls to sound better and how I could enunciate words differently if that’s what I enjoyed. Now, we were just playing music and singing along as we occasionally went back and forth in the sound booth, wanting to see if we could hit notes right. Every recording we took was just full of giggles, so thankfully we were already planning to delete them right after listening.

He even taught me a few controls, mainly how to set songs up for him, make them only play for the person in the booth, and which button let me talk to him. We learned more about each other’s music tastes and where it came from, even who we took inspiration from for our own music. I learned more about his love for Sleep Token, which went a lot deeper than I thought. He went on a few rambles just talking about his appreciation for how they write the music and even played songs, pointing out specific things Vessel did in his vocals.

He kept playing ‘Chokehold’ over and over, to the point that I practically learned the whole song. After what felt like the tenth full run-through, not counting the amount of times he went back and repeatedly played specific parts because he just couldn’t get over the sound, I stood up and walked to the sound booth.

I was getting more used to being in here now and definitely more used to singing in front of Will. We’d been in this studio for hours at this point, just singing to each other, so all my nerves were gone.

He watched me as I walked and immediately sat up and leaned over the controls, a little confused.

“Play it again, I wanna try,” I told him through the mic as I put the headphones on.

“Chokehold? You wanna sing Chokehold? You literally just fucking heard it,” He said, laughing.

“I heard it like 30 times and you even gave me a rundown of every single quirk in his vocals, now run it,” I teased. He playfully lifted his hands in defense before getting everything set up.

The intro started playing so I held the headphones close to my ears and counted the beats in my head, not wanting to miss the cues.

When we were made

I did my best to make it airy and hold the same enunciation as Vessel did.

It was no accident

It was honestly so entertaining to practice Sleep Token songs. Vessel put so much character into every single note and to reenact it was so fun. Especially switching between chest voice and head voice or adding the little ‘t’ at the end of a line.

We were tangled up like branches in a flood

Over-exaggerating certain parts was new to me unless I was singing along to a more pop punk song, where everyone had a specific accent they used.

I come as a blade

I did my best to flow into a high note, and I did surprisingly well, so I turned to Will with a proud look on my face before continuing.

A sacred guardian

Will was watching me in awe, and I so badly wanted to laugh at the face he made, but I had to keep my composure to continue.

So you keep me sharp and test my worth in blood

It looked like Will was slowly falling into deep thought, but I knew it was still recording, so I just ignored him and continued.

You’ve got me in a chokehold

I did my best to remember how Vessel did the audible breaths and tried to recreate them.

You’ve got me in a chokehold

You’ve got me in a-

I look back over to see if Will was doing his famous dance to this part like he had every other replay of this song, but instead, he stood up and paused the music, and started messing around with more controls.

“Will? Did I do something wrong?” I asked, and he just shook his head as he did whatever the hell he was trying to do.

Finally, he stopped touching buttons, and the music started again, and he was rushing into the sound booth with me. He hurriedly came over and grabbed the other set of headphones lying in here, putting them on and turning to me with a child-like smile.

“Roll with it,” He said, so I nodded and began to sing.

When we were made

Woah, he finally turned on the control so we could hear ourselves and each other.

It was no accident

We were tangled up like branches in a flood

Then, Will joined in with me.

I come as a blade

I looked at him, shocked. We sounded so fucking good. He went lower as I took the high note at the end, nailing it once again.

A sacred guardian

So you keep me sharp and test my worth in blood

He looked at me and put a hand on my shoulder, and I took that as a signal for me to let him sing the following lines.

You’ve got me in a chokehold

You’ve got me in a chokehold

He patted my shoulder, and I assumed that as him saying to join him.

You’ve got me in a-

He started headbanging to the music and I looked at him like we just did the craziest thing, because, to me, we fucking did. I had to hold back my giggles as he jammed out next to me. The next lines were about to come up, so he composed himself and put a hand on my shoulder, this now being our signal for him to sing.

Beneath the stormy seas

Above the mountain peaks

It’s all the same to me

It makes no difference

He patted my shoulder, so I joined in.

I’ve seen my days unfold

Done the impossible

I’d turn my walls to gold

To bring you home again

He stepped back from the mic, so it was just me singing the next few lines.

So show me that which I cannot see

Even if it hurts me

Even if I can’t sleep

Oh, and though we

Act out of our holy

Duty to be constantly awake

I did my best to hit the last notes, and then felt a tap on my shoulder.

You’ve got me in a chokehold

He started doing a fry scream and it sounded so good.

You’ve got me in a chokehold

He patted my shoulder once again, and I had to quickly think of the best route of action to make our vocals sound good together, but just landed on continuing to do clean, alto vocals.

You’ve got me in a chokehold

You’ve got me in a chokehold

He switched back to his clean vocals for the ending.

Even if it hurts me

Even if I can’t sleep

Show me the way

We held out the last note together, him not trying to create harmony, just matching our vocals so they meshed together.

We looked at each other in shock as the song ended before rushing out of the sound booth and over to the control board. We listened back to our isolated vocals in disbelief. The fact that we just threw this together last second was unbelievable.

We listened to it a few times, talking about what could be fixed or edited, both of us individually running to the sound booth multiple times to sing our parts so we could edit them together. We even did some lines differently, seeing if more harmony or if me doing harsh vocals would sound better.

After recording probably too many pieces, he switched over all the vocals to his personal laptop, and we started working them together. Finally, we added the instrumental over top, spending a few minutes lining everything up perfectly, giving it one last listen, and then just staring at each other, shocked.

“We just fucking made that!” I said, pointing to his laptop. He nodded with a wide smile.

“Yes, the fuck we did,” he said, holding his hand up. I gave him a high-five, laughing at the insanity that was the piece of art we just made.

“What now? Show the boys?” I asked, hooking a finger over my shoulder at the door behind me.

“Dude, we have to fucking show everyone. Are you kidding me?”

“Now? You’re gonna post it now?” I asked, both shocked and amused.

“Y/N. We just spent over two hours editing this together. Plus, it’s just a cover. Yes, now.” He laughed out. I looked over at the clock and realized that we had indeed been doing this for a while.

“Okay, okay. Ahh, I’m scared. No. I’m excited,” I rushed out, kicking my feet. He just laughed at me before turning to his laptop. I watched as he downloaded the file before uploading it on his personal Spotify with my name featured on it. I just stared at the screen in shock. I just did a cover song. It was now up for everyone to see. And I did it with Will Ramos. Oh my fucking god.

I quickly pull my phone out, ignoring every notification, and open Spotify. I copy the link to the song and head over to Instagram. I screen-recorded the story Will made earlier, and cropped it as I made a post of the video, and added the link to the song played over the post.

“Chokehold- Sleep Token. A cover by Will Ramos and Y/N Y/L/N 🖤🤘🏻,” I wrote in the caption. I tagged Will and hit post.

I looked over at Will and grinned. He looked back at me, smiling twice as big. I was so full of excitement and energy, and I didn’t know what to do, so I just flung myself on him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Will, you’ve made these last two days more fun than I’ve had this past month. Thank you so much.” He held me closer, laughing with me.

“Anything for you, my little petal.” I giggled at my nickname again before pulling away.

“I’m serious, though. These last few weeks- Hell! These last few years had been fucking crazy for me, and I feel like by simply meeting you, shit’s finally starting to fall into place. I’m doing new things. More people are listening to me. I just learned controls, for fucks sake,” I laughed, making him chuckle down at me, “So thank you. I’m so unbelievably fucking happy to have finally met you.”

He looks at me with a warm smile, my words soaking in. I was still hugging him, so we were still super close, and I don’t know what came over me, but I pulled him down and brought his lips to mine.

He tensed for a moment but instantly kissed me back. I brought my hand up to the back of his head, sliding my fingers into his pink locs as I held him close. His hands slid up to my sides, pulling my body towards him more. The kiss was about to deepen, when I got pulled back to reality by my phone ringing. I immediately pulled away and looked at him, shocked, before fumbling to grab my phone. I answered it without even looking at who was calling.

“Hello?” I greeted, having to clear my throat as it cracked a bit out of shock.

“YOU RELEASED A SONG WITHOUT TELLING YOUR OWN BAND? YOUR OWN BROTHERS?” Finn shouted into the phone, making me chuckle and pull my phone from my ear.

“Shit. Yeah, sorry about that. Will and I were messing around in the studio,” I had to clear my throat again after saying ‘messing around’ before continuing, “ and we were listening to Sleep Token and decided to try out doing a cover, and it came out surprisingly well.”

“When the fuck did you meet Will? I thought he was in New Jersey," he asked.

“Funny story, actually. Him and the band are staying here with a friend, and we ran into each other at the club,” I sheepishly replied. There was silence on the other side of the phone for a few moments, and I almost thought we lost connection before he finally replied.

“Oh, we’re having a long chat the next time I see you, missy. Which better be soon, might I add. I’ve seen you once in the last four days,” he finally said, with a tone mixed with suspicion and deviousness.

“Yes, Sir. Now, did you only call to yell at me?” I teased.

“Well, I did want to tell you that you two sounded fucking fantastic and that maybe you could invite Will over to the boys’ house, but I can sense you’re having more fun there,” He teased back.

“Shut it. I appreciate the compliment and will pass it on, but I’m ignoring everything you said after that for multiple reasons.”

“Oh… shit, you’re right. That might be a bad idea…Anyway, have fun with your little date. Love you!” He said, making me roll my eyes.

“Love you, too.” And then I hung up. I chewed on my lip nervously before finally turning around to look at Will. He was staring at me with a humorous expression.

“I hope you know that I could hear that entire conversation,” He chuckled out, making me facepalm, “And tell him that I said thank you for the compliment. Now…what was that?”

I groaned and walked past him, sitting down and throwing my head down in my hands.

“Will. I’m so sorry,” was all I could get out. I hear his footsteps come towards me, and I looked up to see him crouching down in front of me.

“For what? I mean, we’ve done more than that, so don’t think I’m bothered.”

“No. I mean, I am sorry for kissing you. I said we were gonna leave it all behind and pretend like nothing happened, and I still want to. But I’m mainly sorry that I may be pulling you into a very awkward situation.” He gave me a confused look. I let out a deep sigh. Should I even explain or just leave him out of this?

“So… Something may or may not have happened with…someone …I’m touring with…and shit has been weird. Fuck. It’s a long ass story,” I finished with a groan. He chuckled softly and rested his hands on my knees before sitting down in front of me with his legs crossed.

“I have time, my petal. Tell me what’s bothering you.” I let out another deep sigh. I might as well tell someone else the bullshit that’s been happening since everyone else seems to know.

And so I did. I told him everything. From the festival to the song lyrics. The ‘talk.’ The night at the bar. The Halloween/ birthday party. The depression. Me getting back into smoking. How reckless I was being last night because I wasn’t in the right mind. Everything. And he sat there, staring at me and listening intently, occasionally giving my knees a squeeze if I got a little too emotional. He let me tell him everything. Once I finally finished, he stood up, pulling me up with him and giving me a big hug.

“Everything will work out, my little petal. You two will eventually make up because you have to, or else tour will be really weird. I’m perfectly fine being that rebound that kind of gets in the way because I know you didn’t do it to hurt anyone. And because I really enjoy spending time with you and being your friend,” He pulled away and looked me deep in my eyes, “And just your friend. We can leave everything in the past. We randomly ran into each other at a club, went home separately, and the next day, I gave you vocal lessons and we recorded a song together. That’s all that happened. Okay?”

Tears were now welling up in my eyes as I nodded before pulling him back into a hug.

“Thank you.” I managed to get out. He rubbed my back as he held me close.

“Anything for a friend.”

After a minute or two of just taking in the comfort and reassurance, I finally pulled away and sat back down, him following and sitting back in his chair. He turned back to his laptop, typing away at something for a few minutes as I sat in my thoughts.

“Will?” I asked after a few moments. He turned to me with a ‘hm?’

“What’s with the ‘my little petal’?” I finally asked. He chucked and sat back in his chair with a small shy grin.

“Uh..well, first off, you’re pretty like a flower. You’re soft, delicate, and, you know, are able to either attract or repel others with your looks…I guess? Plus, you can be a little sharp, but only if you have to…And I like flowers. I don’t know. It was something that came to mind last night and I guess it just stuck,” He answers, a little embarrassed, making me giggle.

“God, you’re such a sap. If I didn’t have a goddamn soul tie to someone, that would work on me,” I teased, making him laugh loudly.

“Good to know,” he teased back with a smirk, “But, on a different note, I do have an idea for you.”

I look at him suspiciously, waiting for him to continue. He returned to doing something on the laptop before moving him and the computer to the control board. I watched him curiously as he started messing with things again. He couldn’t possibly want to change anything about the cover we did. It was already posted.

After messing around with a few things, he turned to me.

“Two questions. One- How badly do you want to at least try and make things better between you two? Like, I know it’s still super rocky, and it’s gonna take time, but do you want to at least reach out?” He asked. I was confused, but still thought about it for a moment, weighing my decisions.

“Badly. I know we’re gonna have to start over completely. We’ve both done some weird shit in the past few weeks, but I need us to reach a point where we can at least look at and speak to each other again.” I finally answered. He nodded before continuing.

“Second question, are you okay with being recorded today?” I looked at him, extra confused, and saw that he was pointing towards a camera that has apparently been in the sound booth this whole time. What did this man have planned?

I pulled out my phone and opened the camera, looking over my appearance. My makeup was mostly intact after redoing it in the morning, even after tearing up a little, and I didn’t do anything with my hair today, but I ran my fingers through it so it was semi-presentable. Then my eyes landed on my neck, and I made a slight hiss at the marks.

“Let me borrow a hoodie, and I’ll be fine,” I answered, and he immediately started taking off the one he threw on earlier and handed it to me before getting up and walking to the sound booth to start messing with the camera in there.

“Will, what am I about to do? Why am I being recorded?” I asked, more confused than ever. He just shot me a smirk as he finished messing with the camera and came back out.

“Just get in there.” He said, pointing at the sound booth.

“You have to tell me what song I’m covering. Do I even know it?” I said as I threw on his hoodie and walked into the sound booth. I pulled the hood up so it was shielding my neck from the camera and then tried my best to pretend a camera wasn’t flashing, indicating that it was already recording me.

“Y/N, I promise you that if you don’t know this song, it’s not meant to be.” He spoke into my headphones. I continued staring at him, confused as ever. And then I watched as he hit a few buttons, setting the track back and hitting record, before finally hitting play. I got myself ready to sing whatever song I apparently should know.

And then ‘Just Pretend’ started playing.

Will and I worked on putting the video together. He made me do multiple takes, the first one showing that I was a little spooked at the song choice. We edited the audio, taking out as many voice cracks as possible since singing this song over and over again did eventually make me emotional.

Now he was, in his words, “working his magic,” and, “putting the best video over the audio.” And I just sat back and let him work, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodies as I listened to him type away at his laptop.

Would this even work? He kept choosing audio clips that captured more emotion, even if I was literally crying as I sang. I told him that it was going to sound weird, but he kept shutting me up, saying that he knew what he was doing. I was so drained from everything we did today, and good god, I’ve listened to myself sing so much today, I think I’m going to lose my mind. I leaned my head back against the chair and let out a deep sigh. Today has been a lot. Not in a bad way, just…a lot.

He swiveled his chair around and turned to me, making me look up at him. He held the computer out to me, so I took it, eyeing him.

“My work here is done,” he said with a proud smile. He was a little too excited about this, even after watching me cry for over an hour to a song. My eyes flickered between him and the laptop, debating if I even wanted to see this, but I still hit play.

The music started, and my voice rang through the laptop speakers. It was a little too full of emotion for my standards, but I’m going to trust Will on this. Then, I realized he had chosen one of the last recordings, where I had already cried, so my eyes were a little red.

I continued watching, seeing that he still kept some of the audio clips where my voice cracked, but just in the right spots, like the parts where I held out notes.

Weigh down on me, stay til morning

Way down, would you say I’m worthy

A tear fell down my eye in the video. I don’t cry in front of people. And he wants me to post this?

Weigh down on me, stay til morning

Way down, would you say I’m worthy

I had glanced into the camera at that point. I didn’t even know I did that, but you could see the emotion in my red, puffy eyes. My makeup was even starting to run a little.

I can wait for you at the bottom

I can stay away if you want me to

I can wait for years if I gotta

Heaven knows I ain’t gettin over you

My voice cracked at almost every high note, but it didn’t sound bad. It was just…emotional.

We’ll try again

When we’re not so different

We will make amends

Til then, I’ll just pretend

I had stepped away from the mic at that point, unable to finish from the exhaustion of having to repeatedly sing a song that held every emotion I felt, but Will layered vocals from another clip over the video, just sounding a little more distant. I looked over at Will with a look of disbelief as the video faded out.

“Well?” He asked, still holding a proud, smug grin on his face.

“Wh- How- Will!” I stuttered, in complete shock, “I-what do I even do with this?”

“Well, I’m glad you asked. I reached out to Mr. Nicholas Ruffilo, asking for permission to even do this. He said to send him the video as soon as it’s finished, and then we could figure out where to go from there,” he answered. I looked between him and the laptop again before handing the computer back to him.

“I don’t know how this is gonna work out. It looks like I’m throwing a pity party,” I whine, pointing at that laptop.

“Okay, but were those emotions manipulative? Or were they real?” He asked with a pointed look.

“They were real, but I already fucked up so bad. Twice. I know me sleeping with you was just a reaction to seeing him leave the party with a girl, but that doesn’t mean it won’t kill him to find out. So the last thing I need is for him to think of me as a manipulative whore,” I practically cry out. Will shakes his head and scoots closer to me, resting a hand on my knee.

“I promise you, if he wants this to work out as much as you do, he will see the authenticity in this,” he replies, making me sigh.

“Since you did all the work, you get all the blame,” I say, leaning back in my chair with a sigh. I can either see this fucking things up more, or actually working out, but either way, fans are going to freak the fuck out if this gets posted online. God, am I really communicating with a man through music again?

Will types away at the computer, probably saving the file and sending it to Ruffilo, before looking at me.

“I’m starving. Wanna go get dinner?” He asked, as if nothing happened. I give him an exhausted yet humored side-eye before nodding and standing up with him.

Noah

I awoke to someone rummaging next to me. With a groan, I rolled over and looked to see Ruffilo screwing the lid back onto the bottle of vodka next to my bed, Nick turning my speakers off, and Jolly picking up my smashed phone and a picture that I guess had also fallen when I threw the phone.

“Get the fuck out of here,” I groaned, before bringing my arm over my eyes, the hangover instantly kicking in. I still felt tipsy, probably not having slept for a long time, but that didn’t change the fact that I hadn’t had a single sip of water today.

“Take this,” Ruffilo said. I peek out from under my arm and see him handing me a glass of water like he read my fucking mind, which I instantly took. I sat up and chugged the whole glass. It felt like I hadn’t had water in days. I set the cup beside me before dropping my head in my hands with a loud groan.

“Do we..?” I heard Jolly ask, not knowing what the hell he meant. I then heard someone, probably Ruffilo, crouch down beside my bed. I glance over and see him giving me a pitying look, making me roll my eyes.

“Whenever you’re ready, I have something to show you downstairs. I can make the other guys leave for a little if you don’t want to deal with company, but it’s something that you need to see,” he said in a hushed tone, like I was a dog he would scare away if he spoke too loud.

I let out a deep sigh and rubbed my eyes before swinging my feet over the bed. There’s nothing they could show me that would make me feel worse than I do now, so why the fuck not? They all backed up as I sat up from my bed, swaying a little as the alcohol hadn’t yet left my system. They all file out of my room, and I follow.

“Did you guys seriously pick my lock?” I grumbled out, remembering that I had locked the door before passing out. Nick glanced over at me, looking a little guilty, causing a huff of a laugh to escape my lips.

They led me to the living room, which was thankfully empty. Who knows where everyone else was. Jolly reached over and grabbed a laptop, sitting down on the couch and opening it. I plopped down next to him, sinking into the back of the couch, not really wanting to be here. After a few moments of him typing away at it, pulling something up, he sat the laptop on the table in front of me.

I glanced at the laptop and then at the rest of them, confused. What the fuck were they about to show me? Ruffilo motioned his head towards it, signaling to me that I had to press play, so I did.

Instantly, the beginning of ‘Just Pretend’ played through the speakers of the laptop, making me groan. What the fuck was this? But then, her face came up as the vocals started.

I just sat there, staring at her in shock as she sang. She had a hoodie pulled over her so only her face showed. I leaned in closer, noticing something. She was crying. Every time she opened her eyes, they were bloodshot, and her makeup had been running.

Her voice cracked with emotion every high note, like she had been holding back a sob. I never wanted to see her cry. Especially not like this…

The bridge hit, and my eyes widened as she looked at the camera. Her eyes were full of what I could only describe as despair. They were dull and glazed over, barely even processing where she was looking, just staring off as she let the emotion flow through her singing. Her voice was harsh, like she had either been using it a lot or smoking. But it was still beautiful.

She stepped away from the mic after the heart wrenching post-chorus, almost like her body was about to cave in on itself. But her voice still rang through. Her face scrunched up as she looked down, and you could almost see a sob shake her body. The sight of her at a breaking point as her beautiful voice still sang, just in the distance, was more heartbreaking than anything I’ve ever seen.

The video finally ended and I just stared at the black screen, catching my reflection in it and saw that I was crying as well. I don’t even know what to do now. Emotion poured through me and my head fell into my hands as broken sobs left my lips. What the fuck was that? What the fuck do I do now?

I made a terrible fucking mistake, and she had obviously went to Will to make her feel better, but then she makes this? What the fuck does any of this even mean? What the fuck do I do? I want to see her. To hold her. But that’s not my place. It never was. She learned that going to people like Matt or Finn or Will was much less heartbreaking than coming to me. But I just need to talk to her. To start over.

Why did I start ignoring her? Why did I get so upset at the bar? She had every single right to feel that way, I just became attached too quickly and couldn’t let her leave. But she still did. She left, and she probably already moved on to Will. I mean, that was the same sound booth that I saw in that picture earlier, so she’s obviously been spending the break with him. She was barely here at the party. God, that fucking party. The first time I got a chance to be close to her in two weeks and I spent it ruining everything. I got jealous at her being a friendly person and went and fucking slept with someone. She had every single right to fucking move on. I mean, I tried to as well.

But what the fuck was this then? Why did she cover my fucking song, looking ever so heartbroken? Where the fuck did this even come from? Why were the guys showing me this? I finally look up at the three boys in front of me, all of them staring down at me in pity.

“What the fuck is this?” I finally managed to get out between sobs.

“All I was told was that she wanted to make this and that Will wanted me to show it to you. You’re gonna have to talk to her to figure out the rest.” Ruffilo responded, not helping me at all.

“I just don’t understand! I see a post of her hanging out with Will, covered in hickeys, and then she fucking does this?” I ask, still overwhelmed with everything. Ruffilo sighs.

“Noah. You do realize that you’re doing the exact same thing, right? You slept with someone and then proceeded to break down in guilt. She’s just the one to throw in the towel first. She’s trying to make up.” I groan between sobs and fall back into the couch, bringing an arm up to cover my face.

“What do I do, then? It’s not like I can text her. My phones broken and it’s just gonna be awkward.”

“Just think about it. Plan out your best choice of action and work from there. This is something that can only be fixed by the two of you,” he answered. Fuck.

“Also, I’ll head out tomorrow to get you a new phone. It’s too late to go now,” Jolly chimed. After thinking about it for another minute, I let out a deep sigh and sat back up.

“Okay. I’ll figure this out.” The boys watched me for a second, trying to get a good sense of if I was being serious, before coming over and patting me on the back before heading into the house, probably to hang out with the rest of the guys, leaving me in my thoughts.

Y/N

I anxiously chew on my lip as Will and I walk down the streets of L.A. Neither of us heard anything back from Ruffilo or any of the guys, yet. Will said that he didn’t want the night to end just yet, since I wasn’t in the best headspace, and he did his best to keep me from my thoughts as we went on our little adventure, which I really appreciated. But, to be honest, neither of us know where the hell we were going.

After we ate, he thought it’d be a good idea to just explore the city since neither of us really knew anything about it, but nothing caught our eye as we walked. It was nice to stretch our legs after sitting in a studio for a good eight hours, though.

We walked through the city, pointing out random things we saw, occasionally bumping into each other, either on purpose or because we weren’t paying attention, and just chatting about whatever came to our minds.

“What are your thoughts on adding a rhythm guitarist to Praising Deities?” I asked. He chucked, but gave it some thought.

“I mean, I have a feeling you’re gonna want to change up your style a little, now that you’re more comfortable with broadening your vocal range, but it is a lot of work splitting the guitar into two parts,” he answered.

“Yeah. We’ve changed things up a few times, but adding harsher vocals like yours would be a huge step. I do some already, but nothing more than a simple growl. So, if we really want to take that step, a lot of work is gonna have to go into this.”

“Do you have someone in mind? Or do you just want to add the more concentrated sound of a melodic guitar?” I thought about it for a minute.

“No, and I highly doubt Finn would want to learn to switch to pure rhythm. Not that he’s bad at it, but he really enjoys what he plays now,” I look over at him with a smirk, “I mean, would you be mad if I stole Andrew? He might even like my vocals more than you.”

He let out a loud laugh and swung his arm over my shoulders and pulled me in to his side. I giggled and looked up at him as we paused on our walk. He looked down at me with a smirk.

“You wish,” was all he said before he let go and continued walking, picking up speed to make me catch up to him. But that’s when something caught our eye. A flash. Fuck.

We both pause and glance towards the direction it came from, seeing a man holding a camera in our direction.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I mumbled. He let out a sigh.

“Let’s just head back to Dave’s. There’s nothing out here for us to do anyway.” And with that, we turned around and retraced our steps, making our way back.

“You’re back again? Don’t you have a band to be spending time with?” Austin teased with a fale scowl as we walked into the house.

“Of course I do. It’s your band!” I joked back. He laughed and rolled his eyes.

“What? Will didn’t tell you guys? You’re getting a second, better vocalist!” I continued, putting my hands on my hips to look confident. Will softly pushed me while laughing, making me stumble and giggle as I walked over to the couch and sat down with everyone.

Will walked past us into the kitchen, and I started chatting with everyone there. I’ve gotten surprisingly comfortable with them after they helped me with my vocals earlier, so I wasn’t as nervous to be around them anymore.

Will came back out and handed me a drink. I didn’t know what it was, so I gave him a slightly suspicious look as I took a sip. I made a face, not expecting it to be a vodka cranberry, but it was still really good. He chuckled at my face before sitting down next to me.

“Oh so first she steals clothes, and now she’s taking our drinks?” Adam joked. Ever since this morning, they’ve been messing with me all day, but I loved it. It was like I was back with my own boys again.

I looked at him confused, before remembering that I was still wearing Will’s hoodie, so I set down my drink and took it off, handing it back to him.

“No, you didn’t have to. I’m fine,” he said, trying to push it back to me.

“Well, I don’t really need it anymore, and I don’t wanna accidentally wear it home,” I persisted, trying to give it back. He grabbed it and sat it between us.

“I’ll keep it here if you need it,” He spoke softly as he leaned back and turned his attention towards the guys.

I just shook my head with a small laugh before grabbing my drink, taking a sip, and doing the same.

The guys and I all chatted for a few hours, the alcohol making Will and I a little more loose-lipped as the night went on, him even making us more drinks. They asked me questions about my band and how the tour was going. I may have been a little too honest, but it didn’t affect them. I even asked them for advice on the best course of action on drastically changing the sound of our music, now that I was getting more comfortable with the thought of it. They gave really good advice, but a lot of it was that I had to talk to my own bandmates about it, which made sense.

After we were a few drinks in, Will leaned his head on my shoulder as we all talked. He was still awake, the alcohol seemingly making him want to get comfier, and if I learned anything the past two days, it was that Will was a cuddler. He loved physical touch, and the closer to you, the better, so I wasn’t shocked when he eventually sank into the couch, cuddling into my side as we all chatted. And I knew it was normal when the rest of the guys didn’t even blink an eye at it.

Though, after some time, he became dead weight against me, and when I looked over, I saw that he was out like a light. I did my best to keep the conversation going, but between the warmth of his body heat and the alcohol, I felt my eyes getting heavier.

The rest of the guys started to notice, so they eventually excused themselves to either head to bed or hang out somewhere else, saying they didn’t want to wake him.

With that, I leaned my head on Will’s and eventually slipped into a deep sleep.

I woke up to the feeling of someone looming over me, so with a scrunched face, I opened my eyes and saw Moke and Austin looking at Austin’s phone, giggling about something. I tried to raise an arm to rub my eyes, but realized they were stuck. Looking down, I saw that at some point in the night, Will and I had laid down, and now he was sprawled out on top of me, practically pinning me to the couch. He was still completely out, just pure dead weight on top of me.

A yawn escaped my lips, making the two goofballs aware that I was now awake, and they giggled down at me.

“What are you two idiots up to?” I softly asked, my voice coming out harsh and raspy, either from the alcohol or the fact that I don’t think I shut up for a single second yesterday.

Austin turned his phone around with a mischievous grin on his face, showing me that he had taken a picture of Will and me and posted it to his story, captioning it, “These two don’t know how to party.”

I finally managed to slide a hand out from between Will and I and reached for his phone, wanting a closer look. I couldn’t tell from my angle, but Will was completely intertwined with my body. Our legs looped around each other and I was using one of his arms as a pillow as his other arm draped across my chest. He was using one of my tits as a pillow, which made me giggle. We were both out cold, Will’s mouth slightly agape as if he was snoring. I gave the phone back to Austin after rolling my eyes.

“So, am I just stuck like this now?” I ask the two, making them chuckle.

“Yep. He can sleep for a whole day if he’s comfortable enough, so good luck!” Moke responded. I almost let out a groan, but didn’t because I would feel bad if I woke him.

“So I’m trapped under a dead body and you two are just taking pictures? What the fuck?” I teasingly whisper yelled. They both walked away with suppressed giggles, leaving me to wait for Will to wake up.

With my now free arm, I searched around me, trying to feel if there was anything for me to entertain myself with. My body was hanging ever so slightly off the edge of the couch, so I had a feeling my phone slipped out of my pocket at some point in the night. I couldn’t move my head, or any other of my body for that matter, but thankfully my hand finally touched the cold screen and I did my best to grab it with a contorted arm.

I turn it on after finally picking it up, and saw that it was already noon. The guys and I were up for a while last night, so I’m not too shocked that we slept this late, but it felt weird that I had spent more time with Will than anyone else this whole break. But at the same time, I didn’t care. I literally live with three of them and I’m going to be spending the next almost three months with the other five, and this will be the only time I’ll get to spend with Will for who knows how long.

Maybe I could see if my boys wanted to hang out with the Lorna Shore boys. I would invite everyone else, but with everything happening, I haven’t been too close with any of them lately. I’ll mention it to Will later.

I finally open my phone and click on the messages I saw that I had. There were a few from my boys, telling me that they missed me and they wished I was partying with them and everyone else. I wish I was too, but with the state that my life was in right now, I’d much rather spend my time with the person who was most unrelated to the tour and everyone in it. I couldn’t be more thankful to have run into Will. He was everything I needed at this time. Someone who brought excitement into my life, distracting me from everything else. Someone who, even though it was a terrible mistake, managed to heal a small part of me the other night. A healing intimate encounter, proving that not every man I got this close with in my 20s was going to hurt me in some way. Purely a quick rebound that we both agreed wouldn’t affect anything, followed by getting an insane amount of support in both my music and with the stress that this whole fiasco has caused. And a new friend. An amazing friend. He was so different from anyone else I had in my life at the moment that it just felt so good to be around him, especially because he came with a completely different friend circle, so I could have peace from everything while still being social.

I know what I did was terrible. While it wasn’t like I cheated on Noah, I already feel so much guilt everyday since our fight at the bar, so knowing I may possibly be making the tension across the bands even worse kills me. But the truth is, I just don’t think my brain and body knew how to handle having a friend like Will in my life at first. Sure, Finn is one of my biggest supporters, but since the day I met him, all those years ago, he’s been nothing but a brother to me. And my brain just couldn’t see Matt as any different. Yeah, we pretended to like each other, just to piss people off, but my mind instantly added him into the same category as my bandmates.

But meeting Will was completely different. Not as different as meeting Noah, that’s for sure, but he was the first guy I’ve met that I just instantly felt completely comfortable with. Apparently so comfortable, I let him see me naked within the first few hours of meeting. But I don’t see him as a future partner or even a regular fling or anything like that. We both just misunderstood our intimate connection at first. He has so much love in his heart that I can’t even blame myself for instantly searching for a way to feel it more. While I should’ve just earned it by being his friend, seeing as he treats everyone with this amount of love and support, I think I just really needed someone like him at this point in my life to show me an abundance of it for a night. Now that I’ve gotten it, I feel like something in me is slowly healing.

And even now, something in me slowly heals as I feel his breath against my chest as he sleeps. The overwhelming comfort of being this physically close to someone and being able to enjoy it platonically. I know fans are having a field day with this, and I know that if any of my band mates or any of the Bad Omens boys see the picture on Austin’s story or from the paparazzi last night, it’s most likely going to cause problems, but for once, I don’t want to have something be a problem. It will be rare to see Will after this week, so I’m going to soak in his comfort and support until I’m forced back to reality and have to deal with life by myself, including explaining myself to the others.

I did my best to text them back, having to type with one hand that was hovering unsupported over my face and still deep in thought over how insane my life has been recently. But the movement from the heavy weight on my body almost made me drop my phone on my face.

Will shifted in his sleep, turning slightly and pulling himself closer to me. He dug his face between my shoulder and neck, probably shielding his eyes from the light that shone through the living room windows. I close my phone and set it on my chest, not wanting to drop it and scare him. He let out a tired groan as he stretched and pulled closer to me, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the tickle of his face and breath on my neck.

He paused for a second once he heard it, finally realizing the position he was in, before giggling with me.

“Good morning,” his groggy voice spoke into my neck, tickling me even more, making me squirm and try to pull away at the feeling.

“Good morning, dead weight.” I exaggeratedly huffed out. He lifted his face and looked at me with half lidded, tired eyes and a cheeky grin before trying to push himself off of me without hurting me.

I took an exaggerated deep breath as I sat up, teasing him. He shook his head with a smile and yawned.

“By the way, I think Austin might be worse than paparazzi,” I said as I stretched, needing to loosen my cramped muscles from not being able to move them all night.

He gave me a confused look, so I told him to check Austin’s story. He took a minute to search for his phone. Finally finding it between the couch cushions, he typed in Austin’s username and checked, immediately laughing.

“Everyone’s gonna think we’re dating,” he chuckled, rubbing his face.

“I’ve never cared about fan speculation since they’ll grasp onto anything these days, but this is probably gonna cause some issues for my situation if I don’t clear the air.”

“Yeah..” he dragged out, “I mean, it’s no problem for me. If anything, this will definitely help keep the fan’s eyes off of you and Noah until you get everything situated.”

I thought about it for a moment, and he was right. Fans love digging into our personal lives, so if there wasn’t a distraction, I know rumors and stories would spread over how they see Noah and I interact. Hell, there's fans who think I’m with all of them, even my bandmates, so if they just focused on my so-called ‘relationship’ with Will, I won’t have to worry about them constantly talking about Noah and me.

“Honestly, this may help a lot of issues. As long as I inform mine and his band what’s actually happening, this will save us from a lot of heat on the internet.” I said after a few moments, “Oh! Speaking of, are you busy today?”

He thought for a moment, trying to get his tired brain to run its gears.

“Not that I know of, but I can also ask the guys,” he finally answered, suppressing a yawn.

“Would you be down to meet my boys? I just feel bad that I’m gonna be spending more of our break with you and not with them.” He let out a sleepy giggle after thinking about it for a second.

“Or, you can always just hang out with them? Without me?” he teased. I felt a blush creepy up to my cheeks, but not before playing it off and faking a gasp.

“You don’t want to hang out with me anymore?” I pulled an exaggerated pout. He instantly rolled his eyes with a tired smile.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” He said lazily, making me laugh.

“I’m kidding. I just figured that I’d hang out with you until you kicked me out since I probably won’t see you for a while after this, and the boys would love to meet you and possibly the rest of the band if they’re down.” A frown creeped up on his face as I spoke.

“Wait..You’re right. I won’t see you after this,” he whined, “Yeah, I’ll ask the guys if they wanna join, but I’m not letting you leave until you’re getting on that damn tour bus.”

“Does that mean you’re joining me when I go back to the hotel to change?” I asked, laughing.

“Yes.” he stated, bluntly, making me laugh more.

“Okay, let me text the boys, and then we can head over,” I chuckled out. He nodded and stood to go talk to his bandmates as I grabbed my phone and texted Finn.

Y/N- On a scale from 1 to 10, how excited would you and the boys be to hang out with Lorna Shore today?

Finnegan- ASKING THEM NOW OMGOMGOMG

I shook my head and laughed at his text. Finn wasn’t as big of a fan of them as I was, but when I played their music enough, you can’t not enjoy it a little. But then, I realized I may have to clarify something.

Y/N- I feel like this may be obvious, but this invitation is for you three only. I’m not in the mood for awkward conversations right now❤️

Finnegan- 🫡 Yes, maam

Y/N- …maybe Matt can come, too

Finnegan- He’s not at the house right now, so you should text him

Y/N- will do. I’ll let you know where we’re meeting up. Give me like 2 hours to head back to my hotel and change

Finnegan- 👀 so you spent the night?

Y/N- IN A HOUSE FULL OF 5 OTHER GUYS SO SHUT IT

I laughed as I closed out of our chat and opened Matt’s. I sent him a text, but he didn’t immediately respond, so I just closed my phone and got all my things together and waited for Will so we could head back to my hotel.

[midnightdahlias]

First Impressions

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summery - (based on pilot episode) you meet the boys for the first time, and it doesnt exaclty go smoothly word count - 1.1K cws - fem!reader, mentions of a gun, very very slight threat , mentions of john winchester (horrorfying ik), lmk if i missed anything a/n - Hi so this is my first time writing, hope you like it. I apologise if it's not the best, english isn't my first language. BUT I hope you like it either way and any feedback is appreciated !

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

“Dean. Something is starting to happen. I think it’s serious. I need to try and figure out what’s going on… [muffled voices]… If you don’t hear from me, call the number I left you. Be very careful, Dean. We’re all in danger.”

After running it through EVP software, neither of them was any closer to figuring out what the hell John Winchester had gotten himself into.

“What about the number he mentioned? Have you called it?” Sam asked, his brow furrowed as he replayed the message in his head.

“Tried it twice. Straight to an automated voicemail both times. Whoever it belongs to doesn’t seem keen on answering,” Dean sighed, frustration creeping into his tone. He had assumed it was a contact of their father’s, someone John trusted, but the silence from the other end only deepened his suspicions. Maybe something had happened to that person, too.

····································

Working odd jobs was your way of staying afloat between hunts. Running scams and hustling drunks at bars could only get you so far. As much as you hated working in crappy diners, the little bit of honest money made you feel better about yourself—well, slightly better. Hunting wasn’t exactly a glamorous life, but knowing you were helping people survive the creatures that go bump in the night gave you purpose.

You were just wrapping up your final shift at a shitty diner, ready to head out of town, when your phone rang again. Unknown number.

This was the third time today, and you were getting sick of it. The first call, you’d been asleep and missed it. The second time, you couldn’t pick up because you had a customer at the counter. But this time, you were free to finally figure out who was bugging you. You weren’t used to calls like this—you could count on one hand the amount of people that had your number, so to call this weird was a bit of an understatement.

But before you could even answer, the call cut off after just a few seconds. Weird. You almost didn’t bother calling back, but as you started to switch your phone off, it buzzed again.

You didn’t hesitate this time—just hit ‘answer’ and pressed it to your ear.

“Who is this?”

All you heard was some muffled noise on the other end before the call dropped.

It wasn’t exactly paranoia that made you hesitate to call back. More like years of experience dealing with sketchy things that were best left alone. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right, so you stuffed the phone in your pocket and started walking back to your motel. The day had already been stressful enough, but as you made your way down the empty street, a prickling sensation crawled up your spine. You were being followed.

····································

“Where’d she go?” Dean frowned, looking around. She had been just a few feet ahead of them, and now she was gone.

Sam didn’t even get a chance to reply before Dean’s body slammed into his, knocking him to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs.

“Who are you, and why are you following me?”

The voice above them was calm but carried a dangerous edge. Looking up, the brothers found themselves staring down the barrel of a gun.

“You’ve got about ten seconds to answer,” you warned, your grip steady as you studied the two strangers.

Dean raised his hands in mock surrender, trying to defuse the situation. “Hey, hey, how about we put the gun down and have a nice, calm conversation?”

“You didn’t answer my questions,” you countered, cocking the gun for emphasis. “Who are you, and why are you following me?”

“Okay, okay,” Sam said quickly, his voice trying to calm the situation after his brothers failed attempt. “My name’s Sam, and this is my brother Dean. We’re the ones who called you.”

You narrowed your eyes. That answered part of your question, but it only left you more confused.

“What?” you asked, confused, but not about to lower the gun just yet.

Dean blurted out, “Look, we’re looking for our dad. He told us to call you if we couldn’t reach him. We saw you pick up at the diner, and we got curious.”

“So you followed me like a couple of creeps instead of just talking to me?” you shot back, irritation creeping into your voice.

The brothers exchanged an awkward glance, clearly realizing how bad it sounded, trying to come up with a defense that made them sound less like creepy stalkers.

“Wait, who’s your dad?” you asked, cutting off whatever pathetic excuses that were about to escape their mouths.

“John Winchester,” Dean offered plainly. Glad of the change in question.

The name hit you like a truck. You’d crossed paths with John only a few days ago, working separate cases in the same area. You hadn’t thought much of it when he disappeared; you’d assumed he’d wrapped up his hunt and moved on. Clearly, that wasn’t the case.

“You’re John’s sons?” you asked, though it was more of a rhetorical question. “Well, that makes sense.” You sighed to yourself, eyeing the two.

You lowered your gun and holstered it, extending a hand to each of the boys, helping them to their feet while silently offering an unspoken truce.

Dean accepted your hand, brushing himself off. “You know him?”

“Yeah, I know him,” you replied, the faintest hint of distaste creeping into your tone. Sam caught it, his lips twitching in amusement, though Dean didn’t seem to notice.

“He’s missing,” Dean said, his voice steady but tinged with concern.

John Winchester missing? That didn’t sit right with you. Although a right ass, the guy was tough as nails, one of the best hunters you’d ever met.

“He was hunting something out here and just vanished. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

You thought for a moment before answering. “I saw him a couple of days ago. Last thing he said was that he was heading to Sylvania Bridge to check something out.”

Sam stepped in, his voice hopeful. “Would you help us find him? If he told us to call you, he must’ve thought you could help.”

You hesitated. You weren’t the type to work with others, especially hunters. They were usually more trouble than they were worth. But there was something about these two that made you pause, something that felt like you were meant to help them. Not that you believed in fate or anything…

“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “I’ll help. But don’t make me regret this.”

[bbearthyy]

B!TCH IM A MOTHER

Yah i’m back with another TWD blurb. this has plot at least. sorta. anyways no TW cause i don’t think it’s necessary but if anyone finds something i might need to put a warning for lemme know. this is first person POV tho. it was kinda hard to write in an x reader format.

{•_•}

am i a mother? absolutely i am. have i given birth to any children? well…no.

i’m not even completely sure when it started.

maybe it was at the farm. when i was fussing at daryl about taking care of himself and accepting help.

“dammit daryl when are you going to accept the fact that we care about you?! i get it, okay? seriously i do. better than anyone. it’s hard to accept love when you’ve never felt it before. but i, along with the rest of the group, don’t want you on your own anymore. please, just let us help you.” daryl just stared at me silently for a while, trying desperately to ignore the tears in his eyes. i couldn’t tell if the tears were from my words or because i yelled at him, in front of the entire group no less. but he didn’t take too long to respond. a mumbled “yes, mama,” fell from his lips, before he was walking to his separate camp to bring his belongings inside with the rest of us.

or maybe it was after the fact, when we were on the road after the barn fell.

when we had found a small river and the women were cleaning ourselves and i insisted the men let me fix their hair. glenn laughed with a mumbled, “sorry, mom,” when he splashed me with the water. i gave him a harsh flick on the back of his ear, “don’t do it again, glenn.”

or maybe it was before all of that, when we had first formed our group.

“merle dixon if you scare these children like that again i swear i’ll beat you black and blue!” the redneck knew better than to bother the children, yet he’d snuck up on them today, jumping out from behind a tree and roaring at them. he just chuckled at my comment, as if he couldn’t take me seriously. “what are you, my mother?” but his laughter quickly faded when he saw the look on my face, ducking his head and walking away silently.

anyways, whenever it began, i didn’t really mind it. the word didn’t hold any serious meaning behind it, simply used in a joking manner. until it was serious. until we were in the prison and carl came running into my cell crying every time he had a nightmare, when he would sob so hard he couldn’t breathe and i’d just shush him and hold him, rocking gently side to side. when he started mumbling “goodnight mama” or “love you mama” or “sweet dreams mama” before falling unconscious. when he’d say, “thanks mom,” when i brushed his hair every morning or when i helped him with words he didn’t know while reading or consoled him after an argument with his dad.

when i’d clean daryl’s injuries every time he got hurt on a run. and in the quiet solitude of my cell he’d let a couple silent tears fall from how gently i took care of him. and when i’d kiss his forehead and send him on his way after, he’d wipe his tears and whisper a barely audible, “thanks ma,” on his way out.

and when the people of woodbury joined the prison and carl was given the job of introducing everyone to our group. and not a single soul could remember my name, but they knew that i was mom or mama or whatever mother figure they needed me to be.

and when nights got too quiet and rick couldn’t handle the weight of the world on his shoulders, and i’d walk into his cell and he’d fall to his knees in front of me. he’d press his face into my stomach while he cried, and i’d run my fingers through his hair and whisper soft reassurances. and through his tears he’d cry, “i just can’t do it mama, it’s too much.” and i’d rock him too, and praise him gently, the same soft way i cared for his son.

and when the prison fell and the group met back together at terminus. and i was in a train cart with people i knew and people i didn’t. and when the introductions came to an end and all heads turned to me. and i was quiet for a moment until carl pointed and said “that’s mama. everyone calls her that. don’t ask her name ‘cause she’ll tell you a fake one since um b’cause she doesn’t know you.” and those that did know me nodded in agreement.

and maybe i did care, maybe the weight of the word pressed heavy on my chest because i knew i couldn’t have children of my own. but i had plenty of people to care for anyways. i had my own family. and i was a mama. whether they were mine or not.

[innocentcurse]

“Oh yeah?” Romeo gathered rather quickly that Dolores didn’t find her usual holiday plans to be much fun, even before she explicitly said so, figuring both from the way that she spoke about her mother’s company, and of their tradition of celebrating midnight mass at the little church. He supposed that his holidays were better than others, and that he would be better off feeling grateful that he wasn’t dealing with worse circumstances this year. Suddenly guilt hit him square in the chest; he should be thankful that he had gotten what he was after at the bakery, too, unlike Dolores. 

At the question of what traditions he might like to make for himself, Romeo was truly clueless. A hand came up to his chin absentmindedly, fingers rubbing over the small amount of stubble as he thought. “Honestly? I haven’t a clue,” he chuckled hopelessly. “If you’ve got any ideas, I’d love to hear them,” he was mostly joking, particularly as he found most traditions sort of made their way into Romeo’s holidays rather than being pre-planned or thought out in too much detail. 

.

It was hard to read Romeo's expression and ascertain if he really did miss those holiday celebrations or not. Dolores stared at him, trying to see which one was it. "Hm. I wonder what I would do for the holidays, if I didn't have my mother hanging around all the time." Nothing, most likely. She was not the type to celebrate or have parties, but she did suppose she could try to invite some people over for a meal, at least to make sure she didn't spend the holidays completely alone.

She did not notice Romeo's struggle to talk about his previous partner. What she did was wonder what type of celebration, big or small, he used to have with the ex. Dolores sighed. "All we do for the holidays, my mother and I, is go to this little church in the middle of nowhere to celebrate midnight mass." The two Cuervo women made that trip every year and, dull as it was, Dolores had found ways to tune out and let the experience just wash over her. "Not very fun."

There was a moment in which she kept quiet and kept thinking, if there was any holiday she actually enjoyed. Halloween, most likely. Ever since she was a kid, candy, costumes, getting scared, it all meant a welcome change from the day-to-day and into a few hours where anything could happen. Christmas, well –Christmas was just predictable by now. "What sort of traditions would you think of starting?"

[matchboxbed]

hello autism website does anyone else have a really hard time controlling/hearing your own tone of voice and have u found anything that helps. i accidentally hurt ppls feelings sometimes bc i can’t hear how harsh i sound when i’m overstimulated and i do not want to continue this way bc i feel like i have no control over it

[tonycries]

Animals - G.S.

Synopsis. Yes, your best friend is secretly an alpha. Yes, he acts like a fúcking anímal when he rúts. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alíve.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! Gojo, rúts, best-friends-to-lóvers, creampíes, bréeding, GOJO’S POWERS, knots, MARATHON SÉX, overstím, knots, MATÍNG BÍTES, cúmplay, OMÉGAVERSE AU, pússy-spánking, héats tríggered, semi-public, matíng press, oraI (fem), slight bondagé, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 7.0k (uh-oh)

A/N. Nanami always gets the short end of the stick LMAO, anyway hope y’all have the loveliest week <3

“Satoru, you’re being strange.”

Granted, Gojo Satoru acting weird wasn’t anything new. 

Especially not when he’s two hours deep into the most droning meeting you’d bribed him into attending as of late - knee bouncing, fingers tapping, head turned towards that firmly shut door like he just wanted to escape. Needed to. 

Then again, even you found your attention waning. Finding whispering with your best friend much more interesting than whatever latest mission statistic Yaga had to present. 

“M’doing just peachy, sweetheart.” Gojo smiles - but it looks stilted, pained. And even through his blindfold, you already knew his snowy brows were furrowed. “Who’s the one not listening to ol’ man Yaga now?”

You scoff, narrowing your eyes down at his figure beside you - draped over the cool mahogany table as if he owned the place. “Well- you better not be faking sick to get out of this meeting. Again.”

He only hums, “Don’t worry your pretty lil’ h-head about it, m’kay?”

With a final, tired rub at your temples, you’re turning back to Nanami to ask for all the world where Yaga was on his fifty-page report now-

And then, it hits you.

Suddenly.

Something smells sweet.

Like candy - particularly that sugary, strawberry-flavored kind you’ve had to tell Gojo off on more than one occasion for eating too many of. Tilting your head just a bit, you think you could also catch hints of honey and pine, such a strange, hypnotic combination.

“S-Satoru…” your words come out in a syrupy gush, feeling your head whirl.

“Hm?”

And despite yourself, you’re taking in deep, heavy inhales of the air surrounding you. Hungry. Mouth salivating as that heady, perfumed whiff clouds up all your senses. “Do you- hah- what is- do you smell-”

“Ngh- no?” he’s cutting you off with a barely-audible groan, one you probably wouldn’t have even caught if your abilities weren’t so sharpened right now. Gojo’s movements seem sluggish, languid as if he was moving through molasses when he raises up one hand to massage the back of his neck.

You can only watch as his head droops down onto the long table with a wince. 

Strange. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have almost thought- 

No, there was no time to be entertaining wild conspiracies. Because at this very moment you’re too caught up flitting through the dates of all your previous heats in your mind. Urgently. 

Three weeks.

Your next heat wasn’t due for another three weeks. So, sure, you didn’t take your suppressants just yet but, that really didn’t matter, did it?

It wasn’t normal for jujutsu sorcerers to be anything other than a beta - and as an omega, you knew firsthand just how difficult it was to fight tooth and nail just to be able to sit at this table. 

Historically, any other faction of society would rather be caught dead than outed, and have their second gender be taken advantage of by the very curses you were supposed to exorcize. Forced to face the stigma of alphas and omegas being too “unstable” or “vulnerable” to be trusted with missions.

This was the very thing you’d been trying to avoid ever since you argued your way into studying at Jujutsu Tech - losing control. 

Especially now.

But god, you were burning up. It smelled so sexy.

And, taking a sweeping glance around the table of betas - at your fellow sorcerers, those grim elders, and your disheveled best friend - that left only you to explain the scent.

You were only thankful that their noses weren’t as powerful as yours. Clinging onto this as a saving grace, with a shaky gulp, you gently nudge Nanami on his side. “Hey- Ken?”

“Yes?” And maybe it was the heat - whatever this was - but Nanami’s deep baritone sends shivers down your spine, and you find yourself leaning in traitorously closer to his heated body. His jaw ticks, “Is something wrong? You look…”

“Satoru’s also-”

“So what?”

Without warning, one of his hands comes to splay out across your forehead. Just a mere touch has him sucking in a sharp gasp, “You feel warm, I think you have a fever. You can’t continue the meeting like this.” 

You shake your bleary head in protest. 

“I won’t let you.” Nanami’s voice hardens with a tone of finality, and yet, you still find yourself trying to whirl around to look at Gojo. Maybe for help, maybe for a distraction to escape when your colleague speaks again - this time directed at Yaga. “Principal Yaga, it seems my dear friend here is sick.” Circling an arm around your shoulders to pull you up from your seat and onto weak legs. “If you’ll please excuse us, I will escort-”

Nanami stills - everything stills. 

Everyone stills when his voice tapers off with a ragged grunt, and you feel his chest heave in unsteady breaths. So close now that you can mark the exact moment Nanami’s eyes widen, “Are you…”

Shit. 

Shit shit shit-

“Wait.” Yaga’s voice bellows reproachfully. “Is this- That smell-” But even he can’t find the words, slumping back down into his seat.

Truly, the scent was so saturated now, so primal that even the most stubborn of unmated betas were sneaking peeks at you. You bite your lips raw at another glossy gush from your already-heated cunt. It was so embarrassing - your heats have never acted like this before, let alone come three weeks early.

Sure, perhaps that one time on your very first day at Jujutsu Tech itself - which was embarrassing by itself. And, yet, your mind had never been clearer than it was right now. 

Eyes sliding over to a familiar, trembling mop of white hair - never been needier. 

Fuck, what was your delirious self thinking-

As if drawn by an invisible string, Nanami’s inching impossibly into your hot proximity, hazel eyes falling half-lidded when he takes in a deep whiff. Grumbling, “My love-” Another. And another. Nose almost grazing your pulse now, “-you’re in-”

Slam!

“Out.”

It’s a threat.

That was the first thought that slammed into you, and then the voice continues, slow, snarling like a predator on the edge of ripping something to shreds. “I won’t repeat myself.”

Before you finally understand, it’s a command.

There’s one strong hand around your front, pinning you against a sculpted chest. Something about it has your pulse booming in your ears, fingers clawing at that pale wrist at your shoulder. Yet, he doesn’t even flinch.

Nanami, however, reluctantly detaches his hands from your body, and you finally have enough strength to look towards the origin of the words. Only for your glassy gaze to meet with a towering Gojo Satoru standing at his full height - when did he even get up? 

Jaw clench, sharp canines bared, blindfold dangling haphazardly around his neck - ah, he looked like a man that crawled from hell and back simply to take you all along with him. 

With you at lucky number one. 

First in his line of sight. Close enough that you can finally smell him. 

Oh.

Oh. 

And you swear you saw his eyes tint with the faintest blue lightning when your own scent perks up. Boring into you for just a millisecond before narrowing his gaze down at a stupefied Nanami, cracking the kinks in his neck. “Unless ya wanna watch.” He bares the rest of the room with his flooring glare, “Unless all of you want to watch.”

It’s chaos. 

They understood - perhaps long before even you did. 

Chairs clatter, the desk trembles, and that safe haven of the door is swung open. That weezing council of elders are first to stumble over one another into the hallway, Yaga following shortly with a wordless sigh. 

Until the only ones left are you and him - and Nanami.

Blond brows raising, his eyes flit frantically between you and a possessive Gojo. Sputtering out, each word jagged, and dry as if they’re being wrenched from his chest. “What is the meaning of this- We- I thought you were a- a beta.” 

Everyone did, and Nanami was speaking what your mind couldn’t right now. 

Gojo Satoru always presented himself as a beta - never affected by your heats, never disappearing once every few months for his ruts as you remember Suguru did. He always seemed so normal - perhaps the one thing about him that was. Unaffected by the stupid little trials and tribulations of alphas and omegas in sorcery. 

But it was undeniable, he was an alpha. 

And taking a deep inhale of his saccharine sweet perfume - so overpowering - he might just be the strongest you’ve ever encountered. How fitting.

“You thought.” Gojo’s voice was clipped, rumbling with a low growl that sent electrifying shivers down to your very cunt. And his tone just makes Nanami jolt. “And I can’t right now so I- fuck-”

Gojo’s body wracks with a violent shudder, making him hunch over - with you in tow. His hot breath puffs out in feverish pants near your ear, abs clenching as another velvety wave of pheromones emit from him. 

You mewl when your body is jostled in his toned arms, nudging the very curve of your ass - tight uniform skirt hiking up just enough - so that you push in a slow drag against something rock-hard. Massive. Weeping out in a sticky damp spot that seeps into your skin. 

“Hah-” you’re gasping, face swirling to nose up the crook of his neck - where the candied scent was most prominent. “Toru–”

There’s a gasp - and it’s not from you this time. 

Both you and Gojo are snapping your dazed heads upwards at a frozen Nanami, his hand shooting to cover his nose. Eyes wild- “I-”

Before thinking better of it, it seems like Nanami opted to keep some part of his sanity as he abruptly turns on his heels without a second glance backwards. Marching robotically, the only moment he stops is once he’s at the doorway. One hand tugging on his suddenly too-tight pants, the other on the doorknob. Eyes still trained forwards when he calls out gruffly, “Don’t break the table, insurance doesn’t cover it.”

SLAM!

Finally alone.

Your vision swims - is the door even locked? Is this- God, you feel hot. So hot - too hot.

And Gojo’s burning up, arms wrapping around you so tight that you could feel the way his skin flushed with a thin sheen of sweat. He breathes out into your ear, “My pretty girl…”

“Oh sh-shit–” you’re whimpering, big fat tears welling up behind your eyes. And without wasting a second, as soon as it splatters hotly on your best friend’s skin, he licks a long, lazy stripe to lap at the hazy saltiness. Babbling away, “Feel so dizzy hngh- and you- you’re an alpha?”

Honestly, part of you still didn’t want to believe it.

But as soon as he husks out a gravelly moan, as soon as his tongue dips down a wet pathway to the scent gland on your neck - you already know you won’t be making it out of this alive. “Why did you hide it from me?”

“Mhm- fuck! m’sorry.” he grunts into your skin, slightly muffled. Nipping ever-so-slightly, “M’sorry m’sorry- had to- my sudden rut made my- hah, made my pretty omega go into heat, didn’t it?”

His soft palms glide down your trembly body, greedily kneading every dip and curve that comes his way. He’s lost. So, so lost. 

Plastering his lips down every inch of skin he could reach, that sweet scent sticking to you like a sloppy second skin. And you can barely even think when you feel his swollen dick just twitch behind you, a fresh wave of swelteringly hot precum sloshing right through your silken skirt.

You whimper when you’re rutting messily back and forth, and he drags a thick thumb to pry your spit-glossed lips open. “Aww, poor baby. Tell me- fuck tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

And all you can really give him right now is a circular swivel of your hips, which evidently wasn’t enough. 

Because Gojo’s furious tip only hardens, and he hisses with a slight tug up your skirt. Cold fingers dancing ravenously up the edge of your drenched panties, gliding the very rounded tip of his index slowly across your sopping slit. 

“Tha’s not enough.” he snickers, and suddenly you’re hit with another wave of emanating pheromones. Enough to make you just slobber a glistening coating all down his long digits. “Use your ah- w-words like a big girl now. Because when I start…” His teeth find your earlobe, and his fingers find themselves planting a dripping wet slap! across your puffed-up clit. Unwavering. Unapologetic. “I won’t be able to stop.”

“Please, Toru.” That cute little nickname makes him jump, makes him throw his head back with a low moan. Brows scrunching together as if pained. “Don’t want you to stop-”

Maybe you were going to say more - maybe you would’ve called him that nickname and driven him even crazier. 

But Gojo doesn’t wait to find out. 

In one, fluid motion he’s picking up your body into the easiest princess carry you two would’ve laughed at if this was one of those romcoms you watched together. Just splaying you out on your back across the cool table, he situates himself in the perfect position between your legs. 

Oh, how he loved this view. How he’s spent so many ruts just like this imagining this view.

“F-fuck- You have no idea how- how crazy it drove me.” rasping groans drag out from his throat, strained with every slow drag of his cock down the front of your now-see-through panties. “How wild-” You’re nearly screaming when his canines dig in to that soft spot underneath your ear. “-to pretend I didn’t know you smelled so hah- so fucking delicious.”

And then you feel him still - alert, ready.

Chest heaving, an almost chilling tone dipping into his words when he spits, “Except when you smell like him.”

Your jaw falls slack when the temperature in the room heats up another few heady degrees, and the sheer power of your two scents mixing together is almost maddening. 

“He- he? Toru, what do you-” you’re gasping out in tiny huffs, while he busies himself with biting and licking down your exposed neck. Enough to leave you smeared all over with marks. “Who- Kento?”

“Oh, sayin’ another man’s name when you’re with- fuck- me?” Gojo’s bucking powerfully into you, his body was pinning you down. Scorching, now. “Such a naughty omega- I should kill him for how he touched you.”

Truly, his alpha was fucking clawing at him to trek out of this room right now and finish off the job - but, no, you were too hypnotic. And Gojo Satoru, the strongest, was no match for you.

The wet thwack of his fingers once more kisses in a rude smack against your clit, making you squeal. Ringing across your thundering ears, he swears at that broken, blissful noise from you. “Fuckin’ oh, would ya let him see you like this, too? Let him touch you like th-this?”

And Gojo looked so starved, velvety blindfold tickling your chin when he leans in close. Lips ghosting your own - but not quite. You’re suddenly brought back to the very first thought you had - that this is about to be a bloodbath. 

“I wouldn’t–” you bite back in your honeyed tone, and you can feel your omega just purr in satisfaction. “N’ it’s not my fault that someone-”

Smack! Harder, sprinkled with tiny bolts of electricity.

“Correct.” 

It’s breathed out into your mouth - a quick, hedonistic peck. Gojo just taunting your sanity before he’s pulling away with a gruff string of profanity, like it hurt him just as much as it did to you. 

You feel your slick dribble down into a saturated puddle below you. And the mere sight of it makes Gojo just reel his hips deliriously forwards, grinding his massive bulge across your dripping cunt until you could see it soil a fountainy dark patch on his pants. 

“F-fuckin’-” his eyes roll to the back of his head at how hot you were. How pouring wet. Wrangling your quivering legs painfully stretched open, “-woman of my dreams.”

With two, thick fingers hooked over the hem of your skirt, it’s being torn off in an easy pull. Falling somewhere in a pile of impractical tatters onto the meeting room floor, along with your shirt.

And as soon as it’s off, Gojo’s only growing more feral. More hungry. 

He’s drooling from one corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t even notice at this point. Honestly, barely even realizing the burning pain when he falls to the floor on his knees. Clattering haphazardly, insatiably nosing up your jittery inner thighs. 

“Oh sweetheart- oh my pretty girl. My pretty, pretty girl–” he’s breathing out, head lolling drunkenly against your legs. And Gojo gulps when he spreads your panties away with a wet glide of his thumb, just enough to see your messy hole winking up at him eagerly. All soaked and needy. “M’gonna have so much fun being yours.”

He kisses wetly through your panties - without warning, without even breathing. Just surging his pretty face into the heated crevice between your thighs, taste buds on his pinkish tongue grazing up the soaked fabric.

Like he was addicted.

“Oh- oh my god-” you’re mewling out, lower lip wobbly at every sultry swirl of Gojo’s tongue over your pussy lips, painting your messy hole in every mesh of slick and spit he could conjure up. “It feels too- hah–”

You were always so sensitive during your heats, every single one of your senses heightened to the max. So it made your mind all overwhelmingly melty inside to have his steaming hot mouth on your equally ravenous cunt. Hungry.

Yeah, he was addicted.

Dragging a few fingers in-between your glistening folds, scissoring them shamefully open to spit. Once. Twice. 

Some of it splatters strayly onto the start of your thighs, which Gojo glady licks up all over again to stream out a thick wad back onto your silt. Until your cunt was drooling translucent dredges of everything he has to give, he smears his messy thumb in easy rotations around your clit. Filthy. 

“So gorgeous- so good f’me.” Gojo titters, biting down teasingly on the very edge of your panties. And he can’t hide that fucked-out little groan when pulls it back, back, back to just snap! it meanly right on your cunt. “Fuck- you taste as s-sweet as you smell, mmm–”

You’re yelping when his long tongue draws a slow circle around the edge of that first ring of muscle, just barely pushing back against how your gummy walls are trying to hug him. To milk him for everything he has.

“S-such a tease-” you whine, fingers tangling into his cloudy white hair. Soft - the silken tresses smoothed over your palm, slotting between your digits when you pull his mouth roughly onto your pussy. “Jus’ want you on me- ngh!”

“Ohh ya can still t-talk easy, huh?” Gojo raises an amused brow from in-between your legs, that won’t be possible soon with how he’s going to have you. “Well then, don’t you dare beg me to go easy on you, girl.”

And he keeps the panties on - fuck, he keeps the panties on when mashing those ragged, rosy lips of his in a steamy make-out with your cunt. It’s as if he was breathing you in, so close that you could feel every clench of Gojo’s jaw, every grind of his chin into the very base of your pussy. 

“Sh-shitttt-” he spits, stray wisps of white covering his eyesight. Dragging you on his tongue through pure instinct. “Shit wait- ah you’re so fuckin’ so-”

Unable to even finish his sentences with that usually-sharp tongue of his. No, that tongue right now was too occupied with the steady, repetitive drag along your snug channel. Bullying into your sodden sensitive spots, thrusting back and forth back and forth back and-

And his fingers, oh those infamous fingers were straying back onto the sensitive nub of your clit. Drawing tight, tempestuous circles that have you keening at the dual stimulation, thighs stuttering to an embarrassed close. 

“Open.”

It’s just like before - and Gojo’s using that annoyingly baritone tone of his that hits you at your very core, that makes your omega snap open your legs for him.

Even you’re surprised at how pliant your body acts before your mind right now - and so is Gojo. though, his expression doesn’t show it, every bit of that feral animal that scared everyone out of this room not too long ago. 

“That’s it- that’s it–” he can’t hold back, hands glued to the globes of your ass to pin you still against his mouth. “Ha- so fuckin’ different when ya listen to me, so fucking sweet.” Breathing in deeply, “Were ya giving off this scent so Nanami could do this, too?” 

Thwack!

Another mocking slap against your clit - not enough to make you cry, but with just enough buzzing jujutsu to make your batting lashes teary - forces you to find your words. 

And fuck, Gojo swears there’s no sweeter music than the sound of your voice - especially when you’re moaning like that. 

Voice breaking into a whine, accompanied by a few raw clenches of your pussy around his furious tongue. “N-no fuck- don’t know-” your hips arch into the most perfect curve he’s ever seen. One that makes his mouth water, cock straining against his pants. “Toru- jus’ want you, wanna cum- wanna- want you so bad.”

Fuck - and who was he to not go along with each and every one of your pretty whims?

Pussydrunken already. He’d read about this - but he really had no clue how potent an omega in heat was, never having spent a rut with one. That little special occasion was always saved for you but, ah, that was a story for another time.

“M’gonna cum- hah- so- close-” 

Right now, he couldn’t think of anything other than how gorgeous you would look when you cum. How delicious - your sweetened scent raising up by a few notches, taking over his sentences. 

He feels his cock just throb at the mere thought.

Which is why Gojo’s pulling away with one final, sodden kiss on your pussy. You feel the curvaceous curl of his smirk against your cunt, and a deep, filthy inhale. 

“Nah.” he smiles a glistening smile up at you - grin glossed all over with a sheen of your sweet, sweet juices. And the rest of his face was almost-obscured with a curtain of his white bangs, but you still think you could peek the glow of his inhuman eyes through them. Powerful. “Don’ think you’re c-cumming anywhere other than on my knot first, pretty girl.”

And he’s so tall that Gojo’s blocking out the dim meeting room lights when he stands up - slow, smug, making you spend each passing second in such anticipation. 

Face expressionless - almost hypnotized - when he shrugs his shirt off. Lips parted into a soft oh! eyes half-lidded, heaving he slides his belt off almost lazily. 

It clatters! to the ground, and he’s sliding down his drenchingly wet boxers with it - leaving a gleaming trail of precum down the front of his toned pelvis. Letting his achy cock finally spring free, he hisses when it hits the too-cool air. 

And you do, too - though, for much different reasons. 

Because Gojo’s so unfairly big - fitting, for an alpha of his stature. Blushed the prettiest pink at his rotund head that matched his cheeks right now, gradiating down into creamy tufts of white at his thick base. Showing the starting of his knot swelling. It made you wonder whether he tasted as sweet as he smelled. So hard it looked painful, curving into a long, solid shaft that glides a wet smear across his washboard abs. It makes your omega just preen, rabid to have him inside you right now now now-

“Heh, impatient lil’ thing, aren’t ya, sweetheart?” Gojo huffs out in a heady bout of laughter. “Can practically feel yer omega ngh- calling out to me, is this what you want?”

You claw ferally at the milky display of his back, branding him in your own way. “Yes- please-” 

A sudden rip! makes you realize you still had your panties on - up until a few seconds ago, at least. Jostling him ever-so-slightly closer, you mewl when the rounded tip of his angry cock nudges against your pussy lips. Melding into a slight kiss that already makes him stream steaming hot ropes of precum.

And if you were in any better state of mind maybe you’d have noticed the way the light above flicker, fizzing with electricity just as much as you were right now. 

“Heheh- oh y-you made me like this, ya realize?” he chuckles out - but his voice didn’t show even a hint of humor. It’s like he was out of control, out of rationality with each languid drag in-between your folds. Babbling, “You threw me into- fuck fuck fuck this is all- your-”

Honestly, Gojo’s so utterly shocked he managed to grit even half that sentence out. 

Because every sloppy second has him grinding upwards in the tiniest of ruts into your sung cunt, tiny, mindless grinds that make a low ah! ah! ah! rip from his throat. 

“Open that mouth f’me, sweetness-”

As soon as you do, you’re feeling a thick, glossy stream of saliva slosh onto your lolling tongue. Mouth wrenched shut until you swallow - and you do. Happily. Filthily. 

That’s enough to make Gojo lose it. 

And he’s plunging headfirst into your toasty insides, shoving back that tiny bit of resistance before your elastic walls are milking him so well. Greedily swallowing up every one of his generous inches, and it only seemed like more was to come.

“Oh shit- ohhh sh-shit-” His eyes are rolling to the very back of his head, mouth hanging open, that tiny trickle of drool splatters onto your skin. 

“T-Toruu—” your cunt was addictive, and so were those moans of yours. Craning your neck upwards, “Kiss me, please.”

For a second, he’s leaning in - making it seem like he was about to smear that firmly placed gloss all over his lips onto yours. But Gojo only sneaks a peck at the corner of your mouth, then the other - and then one on the tip of your nose. 

“I will I will-” he’s musing, giggles bursting from his lips. “Once we’ve mated, can’t get too greedy at once now? Can I?”

But oh how his actions spoke otherwise, because Gojo’s powerful hips absolutely refused to stop until he was well and fully buried into the hot depths of your cunt. Sheathing himself in all your soppingly wet walls, the sheer tightness was enough for him to throw his head back, heavy balls squeezing. In and out in and out. 

“Ohhh fuck-” Two hands of his roughly attach themselves to your hips, pitching up your needy whines when he drools down your pussy even more thoroughly. “You sure do make it f-fuckin’ hard though-”

You whine when your ass hits against something bulging and hot, whirling those dazed eyes of yours down at the intrusion. 

“Shit-” you’re gasping, eyes widening. And the sheer awe in your eyes is enough to make him grow, blood pumping to every thick inch of his cock until he was expanding even girthier, molding your pliant walls to his size. “That’s your knot- I-I-”

“I-I-I-” Gojo mocks, in a voice octaves higher than usual. Fucking the rest of that sentence with a harsh roll of his hips, knocking bruisingly at your cervix. “C’mon now ah- tell me- you can t-tell me anything.” Kissing softly at your ear lobe, zaps of jujutsu making you jump. “M’your best friend, right?”

How ironic.

All you can gift him in response is a few soft whimpers that only make him wilder.

“Fuck!” you’re keening when another one of his slams leave you gasping for air, feeling like he was clashing into your very womb. Glissading a deep, wet glide of his fat, curved tip across your spongy cervix, his breath hitches at the slight recoil. “I want it-” 

Your words make him almost falter with his ruthless pace, and you take it upon yourself to just drag him down by his muscled shoulders. Until he was hunching over you, abs flexing against your front, “I want your hah- knot in m-”

And you can’t even finish the sentence - you don’t know if you want to.

Because just that syrupy jumble of words is enough to make Gojo Satoru snap. 

To cut you off with a rough growl, teeth bared at you, in a split-second he has you limp legs thrown over his shoulder. Biceps flexing in such a mouth-watering way when he makes them lock at the ankle, bending down, down, down into the meanest little mating press your joints would allow. 

The change in angle has you scrambling - has him scrambling to crash his leaky head into your swollen g-spot. Hitting that bulging bullseye with no regrets - over. And over. And over and over and-

“Oh, marry me sweetheart.” he’s panting into your mouth. His pulsing girth rummaging your insides so good, dragging every ridge and thumping vein on his shaft against your sweet spots. He was so big that you felt like your syrupy cunt had already forgotten what it felt like without him pounding into you. Suckling wetly at the corner of your lips, “Marry me marry me- oh, fuck- gonna give you m-my knot. Don’ think I could go on hah- l-living without ya, pretty.”

He was feral - eyes glowing a blazing blue, sparks of lightning bolting down his milky skin. And you swear with each speeding cadence of his, the lights flickered on and off. 

Every slippery smack of his tight, cum-filled balls has you seeing stars, yearning for the additional burning stretch of being plugged by his knot. 

You’re throwing your arms over his neck, reeling him in like he was your prey, though his hips were devouring you. “W-we’re not even dating and you want me t-to be your hngh-”

“-wife!” He kisses every inch of your face, down your neck, over that soft scent gland of yours - now so overstimulating his senses with your sweet scent that he’s almost forgotten what his own smelled like. Buzzes of electricity skimming down your skin with each touch. He’s groaning, “Be my wife- please- fuck, I need you to be my wife.” Planting an almost-french kiss on that one sweet spot. Once. twice. “M-my mate- sh-shit-”

And you already knew Gojo was close with the way his pretty eyes are almost fluttering shut, the way his hefty balls clamp. Twitching in desperation, his thickened base pumps in even deeper - harder. As if he was trying to rut every single inch into your clingy depths. 

Every single inch.

“Mhm–” you moan, feeling the staggering stretch of his even hotter cock shape your walls. “I wanna- wanna be your-”

You don’t even bother finishing your sentence - and neither does Gojo let you.

Because it only takes a few more sloppy jackhammers before he’s finally sinking his taut knot into you. The stretch is so insane you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head, being plugged so suddenly full. 

And then you’re hurtling headfirst into your high - toes curling, white-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes, your spine bowing so sluttily into his. And Gojo-

Oh, Gojo had his mouth sagging open the moment he felt his massive knot intrude against your silken sweet walls, stretching that snug channel around all of him. And he wishes he had the willpower to look down at the heavenly sight, he wishes he could do anything but sink his teeth down hard into your precious scent gland as he cums and cums and cums. 

The lights burst, shards deflecting off the limitless he’d coated over the both of you. 

Teeth breaking skin, metal tasting on his tongue, scents tangling together into one now.

You do your best to bite him back on his heady neck, breaking through Gojo’s milky skin to reveal a set of pretty pink indents.

Finally yours. Finally his. 

“O-oh, pretty girl–” he hiccups, voice cracking. Hips not moving even the tiniest second of momentum while he stuffs your tight pussy full of his potent seed. “My wife- my mate.”

And Gojo almost bawls when the tight lock of his knot prevents him from plunging into you as deeply and thoroughly as he wanted to right now. Sobbing down big fat tears that splatter! against your lips while he kisses your mind dizzy.

You could feel the syrupy slosh of his cum inside you with each one of his dragged-out grinds, milking your orgasm for as long as possible. Unmoving. Unapologetic in how he was spitting out such voluminous loads of milky white seed that overfilled you. 

“Shit- so much-” you’re whining, still clinging to him. And you don’t think he even hears you right now, mind blanking. “I feel so full, Toru-”

But you didn’t have to babble out those words for him to know, somehow, he just knew. Knew every single thing about you, but couldn’t dredge up the words to respond.

Too pussydrunken to do anything but bite you on your scent gland all over, he kisses a wet trail up to your lips, “Now you- really hafta m-marry me heh.”

Bang! 

Gojo’s fist comes crashing down on the rickety table - it’s too much for him.

Those ringing squelches and the way you were sucking out every single drop of his cum makes his sensitive shaft twitch. Tears blimping up into his eyes again, more and more velvety ribbons ooze out. “My wife- my wife my wife my wife- my mate-”

It’s just about all he can say - like a mantra. Over and over against your lips, until the peaks of your pleasure turn into mere tingles, until Gojo’s own knot is softening down. Slightly.

Just enough that he can pull out-

“Toru, what-”

“Shhh, pretty girl-” He’s kissing your puffed-up clit with another spank from his trembly fingers, and then an actual kiss. Mouth slotting over the mess he’s made below. Grazing all over like a creamy gloss. Filthy. “Rut’s just started.”

His ravenous tongue drags out your overstimulated high, and you’re clinging onto a lock of his snowy hair for dear life. 

“Please-” you beg, voice shot. You don’t even know what you were begging for, but god was Gojo Satoru happy to let himself be used. “Please please please, Toru-”

Oh, his fingers tighten on your thighs - imprinting neat patterns of crescents. Animalistic, in how Gojo just drags your twitchy body forwards.

His eyes were drooping shut, gaze crazed - frantic where he looked you right in the eyes from down below. Head craning to ram his stretchy tongue even deeper, quirking up deftly like he’s wanting to bruise his taste buds along your walls. 

Slurping at and collecting the creamy mess on his tongue - only to spit it back into your sloppy hole. Messy. 

Even with the dark, lightless room - with only those stray sparks of power to accompany you two - such loud squelches echo across his own ears. And just by the noise Gojo could tell how wet you were - as if you weren’t drooling over the lower half of his face, up to his cheekbones, already. 

Sticking to your inner thighs in an obscene drip! drip! drip!

It’s so shameful and you love it. 

And you love that you’re so cockdrunken that you aren’t even sure when you’re cumming - if you’re cumming. Whether those sudden crashes of pleasure were because of your nth orgasm tonight, or because of the way Gojo kisses you with another thwack!

Adrenaline and electricity coursing through your veins, ears thundering with your rapid pulse. Oh god, you never knew a heat could feel this good - this maddening. 

You moan, and he’s eagerly lapping up every sweet bead of slick you have to offer, like a man that hasn’t had an ounce of water in weeks. Brows furrowed, jaw sagging open-

“Shit shit shit-” he’s rasping out, and the very slide of his fingers across your skin sends waves of powerful jujutsu - somehow bunching at your clit just right. “M’cumming- m- m’still cumming fuck- won’t- stop-”

Just as soon as your orgasm is ending, Gojo’s is just starting. Like he’d been holding back on this from the moment he’d started eating out your overspilling pussy - happily. 

And exactly on time, too, because you barely even have the time to catch your breath before Gojo’s standing on his two unsteady feet. Just splitting you open on all of his red, raw inches - uncaring for your little mewls and those tears. 

Because you were sucking him up madly. 

Spearheading his swollen cock into you like he was trying to fuck another orgasm out of you. His strokes are long, harsh, showing off all the years of strength he built up boasting the title of the strongest. 

And this hastily put-together mating press has his cum just overspilling out of you by now, dribbling down in wet globs that made you wonder how much more he could fill you up. It seeps in a white circle underneath your ass, slicking you back and forth along the wood at each harsh ram. 

Again. And again. And again and again and-

“Made me this- hngh- this way, y’know?” he spits into your mouth - followed by a slurred string of swears. Every time his heftily smacking balls clench, you could feel the table creak under pressure. “Sat next to me with that fucking skirt- smelling so fucking- ngh- good- do you even know how delicious ya are?”

You can’t answer - because he’s back to squeezing in his staggering knot into you. Sparks exploding out from the corner of his scrunched-up eyes, forehead knocking into yours.

Gojo kisses you like he couldn’t get enough, letting you taste all the sin from just before. 

“Three weeks away, huh?” That accusatory little inflection in his words isn’t lost on you, only growing stronger and stronger as his staccato grows sloppier. “Have your- hah- heat in three weeks and fuck- I could just- smell it on you-”

It’s incredible. Sliding your frenzied bodies across on another, stinging with skin-on-skin and how your gooey walls constricted around him.

“Showing off in that scent and that skirt-” His eyes are almost bulging out of his head now, hips stuttering like just the very thought of that pile of fabric at the corner of the room drove him mad. “-fuck that skirt- always fuckin’ hated it. Hated how Nanami loves hngh- it. Made me lose fucking control a-and you know what?”

One of his hands curls around your throat now, the other taking hold of your left - kissing your ring finger pointedly. “I’ll do it all over again if it means I’d get to have ya like this, my mate.”

And just then he’s coating your melty insides in a creamy sheen, that overworked divot right at the end of his dick was firmly pressed up against your g-spot. Plugging you with his knot, and you swear you could see a little inflation forming where he was filling you to your limits. 

Cumming and cumming so hard it’s like he couldn’t stop - didn’t want to stop until his body practically forced him.

Gojo’s biting down hard exactly over those deep indents on your scent glands when his gushing spurts of seed turn into almost-painful blanks. 

Over and over, he’s cumming nothing. 

“L-love you, Toru-” you’re babbling out, reeling him in to peck the corners of his smirking mouth. 

Utterly fucked out of your mind enough that you don’t even register the loud boom! from somewhere in the distant grounds of Jujutsu Tech. Barely even care that the overpriced meeting table is now sagging on one side, just about in splinters. 

“Aww, m-my c-cockdrunk baby–” he titters shakily into your glossed-pout. “Love you, too, always have always- will-”  Patting the bulge on your stomach, before kissing you gently, “Ever since I th-threw ya into heat the ngh- first time ya met me.”

Oh. 

And later, you’ll learn that that almost-deafening boom was the generator for Jujutsu Tech, mysteriously bursting after a sudden spike in atomic pressure in the surrounding area. You’ll find out that every piece of furniture in the surrounding buildings had moved about six inches in your direction, and that the now-ruined table was an irreplaceable heirloom.

But for now, all you register is soft. 

Warm. 

With a gasp you realize you’re in a bedroom - Gojo’s bedroom.

“Did- did you teleport-”

“Mhm-” he pants, and in the dim lighting you could spot his leering grin. Satisfied. Pussydrunken. And you could feel his knot swell up hotly, halfway through to its previous size. 

You sputter, trying so desperately to find the words. Difficult, when Gojo still had you wrapped around his thick cock, all the way up to his fat, drenched base. Swiveling his cock in slow, sultry grinds for how much he couldn’t ram exactly how he wanted to right now. “Wh-why didn’t you do this before–?”

“Because-” he licks over his mating mark on you. “-wanted to show off what animals we were.” His grin grows wider, as does his tired cock. And that dangling blindfold around his neck ends up around your wrists, tying you up pliantly for him. “What animals we will be.”

---

Right now, all Nanami can think about is you you you- Yet,he doesn’t expect to see you for about the next week. Or, at least, that’s the hopeful side of him - knowing Gojo, and the state he’d left the meeting room in, he won’t see you again for a month. 

Possibly not walking.

Perhaps, that’s for the best. Looking down at his swollen, throbbing cock - one fist wrapped around its thick base, the other around his shaky phone, he clicks on that familiar app. 

Shit, his rut is near. Now, actually. 

Nanami sighs, it’s hard pretending not to be animals.

A/N. Was soooo giggling writing about how the table was some heirloom.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[tamakey]

people who go off on random anon asks that are slightly irrelevant but ultimately unharmful are craaaaaazy to me (especially if they know it is like a teenager jfc) like clearly the person didn’t have any bad intentions and if an ask just kind of annoys you (but ultimately doesn’t have any bad intentions or threats in it) ignoooooooooore it my god just ignore ignore it it costs zero dollars to not be mean to someone on the internet it is not ‘emotional labor’ if they send you an ask that just kind of annoys you

[pucksandpower]

Thicker Than Blood

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc’s Ex!Reader

Summary: you didn’t think things could get worse after your long-time (ex) boyfriend chose his team over you … until you see those two pink lines, but little do you know that his rival will soon prove that a found family can be thicker than blood

Warnings: includes depictions of labor complications and Jos Verstappen

Based on this request

“Charles, this isn’t funny.”

You’re half-smiling, half-laughing, like you’re expecting him to crack any second and say something ridiculous, something that would make you roll your eyes and shake your head at his poor attempt at a joke.

But he doesn’t. He just stands there, his eyes fixed on you with a seriousness that makes your stomach twist.

“Charles,” you repeat, the laugh in your voice now entirely gone. “What are you talking about?”

He runs a hand through his hair, the way he does when he’s trying to find the right words, but they’re all jumbled up in his head. You know this Charles. This is the Charles who struggles when things aren’t easy, when he has to explain something he doesn’t want to. But this … this is different.

“We need to break up.” The words come out so softly, so carefully, like he’s afraid of them. But they hit you hard, a punch in the gut that leaves you breathless.

You blink, trying to process what he’s just said, but it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t fit. You and Charles are solid. You’ve been through everything together — the highs, the lows, the uncertain days before he was anything more than just another young driver trying to make it in the big leagues. And now, after all this time, after everything, he’s telling you this?

You shake your head. “No. No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do,” he says, his voice firmer now, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.

“Charles, no,” you say, your voice rising, a mixture of panic and disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”

He sighs, a long, weary sound, and looks away from you, his gaze falling to the floor as if he can’t bear to meet your eyes. “It’s not what I want,” he says quietly.

“Then why?” You demand, stepping closer to him, trying to catch his eye, to pull him back to you. “Why are you saying this? We’re fine, Charles. We’re good. What’s going on?”

He finally looks at you, and the pain in his eyes makes your heart skip a beat. “It’s not about us,” he says, his voice almost breaking. “It’s … it’s the team. Ferrari.”

“What?” You say, blinking in confusion. “What does Ferrari have to do with us?”

“They … they think it’s better if I’m single,” he says, each word forced out like it’s costing him something. “For my image. For the brand.”

You stare at him, your mouth open, but no words come out. You’re frozen, your mind struggling to catch up to the words he’s just said, to the reality he’s trying to force on you. “You’re breaking up with me … because of Ferrari?”

He nods slowly, miserably, like he hates himself for it. “It’s complicated,” he says, trying to make it sound like it’s not the most absurd thing you’ve ever heard.

“No, it’s not,” you shoot back, the anger finally starting to break through the shock. “This isn’t complicated, Charles. This is insane. You can’t seriously be telling me that you’re ending things because some PR team thinks it’ll be better for your career.”

“They’re not just some PR team,” he says, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. “They know what they’re doing. They’ve seen the numbers and the trends. They know what’s best for the brand … for me.”

“And what about us?” You ask, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “What about everything we’ve been through? Everything we’ve built together? You’re just going to throw that away because someone told you to?”

He winces, like your words are physically hurting him, but he doesn’t back down. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like? Because from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like you’re choosing your career over me.”

His silence is deafening. You can see the conflict in his eyes, the way he’s struggling with what he’s saying, but he’s not fighting it. He’s not fighting for you, and that realization hits you harder than anything else.

“Why now?” You ask, your voice softer now, the fight starting to drain out of you. “Why are you doing this now?”

“It’s just … it’s the timing,” he says, fumbling for an explanation that makes sense. “The season’s starting, there’s so much pressure. They think it’ll be easier if I’m not-”

“If you’re not what? Tied down?” You snap, the words laced with bitterness. “Is that what they told you? That you’ll be better off without me weighing you down?”

“That’s not how they put it,” he says, but there’s no conviction in his voice.

You feel tears pricking at your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to let them fall. You won’t cry. Not now. Not here. “Charles, we’ve been together for years,” you say, your voice trembling. “We’ve been through everything together. And now you’re telling me that none of that matters? That all of that gets erased because it doesn’t fit with Ferrari’s brand?”

“I don’t want to do this,” he says, his voice breaking, his eyes pleading with you to understand.

“Then don’t,” you plead back, stepping closer to him, reaching out to take his hand, but he pulls away, and the rejection stings.

“I have to,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

You shake your head, trying to make sense of the senseless. “How can you say that? How can you just … give up on us like this?”

“I’m not giving up,” he insists, but it sounds hollow, even to him. “It’s just … it’s not forever. It’s just for now, just to get through the season. Then we can figure things out, we can-”

“You can’t be serious,” you interrupt, the tears finally spilling over despite your best efforts. “You think I’m just going to wait around for you to decide when it’s convenient for you to be with me again? You think that’s how this works?”

He doesn’t respond, just looks at you with that same pained expression, and it’s enough to break your heart all over again.

“Charles, please,” you whisper, one last attempt to reach him, to get him to see reason, to see you. “Don’t do this. We can figure something out. We always do.”

But he’s already shaking his head, and you know, deep down, that he’s already made up his mind. “I’m sorry,” he says, and you can hear the finality in his voice, the way he’s closing the door on this, on you.

You stare at him, the boy you’ve known for so long, the man you’ve loved for years, and it feels like he’s slipping away from you, like he’s already gone. “You really think this is what’s best for you?” You ask, your voice hollow, defeated.

“It’s not about what’s best for me,” he says, and you almost laugh at the irony of it.

“Then what is it about, Charles?” you ask, but you’re not sure you even want to know the answer.

“It’s about … what’s best for everyone,” he says, but even he doesn’t sound convinced.

You take a step back, the distance between you growing, and it feels like a chasm opening up, one you can’t cross. “I never thought you’d be someone who’d let other people decide what’s best for you,” you say quietly.

He flinches at that, and for a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him, that he’ll take it back, that he’ll realize how ridiculous this all is. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, looking at you with those sad eyes, and you know it’s over.

“Goodbye, Charles,” you say, your voice breaking on the last syllable.

“Goodbye,” he whispers back, but it’s lost in the sound of your footsteps as you turn and walk away, leaving him — and everything you’ve built together — behind.

***

The morning sun filters through the curtains, casting a soft, golden light over the room, but it does nothing to warm the cold knot in your stomach. You’ve been feeling off for days now — nauseous, tired, the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that sleep doesn’t seem to touch.

And the vomiting. It started a few days ago, just once or twice, but now it’s every morning, like clockwork.

You sit up slowly, careful not to move too fast, but it’s too late. The wave of nausea hits, and you barely make it to the bathroom before you’re hunched over the toilet, retching until there’s nothing left. You stay there for a moment, gripping the edge of the sink, trying to steady your breathing, trying to make sense of what’s happening to you.

It’s just stress, you tell yourself. The breakup, the uncertainty of everything, it’s all finally catching up to you. But even as you think it, you know it’s not true. This is different. This is something else.

You rinse your mouth, the taste of bile lingering, and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You look pale, drawn, like you haven’t slept in days. Your eyes are dull, shadows lurking beneath them, and there’s a tightness around your mouth that wasn’t there before. You almost don’t recognize the person staring back at you.

As you leave the bathroom, your mind races through the possibilities, trying to find some logical explanation. Maybe it’s a bug, something you ate. Maybe it’s …

You stop in your tracks, the thought slamming into you with all the subtlety of a freight train. No. It can’t be. It’s impossible. But as you think back, counting the days in your head, you realize it’s not impossible. In fact, it’s very possible.

You sink onto the edge of the bed, your heart pounding in your chest. It’s been weeks since … since Charles broke up with you. Since you last … Oh God.

The realization leaves you cold, your skin prickling with fear. There’s only one way to know for sure, but the very thought of it makes your throat tighten, your heart race even faster.

You can’t. You can’t be.

But there’s a part of you — a small, terrified part — that knows you need to find out. You can’t just ignore this, hope it goes away. You need to know. Now.

The walk to the pharmacy is a blur. You barely register the people around you, the sun beating down on your back as you make your way through the streets. It feels like everyone is looking at you, like they know what you’re about to do, but you push the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand.

Inside, the air is cool, the fluorescent lights harsh as you make your way to the back, where the pregnancy tests are lined up in neat rows. You stand there for what feels like forever, your eyes scanning the shelves, your hand hovering over the different options, but you can’t bring yourself to reach out and grab one.

“Can I help you with something?”

The voice startles you, and you turn to see a woman in a white pharmacy coat standing beside you, her expression polite but curious.

You force a smile, shaking your head. “No, I’m fine. Just … looking.”

She nods, but doesn’t move away, and you feel a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You need to do this, and you need to do it now.

Taking a deep breath, you grab the first box you see, then another, then a third, just to be sure. You avoid the woman’s gaze as you make your way to the register, your heart hammering in your chest as you hand over the boxes, praying she doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t. She just rings you up, sliding the tests into a small paper bag before handing it to you with a neutral smile. “Good luck,” she says, and you can’t tell if she means it or if it’s just something she says to everyone.

“Thanks,” you mumble, grabbing the bag and hurrying out of the store, the door chiming as you leave.

Back in your apartment, the silence is deafening. The tests sit on the counter, staring up at you, and you can’t bring yourself to move, to do what needs to be done. But you know you have to. You can’t put this off any longer.

Finally, you reach for the bag, pulling out one of the boxes, your hands trembling as you tear it open. The instructions are simple enough — pee on the stick, wait three minutes, then check the result. But as you hold the test in your hand, you realize those three minutes are going to be the longest of your life.

You follow the instructions, then set the test on the counter, stepping back like it’s something dangerous, something that could hurt you if you get too close. You glance at the clock, the seconds ticking by at an excruciatingly slow pace, and you force yourself to breathe, to stay calm.

But calm is impossible. Your mind is racing, a thousand thoughts and fears tumbling over each other in a chaotic mess. What if it’s positive? What if it’s not? What will you do? How will you handle this? You’re alone now — Charles is gone, and he’s not coming back. You’re on your own.

The minutes crawl by, and finally, you can’t wait any longer. You step forward, your heart in your throat, and pick up the test, your eyes locking onto the small window where the result will appear.

Two lines.

Positive.

You stare at it, uncomprehending, your mind struggling to process what you’re seeing. You pick up the second test, the third, repeating the process with shaking hands, hoping against hope that the first was a mistake, a fluke. But the results are the same. Two lines. Positive.

You’re pregnant.

The realization crashes over you like a wave, and you sink to the floor, the tests clattering out of your hands as you press your palms to your stomach, feeling the beginnings of a life growing inside you. A baby. Charles’ baby.

Tears blur your vision, and you don’t know if they’re from fear, from shock, or from something else entirely. You never thought you’d be here — sitting on your bathroom floor, alone, pregnant, and terrified of what comes next.

This isn’t how it was supposed to be. You were supposed to have Charles by your side, holding your hand, telling you everything would be okay.

But he’s not here. And now, you have to figure out what to do next. You have to figure out how to take care of yourself, how to take care of this baby.

You drag yourself to your feet, your legs weak, and stumble into the living room, collapsing onto the couch as the weight of it all presses down on you. How did this happen? How did you end up here, in this mess, with no one to turn to?

Your mind drifts back to the day Charles convinced you to quit your job. He’d said it was for the best, that you didn’t need to work, that he’d take care of you. He wanted you with him at the races, wanted you by his side, supporting him, and you’d agreed, because of course you did. You loved him. You trusted him.

And now … now you have nothing. No job, no income, no safety net. Just a positive pregnancy test and a future that feels terrifyingly uncertain.

You wipe at your eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. You can’t afford to fall apart. Not now. You have to be strong, for yourself, for the baby. You need to figure out what to do next.

You reach for your phone, your fingers trembling as you pull up a job search website. There has to be something — anything — that can get you back on your feet. But as you scroll through the listings, your heart sinks. You’re overqualified for some, underqualified for others. You haven’t worked in years, and the gaps in your resume feel like gaping wounds that no employer would overlook.

Finally, something catches your eye—an ad for a cleaning agency. It’s not glamorous, it’s not what you imagined for yourself, but it’s work. It’s a start. And right now, that’s all you need.

You tap the number on the screen, your heart racing as you bring the phone to your ear. It rings once, twice, three times, and you start to think no one will pick up. But then, a voice crackles through the line.

“Hello, CleanSweep Agency. How can I help you?”

You swallow hard, your voice trembling as you reply. “Hi, I … I’m calling about the job listing. The cleaning position.”

There’s a pause on the other end, and you hold your breath, waiting.

“Yes, of course. Are you available for an interview tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” you repeat, your mind racing. “Yes. Yes, I can do that.”

“Great. We’ll see you at 10 AM. Our office is on Rue de la Paix. Just bring your resume and any references you might have.”

“Thank you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as the call ends.

You stare at the phone in your hand, the reality of what you’ve just done settling over you. You’ve taken the first step. It’s not much, but it’s something. It’s a start.

But as you sit there, the weight of everything presses down on you again. You’re pregnant. You’re alone. And the path ahead feels impossibly daunting.

You place your phone on the coffee table, staring at it like it might offer you some kind of solution, some way out of this mess. But it’s just a phone, and the reality of your situation doesn’t change.

The room is too quiet, the kind of quiet that seeps into your bones and amplifies every fear, every doubt. You wish you could call someone, talk to someone, but who? Your friends? They’d be supportive, sure, but they wouldn’t really understand. Your parents? The thought of telling them is too overwhelming to even consider right now.

Charles? The name echoes in your mind, but you shake your head. He’s the last person you should be calling. He made his choice, and you need to respect that. Besides, what would you even say? That you’re pregnant? That his decision to break up with you for the sake of his image has left you in a situation neither of you ever expected?

No. You can’t go there. Not now.

You push yourself off the couch, pacing the small living room, trying to clear your mind. You have a job interview tomorrow. It’s not much, but it’s something. You can’t afford to think beyond that right now. You need to focus on getting through the next day, the next hour.

The baby. The thought is like a knife in your chest, sharp and painful. You press a hand to your stomach, trying to imagine what comes next, how you’ll navigate this new, terrifying reality. But the truth is, you have no idea. You’re scared, more scared than you’ve ever been, and the future feels like a black hole, pulling you in with no clear way out.

But you have to keep going. For yourself. For the baby.

You head to the bedroom, opening the closet to find something suitable for the interview. Your clothes feel foreign, relics from a past life that doesn’t quite fit anymore. You settle on something simple, professional, trying to ignore the gnawing fear that none of this will be enough.

You sit on the edge of the bed, the clothes laid out beside you, and take a deep breath. Tomorrow is a new day. A new start. You don’t know what’s coming, but you do know one thing: you’re not going to give up. Not now, not ever.

And as the night settles in around you, you cling to that thought like a lifeline, hoping it will be enough to carry you through whatever comes next.

***

Max pushes open the door to his Monaco apartment, dropping his keys on the console table with a tired sigh. The morning training session has left his muscles aching, and all he can think about is a long, hot shower and maybe a quick nap before the next round of meetings and commitments.

As he steps inside, he’s greeted by the familiar scent of cleaning supplies — a smell that’s become synonymous with Tuesdays, the day his cleaner comes to tidy up.

He doesn’t usually pay much attention to her, exchanging only a few polite words if their paths cross. She’s efficient, quiet, never in the way. But today, something feels different the moment he steps into the living room. The sound of soft scrubbing reaches his ears, and he glances toward the source — his gaze falling on a figure kneeling by the coffee table, wiping down the glass surface.

It takes him a second to register what he’s seeing, but when he does, he freezes, his breath catching in his throat. It’s not just any cleaner — it’s you. And you’re pregnant. Very pregnant.

“Holy shit,” he mutters under his breath, the shock rolling over him in waves. For a moment, he wonders if he’s seeing things, if the exhaustion has finally caught up with him and he’s imagining things. But no — there’s no mistaking it. It’s you, and you’re here, in his apartment, on your hands and knees, cleaning.

You look up at the sound of his voice, your eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, neither of you says anything, both too stunned to speak. Then, slowly, you rise to your feet, one hand resting protectively on your rounded belly as you try to compose yourself.

“Max,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, like you can’t quite believe he’s standing there.

“What … what the hell are you doing here?” He asks, his voice rough with confusion and something else — something darker, angrier, that he can’t quite put into words yet.

You blink, looking down at the rag in your hand as if seeing it for the first time. “I … I work here,” you say quietly, your tone laced with embarrassment.

“Work here?” Max repeats, his mind racing to catch up. “What do you mean, work here? You’re … you’re pregnant! Why the hell are you cleaning my apartment?”

You flinch at his words, and he immediately regrets the sharpness in his tone, but the sight of you — pregnant, exhausted, and clearly struggling — ignites a fury in him that he hasn’t felt in a long time. “What the fuck is Charles doing, making you work like this?”

At the mention of Charles, something in you seems to break. Your face crumples, and before Max can process what’s happening, you’re crying — really crying, your shoulders shaking with the force of your sobs.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Max says quickly, closing the distance between you and reaching out to steady you. “I didn’t mean to — look, just sit down, okay? You shouldn’t be on your feet like this.”

You let him guide you to the couch, your tears falling freely now, and Max feels a pang of guilt deep in his chest. He’s never been good with tears, but seeing you like this, so vulnerable and hurt, stirs something protective in him.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out between sobs, your hands covering your face as if trying to hide your pain. “I didn’t want you to see me like this. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.”

Max sits beside you, his mind spinning as he tries to make sense of what’s happening. This is all wrong. You shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be working some labor-intensive job, not in your condition. And where the hell is Charles in all of this? How could he let you get to this point?

“What’s going on?” Max asks gently, reaching for a box of tissues and handing it to you. “Why are you working here? What happened with Charles?”

You take a tissue, dabbing at your eyes, but the tears keep coming, and Max’s concern deepens. He’s never seen you like this before — so defeated, so broken.

“It’s … it’s over,” you manage to say, your voice trembling. “Charles and I… we broke up. Seven months ago.”

Max’s heart drops at your words, and a sick feeling churns in his stomach. He’d heard rumors, of course — whispers in the paddock, speculation in the media — but he’d never imagined it was true. He’d seen how much Charles loved you, how much you meant to him. But now, seeing you like this, the reality of it hits him like a punch to the gut.

“Why?” He asks, though he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “He said … he said it was for the best. That the team thought he’d be more marketable if he was single. That it would be better for his image.”

Max feels a surge of anger flare up inside him, hot and fierce. “He broke up with you because of PR? Are you kidding me?”

You nod, and Max can see the pain in your eyes, the betrayal that still lingers there. “I didn’t know what to do. I … I didn’t have a job. I quit when we started traveling together, and now … now I’m on my own. I have to take care of myself, and …” You glance down at your belly, your voice breaking again. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Max runs a hand through his hair, trying to process everything you’ve just told him. Charles left you — pregnant and alone — all because of some bullshit advice from his team? The thought makes his blood boil. He’s known Charles for years, seen him under pressure, seen him at his best and his worst, but this … this is something else entirely.

“Does he even know?” Max asks, his voice low, trying to keep his temper in check. “Does he know you’re pregnant?”

You shake your head, fresh tears spilling over. “I haven’t told him. I couldn’t … I couldn’t face him. And I don’t want to force him into something he doesn’t want. He made his choice.”

Max sits back, stunned. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. You’ve been going through this all on your own, with no support, no help. And now you’re cleaning apartments just to make ends meet? It’s too much. He can’t let this go on.

“Listen,” Max says, his voice firm, though he softens it when he sees the way you’re looking at him, like you’re about to fall apart. “You’re not doing this alone, okay? You shouldn’t have to.”

You look at him, eyes wide, searching his face as if trying to figure out if he means it. “Max, I don’t want to be a burden-”

“You’re not,” he interrupts, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re not a burden. You’re my friend. And you’re … you’re carrying a child. That’s not something you should be dealing with on your own.”

“But what about Charles?” You ask, your voice small, uncertain.

“Fuck Charles,” Max snaps, then immediately regrets it when he sees the look on your face. “I mean … look, I know this is complicated. But right now, you need to take care of yourself and the baby. That’s the priority. And if Charles isn’t going to step up, then I will. Whatever you need, I’m here, okay?”

You’re silent for a moment, and Max can see the conflict in your eyes — the fear, the doubt, the overwhelming sense of helplessness. He wishes he could do more, that he could take away the pain, the uncertainty, but all he can do is be there for you, in whatever way you’ll let him.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I … I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Max says gently. “Just … promise me you won’t try to do this on your own anymore. You’re not alone, okay? Not as long as I’m around.”

You nod, but Max can see the hesitation still lingering in your eyes. He knows this isn’t going to be easy for you — to accept help, to let someone else in — but he’s determined to be there for you, to make sure you don’t have to face this alone.

“Come on,” he says, standing up and holding out a hand to you. “Let’s get you something to eat. You need to take care of yourself, and that means no more scrubbing floors, okay?”

You take his hand, allowing him to help you to your feet, and for the first time since he walked through the door, Max sees a faint glimmer of hope in your eyes. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

As he leads you to the kitchen, Max’s mind races with everything he needs to do, everything he needs to figure out. But one thing is clear — he’s not going to let you go through this alone.

***

Max sets a plate in front of you — a simple sandwich, some fruit on the side. He’s not exactly a chef, but it’s something, and he watches as you take a bite, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little. You look exhausted, and Max wonders how long you’ve been running on empty like this.

He pulls out the chair across from you and sits down, his eyes never leaving your face. “So,” he begins, trying to keep his tone light, “tell me everything. What’s been going on since … since Charles, you know …”

You pause, swallowing the bite of sandwich, and Max can see the flicker of pain in your eyes at the mention of Charles. It’s like you’re bracing yourself to tell the story, and Max hates that it’s something you even have to relive.

“It’s been … hard,” you admit, setting the sandwich down. “After we broke up, I didn’t know what to do. I had some savings, but it wasn’t enough to keep living in Monaco. So I had to move.”

“Move?” Max echoes, his brows furrowing. He hadn’t heard anything about this, hadn’t realized things had gotten so bad for you. “Where did you go?”

You hesitate, as if ashamed to tell him, but then you sigh, the words spilling out in a rush. “I found a small place in France. It’s about an hour away. A tiny village. I couldn’t afford to stay here, not without a steady income.”

Max feels a pang of guilt, like he should have known, should have done something sooner. “You’re commuting to Monaco every day for work? That’s crazy.”

You shrug, a faint, humorless smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not ideal, but it’s what I had to do. I tried looking for jobs closer to home, but nothing paid enough. And I didn’t have many options, not with the baby coming.”

Max leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. The thought of you struggling like this, traveling back and forth every day, working a physically demanding job while pregnant — it’s almost too much to bear.

He wishes he could just write you a check, cover all your expenses, but he knows you too well. You’d never accept it, not without a fight. You’re proud, stubborn, and fiercely independent — qualities Max admires but wishes you’d set aside just this once.

“You shouldn’t have to do this alone,” Max says softly, his voice filled with concern. “I know you’re strong, but you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Especially not now.”

You meet his gaze, your eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and exhaustion. “I know, but … I need to be able to take care of myself, Max. I need to know I can do this, for me and the baby.”

Max nods, understanding even though it frustrates him. You’ve always been this way — determined to stand on your own two feet, no matter what. But that doesn’t mean he’s just going to stand by and watch you struggle. There has to be a way to help you without making you feel like a charity case.

Then, an idea starts to form in his mind, something he remembers from the past, from the days when you were always by Charles’ side, supporting him in ways most people never even saw. “You know,” Max starts, leaning forward, “I remember how you used to help Charles with his social media. His accounts were always engaging, relatable … fans loved it. That was you, wasn’t it?”

A small smile flickers across your face, the first genuine one he’s seen since he got home. “Yeah, that was me. Charles never really cared about social media, so I took it over. It was fun, in a way, creating content that connected with people.”

Max’s heart lifts at your smile, at the spark of something familiar in your eyes. This could work. This could be exactly what you need.

“Well, I’ve got an idea,” Max says, trying to sound casual even though his heart is pounding in his chest. “Right now, Red Bull’s PR team handles all of my social media. I’ve never really been into it, you know? But honestly, they’re pretty … corporate. The posts are fine, but they don’t really have that personal touch. Not like what you did for Charles.”

You’re watching him now, curiosity piqued, and Max takes that as a good sign.

“What if,” Max continues, “you took over my social media? I mean, I’ve seen what you can do. The fans love that kind of content. You could work from home, set your own hours … it wouldn’t be physically demanding, and I’d pay you well. I mean, really well.”

Your eyes widen at his offer, and for a moment, you just stare at him, like you’re trying to figure out if he’s serious. “I don’t know … I’ve never done that professionally. It was just something I did to help Charles.”

“And you did it better than most professionals,” Max insists. “Look, I’m not asking you to do anything crazy. Just … think about it. You’d be helping me out too, you know? I could really use someone who gets what the fans want, who can make my social media feel more … real.”

You bite your lip, clearly torn. “I don’t know, Max. It’s a lot to take in.”

“I get that,” Max says quickly, not wanting to push too hard but also not wanting to let this go. “Just … think about it, okay? You’d be great at it. And it would mean you don’t have to keep doing jobs that are hard on your body. You could focus on the baby, on yourself. It’s just an idea, but I think it could work.”

You’re silent for a long moment, your gaze dropping to the plate in front of you as you consider his offer. Max waits, his heart pounding in his chest, hoping he hasn’t overstepped, hoping you’ll see this for what it is — a chance, an opportunity to take some of the weight off your shoulders.

Finally, you look up, and Max can see the conflict in your eyes. “I appreciate it, Max. Really, I do. It’s just … it’s a big change, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for it.”

“I get that,” Max says, his voice gentle. “But you don’t have to decide right now. Take some time, think it over. I just want you to know that the offer’s there. No pressure, no strings attached. Just … a way to make things a little easier for you.”

You nod slowly, your fingers toying with the edge of the napkin on the table. “I’ll think about it,” you finally say, your voice soft but sincere. “I really will.”

Max feels a rush of relief at your words, and he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips. “That’s all I ask. And, in the meantime, you can stay here tonight. No more commuting back and forth, okay?”

You start to protest, but Max cuts you off before you can even get the words out. “No arguments. You’re staying here. I’ve got plenty of room, and you shouldn’t be traveling so much. Just … stay, and we’ll figure things out together.”

You open your mouth to argue, but something in Max’s expression must convince you otherwise, because you close it again and nod. “Okay,” you agree, though you still look a little uncertain.

Max stands up, picking up the empty plates from the table. “Good. Now, you get some rest, and we’ll talk more in the morning.”

As he carries the plates to the sink, he feels a strange mix of emotions swirling in his chest. Anger at Charles for putting you in this situation, frustration that you’re too proud to accept help, and something else — something deeper, a fierce determination to make sure you and the baby are taken care of, no matter what.

He doesn’t know what the future holds, doesn’t know how things will play out between you and Charles, but one thing is certain: he’s not going to let you go through this alone. You’ve been there for him in the past, supporting Charles, cheering Max on from the sidelines, and now it’s his turn to be there for you.

As he turns off the kitchen light and heads to his room, he makes a silent vow to himself. Whatever it takes, he’s going to make sure you’re okay. He’s going to be the friend you need, the support you deserve, and he’s not going to let you down. Not now, not ever.

***

Max enters his apartment, the familiar sounds of his footsteps echoing softly against the hardwood floor. He’s looking forward to a quiet evening, maybe some time with his cats before bed. But when he steps into the living room, he stops in his tracks.

There you are, stretched out on his couch, resting. Jimmy and Sassy have claimed spots on either side of you. Jimmy’s large frame is draped over your legs, purring softly, while Sassy is curled up protectively near your stomach, her eyes half-closed but alert. The sight is so domestic, so peaceful, that it makes something tighten in Max’s chest. It’s a scene he’s never imagined but now, seeing it, it feels … right.

He’s struck by how well you fit here, in his home, in his life. The way you’ve naturally fallen into this space, as if you’ve always belonged. There’s something about the way you’re lying there, with Jimmy and Sassy close by, that tugs at his heart. He wonders if they sense the life growing inside you, if they somehow understand the significance of the new presence in the apartment.

Max approaches quietly, not wanting to disturb the serene moment. He can see now that you’ve fallen asleep, your breathing slow and steady, a slight smile playing on your lips. You look peaceful, more so than you have since you arrived. It’s a relief to see you like this, to know you’re finally resting.

He stands there for a moment, just watching. He’s not sure how long he’s been standing there, time seems to stretch as he takes in the scene. There’s something intimate about it, something that makes him feel protective, like he’s responsible for making sure you and the baby are safe, comfortable. He’s not sure when that shift happened, when he started to care so deeply, but it’s undeniable now.

Carefully, Max leans down and gently scoops you into his arms, trying not to wake you. You stir slightly, mumbling something in your sleep, but then settle back down, your head resting against his chest. Max holds his breath, half-expecting you to wake up and question what he’s doing, but you remain blissfully unaware, lost in whatever dream you’re having.

He’s careful as he carries you down the hallway to the guest room, taking slow, measured steps so he doesn’t jostle you too much. It’s strange, carrying you like this. Not that you’re heavy — far from it — but the weight of responsibility he feels is almost overwhelming. You’re so vulnerable right now, so trusting, and it makes Max even more determined to make sure you’re okay.

When he reaches the guest room, Max pushes the door open with his foot, grateful that it’s already ajar. He steps inside, the soft light from the hallway spilling into the room. The bed is already made, and Max lowers you onto it gently, careful not to disturb your sleep.

He takes a moment to tuck the blanket around you, making sure you’re comfortable. You murmur something again, shifting slightly, and Max freezes, worried he might have woken you. But you just settle deeper into the bed, sighing contentedly, still fast asleep.

Max lingers for a moment, his hand hovering near your face. He’s not sure what compels him to do it, but he finds himself leaning down, pressing a soft, hesitant kiss to your forehead. It’s a simple gesture, one filled with a mix of affection, protectiveness, and something else he can’t quite put into words. He pulls back quickly, almost embarrassed by the tenderness of it, but you don’t wake.

He steps back, watching you for a moment longer. You look so peaceful, and Max feels a strange sense of contentment, like he’s done something right for once. The day’s exhaustion is starting to catch up with him, but he can’t quite bring himself to leave the room just yet.

There’s something about the way you’re sleeping, surrounded by warmth and comfort, that makes him feel … happy. It’s a feeling he’s not used to, but one he finds himself embracing more and more as time goes on.

Finally, Max turns and quietly leaves the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He heads back to the living room, where Jimmy and Sassy are still curled up on the couch, seemingly unbothered by the absence of their human pillow. Max sinks into the armchair across from them, running a hand through his hair as he tries to process everything that’s happened today.

He thinks back to the offer he made you earlier, wondering if you’ll actually take him up on it. Part of him worries that you’ll say no, that you’ll insist on doing everything yourself, but he hopes that maybe, just maybe, you’ll realize that accepting help doesn’t make you weak.

Max has never been good with words, but he meant everything he said. He wants to help you, to make things easier for you, and not just because he feels responsible. There’s something deeper at play here, something he can’t quite put his finger on, but it’s there all the same.

He’s never been in a situation like this before, never had someone depend on him in this way, and it’s both terrifying and exhilarating. Max isn’t sure what the future holds, but for the first time in a long time, he feels like he’s on the right path, like he’s doing something that actually matters.

As he sits there, the sounds of the city outside muted by the thick walls of the apartment, Max lets himself imagine what it would be like if this became a regular thing — if you stayed, if you became a part of his life, more than just a guest in his home. The thought sends a wave of warmth through him, a sense of belonging that he’s not sure he’s ever felt before.

But he pushes the thought aside, not wanting to get ahead of himself. One step at a time. First, he needs to make sure you’re okay, make sure you’re taken care of. Everything else can come later.

Max finally gets up from the armchair, heading to his own bedroom. The day’s events have left him drained, both physically and emotionally, and he knows he needs rest if he’s going to be any good to you tomorrow.

As he climbs into bed, pulling the covers over himself, Max’s thoughts drift back to you, sleeping soundly in the guest room just down the hall. He hopes you’re dreaming of something peaceful, something that takes your mind off all the worries you’ve been carrying.

And as he closes his eyes, the last image that flits through his mind is of you, smiling softly in your sleep, with Jimmy and Sassy curled up protectively around you. It’s a good image, one that brings a small, contented smile to his own lips as he finally drifts off to sleep.

Tonight, for the first time in a long time, Max feels like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

***

The smell of coffee fills the kitchen, mingling with the soft morning light that streams through the windows. Max is already at the table, scrolling through his phone, but he looks up as you enter, offering a small, warm smile. He’s still not quite used to this — having someone else here in his space, sharing these quiet moments — but it feels right in a way he hadn’t expected.

“Morning,” he says, his voice a little rough from sleep. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better,” you admit, reaching for the kettle to make your own cup of tea. “Thanks for … everything yesterday.”

Max waves it off, trying to seem nonchalant, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes — concern, maybe, or something deeper. “You needed it,” he says simply. “And it’s not over yet. We still need to talk about that job offer.”

You nod, pouring hot water over the tea bag and watching as the steam rises. “I’ve been thinking about it,” you start, your voice hesitant. “And … I think I want to accept it.”

Max feels a surge of relief, though he tries not to show it. “You sure? No pressure, if you’ve changed your mind.”

“No, I’m sure.” You take a seat across from him, your hands wrapped around the warm mug. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. I need something … something to focus on that doesn’t involve cleaning floors or worrying about everything all the time. Plus, it’s something I know I can do. And I’ll be able to take care of myself, of the baby, without pushing myself too hard.”

Max nods, his relief turning into something warmer, almost like pride. “Good,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “I’m glad you’re taking it. I think you’ll be great at it.”

There’s a pause, the two of you just sipping your drinks in comfortable silence. But Max can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this, that there’s something else you need but aren’t asking for.

“So,” he begins carefully, “where are you planning on staying? I mean, if you’re going to be working for me … you’re going to need somewhere closer than … wherever you’ve been staying.”

You look up, caught off guard. “I … I hadn’t thought about that yet. I was planning on going back to France and just-”

“Stay here,” Max interrupts, surprising even himself with how quickly the words come out. “I mean, it makes sense, right? You wouldn’t have to travel so far every day. Plus, it’s safer for you and the baby. You’ll have everything you need, and I’ll be around to help if you need anything.”

You hesitate, clearly torn. “I don’t want to be a burden, Max. You’ve already done so much-”

“You’re not a burden,” Max says firmly. “You’re my friend, and you need help. It’s that simple.”

There’s a long pause as you consider his words, weighing your options. Finally, you sigh, nodding slowly. “Okay. I’ll stay. But only until I figure things out.”

Max grins, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “Deal.”

There’s a moment of shared relief before Max’s mind drifts to a more practical matter. “Right, so … there’s one more thing,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t really have much in the fridge besides, like, trainer-approved meals and protein shakes. We’re gonna need to do some shopping.”

You laugh softly, the first genuine laugh he’s heard from you in what feels like forever. “Okay, I guess we should take care of that then.”

Max stands, grabbing his keys from the counter. “Let’s go before it gets too busy.”

***

The grocery store is bustling with the mid-morning crowd, but there’s something oddly comforting about the normalcy of it all. Max pushes the cart as you walk beside him, selecting fruits and vegetables, adding them to the growing pile.

Max watches you closely, noting the way your shoulders relax a little as you focus on the mundane task of picking out produce. He’s glad to see you like this — calm, in control. You seem to know exactly what you need, even as you pause occasionally to consider an item before adding it to the cart.

“Max,” you ask after a moment, turning to him with a slight frown, “do you even like any of this stuff, or am I just buying what I want?”

Max chuckles, shaking his head. “I’ll eat whatever, really. Just make sure there’s enough for you and the baby.” He hesitates for a moment, then adds, “You know more about this stuff than I do, anyway.”

You give him a small smile, but it’s clear that the reality of your situation is still weighing heavily on you. Max wants to say something reassuring, but before he can find the right words, someone else does it for him.

“Y/N?”

The voice comes from behind you, and you both turn to see Pascale Leclerc standing a few feet away, her eyes wide with shock. She looks between you and Max, her gaze lingering on your rounded belly before returning to your face. “I …I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. “Pascale,” you manage to say, trying to keep your voice steady. “Hi.”

Pascale takes a step closer, her expression shifting from surprise to concern. “You’re … pregnant?” she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief. “What happened? Charles said you broke up with him-”

You shake your head, your throat tightening. “No, Pascale. I didn’t break up with him. He … he broke up with me. Said it was because of the PR team at Ferrari. They thought he’d be more marketable if he was single.”

Pascale’s eyes widen in horror. “What? He told me … he told me it was mutual, that you both agreed it was for the best.”

Tears prick at your eyes as you shake your head again. “No, it wasn’t mutual. It wasn’t my choice.”

Max, who’s been standing silently beside you, finally speaks up, his voice filled with anger on your behalf. “Charles lied to you, Pascale. He left her, and he doesn’t even know she’s pregnant.”

Pascale’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes welling with tears. “Oh, mon Dieu,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “I had no idea. Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Please, Pascale,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, “please don’t tell Charles about the baby. I … I don’t want him to know.”

Pascale looks at you, torn, but eventually nods. “Okay. I won’t tell him,” she promises, her voice gentle but firm. “But …Y/N, I want to be a part of my grandchild’s life. I want to be there for you, for both of you.”

The sincerity in her voice breaks down the last of your defenses, and you find yourself nodding, unable to hold back the tears any longer. “Okay,” you manage to say, your voice choked with emotion. “I … I’d like that.”

Pascale steps forward, wrapping you in a gentle hug. “You’re not alone, ma chérie,” she whispers, her voice soothing. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

You cling to her for a moment, taking comfort in her words, before finally pulling back. “Thank you,” you say, wiping at your eyes. “Thank you so much.”

Max, who’s been watching the interaction with a mixture of relief and concern, gently places a hand on your back. “We should finish up,” he says softly, giving Pascale a nod. “Take care, Pascale.”

Pascale smiles through her own tears, giving Max a grateful look. “You too, Max. And Y/N … call me if you need anything. Anytime.”

You nod, giving her a small, shaky smile before turning back to the cart. As you and Max continue shopping, the weight of the encounter settles over you, leaving you emotionally drained. Max notices, his usual silence becoming a source of comfort as he quietly takes over, finishing up the shopping and paying for everything without another word.

***

The drive back to Max’s apartment is quiet, the earlier lightness of the morning replaced by a heavy, lingering tension. You stare out the window, lost in thought, replaying the encounter with Pascale over and over in your mind.

By the time you reach the apartment, you’re exhausted — physically and emotionally. Max parks the car and helps you carry the groceries inside, his movements careful and deliberate as if he’s trying to shield you from any further stress.

Once everything is put away, Max leads you to the living room, where you sink onto the couch, your body sagging with relief. He sits beside you, watching as you struggle to hold back tears, and finally, the dam breaks.

You bury your face in his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably, all the fear and uncertainty and pain you’ve been holding in finally spilling out. Max wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his hand gently rubbing your back as he whispers soothing words into your ear.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice steady and calm. “Let it out. I’m here.”

You cry until there are no tears left, until you’re too exhausted to do anything but lean against Max, your body trembling with the aftershocks of your sobs. Max doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, just keeps holding you as if his presence alone can shield you from everything that’s gone wrong.

When you finally pull back, your eyes are red and puffy, your face wet with tears. “Sorry,” you mumble, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t apologize,” Max interrupts gently, his voice soft but firm. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re going through a lot, and you don’t have to hold it all in.”

You nod, still feeling raw and exposed, but there’s something comforting in the way Max is looking at you — like he’s not judging you, like he genuinely cares.

“Thanks,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Max offers you a small smile, his hand still resting on your back. “You don’t have to do it alone,” he says. “I’m here, okay? And I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the weight of his words hanging in the air. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and Max watches as you slowly regain some of your composure.

“Do you want to rest?” He asks after a moment, his voice filled with concern. “You’ve had a long day.”

You shake your head, wiping the last of the tears from your face. “No, I’m okay. I think I just need to … distract myself.”

Max nods, understanding. “Okay,” he says, standing up and offering you his hand. “How about we make dinner? Something simple, but better than those pre-prepared meals.”

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “Yeah,” you say, your voice steadier now. “That sounds good.”

***

Cooking with Max is surprisingly easy. He’s not much of a chef, but he’s attentive and eager to help, following your lead as you guide him through the steps of preparing a simple pasta dish. The kitchen fills with the comforting aroma of garlic and herbs, and for a while, you lose yourself in the routine of chopping vegetables and stirring sauces, the earlier tension easing with every moment.

Max watches you closely, noticing the way your movements become more relaxed as you focus on the task at hand. He’s relieved to see you like this — more at ease, more like yourself.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Max comments as he carefully stirs the pasta in the pot, a hint of admiration in his voice.

You shrug, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I used to cook a lot,” you say, your tone a little wistful. “Before everything got … complicated.”

Max doesn’t push for more, sensing that you’re not ready to delve into the past just yet. Instead, he focuses on the present, on the simple pleasure of cooking together, the warmth of the kitchen, the shared sense of purpose.

By the time dinner is ready, the earlier tension has all but disappeared, replaced by a quiet, comforting camaraderie. You and Max sit at the table, eating in companionable silence, the simple meal a balm for your frayed nerves.

After dinner, you help Max clean up, the two of you working together in easy harmony. There’s something oddly soothing about the domesticity of it all — like a glimpse of a life you hadn’t dared to hope for, a life where things could be simple, where you didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.

When everything is finally cleaned up, Max suggests watching a movie, and you agree, grateful for the chance to keep your mind occupied. You settle onto the couch with him, his cats Jimmy and Sassy immediately curling up beside you, their soft purring a comforting background noise.

Max flips through the options on his streaming service, eventually landing on an action movie. “This okay?” He asks, glancing at you.

“Yeah,” you say, nodding. “Something mindless sounds perfect right now.”

The movie starts, and for the next couple of hours, you lose yourself in the fast-paced action, the explosions and car chases providing a welcome distraction from the turmoil of your own life. Max is a solid, comforting presence beside you, and for a while, you let yourself believe that everything might actually be okay.

When the movie ends, you realize how exhausted you are, the emotional rollercoaster of the day finally catching up with you. Max notices too, and he turns to you with a concerned look.

“You should get some sleep,” he says, his voice gentle. “It’s been a long day.”

You nod, not having the energy to argue. “Yeah. I think I will.”

Max helps you to your feet, and you can feel his eyes on you as you make your way to the guest room. Before you can close the door behind you, he stops you with a soft, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You pause, looking back at him. “Goodnight, Max. And … thank you. For everything.”

Max smiles, a warmth in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says. “Just get some rest.”

You nod, giving him a small smile before closing the door behind you.

Once inside the guest room, you sink onto the bed, finally letting out a long breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. The room is quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside.

You lie down, pulling the blankets over you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to relax, to let go of the constant worry and fear, if only for a little while.

As you drift off to sleep, the events of the day swirl in your mind — Pascale’s unexpected appearance, Max’s unwavering support, the strange comfort of being here, in this place that’s starting to feel like home.

And somewhere, deep in your heart, a tiny seed of hope begins to take root.

***

The apartment smells of freshly baked cake and anticipation. Max is in the kitchen, moving about with a nervous energy, double-checking everything — again. The cake is already on the counter, perfectly frosted, with a single pink and blue question mark piped on top. The knife lies beside it, waiting for the moment that feels almost too monumental to be happening in the cozy confines of his living room.

You’re sitting on the couch, absentmindedly stroking Jimmy and Sassy, who have taken up their usual positions on either side of you. Your hand rests protectively over your rounded belly, feeling the slight flutters of movement from the baby. Despite the warmth of the room, your fingers are cold, a mix of nerves and excitement pulsing through you.

“Everything’s ready,” Max says, breaking the silence. He’s trying to sound casual, but you can hear the edge in his voice.

You offer him a small smile, trying to steady yourself. “Thanks, Max. For everything.”

He just nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before turning back to the cake. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite read — something beyond just friendship and support. But before you can dwell on it, there’s a knock at the door.

Max visibly relaxes, glad for the distraction. “I’ll get it,” he says, moving to the door and pulling it open.

Pascale is the first to step inside, her smile warm as she takes in the sight of you. “Ma chérie,” she greets, leaning down to kiss both of your cheeks. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you reply, feeling a genuine warmth at seeing her. Pascale has been a rock for you since she found out about the pregnancy, offering support and reassurance in a way that makes you feel less alone.

Lorenzo and Arthur follow her in, both of them grinning widely as they approach you. “Hey,” Lorenzo says, giving you a quick hug. “Excited?”

“Nervous,” you admit, glancing over at the cake. “But excited too.”

Arthur chuckles, nudging his brother. “She’s having a girl, I can feel it. I’m gonna win the bet.”

Lorenzo rolls his eyes. “You always say that, but I’ve got a good feeling this time. I’m thinking boy.”

Max laughs, shaking his head as he closes the door behind them. “You two and your bets,” he says. “Let’s just focus on what’s important, yeah?”

Pascale gives him a knowing look, but doesn’t say anything, instead turning to you with a soft smile. “You look lovely, dear,” she says, reaching out to gently touch your arm. “And glowing.”

You feel a flush of warmth at her words, though part of you still feels a bit of that anxiety knotting in your stomach. This is Charles’ family, after all, and the weight of what’s unsaid lingers in the air between you.

Max clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention back to the cake. “Shall we?” He asks, looking at you with an encouraging smile.

You take a deep breath and nod, standing up and moving over to the counter. Max stands close beside you, his presence steady and reassuring. The others gather around, their faces expectant, and you feel the weight of the moment settle over you.

“Here we go,” you say softly, picking up the knife. Your hands tremble slightly, and Max’s hand comes to rest on yours, steadying it. You glance up at him, and he gives you a small nod.

You press the knife into the cake, cutting through the soft layers until you reach the center. The room holds its breath as you pull the slice away, revealing the color inside.

It’s pink.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then Pascale lets out a delighted gasp, her hands flying to her mouth. “A girl!” She exclaims, her eyes shining with joy. “You’re having a little girl!”

Lorenzo and Arthur start laughing, both of them shaking their heads in mock disbelief. “I told you,” Arthur says, clapping his brother on the back. “Looks like you owe me fifty euros.”

But you barely register their words. Your eyes are fixed on the cake, on the pink filling that seems to glow with its own light. You’re having a daughter. The realization hits you like a wave, overwhelming and beautiful, and before you can stop yourself, you’re crying.

Max sees the tears and reacts instinctively. He turns toward you, his hands coming up to cradle your face. “Hey, hey,” he murmurs, his thumbs brushing away the tears. “It’s okay. It’s good news, right?”

You nod, laughing through the tears. “Yeah,” you say, your voice trembling. “It’s just …a lot.”

And then, before either of you can think, Max leans in and presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is soft, hesitant, as if he’s not sure if he should be doing this. But then you kiss him back, and something shifts, deepening the moment. It feels like the world falls away, like it’s just the two of you, and everything else fades into the background.

When Max pulls back, his eyes wide with the realization of what he’s just done, he starts to apologize. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

You shake your head, cutting him off. “Don’t,” you whisper, your voice soft but firm. “I liked it.”

Max searches your eyes, looking for any hint of doubt or regret, but all he sees is the truth in your words. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I liked it too,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

The moment between you is tender and full of unspoken feelings, but it’s broken by the sound of Pascale clearing her throat. You both turn to see her watching you, a knowing smile on her face.

“Ah,” she says, her tone gentle but teasing. “I see.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, but Pascale just smiles wider, moving closer to you. “Ma chérie,” she says, taking your hands in hers. “I want you and my granddaughter to be happy. That’s all I care about.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you squeeze her hands in return. “Thank you,” you manage to say, your voice thick with emotion.

Pascale nods, glancing over at Max. “And I can see that Max will stop at nothing to make sure that happens.”

Max looks a little embarrassed, but he meets Pascale’s gaze with a quiet determination. “I promise,” he says, his voice steady. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Lorenzo and Arthur exchange glances, both of them grinning like idiots. “Well, this just got interesting,” Lorenzo quips, earning a light smack on the arm from Pascale.

“Behave,” she admonishes, though there’s a twinkle in her eye. “This is a celebration.”

You can’t help but laugh, the tension that had been building in your chest finally breaking. It’s a strange, wonderful feeling, being surrounded by people who genuinely care, who want what’s best for you and your baby. And as you look around the room — at Max, at Pascale, at Lorenzo and Arthur — you realize that maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be okay.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of laughter and conversation. Pascale insists on taking a thousand pictures of you with the cake, with Max, with everyone, and by the time she’s done, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Lorenzo and Arthur argue good-naturedly over baby names, each of them convinced they have the best suggestion, while Max listens with a bemused smile.

Eventually, the party winds down, and Lorenzo and Arthur say their goodbyes, promising to visit again soon. Pascale lingers a little longer, giving you one last hug before she leaves.

“Remember,” she says as she pulls back, her eyes warm and full of affection. “I’m always here for you, no matter what.”

You nod, feeling a swell of gratitude. “I know. Thank you.”

Pascale smiles and gives Max a quick hug as well before finally making her exit, leaving the two of you alone in the apartment.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then Max turns to you, his expression softening. “How are you feeling?” He asks, his voice gentle.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day settle over you. “Tired,” you admit, but there’s a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before. “But … happy.”

Max smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Good,” he says simply.

You look at him, at the man who has done so much for you in such a short amount of time, and you feel something shift inside you — something that scares you a little, but that also feels like hope.

“Max,” you begin, your voice uncertain. “About earlier-”

He cuts you off with a shake of his head. “You don’t have to say anything,” he says. “I just want you to be comfortable, to do what feels right for you.”

You nod, appreciating his understanding. “I just … I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admit, your voice small. “But I know I don’t want to push you away.”

Max’s eyes soften, and he takes a step closer to you. “You won’t,” he says, his voice gentle but certain. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? We’ll figure this out together.”

You take comfort in his words, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You’ve been so used to handling everything on your own, and the thought of having someone beside you, someone who genuinely cares, feels like a lifeline you didn’t know you needed.

“Okay,” you whisper, meeting his gaze. The air between you is charged, filled with the weight of unspoken possibilities.

Max reaches out, hesitating for a brief moment before gently cupping your cheek. His thumb brushes against your skin, and you lean into his touch, feeling a warmth spread through you. It’s as if time slows down, the world outside of Max’s apartment fading away until there’s only the two of you, standing close enough to share the same breath.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Max murmurs, his voice low and earnest. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you and the baby are safe, happy, and loved.”

You search his eyes, finding only honesty there, a depth of emotion that takes you by surprise. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of connection, this certainty that you’re not alone.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”

Max shakes his head slightly, as if to say there’s no need to thank him, but you know better. You know how much he’s done, how much he’s given, and you feel a rush of gratitude so powerful it almost overwhelms you.

Without thinking, you close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. Max holds you just as tightly, his chin resting on top of your head, and for a moment, everything feels right. The world outside, the uncertainty of the future — it all fades away, leaving just the comfort of his arms around you.

After a few moments, you pull back slightly, looking up at him. There’s something in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you press a soft, tentative kiss to his lips.

This time, there’s no hesitation. Max kisses you back with a gentle intensity that sends a shiver down your spine, his hands cradling your face as if you’re something precious, something he’s afraid to break.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. Max’s eyes are dark with emotion, and he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world.

“Stay,” he whispers, his voice rough with need. “Stay with me. Let me take care of you.”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “Okay,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “I will.”

Max’s expression softens into a smile, one that lights up his entire face. He leans down and presses another kiss to your forehead, a promise in the simple gesture.

“Good,” he says, his voice full of quiet joy. “That’s good.”

You smile back at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that you haven’t felt in a long time. With Max by your side, it feels like maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be okay. As you both stand there, the quiet of the apartment wrapping around you like a cocoon, you realize that this — right here, right now — is the start of something new, something beautiful.

***

It’s early morning, the kind where the light hasn’t yet broken through the curtains, and the apartment is still wrapped in the quiet hush of dawn. You’re half-awake, swimming in that space between sleep and consciousness when you hear it — Max’s voice, low and soothing.

You keep your eyes closed, letting the sound wash over you, not wanting to break the spell. His words are soft, like he’s speaking to the most delicate thing in the world, and you realize he’s talking to your belly.

“Morning, little one,” Max whispers, his voice full of warmth. You feel the slight movement of his hand on your stomach, gentle and comforting. “Did you sleep well? I hope you’re taking it easy on your mama.”

You can’t help the small smile that curves your lips, but you stay still, wanting to hear more. There’s something so tender, so intimate about this moment, and you don’t want to interrupt it.

Max continues, his tone playful now. “You know, I’ve been thinking … you’re going to need a name for me, right? Something special. How about Maxie? Does that sound good to you?” He pauses, as if waiting for an answer. “Or maybe, one day, you’ll call me Papa. I’d really like that.”

Your heart swells, and you feel a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the blanket you’re curled under. Max’s words are like a promise, one that wraps around both you and the baby, binding you together in a way that feels unshakable.

He continues to talk, his voice filled with love and a hint of wonder, as if he still can’t quite believe this is real. “I can’t wait to meet you, you know. To see your little face, your tiny hands … I’m going to be right here, every step of the way. I promise. You and your mama … you’re my world now.”

You feel the gentle pressure of his lips as he presses a kiss to your stomach, and it sends a shiver through you, a mix of emotion that you can’t quite put into words. It’s the kind of feeling that settles deep in your chest, making you want to cry and smile at the same time.

Max shifts slightly, and you feel him lay his head next to your stomach, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ll be here to teach you all the important things, like how to kick a football or how to drive really fast — though, your mama might not like that last one,” he chuckles softly, and you have to bite your lip to keep from giggling.

“And I’ll be here for the hard stuff too,” Max continues, his tone growing serious. “I’ll make sure you’re safe, and that you always know how loved you are. Because you’re already so loved, little one. So much.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your eyes sting with unshed tears. You can feel the depth of his commitment, the way he’s already made space in his heart for this child, and it’s overwhelming in the best possible way.

Max falls quiet for a moment, his hand still resting on your belly. You can feel his thumb tracing small circles over your skin, like he’s trying to memorize the feeling. “I know I’m not your real dad,” he says quietly, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “But I’m going to love you like you’re mine. And I’m going to love your mama with everything I have, because she deserves that. She deserves everything.”

Your heart clenches at his words, a rush of emotion so strong it nearly takes your breath away. You’ve never felt so cared for, so deeply cherished, and it’s all because of him — this man who has stepped into your life and turned it upside down in the most unexpected, wonderful way.

Max leans in closer, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I promise, I’ll always be here for you. For both of you. And I hope, one day, you’ll call me Papa. But even if you don’t, I’ll still be the luckiest man in the world, just to be here with you.”

You can’t keep your eyes closed any longer. They flutter open, and you glance down at him, your heart full to bursting. Max looks up, catching your gaze, and there’s a moment of quiet understanding between you — a recognition of the enormity of what he’s just said.

“Did I wake you?” He asks softly, his hand still resting on your belly.

You shake your head, your voice thick with emotion. “No … I was awake.”

Max studies your face, and you can see the concern in his eyes, the way he’s always so attuned to your feelings. “You okay?”

You nod, reaching out to brush a hand through his messy hair. “I’m more than okay.”

His lips curl into a soft smile, one that makes your chest ache with how much you care for him. Max shifts, pressing another kiss to your belly before moving to lay beside you, gathering you into his arms. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, letting it soothe you back into that half-asleep state.

“You’re going to be an amazing dad,” you murmur, your words slurred with sleep.

Max’s arms tighten around you, his lips brushing against the top of your head. “Only because I have you.”

His words wrap around you like a blanket, warm and secure. As you drift back into sleep, the last thing you hear is Max’s voice, soft and full of promise, whispering to your belly again. “I’ll always be here,” he says. “For both of you. Always.”

And with that, you let the sound of his voice carry you back into sleep, your heart filled with a deep, unshakable sense of peace.

***

The contractions start in the early hours of the morning, sharp and unyielding, ripping you out of a restless sleep. At first, you think it’s just another false alarm — your body playing tricks on you like it has for the past week. But this time, something feels different, more urgent. Max is beside you in an instant, his instincts kicking in the moment you clutch at the sheets, your breath hitching in pain.

“Are you okay?” His voice is full of concern, his hand already on your back, trying to soothe you through the discomfort.

You shake your head, biting your lip as another wave crashes over you. “It’s time,” you manage to gasp, your hand instinctively reaching for his. “Max, it’s time.”

Max’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t hesitate. He’s up, grabbing the hospital bag that’s been packed for weeks now, guiding you carefully out of bed. The ride to the hospital is a blur of pain and tension, Max’s knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel, driving with a focus that betrays his worry.

When you arrive, everything moves too quickly and too slowly all at once. Nurses and doctors swarm around you, getting you into a gown, checking your vitals, assessing the baby’s position. Max stays by your side through it all, his hand never leaving yours, his voice a steady presence in your ear as he tries to keep you calm.

Hours pass, the pain intensifying until it feels like your body is being split in two. But you’re not scared — not until the doctor’s expression changes, his calm professionalism slipping as he exchanges a glance with the nurse. It’s a look that sends a spike of fear through your heart, and suddenly, the room feels too small, the walls closing in.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your voice shaking, trying to keep the panic at bay. Max’s hand tightens around yours, his eyes fixed on the doctor, demanding answers without saying a word.

The doctor clears his throat, his tone gentle but serious. “The baby is in distress. Her heart rate is dropping, and we’re concerned about a potential placental abruption.”

“What does that mean?” Max’s voice is hoarse, his face pale.

“It means,” the doctor says carefully, “we may have to make some difficult decisions. We’ll do everything we can, but in situations like this, there’s a chance we may have to prioritize-”

“No,” you interrupt, your voice rising in panic. The room starts to spin, your vision blurring as the reality of what he’s saying crashes over you. “No, no, no … you can’t do that. Save the baby. If it comes down to it, you have to save the baby.”

Max’s grip on your hand tightens to the point of pain, but it’s nothing compared to the anguish in his eyes. “Don’t say that,” he chokes out, his voice cracking. “Don’t you dare say that.”

The doctor nods, his expression somber. “We’re not there yet. We still have time to try and turn things around, but we need to act fast.”

You nod numbly, tears streaming down your face as the pain intensifies, the fear now mingling with the physical agony. Max leans in close, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot and ragged as he struggles to hold it together.

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispers, though his voice shakes with the weight of his own fear. “You hear me? Both of you. You’re both coming out of this. I need you to believe that.”

Your heart aches at the desperation in his voice, and you want to believe him, want to cling to the hope he’s trying so hard to give you. But the terror is overwhelming, and all you can do is nod, too afraid to speak, afraid that if you do, it will make everything too real.

Max pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression fierce despite the tears shining in his own. “Listen to me,” he says, his voice stronger now, a command wrapped in a plea. “You’re strong, okay? The strongest person I know. And she’s strong too. You’re both going to make it through this. You have to. I can’t-” His voice breaks, and he swallows hard, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “I can’t lose you. I can’t lose either of you.”

His words break something inside you, and you sob, clutching at him like he’s your lifeline, because right now, he is. The pain, the fear, the uncertainty — it’s all too much, and you bury your face in his chest, trying to draw strength from him.

The doctors and nurses are moving around you, the room filled with a flurry of activity, but all you can focus on is Max. He’s your anchor, the only thing keeping you tethered to reality as the world spins out of control. His hand never leaves yours, even as the contractions grow stronger, more intense, your screams echoing off the walls.

“I’m here,” Max keeps repeating, his voice a constant in the chaos. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

But then, the situation worsens. You hear the doctor call for an emergency C-section, and your heart plummets. The pain is unbearable, and you can’t breathe, can’t think. They’re wheeling you away, Max’s hand slipping from yours as they take you to the operating room. The last thing you see is his face, pale and stricken, his eyes wide with fear.

“I love you,” he calls out, his voice cracking with the weight of everything he can’t control. “I love you so much. Please — please be okay.”

The operating room is cold, the lights too bright, and all you can think about is the life inside you, the baby you’ve grown to love before she’s even taken her first breath. You can’t lose her. You can’t. But the fear is suffocating, and as they prepare you for surgery, you feel a wave of despair crash over you.

Max’s words echo in your mind, a desperate mantra that you cling to with everything you have. Both of you are making it out of this. You have to.

The anesthesia takes hold, and you feel yourself slipping away, the world fading around you. But before the darkness consumes you, you send up a silent prayer, a plea to whatever force might be listening.

Please. Please let us both make it out of this.

And then, there’s nothing but darkness.

***

Max paces the waiting room, his heart pounding so hard it feels like it might break through his chest. Every second that ticks by is torture, every minute without news a knife twisting in his gut. He’s never been this scared in his life, not even in the most dangerous moments on the track.

His hands are shaking, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. He keeps replaying the last look you gave him, the fear in your eyes, the way you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. The thought of losing you, of losing the baby — it’s unbearable.

He can’t breathe, can’t think straight. All he can do is wait, and it’s driving him insane. He feels so helpless, like there’s nothing he can do to fix this, to protect you, and it’s killing him.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the doctor emerges from the operating room. Max rushes to him, his heart in his throat, fear choking him.

“Doctor, please — tell me, are they okay?” Max’s voice is raw, barely above a whisper, his eyes pleading.

The doctor looks tired, his face drawn, but there’s a small, reassuring smile on his lips. “The surgery was successful. It was touch and go for a while, but both your partner and the baby are stable.”

Max’s knees nearly buckle with relief, a sob escaping his throat as he covers his face with his hands. “Thank God … thank you,” he chokes out, his whole body trembling with the release of tension.

“You can see them soon,” the doctor adds gently, placing a hand on Max’s shoulder. “She’s going to need a lot of rest, and we’ll be monitoring them both closely, but they’re out of danger for now.”

Max nods, unable to speak, his emotions too overwhelming to put into words. He’s ushered into a recovery room, where you’re lying on the bed, pale and exhausted, but alive. The sight of you sends a fresh wave of tears to his eyes.

“Hey,” you whisper weakly, your voice barely audible, but the sound of it is the most beautiful thing Max has ever heard.

“Hey,” he breathes, moving to your side and taking your hand in his. His other hand brushes the hair from your face, his touch reverent, as if he’s afraid you might break. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, tears welling up in your eyes. “I didn’t mean to … I just … I had to make sure she was okay.”

Max shakes his head, leaning down to press his forehead against yours, his tears mingling with yours. “Don’t apologize. You did it. You both made it. You’re both okay.”

You squeeze his hand, drawing strength from his presence. “I couldn’t have done it without you. I heard you, Max … I heard you telling me to hold on.”

Max pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “I meant every word. I’ll always be here, for both of you. I promise.”

A nurse enters. “Would you like to meet your daughter?” She asks.

The nurse wheels in the bassinet, and you can’t take your eyes off the tiny bundle wrapped in a pink blanket. Max looks at you, his heart in his throat, as the nurse gently lifts your daughter and places her in your arms. She’s so small, her eyes closed, her tiny fists curled up against her chest. The world narrows to this moment, the overwhelming surge of love crashing over you both as you stare down at her.

Max sits beside you, his arm around your shoulders as he looks at his daughter, his breath catching in his throat. “She’s perfect,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “So beautiful.”

You smile through your tears, nodding as you trace a gentle finger over the baby’s soft cheek. “She is. I … I’ve been thinking about what to name her.”

Max looks at you, his heart pounding, waiting for you to speak.

“I want to name her Emilia,” you say softly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “After you. I want her to have a part of you with her always. You’ve done so much for us, Max. You’re a part of her, a part of us. It feels right.”

Max’s breath catches, and for a moment, he can’t speak. His middle name is something he’s never thought much about, but hearing you say it now, giving it to your daughter — it takes on a whole new meaning.

“Emilia,” he repeats softly, as if testing it out. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

You lean your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body as he wraps you both in his embrace. Emilia stirs in your arms, making a soft noise as she opens her eyes for the first time, looking up at you and Max with wide, curious eyes. It feels like time stands still, the three of you cocooned in this perfect moment.

“She’s going to be so loved,” Max whispers, his voice full of awe and determination. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You nod, knowing he means it with every fiber of his being. Max has already proven that he’ll do anything to protect you and Emilia. It’s in the way he looks at you, in the way he holds you both as if you’re the most precious things in the world.

As you sit there together, your new family, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you won’t be facing them alone. Max is here, by your side, and with him, you have all the strength you need.

“Welcome to the world, Emilia,” you whisper, kissing her tiny forehead. “We love you so much.”

Max kisses the top of your head, his lips lingering there as he closes his eyes, letting himself feel the full weight of the love he has for you both. This is what he’s been waiting for, what he didn’t even realize he needed until now.

“I’ll always be here,” he murmurs, his voice a promise. “For both of you.”

And as you hold your daughter close, you know that those words are true. Max will always be here, and together, you’ll face whatever comes next as a family.

***

Max carefully pulls the car up to the curb outside his Monaco apartment, his hands gripping the steering wheel just a little too tightly. He’s driven this route countless times, but today feels different — monumental. He glances over at you in the passenger seat, Emilia cradled in your arms, bundled up in a soft pink blanket. She’s asleep, her tiny mouth forming an ‘O’ as she breathes peacefully.

Max’s heart feels like it might burst from his chest as he watches you both. The love he feels is overwhelming, so much that it almost scares him. He’s not sure how to carry it all, but he knows he wants to try — no, he needs to.

“Ready?” He asks, his voice soft, not wanting to disturb Emilia.

You nod, smiling down at your daughter before looking up at him. “Ready.”

Max steps out of the car and hurries around to your side, opening the door for you and helping you out, his hand warm and steady on your arm. You both move carefully, as if the world might shatter if you’re too rough. Emilia stirs slightly as you adjust her in your arms, but she stays asleep, oblivious to the world outside.

The front door of the apartment clicks open, and you step inside, the familiar scent of home wrapping around you. Max closes the door behind you, and suddenly, the apartment feels different — more complete, more alive. He watches as you walk into the living room, a sense of awe filling him as he realizes that this is your home now, Emilia’s home.

Jimmy and Sassy are lounging on the couch when you enter. They lift their heads lazily, eyes narrowing with curiosity as they spot the new addition to the household. Max watches them closely, his heart racing slightly. He knows how territorial they can be, and the last thing he wants is for them to feel threatened by Emilia.

You lower yourself carefully onto the couch, cradling Emilia in your arms, and Max sits beside you, his arm around your shoulders. “Guys,” you whisper to the cats, your voice gentle, soothing. “Come say hi.”

Jimmy is the first to move, hopping down from the couch and approaching slowly, his eyes wide as he takes in the sight of the tiny human in your arms. He sniffs the air cautiously, his ears twitching, and then, to Max’s surprise, he rubs his head gently against Emilia’s leg, purring softly. Sassy follows suit, jumping up onto the armrest to get a better look, her green eyes curious and bright.

Max lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a smile spreading across his face. “Looks like they approve,” he says, his voice full of warmth.

You laugh softly, the sound like music to his ears. “I guess so. They’re so gentle with her.”

“Yeah,” Max agrees, his eyes never leaving Emilia’s face. “They know she’s important.”

For a while, the three of you just sit there, basking in the quiet joy of the moment. Emilia shifts in your arms, her tiny fingers flexing as she begins to wake up. Her eyes flutter open, and she lets out a small, contented sigh. Jimmy and Sassy watch intently, as if fascinated by this little creature that’s suddenly become the center of their world.

Max reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against Emilia’s cheek. She turns her head slightly, her eyes trying to focus on him, and Max feels a lump form in his throat. “Hi, meisje,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Welcome home.”

You lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder, and for a moment, everything feels perfect. But then, as if the weight of the world suddenly returns, Max feels a pang of dread deep in his chest. He tries to push it away, but it lingers, gnawing at him.

You notice the change in him immediately, lifting your head to look at him, concern in your eyes. “Max? What’s wrong?”

He hesitates, not wanting to ruin the moment, but he knows he has to tell you. “I just … I’ve been thinking about the races,” he admits quietly. “I’m going to have to leave soon, and … I hate the thought of being away from you and Emilia. Especially now.”

Your expression softens, and you reach out to take his hand, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Max, it’s okay. I know how much racing means to you. We’ll be fine.”

He shakes his head, his eyes searching yours. “I know you will. It’s just … I don’t want to miss anything. I don’t want to miss her first smile, her first laugh, her first steps …”

“You won’t,” you assure him, squeezing his hand. “We’ll make it work. And when she’s old enough, we’ll come with you to as many races as we can.”

Max’s heart swells at the thought, but then another worry creeps in. He hesitates, glancing away for a moment before looking back at you. “But… what about Charles? I don’t want you to feel like you have to be in the same paddock as him. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his words, and then you shake your head, a determined look in your eyes. “Max, I’ve thought about it a lot, and I want to be there with you. Emilia and I will cheer you on, and Charles … well, he’s in the past. You’re our future. I want to support you, and I want Emilia to see how amazing her papa is.”

The relief that washes over Max is palpable. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear that until now. “Are you sure?” He asks, his voice almost trembling. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“I’m sure,” you say firmly. “Besides, I want Emilia to grow up surrounded by people who love her. And that includes you, Max. You’re her papa.”

Max’s breath catches at the word, his chest tightening with a mix of love and fear. He’s been called many things in his life — champion, prodigy, competitor — but ‘papa’ is new. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

“Papa,” he echoes softly, the word feeling both foreign and right on his tongue. “I like the sound of that.”

You smile, your eyes shining with warmth. “Me too.”

The rest of the day passes in a blur of small, beautiful moments. You and Max take turns holding Emilia, watching as she discovers the world around her with wide, curious eyes. Max can’t stop marveling at how tiny she is, how perfect. Every little coo, every small movement feels like a miracle to him.

When evening falls, you feed Emilia while Max busies himself in the kitchen, preparing something simple for dinner. He’s not much of a cook, but he’s determined to take care of you both in any way he can. As you sit at the table together, Emilia cradled in your arms, Max watches you with a sense of contentment he’s never felt before.

But as the night grows darker, that lingering dread creeps back in. Max knows he has to leave for the next race soon, and the thought of being away from you and Emilia feels unbearable. After dinner, he finds himself pacing the living room, his thoughts swirling.

You notice his restlessness and approach him, Emilia sleeping soundly in your arms. “Max,” you say gently, drawing his attention. “Talk to me.”

He stops, running a hand through his hair as he looks at you, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “I just … I don’t know how I’m going to leave you both. I hate it.”

You step closer, reaching out to touch his arm. “Max, I know it’s hard. But we’ll be okay. And you can call us anytime, video chat, whatever you need. We’ll make it work.”

Max nods, but the worry in his eyes doesn’t fade. “I just don’t want to miss anything,” he repeats, his voice strained. “I want to be here for everything.”

“And you will be,” you promise, your voice firm. “We’ll figure it out together. We’re a team now, remember?”

Max lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Yeah,” he says softly, his voice filled with gratitude. “We are.”

You lean up to kiss him softly on the lips, a kiss that’s full of reassurance and love. When you pull back, Max looks at you with a mixture of awe and affection.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

“For what?” You ask, tilting your head slightly.

“For being here. For being you,” he says simply, his eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You smile, your heart swelling with love for the man in front of you. “You’ll never have to find out.”

Max pulls you into a gentle embrace, careful not to disturb Emilia as he holds you both close. In that moment, he knows that no matter how many races he has to go to, no matter how far he has to travel, this is where his heart will always be — with you and Emilia.

And as you both stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Max makes a silent promise to himself: to always be there for you, no matter what. Because this — this little family you’ve created together — is the most important thing in the world.

***

The doorbell rings just as Max is finishing up with Emilia’s bottle. He glances at the clock — 10:30 a.m. Whoever it is, they’re too early for lunch, too late for breakfast, and entirely unexpected.

You’re in the kitchen, humming softly while packing away the groceries Max picked up this morning. Max smiles to himself as he looks down at Emilia, her tiny fingers wrapped around his thumb. It feels like everything in his life is finally in place.

But that sense of contentment shatters the moment he opens the door.

Jos stands there, his presence immediately filling the entryway with tension. The older man’s eyes flick to you in the kitchen, then back to Max, his mouth curling into a sneer.

“Max,” Jos says, stepping forward before Max can say a word. His voice is cold, sharp. The man doesn’t even bother with a greeting.

“Dad,” Max replies, swallowing hard as he shuts the door behind him. Jos is already walking into the apartment, his eyes scanning the place like he’s looking for something to criticize.

You turn around, startled by the sound of footsteps you weren’t expecting. The soft smile on your face fades when you see Jos. Max can see the recognition in your eyes, followed by a flash of concern. You know about Jos, the kind of man he is. Max’s jaw tightens.

“What are you doing here?” Max tries to keep his voice steady, but there’s an edge to it, a warning.

Jos ignores him. His gaze is fixed on you now, his expression unreadable but undeniably harsh. “So this is her, huh?” He waves a hand in your direction. “The one Charles tossed aside.”

You freeze, hands trembling as you instinctively clutch the counter behind you. Max’s blood runs cold.

“Don’t,” Max warns, stepping between you and his father. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

Jos scoffs. “Relax, Max. I’m just stating the obvious. She’s nothing more than your rival’s sloppy seconds. And you … you’re playing house with another man’s child.”

The air leaves the room. Max’s vision narrows, and all he can see is Jos — the man who made his childhood a battleground. The man who pushed him so hard he could barely breathe under the weight of his expectations. Now he’s here, trying to break apart the life Max has built for himself.

“That’s enough,” Max snaps, his voice rising in a way that’s unfamiliar, even to him. Emilia starts fussing in his arms, sensing the tension, and it only makes him angrier. “You don’t get to walk in here and insult my family.”

Jos raises an eyebrow. “Family? Don’t kid yourself, Max. This isn’t your family. This is Charles Leclerc’s leftovers. You’re raising another man’s child, and you think that makes you a father?”

Max feels like he’s been punched in the gut, but he doesn’t flinch. He’s not that scared little boy anymore, the one who craved his father’s approval more than anything in the world. He’s a man now — a father — and he won’t let Jos tear him down again.

“You don’t know anything about this,” Max says, his voice shaking with fury. “I love her. I love Emilia. She’s my daughter, and I’m her father, no matter what you think. And if you can’t respect that, then you don’t belong here.”

Jos’s eyes flash with something dark, something that Max recognizes all too well. But before he can say anything, you step forward, your voice trembling but determined. “Please, just go.”

Jos glances at you, then back at Max. For a moment, it looks like he might push further, but then he shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You’ve gone soft, Max. You’re making a mistake, and one day you’ll see it.”

Max tightens his grip on Emilia, who’s starting to cry now, her small voice cutting through the tension. He turns his back on Jos, cradling his daughter close to his chest, and says, “Get out.”

For a moment, there’s only silence. Then, with a huff of disdain, Jos turns on his heel and leaves, the door slamming shut behind him. The sound echoes through the apartment like a gunshot.

You rush to Max’s side, reaching out to touch his arm. “Max, I-”

“Don’t,” Max says, his voice cracking. He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch as he struggles to keep his composure. “Just … don’t.”

He doesn’t mean to snap at you, but the anger, the hurt, it’s all too much. You say nothing, just move closer, wrapping your arms around him and Emilia, holding them both as tightly as you can. Max can feel the tension melting away, replaced by a deep, bone-deep exhaustion.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Max replies, shaking his head. “It’s … it’s just him. He’ll never change.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “He’s wrong, Max. You are her father. You’re already everything she needs.”

Max looks down at Emilia, who’s slowly calming down in his arms. Her tiny hand grips his finger, and the simple, innocent gesture makes something in him break. He swallows hard, blinking back tears.

“I don’t care what he says,” Max whispers, more to himself than to you. “I’m not him. I’m never going to be him.”

You reach up, gently brushing a tear away from his cheek. “You’re not. You’re a good man and you’re already a great father.”

Max can’t find the words to respond, so he just leans down and kisses you, a slow, desperate kiss that says everything he can’t put into words. You kiss him back, your hands gently cradling his face, grounding him in the moment.

When you finally pull away, you smile at him, and it’s like the sun breaking through a stormy sky. “We’re going to be okay,” you say softly. “All three of us.”

Max nods, pressing his forehead against yours. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “We are.”

You both stand there in the quiet of the apartment, holding onto each other and to Emilia, who has finally fallen back asleep. The storm has passed, but Max knows there will be more to come. But as long as he has you and Emilia by his side, he knows he can face anything.

And for the first time in a long time, Max feels like he’s finally home.

***

The room is silent except for the soft hum of the baby monitor, its rhythmic buzz a constant backdrop to the night. The apartment is dark, save for a thin sliver of moonlight seeping in through the curtains, casting a pale glow over the room.

You stir, groggily reaching for the warmth of Max beside you, but find only cold sheets. Instantly, you’re more awake, your heart quickening as you sit up and squint into the darkness. It’s late, or maybe it’s early — time has blurred into an endless loop of feeding, changing, and trying to snatch sleep in between.

Max isn’t in bed, but you can see his silhouette across the room, standing over Emilia’s crib. His back is to you, his posture tense yet somehow fragile, as if he’s holding something inside that’s threatening to spill over. You watch him for a moment, the quiet of the night wrapping around you both like a blanket, before you gently call out his name.

“Max?”

He doesn’t turn immediately, and for a second, you think maybe he didn’t hear you. But then he shifts slightly, his shoulders dropping as if he’s finally exhaling a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Sorry,” he says, his voice low and rough with emotion. “Did I wake you?”

You shake your head, though he’s not looking at you. “No. I just noticed you weren’t in bed.”

He glances back at you then, just briefly, his eyes shadowed and unreadable in the dim light. “I couldn’t sleep,” he admits, turning his gaze back to Emilia. “I kept thinking about … everything.”

There’s a heaviness in his tone that makes you push back the covers and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. You stand up, crossing the room to where he’s standing. When you reach him, you place a hand on his arm, feeling the tension thrumming through his muscles.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” You ask softly, trying to meet his eyes.

For a moment, he’s quiet, staring down at Emilia with a look that’s a mix of awe and fear. Then he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “I keep saying she’s mine. I’ve said it so many times, but … I don’t think it really hit me until just now. I’m her dad.”

He finally looks at you, his blue eyes shining with something raw and unguarded. “I’m her dad, and that means … everything. It means I’m the one who’s supposed to protect her, to make sure she’s safe and happy. I’m the one who’s supposed to teach her, to love her, to be there for every moment of her life.”

His voice cracks on the last word, and you feel your heart break for him, for the weight he’s been carrying. You squeeze his arm gently, encouraging him to continue.

“I’ve spent so much of my life trying to be what my dad wanted me to be,” Max continues, his eyes dropping back down to Emilia. “I pushed myself so hard because I thought that’s what I had to do, that I had to prove something to him, to everyone. But this … being her dad, it’s different. It’s not about proving anything. It’s just about being there for her, for you.”

You can hear the fear in his voice, the uncertainty, but also the determination. Max has always been a fighter, always pushing himself to the limit, but this is different. This is about love, about responsibility, about a future that’s no longer just his.

“I promise,” he says, his voice stronger now, more certain. “I promise I’ll always do the best for her, and for you. I’ll make mistakes, I know I will, but I’ll always try to do what’s right. I’ll always be here.”

His words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You step closer, sliding your arms around his waist and resting your head against his chest. You can hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, a comforting rhythm that grounds you in the moment.

“You’re already doing it,” you whisper against his chest. “You’re already an amazing dad, Max. She’s so lucky to have you, and so am I.”

Max wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer. You feel the warmth of his body against yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. It’s a simple, quiet moment, but it’s everything.

“I’m the lucky one,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I didn’t think … I never imagined this. Having a family. But now that I do, I can’t imagine life without it. Without you. Without her.”

You pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him. His eyes are soft, full of love and something else — something deeper, more profound. It’s the look of a man who’s found something he didn’t even know he was searching for.

“I love you,” you say, the words slipping out before you can even think about them. But they’re true, and you realize with a start that you’ve been feeling them for a while now.

Max’s breath catches, and for a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s trying to memorize your face, your words, everything about this moment. Then he smiles — a real, genuine smile that lights up his entire face.

“I love you too,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “So much.”

You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a slow, tender kiss. It’s not the first kiss you’ve shared, but it feels like the most important. It’s a promise, a commitment, a beginning.

When you finally pull away, Max rests his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you close. “Thank you,” he whispers. “For everything. For trusting me, for being here, for giving me this family.”

You smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

He kisses you again, softer this time, a lingering brush of lips that sends warmth spiraling through you. Then he turns his attention back to Emilia, who’s still sound asleep in her crib, blissfully unaware of the world around her.

“She’s so perfect,” Max murmurs, his voice full of wonder. “I still can’t believe she’s ours.”

“She is,” you agree, leaning against him as you both watch your daughter sleep. “She’s everything.”

Max nods, his eyes never leaving Emilia. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure she has the best life possible. I don’t care what it takes. She’s my little girl.”

There’s a fierceness in his voice now, a protective instinct that you know will only grow stronger with time. It’s the kind of love that can’t be measured, the kind that changes everything.

“And you,” Max adds, looking down at you with a softness that makes your heart swell. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you’re happy too. That you never have to worry about anything.”

“I know you will,” you say, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. “But you don’t have to do it all on your own, Max. We’re in this together, okay? We’re a team.”

He nods, his expression serious. “Yeah. We are.”

You stand there in the quiet of the night, wrapped up in each other and in the future you’re building together. It’s a future that’s still uncertain, full of challenges and unknowns, but it’s yours. It’s yours, and it’s beautiful.

After a while, Max guides you back to bed, and you both climb under the covers, your bodies fitting together perfectly. He holds you close, his arms wrapped around you as you settle against his chest. You can hear the steady beat of his heart, feel the warmth of his skin against yours, and it lulls you into a peaceful sleep.

As you drift off, you hear Max’s voice one last time, a soft whisper in the darkness. “I’m never letting go of this. Of you. Of her. I promise.”

And with that, you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, feeling more loved and more secure than you ever have before.

***

Max is darting around the private jet, a man on a mission. He’s checking every corner, every surface, making sure it’s all baby-proofed, while you sit on the plush leather seat, watching him with a mix of amusement and affection. Emilia, cradled in your arms, is blissfully unaware of her father’s nerves as she gurgles happily, her tiny hands waving in the air.

“Max, it’s fine,” you call out, but he’s too busy testing the security of a cabinet door to hear you.

“What if the turbulence knocks something over?” He mutters, more to himself than to you, as he gives the cabinet another pull to ensure it’s locked tight. He moves on to the safety straps on the seats, tugging at them to make sure they’re secure.

You can’t help but smile at how seriously he’s taking this. Max Verstappen reduced to a bundle of nerves over the safety of a half-year-old baby on a private jet. It’s endearing, seeing him so out of his element, so completely focused on making sure everything is perfect for Emilia.

“Max, she’s going to be fine,” you say gently, but with a hint of laughter in your voice.

Max finally turns to you, his expression a mix of determination and mild panic. “I know, I just-” he pauses, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t want to take any chances. What if something happens? What if-”

“Max,” you cut him off, “everything’s going to be okay. You’ve checked everything three times already.”

He lets out a breath, his shoulders finally relaxing a little. “Yeah, you’re right. I just ... I want her to be safe.”

“She will be. And besides,” you add with a teasing smile, “you’ve already won the overprotective dad award.”

That gets a small smile out of him, and he walks over to where you’re sitting, leaning down to press a kiss to Emilia’s forehead. “You’re right,” he says again, though this time it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself.

You reach up to touch his cheek, your thumb brushing over the stubble there. “You’re an amazing dad, Max.”

He covers your hand with his, his blue eyes softening as he looks at you. “I just ... I never thought I’d be this worried, you know? Driving at 300 kilometers an hour doesn’t scare me, but this ...”

“Because this is different,” you finish for him, understanding completely. “She’s your whole world now.”

“You both are,” he corrects, and you can see the emotion in his eyes, the depth of his feelings for both you and Emilia.

The flight attendant comes by to offer refreshments, and Max asks for a bottle of water before turning his attention back to you and Emilia. He takes a seat beside you, carefully cradling the baby as you hand her over. The moment Emilia is in his arms, the tension in his shoulders eases, and he looks down at her with the kind of adoration that makes your heart swell.

“Look at her,” he murmurs, as if he still can’t believe this little person is real, is his.

“She’s beautiful,” you agree softly.

Max leans back in his seat, holding Emilia close. She’s starting to doze off, her tiny mouth making little sucking motions even in her sleep. “I can’t wait for her to see her first race,” he says quietly, his voice full of anticipation and pride.

You smile, watching the way he looks at Emilia, as if she’s the most precious thing in the world. And to him, she is.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” You ask, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He chuckles softly. “I don’t know. But I hope so. Maybe she’ll be my little lucky charm.”

“She already is,” you say, closing your eyes for a moment, just soaking in the warmth of the moment.

The plane starts to taxi down the runway, and Max holds Emilia a little tighter, his other hand reaching out to take yours. The takeoff is smooth, but Max’s grip on your hand doesn’t loosen until you’re well into the air.

“She didn’t even stir,” you note, nodding towards Emilia, who’s still peacefully asleep in Max’s arms.

“She’s tougher than we give her credit for,” Max replies, smiling down at his daughter.

As the flight progresses, Max eventually relaxes enough to stop checking every detail of the cabin. He spends most of the time just watching Emilia sleep, occasionally glancing out the window at the clouds passing by. You can see the wheels turning in his head, and you know he’s already imagining what it will be like to have her at the track, to share that part of his life with her.

After a while, you start to feel the effects of the early morning and the flight. The gentle hum of the plane and the steady warmth of Max beside you lull you into a state of drowsiness. You lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder, your hand still holding his.

Max looks down at you, his heart swelling with a fierce protectiveness. This is his family, his girls, and he would do anything to keep you both safe, to make sure you’re happy. He kisses the top of your head, the gesture so natural, so filled with love, that it almost surprises him how right it feels.

As the plane flies steadily towards its destination, you drift off to sleep, the last thing you hear being Max whispering softly to Emilia, telling her about the first time he’ll take her to the paddock, how he’ll introduce her to everyone, how he’ll teach her everything he knows. His voice is filled with so much love and promise that it makes your heart ache in the best way possible.

And then, you’re asleep, resting peacefully against Max’s shoulder, while Emilia snoozes in his arms. Max stays like that for the rest of the flight, holding both of you close, his heart full and content.

***

The paddock buzzes with the usual pre-race excitement, but today, there's an extra layer of curiosity. People are craning their necks, whispering to each other, their eyes widening as Max Verstappen strolls through, an unusual sight to behold. Emilia is strapped to his chest in a baby carrier, her tiny hands grabbing at the fabric of Max’s shirt, while you walk beside him, pushing a stroller that’s more a mobile storage unit for all the baby essentials.

It’s your first time back at a race since everything changed, and the significance of the moment isn’t lost on you. Every step feels heavy with the weight of anticipation, not just for the race itself, but for the reactions you both know are coming. Max, usually so composed in these environments, seems a little tense. His hand rests protectively over Emilia, his thumb gently stroking her back as he navigates through the crowd.

As you walk together, you catch the eyes of team members, fans, and media alike, all of them stunned by the sight of Max — stoic, single-minded Max — suddenly a father. The whispers grow louder, cameras discreetly capturing the moment, and you feel the eyes of the entire paddock on you. But Max, despite the tension in his shoulders, keeps his focus on you and Emilia, blocking out the stares as best he can.

You try to smile, to project confidence, but you can’t shake the feeling of being exposed, vulnerable. It’s not just that this is your first time back in the paddock — it’s that this is the first time the world is seeing you, Max, and Emilia together. You brace yourself for the reactions, knowing they’ll come.

Max senses your unease and squeezes your hand, a silent reassurance that he’s with you every step of the way. “Ignore them,” he says quietly, his voice firm. “This is about us, not them.”

You nod, taking a deep breath as you push the stroller forward. Emilia, blissfully unaware of the attention, coos happily against Max’s chest, her tiny head resting against him. It’s that sound, that innocence, that gives you the strength to keep going.

As you walk further into the paddock, the sea of familiar faces starts to part for you, some people smiling warmly, others too shocked to do much more than gape. Max acknowledges a few of the team members with a nod, his usual stern expression softened by the presence of his daughter.

Then, as you turn a corner near the Red Bull garage, you see him. Charles, dressed in his Ferrari red, stands talking to a few engineers. His back is to you, and for a moment, you think you might pass by unnoticed. But then, as if sensing your presence, Charles turns.

The world seems to slow as his eyes lock onto Emilia. He freezes, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief in a matter of seconds. His gaze flickers between you, Max, and the baby, and you can see the moment it all clicks for him. The green eyes, so like his own, staring back at him from the face of the baby strapped to Max’s chest.

“Max,” Charles says, his voice low, tight. His face flushes with a mix of emotions — shock, anger, betrayal. “What the hell is this?”

Max’s jaw tightens, but he stays calm. “Let’s not do this here.”

But Charles doesn’t seem to hear him. He takes a step closer, his eyes locked on Emilia, and you instinctively move closer to Max, as if you can shield your daughter from whatever’s about to happen.

“You had a baby?” Charles spits out, his voice rising with each word. “My baby?” He points at you, disbelief and fury written all over his face. “You stole my girlfriend and now you’re raising my child?”

The words hit like a slap, and you feel the blood drain from your face. You knew this confrontation was coming, but nothing could have prepared you for the intensity of it, for the venom in Charles’ voice.

Max steps forward, placing himself between you and Charles. “Watch what you’re saying,” he warns, his voice dangerously low. “Emilia is not your daughter. You gave up that right when you left her mother.”

Charles scoffs, his eyes narrowing as he looks at Max. “You think you can just replace me? That she’ll ever be yours?”

“She already is,” Max replies, his voice steady, unyielding. “She’s mine because I’m here for her, every day. Because I love her. And because you walked away.”

Charles looks like he’s about to explode. His fists clench at his sides, and for a moment, you think he might actually take a swing at Max. But instead, he turns his anger on you.

“And you,” he snaps, his voice dripping with contempt. “How could you do this? How could you let him take my place?”

The accusation stings, but before you can respond, Emilia starts to cry, the tension and raised voices too much for her to handle. The sound cuts through the air like a knife, and suddenly, all eyes are on the three of you, the scene unfolding like a car crash that no one can look away from.

Charles looks stricken at the sound of Emilia’s cries, but his anger doesn’t dissipate. If anything, it seems to fuel him further. “You think you can just replace me? That she won’t know who her real father is?”

Max’s composure finally breaks. He steps forward, his face inches from Charles, his voice deadly calm. “You lost the right to call yourself her father when you walked away from her mother without a second thought. Don’t you dare try to claim her now.”

“Max, please,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you reach out to him. But before you can pull him back, Charles lashes out.

“You think this is over? You think I’ll just let you play happy family with my daughter?”

“Stop it, Charles,” you plead, but your words fall on deaf ears.

Charles opens his mouth to respond, but Emilia’s cries grow louder, her tiny fists clenching in distress. Max’s expression hardens as he looks at Charles, then at his daughter, who’s clearly terrified by the escalating confrontation.

“That’s enough,” Max says, his voice firm. “You’re scaring her.”

But Charles doesn’t back down. He takes another step forward, his voice rising. “She’s mine, Max. And I’ll make sure she knows it.”

Emilia’s wails reach a fever pitch, and Max’s patience snaps. He takes a deep breath, his jaw clenching as he turns to you. “Take her,” he says softly, carefully unstrapping Emilia from the carrier and handing her to you. You can feel his hands shaking slightly as he passes her over, his control fraying at the edges.

You cradle Emilia close, trying to soothe her as you watch the standoff between Max and Charles with mounting dread.

Max squares his shoulders, turning back to Charles with a look that could freeze over hell. “If you ever come near her again,” he says, his voice cold as ice, “I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Charles’s eyes flash with anger, but he’s out of words, out of retorts. He glares at Max, then at you, before turning on his heel and storming away, his footsteps echoing down the paddock.

For a moment, everything is silent except for Emilia’s soft cries. The crowd that had gathered disperses, but not without a few lingering looks of shock and curiosity. You can feel the weight of their stares, the buzz of gossip that’s sure to follow, but all that matters is calming Emilia and holding it together for her.

Max stands there, his chest heaving, the adrenaline from the confrontation still coursing through his veins. He watches as Charles disappears from sight, then turns back to you, his expression softening as he sees the tears in your eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t want it to happen like this.”

You shake your head, unable to find the words to respond. Instead, you focus on Emilia, her cries quieting as she nuzzles against your chest, seeking comfort.

Max steps closer, his hand reaching out to touch your arm, grounding both of you. “Are you okay?” He asks gently, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m okay,” you manage to say, though your voice is shaky. “It’s just ... it’s a lot.”

“I know,” Max says, his voice filled with regret. “I wish I could make it all go away.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the tension start to ease as Max’s presence grounds you. “We’ll get through this,” you say softly, more for yourself than anyone else.

Max wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, his other hand resting on Emilia’s back. “We will,” he promises, his voice steady and sure. “We’re a family, and nothing’s going to change that.”

As you stand there, the chaos of the paddock fading into the background, you realize that no matter what happens, no matter what anyone says, you’re not alone in this. You have Max, and together, you’ll face whatever comes your way.

***

Max paces the length of his driver’s room, phone pressed to his ear, his voice low but urgent. Outside, the hum of the paddock continues, but inside, the tension is palpable. He runs a hand through his hair, the stress of the day catching up with him. His mind is a storm of thoughts, all centered on you and Emilia.

You stand at the doorway, hesitating as you hear his voice, too focused on the conversation to notice your presence. You can’t make out every word, but the ones you do catch make your heart pound in your chest.

“No, I don’t care what it takes,” Max says, his voice firm. “I want to make sure he has no rights. None. He can’t just walk back into her life and take her away.”

Your breath hitches, and you step closer, just out of his line of sight. Max pauses, listening to whoever’s on the other end of the call, his jaw clenched tight. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in, the gravity of what he’s discussing weighing heavily on your heart.

“Yes,” he says after a moment. “I’ve thought about that. Adoption. I want it to be official, as soon as possible. I want to be her dad in every way that matters.”

You feel like the air’s been knocked out of you. Your hand flies to your mouth, trying to contain the emotion that surges through you. You’ve always known that Max loves Emilia as his own, but hearing him talk about adoption, about making it official, is overwhelming. It’s everything you didn’t know you needed to hear.

Max’s back is to you, his shoulders tense, his free hand on his hip. “No, I don’t care about the PR fallout. She’s my daughter, and I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.”

You can’t stay quiet any longer. “Max …”

He turns so quickly that he nearly drops his phone. His blue eyes widen in surprise, then soften when he sees you. He quickly wraps up the call, telling his lawyer he’ll be in touch soon, and hangs up, his attention solely on you now.

“How much did you hear?” He asks, a touch of worry in his voice as he approaches you.

“Enough,” you admit, your voice trembling with emotion. “You’re serious about this? About adopting her?”

Max stops in front of you, his hands gently taking yours. “Of course, I am,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “She’s mine, in every way that matters. I don’t want there to be any question about that. I want to make it official.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you blink rapidly, trying to keep them from falling. “Max … I don’t even know what to say. You’re amazing, you know that?”

He smiles, but there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that tugs at your heart. “I just want to do what’s right for you and Emilia. You both mean everything to me.”

Your heart swells with so much love that it feels like it might burst. “I love you,” you whisper, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

Max’s eyes light up, and he pulls you into his arms, holding you close. “I love you too,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “So much.”

You bury your face in his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you as you let the tears fall, tears of happiness, relief, and love. Max’s hand runs soothingly up and down your back, his touch reassuring, solid, and everything you need.

“I didn’t know if you’d want that,” you admit after a moment, your voice muffled against his shirt. “The adoption, I mean. I didn’t want to pressure you into anything.”

Max pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands cradling your face. “This isn’t about pressure,” he says earnestly. “This is about what I want. I want to be her dad, officially. I want us to be a family.”

His words hit you like a wave, and you can’t hold back the smile that breaks across your face. “We already are, Max. But … making it official … it would mean the world to me.”

He kisses you then, softly, sweetly, as if sealing the promise with his lips. When he pulls away, there’s a determination in his eyes that makes your heart race.

“We’ll get this sorted,” he says, his voice steady and sure. “Charles won’t be able to touch her. I’ll make sure of it.”

You nod, trusting him completely, knowing that whatever happens, Max will be there, by your side, protecting you and Emilia. He’s already proven that in so many ways.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning into his embrace. “For everything.”

Max presses another kiss to your forehead, lingering there as if he never wants to let go. “I’ll always be here for you,” he promises, his voice a gentle vow. “For both of you.”

You stay like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, the weight of the world outside the room forgotten. It’s just you, Max, and the love that’s grown between you, a love that’s only getting stronger with each passing day.

Eventually, Max steps back, his hand slipping into yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again. “Come on,” he says softly, a small smile playing on his lips. “Let’s go check on Emilia.”

You smile back, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Yeah,” you agree, squeezing his hand. “Let’s.”

***

The FIA Prize Giving Ceremony is a glittering affair, with the most celebrated drivers in the world gathered under one roof, all eager to see who will take home the evening’s highest honors. The room is abuzz with energy, cameras flashing, and the air thick with anticipation. It’s a night of recognition, where the best of the best are acknowledged for their achievements on the track. But for you and Max, tonight is about something much more personal.

You sit beside Max at one of the front tables, your hands clasped together under the tablecloth. Max looks sharp in his tailored suit, but his usual air of calm confidence is tinged with a nervous excitement that he can’t quite hide. His eyes are fixed on the stage, where the host is just beginning to announce the next category: Rookie of the Year.

“... and the Rookie of the Year award goes to ... Emilia Verstappen!”

The applause is instantaneous, loud and enthusiastic, as the cameras pan across the audience. You squeeze Max’s hand, and he turns to you, his eyes shining with pride. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to — you can see everything he’s feeling written all over his face.

You both watch as Emilia makes her way to the stage, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders, the bright lights catching the sparkles in her gown. She moves with the grace and confidence of someone who’s been in the spotlight her entire life, but there’s still that youthful energy in her step, the excitement of someone just beginning to make her mark on the world.

When Emilia reaches the podium, she takes the award in her hands, the applause still roaring around her. She takes a moment to look out at the audience, her eyes searching until they find yours and Max’s. She smiles — a smile that’s a little bit of yours, a little bit of her biological father’s, and completely her own. The room gradually quiets down, and when she speaks, her voice is clear and steady, carrying through the hall.

“Wow, this is ... incredible. Thank you so much to the FIA, to my team, and to everyone who’s supported me this year. It’s been a wild ride, and I’m so grateful for every moment.”

She pauses, glancing down at the award in her hands, turning it over thoughtfully. “But there are two people I need to thank more than anyone else, because without them, I wouldn’t be standing here tonight.”

You feel Max’s grip on your hand tighten just slightly, as if bracing himself for what’s coming. He’s always been proud of Emilia, but tonight, the emotion is running deeper than ever.

“My parents,” Emilia continues, her voice growing softer, more heartfelt. “Mama, Papa ... I owe everything to you.”

The crowd is silent now, all eyes on the young woman at the podium, the daughter of one of the greatest drivers in Formula 1 history, but tonight, it’s clear that this is Emilia’s moment.

“Mama,” Emilia says, her gaze finding you again, “you’ve been my rock, my biggest supporter, and the person who’s always believed in me, even when I doubted myself. You taught me what it means to be strong, to never give up, and to follow my heart. I wouldn’t be who I am today without you.”

A lump forms in your throat, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes. You’ve watched Emilia grow from a baby into the remarkable young woman she is today, and hearing her speak these words is almost too much to bear. You squeeze Max’s hand again, finding comfort in his presence beside you.

“And Papa ...” Emilia’s voice catches slightly, and she takes a moment to steady herself. “I know I might not look like you, but no one can deny that I drive like you. You’ve taught me everything I know about racing, but more importantly, you’ve shown me what it means to be passionate, dedicated, and fearless. I’ve always wanted to make you proud, and I hope I’ve done that.”

Max can’t hold back the tears any longer. He blinks rapidly, trying to keep his emotions in check, but it’s no use. His eyes are wet, his chest tight with pride and love for his daughter. He nods, his lips pressed together in a tight line, as if trying to keep himself from breaking down completely.

You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. In this moment, it’s just the three of you — everything else fades away.

Emilia takes a deep breath, her gaze sweeping across the audience one last time. “I’m so lucky to have parents like you. Thank you for everything. This award is as much yours as it is mine.”

The applause that follows is deafening, the crowd rising to their feet in a standing ovation. Emilia smiles, a little shy now that the speech is over, and nods her thanks before stepping back from the podium.

As the applause continues, Max turns to you, his eyes still glistening. “She’s incredible, isn’t she?”

You nod, too emotional to speak, your heart full to bursting with love for both of them. Max leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, a silent acknowledgment of everything you’ve been through together to reach this moment.

The ceremony continues, but you’re not really paying attention anymore. You’re too lost in your thoughts, in the warmth of Max’s arm around you, in the overwhelming pride you feel for your daughter.

When Emilia returns to the table, the award in her hands, Max immediately pulls her into a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “So, so proud.”

Emilia hugs him back just as tightly, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Thanks, Papa,” she whispers, her voice full of love. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

They hold each other for a long moment, and you can’t help but smile through your own tears. This is your family — your beautiful, wonderful, extraordinary family.

As the evening draws to a close and the final awards are handed out, you find yourself reflecting on the journey that brought you all here. It wasn’t always easy, and there were times when you weren’t sure how things would turn out. But standing here now, with Max and Emilia by your side, you know that every challenge, every hardship, was worth it.

As you all make your way out of the ceremony and into the cool night air, Emilia holds her award close, her eyes still shining with happiness. Max keeps his arm around you, his other hand resting on Emilia’s shoulder, as if he can’t bear to let either of you out of his reach.

When you reach the car, Max opens the door for you and Emilia, and you both slide inside. As Max takes his seat behind the wheel, he glances over at you, his expression soft and full of love.

“Ready to go home?” He asks, his voice gentle.

You nod, smiling at him, your heart full. “Yeah,” you reply, reaching over to take his hand. “Let’s go home.”

As Max drives through the quiet streets, Emilia leans her head against your shoulder, her award still clutched in her hands. You glance at her, at the peaceful expression on her face, and feel a surge of contentment wash over you.

This is what it’s all about, you realize. This is the life you’ve built together, the family you’ve created. And as you sit there, surrounded by the people you love most in the world, you know that no matter what the future holds, you’ll face it together — just as you always have.

[kooktrash]

effortlessly yours ✧ jeon jungkook

summary: in an effort to catch a break from the people around him, jungkook stumbles into a bar on the other side of town and meets you—the one serving his drinks. things happen quite effortlessly between you and before you knew it, you’ve welcomed him to change your life for the better.

✧ genre/au: banker!jk x bartender!y/n [she/her. afab]. strangers to lovers. smut.

✧ 16.9k words

warnings: smut. heavy plot. oc is lowkey broke as helll and jk is lowkey a chaebol but humble fr 😩. princess treatment. beware oc’s ex is taehyung and he’s not great. slow burn. smut—riding. missionary. oral [both receiving]. heavy make outs. heavy petting. breast play. use of protection. needy af. — jk’s friends kinda rude but also not? rich boys. financial problems. mention of economic differences. damn near love at first sight. everyone’s an ex boyf hater. oc forced to live with ex bc of money. love at first sight? jk is whipped :(. for once he’s not a fighter, he’s just a pretty boy with money to spoil his gf <3

song inspo: wasn’t looking — eliza, love between — kali uchis, blue — billie eilish, salvatore— lana del rey, I wanna be yours — arctic monkeys

I forgot but god bless @vngelicc for putting up with my constant plot changes and helping me out 💀

Many of your nights have been spent at this small place serving drinks to the same people, engaging in the same conversation, going through the same thing. Without a fail you’ve lived in this cycle of mundaneness and it drive you insane.

Nothing ever happened to you and when it did, it was never for the better. That’s what you’ve always thought anyway.

“Any Macallan? I'll have a glass,” You stared at the stranger with a blank expression, he met you with an unwavering gaze looking every bit out of place here as you felt.

He’s asking if you carry an expensive bottle of Bourbon that a place like this could not afford keeping in stock. If you did, no one here would want to pay the price of a glass. Compared to the regulars around the bar he clearly stood out to everyone. The college guys who lived a couple blocks down looked at him just as strangely as the two office workers down the bar did.

“We’ve got Buchannan’s,” You said plainly, taking his attention away from the aged jukebox in the corner that now had a big screen attached to it. It was your typical bar with its dark countertops, pool tables, darts, et cetera. It was the first place he could find on this side of town—clearly not a place of luxury.

“I’ll take it,” He tried to sound happy about it, biting down at his bottom lip as his phone screen lit up with notifications. He had nearly a dozen texts from close friends asking him what his plans were for tonight but he didn’t want to talk right now and they’d want to know why.

Soon you had his glass of whiskey in front of him and he was opening a tab while you helped others. You didn’t think much about the man aside from how attractive he looked. Many stragglers found their way here but after one night they’d return to wherever they’re from and never look back.

“You drink that expensive whiskey because you like it or because you can afford it?”

An older man spoke up from across the bar, looking at the stranger with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. He’s one of those guys that gets a few drinks in him and either wants to spark conversation or a fight. Part of you paid attention to the conversation, part of you looked at the line of messages on your phone.

“I’m sorry?” The guy from earlier asked seemingly unimpressed by the attempt to get to him. The older man was dressed in a dirty t-shirt and flannel while he wore some expensive suit like he’d just gotten off work.

“Or is it to impress?”

“Impress who?” A light scoff left his lips, looking around the bar, eyes hesitating on you for a moment. Aside from you there were a few others who might catch his eye but not enough for him to point out or feel the need to impress.

You weren’t even looking at anyone or him for that matter, your attention was solely on your cell phone and by the look on your face, whatever was on there was more important. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth and your brows began to furrow with concentration as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing.

unknown: can we talk when ur done working?

unknown: it’s about us

What?

“Y/n maybe? I doubt any of us are your type—“

What? You looked up immediately at the call of your name, ready to make someone another cocktail or close someone’s tab. Instead you were called in the middle of a conversation that you wanted no part of.

“Another beer?” You tried to cut in and shut the regular up but it was a useless attempt because everyone around the bar was already staring at you—including the stranger. How did you miss whatever they were talking about? You were too focused on the texts from a certain someone that you had lost attention to people at the bar.

“What is your name anyway? I’ve never seen you here before,” The customer told him, ignoring you and trying to push for more talk. You just sighed and leaned back thinking back to your phone.

“Jeon Jungkook,” He said in his usual confident manner, gaze flickering to you for a moment but you were distracted once more, this time typing rapidly. You were pretty, too pretty to be serving these guys on a Tuesday night.

Another man appeared from behind a door holding more bottles of liquor. He looked indifferent to whatever was going on out here but when he looked at you, you said something. Jungkook was more interested to hear what that was than whatever the people around him had to say.

The two of you talked for a while and he distracted himself with his phone.

hobi: doubles tomorrow with jimin and jin? 🎾

jungkook: I couldn’t think of anything worse

jimin: watch urself

jin: and where’d u run off to tonight

Your coworker, Yoongi, looked at you with concerned eyes. You’ve known each other long enough to know when somethings wrong and Yoongi was able to tell so fast, “If you need to make a call just go, I’ll take over for now.”

His friend asked the question he’s been trying to ask himself all night. How’d he find himself here on the other side of the city with the only people to entertain him being drunks and… you?

“Is he always like this?” Jungkook found himself asking now that the man from earlier had moved on to someone else to bother. You looked ready to run out but stopped to look at him. Yoongi was giving you time to sort whatever problem you had at the moment but now a customer was talking to you.

You shrugged, “Yeah but he’s harmless, a little annoying but funny.”

jungkook: some bar but I’m leaving soon

Jungkook looked at you up close now. You wore all black, somewhere between casual but dressed up enough. From what he can tell you’re pretty, like an effortless kind of pretty. You barely cared to engage with him, completely unaware of how he looked you over.

“Can I close my tab?” He asked as he fished for his wallet.

“No problem, remind me the name,” Yoongi came up from behind you, hand on your back urging you to go and he’ll take care of it. Jungkook looked at him with disinterest as you ran off in a hurry and sighed, “Jeon Jungkook.”

jungkook: it’s boring

The place he called home was about thirty minutes away from the bar he visited a few nights ago. He lived on the upper side of the city where buildings towered sky high and rent was at high rates, lavish nightlife and lounge rooms he could spend all night in drinking with his friends. That’s why it baffled him to sit somewhere like the place he’d gone to and feel so comfortable. It felt secretive, a mutual understanding of where one goes when they want to be alone and have a drink—no matter how bad it is. He wouldn’t have been able to do that around here without running into someone.

“Have you decided who your date will be?”

No, he had not. In fact it was the last thing on his mind and something Jungkook would prefer to fully ignore. It’s all he’s heard about for the past month and he doesn’t think he can go any longer talking about it. A date to a charity event hosted by his parents was too overwhelming of a task. They have to be polite, well maintenanced, proper, et cetera. He’s sure he can call up whatever woman he’d taken on a date these last couple of years but not a single one did he find… good enough? Terrible phrasing but the truth.

“Have you?” Jungkook asked one of his close friends, Hoseok, as the two sat in his office wasting time before they could be done for the day. His office sat on one of the top floors of a national banking center just a few minutes from where he resided. He sat behind his black oak wood desk spinning a pointed leather opener against his notepad creating a small dent in it.

“Obviously,” Hobi rolled his eyes playfully, making Jungkook look at him seriously. “Will she be as embarrassing as the one last time?”

“I hope not, last year’s date was a total mess. I couldn't look your parents in the eye for three months,” He said back, sitting down on the black leather daybed just a few feet away from Jungkook. The office was big with tall bookshelves and floor to ceiling windows overlooking skyscrapers and the Han River not too far behind. There was a desktop with two monitors along with a laptop and television, a closet and storage room—even a few dumbbells and a treadmill in the corner. “Do you know how hard that is when your father’s the CFO of the company I work for?!”

“I couldn’t imagine the difficulty of that,” Jungkook couldn’t help but chuckle knowing firsthand how his dad can be when he feels disrespected—especially in front of the press while hosting an important, annual event.

“I’ve got dinner with the girl tonight, she’s been telling me about this friend who’s been dying to meet you,” Hoseok said with raised brows, “She’s pretty hot.”

“Who? The girl or her friend?” Jungkook asked, typing away on his desktop, searching for the bar he’d visited the other night. There was very little overview about the place, but he didn’t expect much anyway. It looked like it brought a decent amount of business to get by but nothing more than that. You must’ve been local to the area or why would you be working there? Hell, for how little you seemed interested in him, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. What was it that got his attention?

“Both,” Hoseok said in response.

Jungkook let out a small sigh watching the time pass by, “I’ll think about it.”

It was unlikely he ever would, he thought, attempting to focus back on his friend and who he was talking about. As arrogant as it might sound, there’s always someone dying to meet him. Usually it never works out and instead it’s used as a bragging right that they were taken out by him. He would like to meet someone organically, nothing forced or ingenuine. Someone he runs into and charms them without his reputation involved. How could he meet someone like that?

There was moisture lingering in the air as you left the small cafe you worked at during the week. It was midday and you wouldn’t have to be at work again till later tonight so the only thing on your mind was a good sleep.

You barely made it onto the bus when your phone began to ring and you put on your headphones to answer, “Hello?”

“Great, you’re alive. I was getting paranoid after the third ring,” Your friend said immediately once the call connected, “Are you off!”

“Yeah, until tonight,” You told her, staring out the foggy window of the overcrowded midday bus.

“Is Taehyung home? You want to come to mine instead?” Yeaun asked, sounding concerned but you just shook your head no even if she couldn’t see it.

“It’s alright, he’s not home anyway,” You said to her with a sigh, “I live there too and if he’s going to make a problem or it then maybe he should move out sooner.”

Yeaun was quiet for a moment, not sure if you were being serious or not. Or course it’s not the first time you and your ‘boyfriend—ex boyfriend—boyfriend’ break it off suddenly but this is different. You live with each other now and have for a few months. Why would Taehyung ask you to find a place with him if he was going to end it a few months into the lease? What an asshole.

“Alright, well I’ll talk to you later, maybe I’ll stop by the bar and catch up,” Yeaun finally said to which you mumbled back your response and ended the call.

You arrived at an empty apartment with a stack of blankets and pillows on the couch and a large bed with one person claiming it now. You tucked yourself into bed hoping that you ex boyfriend won’t be home when you wake up.

By the time the sun set and the only plan Jungkook had was to go home, he began to think about the place he visited a few days ago. There was nothing special about it but it was somewhat comforting—even with some of the elderly regulars getting on his case, he kind of liked it. It was amusing and harmless banter that he could put up with for some time alone. When he was off and his friend asked him to go out for dinner, Jungkook turned him down to drive across town on his own.

Like last time, the same people sat around the bar but a few new faces took up some of the tables scattered around. You stood behind the counter indulging in conversation with the bartender next to you and Jungkook found himself sitting at the corner of the bar top and away from the loudness.

“I see they didn’t scare you off,” You said once you spotted him alone. There’s not many new people coming by, especially ones that looked like him so he was easy to remember. He looked at you with rounded, curious eyes and shook his head, “Not yet.”

You asked if he wanted the same as last time and once he said yes, you were turning your back to him. He’s going to be honest… he couldn’t help but stare a little longer this time. You wore a short black skirt with dark stockings and a fitted tee making you seem casual and comfortable but at the same time he thought you were pretty. He couldn’t tell if you were into makeup or not but he assumed you’d be attractive either way. Last time you seemed glum, but tonight you were smiling.

“Am I that forgettable?” Jungkook asked when you made your way back to his side, he nodded toward the old man who bothered him last time and how he barely acknowledged him today. He wonders if he asked because he cared or because he wanted to have something to say. There was nothing better going on and unlike before, tonight he's up for talking—to you.

“No, he’s just a Drunk,” You whispered jokingly, moving just a little closer his way. To be honest, he nearly forgot all about you. The two of you had such a small interaction days ago that his life just got in the way. It felt meaningless and like it was never going to happen again but here he is, finding comfort at the little bar you worked at. He couldn’t help but be entertained by it.

“I asked my boss about the bottle you wanted last time and he said we can’t afford it for just one person, so you’re out of luck if you start stopping by more often,” You said casually, looking indifferent but he caught a glimmer of curiosity in your gaze.

“I’ll have to bring you some then,” Jungkook sat up straighter, “Give you a little taste.”

“I’m not into whiskey,” You gave him a small shrug, “I prefer the drinks where I can’t taste the alcohol.”

That made him laugh a little harder than he needed to, “Y/n, right? I think I remember hearing one of them say it.”

Your only form of response was a nod of your head but he didn’t mind the lack of enthusiasm. There’s something about the way you seem reserved but not scared to talk back to him sort of draws him in. You looked at each other with the same intensity and he wanted to see how long it could go.

“Y/n.”

You rushed away from him finding whoever needed help and he thought of what to say.

“So how many nights do you spend working here?” He asked once you came by him again. So far both nights he stumbled into this place you’ve been behind the counter with a blasè look to your eyes. It was a shame considering how pretty you were for you to be stuck behind a counter getting stressed over who knows what.

“Practically all of them,” You sighed leaning against the counter.

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t care for meaningless conversation ike this. It was such a waste of time and he always found himself struggling for what to say.

“So what happened the other night?” He blurted out before he could think clearly. He blames it on the whiskey for sounding so blunt as it rushed to his face. You couldn’t read him as easily as he thought and tried to figure out what he was asking about. The other night?

Oh.

“Nothing too concerning,” You brushed off your breakup with Taehyung hoping he knew nothing. The situation with Taehyung was not someone you wanted everyone to know about—especially not a stranger. It was embarrassing to admit you were still living with your cheating on and off ex boyfriend because it’s better than sleeping outside.

“And here I was hoping for a story time,” Jungkook muttered under his breath, checking his phone and the dozen messages and missed calls. Like earlier, you left him to help someone else and this time instead of him trying to find something to say it was you.

“If you start visiting more regularly maybe I’ll fill you in,” You said half-heartedly.

You’ve always thought—hoped—that home is where the heart would be. You should live in a place that doesn’t give you anxiety or depression. Living in this apartment with your ex boyfriends gives you both. When he was home you’d avoid leaving your bedroom at all and when he’s gone you’re worried about the time he’d get home.

You weren’t scared of him, but you hated him.

The two of you have broken up so many times at this point it’s embarrassing to admit how he has you now. After cheating on you and treating you like shit, you still moved in with him just those few months ago and now you’re paying for it.

“Are you going to work?” He asked curiously as you came out of your now solo bedroom. Taehyung was gentleman enough to sleep on the couch but apparently not enough to keep it in his pants.

“No,” You answered shortly as you slipped your shoes on. For some reason he thinks you’ll forgive him soon. He’s been trying to talk to you about it since the morning after he bothered you at work but you weren’t listening. How could he do something on impulse and expect you to let it go?

Are all men this stupid? Most? Oh, definitely, but surely not all? Who would want to be on good terms with a cheating ex so recent after the breakup?

“What are you gonna do then?”

What he really meant was, “Where were you going and who with?”

“Nothing,” you closed the door after yourself, choosing to shut him out rather than tell him anything. He didn’t need to know your whereabouts. For once you weren’t going to be at work and although you didn’t have big plans for your free night, you weren’t going to tell him or worse—spend it locked up in your room that still had his belongings.

You settled into place at your best friend’s place, filling her in on what’s been exciting or lack thereof.

“Not to feed the delusions but what if he’s stopping to see you?” Yeaun asked as you sat on her couch watching her look through her vinyls for something to play. After a while of telling her boringly endless tales of your life you came to the topic you were currently discussing.

Jeon Jungkook—the irregular-regular who’s begun to frequent the bar lately. Jungkook has been coming by for a few weeks now and although they’re always small interactions with him they leave an impression on you. He’s not like the usual guys who go there for a drink—or anything like the ones when you go out with your friends. Every now and then you wonder if he’s catching a flirty tone with you or not but then you think harder and tell yourself; not likely.

It’s too unbelievable,” You rejected the idea immediately even if it hurt you to do so, you had to be realistic, “He probably has a girlfriend or wife or someone, I don’t know.”

Call it a crush, whatever, nothing would ever come of it and you told your friends the same, “Either way I’m done with men, they’re all shitty.”

Yeaun shrugged, no longer pushing the idea of Jungkook. You haven’t told her anything that made it seem like Jungkook had any interest in you at all so really she was just wishfully thinking. You know very little about the man aside from what the two of you have gone over but it’s enough for you to know it would never happen.

You’re not crazy enough to believe otherwise.

Jungkook spent most of his day dreading for him to leave work and get ready for a dinner plan that was arranged for him. In all honesty, he practically disassociated himself from it the second he heard the tone the woman spoke in. Why did he let Hoseok talk him into doing this?

For nearly an hour he’s had to hear this woman compliment him on everything under the sun. Sure he was flattered but so? Did he really need to hear about himself from someone else? She didn’t seem like a bad girl but she knew too much about him that he never told her. She was too in his space and not understanding to slow down.

“I’m happy our schedules aligned to be able to meet like this,” She said as she picked at her salad, “I know you’re very busy.”

“I’m pleased too,” Jungkook raised his glass of wine to his lips, searching around the restaurant for a clock. Jiwon was a sweet girl but he wasn’t interested for some reason. She was attractive like Hoseok said but he’s not sure what is but there’s something that seems to draw him away from her.

By the time the bill came and she pretended to look through her mini bag for her wallet, Jungkook was ready to call it a night. He never expected someone with him to pay but something just drew him back… seriously what was it? She waited outside with him in hopes of knowing if their night would continue from here or not but Jungkook couldn’t wait to be done. He probably seemed rude with how he brushed her off and directed her into a cab, paying her fare with a lie that he’d see her again, but he couldn’t think of that right now.

It was taxing to meet new people and try to feel anything romantic toward them. Jimin is looking out for Jungkook and he’s well aware of that but Jungkook does not want something forced. He’s not asking for birds chirping and bells chiming but give him something that’ll make him feel things.

When he was alone in his car he found himself taking a familiar route in the opposite direction of his house. He’d left his date with Jiwon and for some reason was heading toward the bar he’s been going to lately. It took him a while to realize where he was going and about a block away he stopped to think.

What was he doing here? He could find any shitty bar where he knew his friends would never go and be just fine. He could be out with his friends or maybe getting to know Jiwon more in hopes of something blooming but instead he was going out alone. It was a bad idea to make this a regular thing. People he knows will begin to question where he goes and invade his privacy, he just knows it.

With a deep sigh he turned the engine off looking up at the brightly lit building in front of him. It was a small convenience store and deciding to not make his drive all the way over here pointless, he went inside.

He is starting to believe the universe in playing a trick on him. Whenever he’s gone to the bar you’ve been working at and tonight he decided not to go… bummed that he wouldn’t see you but clearly the universe had plans that couldn’t get changed. Instead of serving two drinks to customers, you’re walking down a refrigerated section of cheap flower bouquets. It’s like he was going to run into you tonight one way or the other. Just because he wasn’t going the bar after all didn’t mean he could escape you as easily. It was crazy.

You hadn’t yet spotted him as you opened the door to grab one of the cheapest bouquet of orchids you could find. It wasn’t until you were ready to walk back down that you saw him looking a little too interested in the small pints of ice cream. There were two options you could do, One: pretend you don’t know him and head to the counter or Two: acknowledge him? What if he was the kind of person that didn’t like being approached? It would be embarrassing for you.

“No work tonight?”

You stopped in your tracks, ready to walk past him when he spoke up. You looked around shyly, “Not tonight, Is that where you’re headed now?”

“Originally yeah, but good thing I changed my mind. You wouldn’t have been there,” Jungkook said, glancing down at the small shopping basket in your hands. He missed the way your face flushed at the comment, unsure if he meant it flirtatiously or not.

You had the small orchids, a couple ramens and drinks in the basket that made him smile just a little, “I’m assuming you live around here?”

“I wouldn’t be working here if I didn’t,” You say lightly, a smile playing on your face when you saw his, and glanced down at your basket with embarrassment. All Jungkook had in his hand was a single bottle of wine that he grabbed so he wouldn’t look strange approaching you, “Do you live around here too?”

“No, I uh, I’m kind of far actually,” He scratched the back of his head nervously, “But, I was doing some work over here.”

His face tensed at the way he must have sounded lying to you. It wouldn’t have been a good look for him if he said he went on a blind date with someone his best friend set him up with but raced here right after. It feels like the conversation shouldn’t end yet but he doesn’t know how to make it go on. Usually he’s able to tell what he should say to get someone’s attention on him for longer but he doesn’t know with you.

After a while, you began walking toward the register with Jungkook not far behind and you tried to act normal when you set your things down to be checked out.

Please, don’t decline, you thought as you tapped your card to pay. When you were done and hesitating to leave or not, Jungkook spoke up again, “When do you work next?”

“Why? So you’ll visit me?” You asked him with a little more enthusiasm. Maybe you were overthinking it but was there a chance that he wanted to talk to you too? It felt like he asked you something so you wouldn’t rush off before he was done paying.

He smiled, pleased to have you respond the way he wanted and he grabbed his things off the counter and turned to walk with you. You held your bag in one hand and your cellphone and wallet in the other and it was hard to miss the way your screen lit up with a phone call. You ignored the ringing but Jungkook was distracted now, “Do you need to take that?”

He held the door open for you wondering if it was your boyfriend or not and if he was just wasting his time. You shook your head, “It's no one important.”

“So you’re not seeing anyone?” Jungkook found himself asking, too impatient to beat around the bush any longer, “Or would you like to see me this weekend—or when you’re free— over drinks?”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, staring up at the handsome man in front of you with a baited breath. Jungkook was attractive, very attractive but did you need to be seeing anyone right now? Sure, it’s been a couple weeks since you and Taehyung fell off but you still live together. If he found out he would lose his shit… but at the same time…

Jungkook was intriguing and charming and so attractive you couldn’t wrap your mind around anything else.

“I’m free this upcoming Sunday.”

Before you split ways, you made sure to exchange information and you were practically rushing to tell your best friend.

jungkook: next time we should have stuck around and talked longer

When Sunday evening rolled in, Jungkook wore one of his black Prada shirts and black jeans. He tried dressing casual but this was as casual as he could go for seeing you out on a night like this.

“I could meet you halfway,” Jungkook insisted on the phone as he stood outside your building. It was a rundown apartment complex just like all the others in the area and even he felt unsafe, he can’t imagine how you feel every night. Okay, maybe he’s not used to anything outside of the private, gated community he grew up with.

“It’s fine, I’ll be down in a second,” You practically whispered as you hurried to hang up. With a final spritz of perfume, you left your bedroom as quiet as possible but it was no use. Taehyung sat there watching you.

“I’ll be back late so don’t wait up,” You practically grumbled as you went to put on your heels.

“Since when do you dress like that?” Taehyung asked with a slight scoff. Unlike your usual attire of baggy pants, sweaters, tees and the occasional skirt, tonight you wore a short, satin pink dress with heels to match. You looked pretty and it annoyed him because he knew why.

“Since I stopped being with you,” You told him, fishing for your key before closing the door on him like last time.

It took a lot of convincing on Jungkook’s part to let you let him pick you up and you had many reasons why. One, you didn’t want him to run into Taehyung or feel awkward. Two, you didn’t want him to drive all the way here if you’d most likely be in the inner city which was on the other side of town. And three, you were slightly embarrassed at your housing complex. You’ve seen Jungkook’s dress attire and the expensive watches, chains, drinking preferences he wears. He’s got money while you’ve got two jobs still struggling to pay your half of the rent on top of all the debt tied to your name.

“Well don’t you look stunning,” Jungkook said with a nervous chuckle as you approached him, eyeing his all black Porsche and how perfectly it matched him. The silk of your dress felt soft against his touch when you hugged him politely in greeting. You were slightly flushed by his comment and let him lead you to the passenger’s side.

“Were you waiting long?” You asked when he got into the driver’s side, looking you over one more time before starting the car.

“A l-little,” Jungkook couldn’t help but feel flustered as you turned your body enough to look at him better. Your dress rode up on your thigh and he tried to focus on the road, “But it’s my fault for being impatient. Next time I’ll give you all the time in the world if I get to see this pretty view.”

To be clear Jungkook has always thought you were attractive but this was different. This wasn’t just him finding the bartender serving him drinks hot or the woman at the convenience store pretty. This was you dressing up for him in a pretty color while sitting pretty in his car and looking at him with your pretty eyes.

“Next time?” You laughed softly, sitting upright and trying not to seem affected, “Don’t make promises just yet. You might not be able to keep them.”

“I always keep my promises,” Jungkook said, diving over the small bridge that separated your neighborhood from the rest of the city.

You went quiet after that, looking out the window curiously. Usually you stick to your area, the bus fare to go shopping downtown or eat at a fancy restaurant wouldn’t be too bad but the time. On the bus it would be at least an hour long drive full of stops everywhere in between and you didn’t have the time to make it a round day trip. It was nice seeing all the city lights when most of your neighborhood is dark aside from the occasional street lamp.

You were pleasantly surprised when he pulled the car in front of a large building and a valet came to the doors, directing you both out of the car. Jungkook instructed the valet on something you didn’t care to hear as you looked around. It was obviously a hotel but with a large restaurant inside.

“Ready?” Jungkook asked, suddenly at your side with a soft hand on your waist and you let him lead you in.

You felt oddly out of place when you looked around at everyone else but Jungkook didn’t seem to care. He was significantly underdressed but that didn’t stop him from pulling attention without meaning to and it made you slightly more comfortable. The restaurant sat on the top floor of a large hotel with a beautiful view of the city and amazing interior as well, “Do you like this place?”

“I have never been here before,” Jungkook admitted as he helped pull your chair, “I’ll give you an answer after dinner.”

“You’ll decide once you’ve gotten food?” You asked playfully but he just shook his head. “I’ll decide when you do.”

You weren’t sure how to respond but something about the way he looked at you told you he was being serious. Has he always been this forward? You didn’t think so. Usually he asked you a couple things and that was it. Or maybe you didn’t think there was any more to it. Sure, sometimes you’d catch him looking from across the bar but you always assumed he just needed something. When he asked you out the other night you assumed it was on a whim but now you’re not so sure.

It was far from a problem but you weren’t sure how to take it. Something tells you Jungkook comes from a different world than you do. When the server came you ordered a drink and tried to focus on the menu. All the prices were high and you couldn’t find anything in your normal price range. There were a lot of good options but what were you willing to choose?

“So, when you think of an ideal type, who comes to mind?” Jungkook asked, picking around his plate. The two of you had talked about practically everything you could on a first date. He was a couple years older than you, worked at a banking firm, lived in the upper east luxury apartments, studied abroad, et cetera. He learned that you have two jobs and dropped out of school because it was too expensive and honestly…you thought you lost him then. You thought he was unimpressed and no longer interested judging by the look of disappointment in his face but then he asks you what your ideal type is?

“Hm, I don’t know,” You started awkwardly, feeling his gaze shift toward you and looked you in the eye waiting, “Well I would want someone honest… and loyal bu—“

You stopped yourself feeling embarrassment edge on, it was ironic of you to say that was your type when clearly the past men you’ve been with have been anything but. A light scoff left your lips as you laughed a little, “I don’t know.”

“That’s it? Shouldn’t that be expected?” Jungkook asked. He was very loyal to his partners in the past but those relationships have long since been over and hold no meaning to him. He didn’t even think he wanted to date—considering how bored he was when the Jimin set him on—but here he was having the time of life trying to get to know you.

“Alright, well what about you? Maybe I need an example answer,” You joked, trying to shift the attention off you but Jungkook didn’t hesitate.

“I want someone I can relax around?” Jungkook was honest, “Someone I want to introduce to people close to me and someone that makes me think about them all day.”

“How do you decide who that person is?” You asked, moving your hair off your shoulder as you ate.

Jungkook smiled, “I don’t know. I just feel it.”

You talked about random things here and there. He explained what exactly he did at the banking firm and you told him your aspirations to be a hair stylist when you were younger. He asked why you never pursued it and you told him financial issues which made the conversation slightly awkward but it never ended.

By the time you finished and Jungkook footed the rather expensive bill, you rode down the elevator peacefully and walked out the building. Once the valet brought the car back around, you were less nervous to be riding in it than earlier and sat comfortably.

“I hope you don’t mind but I got you something,” Jungkook said once he was seated, “I wanted to wait till after dinner and then I forgot it.”

He reached under his seat where he had placed a small box earlier. You sat beside him watching him feel around for it, “Oh you didn’t have to—“

“I wanted to,” Jungkook said, placing a small box on your lap as he drove onto the street, “Think of it as a thank you for coming out with me tonight.”

“It’s nice but… isn’t it too much?” You swallowed dryly, looking at the simple Cartier bracelet, scared to even touch it, “I don't know what to say, thank you?”

“Don’t think about it, I just… I liked it and I wanted to gift you something,” Jungkook said honestly. He liked giving gifts and yesterday he was shopping for a new watch with Jin and he ended up finding the bracelet instead. For some reason he thought of you and before he could stop himself he bought it. It was one of the simple ones, not that expensive at all so he hopes you don’t think he’s stingy with money or anything. He’ll get you something better the next time you see each other. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Do you need help getting it on?”

You nodded shyly, unsure if you should take the gift but would it be rude to turn it down? What did he expect you to do after? You don’t mean to compare but Taehyung would never give you something like this. The most he spent on you is when he helped you get a new flatscreen but even then he only paid for half of it. When the car stopped at a red light, he quickly shifted in his seat to reach you better. With a hand around your wrist he pulled you forward as he helped you with the clasp. He was quite particular with how it looked on you and made sure the pearl motif sat at the center of your wrist.

It didn’t go unnoticed how he held your hand now as the light turned green. You didn’t pull back and let his thumb graze over your soft knuckles, “Pretty.”

Confusion rendered you silent on the ride back. It’s not that you were ungrateful but you were skeptical. You’ve never met let alone gone out with a man like him and you had no idea what to make of this gift. Was he seriously giving it to you or did you have to do something to earn it? Was he interested in you or just bored? Would a man like him just give someone a thousand dollar bracelet for no reason?

“You can just park right here,” You mumbled quietly as you pointed to a spot in front of your building. He opened your door for you and looked up at the building. Earlier he missed how the street lamp flickered giving everything a ghostly shadow. You let him walk you up feeling slightly embarrassed by the appearance of the staircase and hall but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Thanks for everything, seriously,” You said as you stood at your front door. At some point his hand had found its way to yours again and was softly running his thumb against your knuckles, “Are you sure about the gift?”

“I don’t accept gifts back,” Jungkook laughed softly, “Besides, it looks better on you than it would me. I’m showing my gratitude for having you out tonight. I enjoy your company.”

“Good, I like talking to you too,” you smiled warmly and he couldn’t help but mirror it.

“So when can we go out again? What’s your schedule like this week?” Jungkook asked hopefully.

“So you’ll visit me or take me out?” You asked playfully, more forward than earlier and his smile grew.

“Both, perhaps?” He asked.

Now, you don’t usually do anything on the first date. There was a big ‘If’ about the possibly of going out with the person again but Jungkook has been better than you could’ve imagined. It doesn’t make sense why he’s single and interested in you of all people.

Before you could think of what to do, he was moving closer. His touch was soft but there was no denying the way his hand wandered up to your waist, pulling you into him gently. You wrapped an arm around his neck before you could overthink it and leaned onto your tiptoes. Jungkook smiled, his other hand cupping your chin and tilting your face up. His lips brushed against yours teasingly, taking a moment before pressing them together in a first kiss.

You both were nervous at first but it was like something inside you came to life and you kissed him with more intent. Jungkook welcomed it, smiling a little into the kiss as he pulled back to catch his breath.

“I should go inside,” You giggled softly, turning away feeling flustered.

A small sigh left his lips, holding you close to him, “I’ll call you.”

It took less than a week for Jungkook to reveal to his close friends who the mysterious person he’s been seeing was. He was not trying to keep you a secret at all but there was only so much he wanted to say to them all and it was the basics. You were a just nice girl he’s met and went on a date with, but even that was enough for all the interrogations to arise.

“So how far did you guys go?” Hoseok and his hyper sexual mind felt the need to ask, “Or were you a true gentleman and settled for a hug?”

“We kissed,” Jungkook said, licking his lips at the memory, dealing his own cards for their next round of poker, “I’m taking it slow as of now.”

“Why’s that? The gala is not too far, shouldn’t you be focused on who is attending with you?” Namjoon asked, ashing his cigarette in the tray to the left of him. Jungkook ignored half of what his friend said as he readied to play.

“Y/n seems very different from me and I just don’t want to scare her off just yet,” Jungkook said honestly, thinking back to your reaction when he gave you the bracelet. He, of course, never assumed you came from much money especially considering he knew where you worked and lived but it wasn’t a problem to him. He was more worried if you’d manage in his life with the people he’s close to. It’s something he often wonders when the possibility of a relationship comes to mind but usually this is weeks into dating. The two of you have barely gone on one date and for some reason he’s already envisioning the future and what it could look like.

“Holy shit, that’s like a thousand bucks,” Yeaun looked over the bracelet, “And he just gave it to you? Where can I find a guy like that?”

“I guess,” You said, shifting your eyes to Yoongi as if he had the answers. The two of you stood behind the bar while Yeaun sat at the counter. It was early in the evening and you’ve been since 2:00pm and ready for your shift to end. Your friend’s been here ‘studying’ for over an hour but she’s been too distracted listening to your date stories. The bar was empty aside from a couple stragglers who got off work early but nothing crazy and it put you at ease.

“Does he know about Taehyung?” Yoongi asked curiously.

“No, it was a first date. I didn't think I had to dish out all my problems so soon and scare him off,” You joked as you looked down at the bracelet, “Besides, who knows how long this will last.”

“Have you talked since then?” Yeaun asked, leaning against the counter with interest.

“A little, yeah. He works at a bank so he’s got long hours at the office so I don’t really expect him to reach out to me much,” You told them honestly, “And who knows, it might’ve just been a one time thing.”

You shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big deal but part of you wondered if he’d reach out for another date or not. He said he would but who knows. People make promises all the time.

“Ugh, but he sounds like a dream—a dream with money,” Yeaun pretended to swoon as she gathered her things and stuffed them into her book bag, “Alright, I’ve gotta go home and study, keep me updated though. Bye guys.”

You waved her off and turned to Yoongi as he polished some glasses. He gave you a small sigh, “I like the guy, he always tips well.”

As your shift came to an end and you left Yoongi to deal with the night people, you got on the bus to take your usual route home.

jungkook: will you be working tonight?

you: I just got off actually

jungkook: I wanted to see you :(

You read the message at least three times unable to think of a response.

jungkook: have you eaten? shall we get dinner?

Just as you hurried to type, your phone began to ring and a smile came to his face, “You really are impatient, giving me no time to answer.”

Jungkook smiled as he drove over the familiar bridge that closed the gap between you, “Sorry, I’m not used to waiting. What are you doing then?”

“I’m on the bus, a couple stops away from home,” You told him looking at the passing buildings and the way the sun had fully set now, “What time do you want to meet for dinner?”

“Now?” Jungkook asked, “I’m not too far from your place, I’ll wait—or better yet what’s the next stop and I’ll meet you.”

Jungkook’s Porsche looked strange parking at The bus stop waiting for you and you felt slightly embarrassed by your appearance. Compared to last time you were nowhere near as out together and it was clearly evident you’ve just gotten off work. Jungkook was in his office attire but he still managed to look good.

“If you had given me a little more time I would’ve gotten dressed up for you,” You said light heartedly as he greeted you with a hug and kiss on your cheek.

“But I like seeing you like this too, reminds me of that black skirt you wore the first night I met you,” Jungkook said, taking your hand in his, “So where’s the restaurant you were talking about?”

Something has begun to really sprout between the two of you. Part of it still feels superficial to an extent but that’s how it’s supposed to feel. You’re not supposed to jump into anything so fast…

Yes, you’ve been meeting up a lot more regularly but you still keep each other at a distance. When you meet it’s usually out and tonight Jungkook wanted to be somewhere comfortable with you. He understood you got off work at the bar late and the last thing you wanted to do was go out so he opted for another way he could see you.

“Can I come over instead?” He asked as he sat at the bar one night. It was late, Yoongi had shut the music off and the lights turned on giving everyone a hint that it was closing time. Jungkook had arrived a couple hours before midnight to keep you company. Now that you’re closing he knows there’s a chance the night would come to an end soon and it’s the last thing he wanted. He had a stressful day at work that involved a meeting with the CFO—his father, about some reports. It spiraled into a conversation about the gala and who he thinks Jungkook should go with.

He had wanted to tell his father then that he wasn’t interested in being set up on a date because he had you but he struggled saying it. He doesn’t know where the two of you stand but he wants to figure it out. Jungkook watched you wipe the counters as Yoongi counted registers and he even helped wipe down a few chairs for you as he waited for a response. If the people at the office or his friends saw him cleaning up after strangers they’d laugh in surprise. He wasn’t the type to get his hands dirty and that’s exactly what he’s doing just to be with you.

Usually you always changed the subject when he asked, or hinted at him to go somewhere else instead but it was so late nothing would be open. Taehyung would be asleep if he was home but that was very unlikely. It was the weekend and he was most likely with his friends getting drunk somewhere and looking for an after party. There’s a chance he wouldn’t come home at all so what excuse did you have to turn Jungkook down?

In the end, you gave in and once the bar was closed, Jungkook drove straight to your apartment. He climbed up the familiar stairs, walked down the familiar aisle and stood behind you as you unlocked the door, warning him about a possible mess. Now, you weren’t cruel. Jungkook wasn’t walking in completely blindsided by the idea that you had a roommate but you weren’t totally up front with him. He knew your roommate was a guy but he wasn’t so sure about the relationship between you two.

Taehyung was half-asleep on the couch and Jungkook looked at him with furrowed brows as he followed into your room. You sighed, “Sorry, my roommate’s here.”

“It’s fine,” Jungkook said with a shrug as he began to unbutton the cuff of his shirt so he could roll the sleeves up, “How do you know him again?”

He wanted to ask more but he had to be patient.

“Do you want me to be honest?” You asked nervously but he nodded his head and waited.

“He’s my ex boyfriend. There’s still over six months on our lease but we’ve been broken up for… I think as long as I’ve known you now. We’re stuck living together until the lease is up,” You confessed in a single breath, “He sleeps on the couch now.”

“Your ex boyfriend?” Jungkook looked at the closed door, imagining the man who slept on the other side of it and his chest tightened. Why didn’t he just move out or why didn’t you? Was it a money issue, no one to let you crash out their place?

“Yeah but don’t worry, we don’t talk at all,” You tried to reassure him but you could tell he was too busy in his head, “What are you thinking?”

“Is this you?” He asked, holding up a picture frame in hands and staring at who appeared to be you but years younger. A small smile played on his lips that made you feel flustered as you took the frame from him, “Yes, don’t look at it. I was in a phase.”

“I can tell,” he joked playfully, looking around for something new to take his attention. Admittedly your place was small and it seemed like you had everything that expressed you shoved into your small bedroom. He understood you lived with someone else but is that what it’s like? What in this room belonged to Taehyung? You once shared it so there had to be something and that didn’t sit right with him. He had no need to get jealous but it made his throat dry to think about.

“What? You didn’t have something you were obsessed with growing up?” You asked, sitting against your row of pillows as he took a seat on your armchair. There was a vase of orchids on your vanity and books surrounding him as he stayed back.

“I was hyper fixated on water polo as a kid,” He confessed randomly, “But then there was an accident with my horse and I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Wait, that’s kind of sad,” You sat straighter, “But water polo?”

“Yeah, I switched to rowing and tennis when I was in college,” Jungkook said, and you looked at him curiously. Even in his business attire you can tell he had a lean, muscular body and you couldn’t help but stare. With an awkward clear of your throat you looked away, “Would you like a drink?”

“I can’t, I have to make it home tonight,” Jungkook said with a sigh as he stared out the window to his side. It was late and he wanted to spend more alone time with you but he probably couldn’t.

“Already?” You asked patting the left side of your bed as if calling for him. He looked between you and the spot, heart beating fast and he thought about it.

“Oh, if you insist,” He watched the way you rolled your eyes playfully, and laid back in your bed a little more, “You know, for some reason I’m comfortable around you even though we still don’t know each other that well. I think you did something to me.”

“Like?” You asked with a hint of amusement.

“You’re easy to talk to and I’m not used to that,” Jungkook said, noticing the distance between you getting smaller, shoulders nearly brushing against each other, legs angled in and your hand right in his reach. He took it shyly, looking over the bracelet he gave you last time.

Jungkook was being honest now. He doesn’t understand how or why but once he met you, he felt good.

“You like me that much?” You smiled teasingly and he couldn’t help but smile too. In the beginning he always took you to be indifferent. You didn’t pay more attention to him than you needed to and clearly you had things going on in your life that stressed you out.

When you began talking to him he finally got a hint of interest in your part but he found you hard to read—he still does. You smile more often now and joke around, go out with him, but want more. If you’re closed off because of the relationship with the guy who slept outside the bedroom then he really can’t stand him.

“I do,” Jungkook smiled harder, leaning into you, “And I’ve been thinking about kissing you again.”

Alone in your bedroom with a guy who’s nice and handsome and charming and… overall dreamy made things hard to resist. You kissed him shyly, lips pressed against his and he felt himself sink into your bed even further. His hands found the belt loops of your jeans and he hooked a finger using it to pull on top of him. You both were still dressed in your work clothes but neither of you seemed to care.

He hugged your hips, soft lips hungry for more of your touch and his mind went blank. Your hands cupped his face and you didn’t shy away from his wandering hands that snuck under your plain black tee and felt along your spine. With your body pressed to his, you rolled onto your back with him following after you, never wanting to break apart.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, kissing heavily and hands roaming but never straying too far. He didn’t push you for more even when you felt the way you affected him. Instead he kept the pace mutual, made you feel good and cared for.

By the time your lips were too swollen and sore, you had to pull back. His breathing was heavy and his hair was a mess of tousled black hair. He looked more of a wreck than you did and you couldn’t help but laugh softly trying to fix the collar of his white button up.

“I’ve got a meeting in a few hours,” Jungkook mumbled against your skin as he checked the time on his watch. It was way past midnight and he had to be ready by 7:00am. The drive home was nearly a half hour and he hadn’t prepared himself that well. As much as he wants to stay in your bed he knew he had to go.

You whined softly, hugging him closer before easing off. You let him stand up and he tucked the part of his shirt that had slipped out and attempted to fix his hair. There was an obvious bulge in his slacks that he tried to ignore even when you looked so inviting. It would be so easy for him to fall back into bed and keep going but he had to be responsible. Sadly, responsibility came in the form of having self control and remembering he’s got work tomorrow.

“I’ll walk you out,” You said with a small sigh. It was late and you had to be up early for the morning shift so it was right to end things. You needed to get out of your jeans and into bed. The two of you left your room quietly. His hand was on your waist, following you blindly out with his shoes in his hands and a calm smile.

“I'll call you tomorrow,” Jungkook whispered his promise as you unlocked the front door. He stood in the brightly lit hallway now. The goodbye was sweet and he found himself lingering behind when you shut the door. He couldn’t make out the full conversation but your ex didn’t seem to have been sleeping at all.

“Who was that?” Taehyung asked, sounding tired or irritated. He was laying down but with the light from the hall shining in you can make out the shape of his open eyes.

“A friend,” You said blandly.

“Can you do me a favor and keep your friends out of here?” Taehyung asked bitterly, “It’s my apartment too. I’ve already given you the room, the least you can do is respect me enough to not bring guys over on my bed.”

He stood alone in his office, trying to take a break from the busy day he’s had. Back to back meetings, lunch with his father, endless paperwork, hearing Hoseok scold him about not going further with you, etc., he needed a break. His phone sat on his desk and it was taking everything inside him not to call you. He’s tried distracting himself with the view outside his windows but it wasn’t working.

“I’m just saying, what’s taking you so long? If you actually liked this girl wouldn’t you have gone for it?” Hoseok asked with a shrug of his shoulders, “She’s got you whipped and you haven’t even done anything, that’s crazy.”

“It’s not even like that, Y/n’s just…” Jungkook looked nervous like when he had a school crush and would get teased about it, “I wanted to—she lives with her ex.”

“Red flag,” Jimin chimed in from his corner of Jungkook’s office, “Why?”

“Because she still lives with her ex, obviously. There’s still something there or else she would’ve moved out by now don’t you think?” Jimin explained making Jungkook run his fingers through his hair anxiously.

“Maybe money’s tight. Y/n said their lease still has another six months,” Jungkook bit his lip.

“Help her pay to end it then, duh,” Hoseok said with a shrug, knowing money wasn’t a problem for him or his friends, “Free her from the shackles of past relationships.”

This time Jungkook didn’t say anything because he was too busy thinking about it. He could help you pay it off, maybe even find you a new place but would you want him to? You always seem so tired after working both jobs and although he hasn’t made it official, he doesn’t like seeing the person he’s dating stressed all the time. He could easily take the weight off your shoulders if you let him.

“Isn’t Jungkook’s problem that he hates dating women after his money? Why are you volunteering him to pay for some random girl’s rent?” Hoseok asked with a scoff, “The girl I set you up with would never, FYI.”

He rolled his eyes, sinking back into his chair, “I don’t care about that girl. I care about Y/n.”

“So make it official, offer her help, and take her to the gala. Boom!” Jimin clapped like he solved world hunger.

He was going to, he planned to at least, he was just thinking of how to do it. It should be something simple but for some reason he’s nervous to do it. Everyone has already been nagging him about his personal life and as much as he’d like to keep you to himself, part of him also wants to show you off. You’re not what he expected

When he was alone in his office, he spent his time thinking about what you could be doing right now and how badly he wanted to see you. All you’ve done is make out and he wants to do more but he’s also happy about the pace you’re taking things. It seems right. He’s not jumping to get into your pants and you’re not running to his pockets. He respects you and finds you too stunning to let go even if you lead different lives.

After work, he headed right to where he’d find you and you were talking with some college guys who ordered shots at the bar. They were in some university jackets and seemed perfectly content taking up your time.

“Are those for me?” Yoongi asked, stepping out from the walk-in fridge of alcohol. He pointed at what Jungkook was holding and it seemed to catch your attention too, finally making you look over at him. Your eyes softened, standing up as he got to the bar.

He held a large bouquet of orchids, various types of the flower, some pink, some white, a little bit of both, a hint of yellow. They looked pretty and he held them out to you as he responded to Yoongi, “Sorry, hyung. Maybe next time.”

“I didn’t know you were stopping in tonight,” You said, taking the flowers graciously. Now that you’re sort of seeing each other he hasn’t been stopping regularly. Usually he sees you in your free time and occasionally if he goes to the bar but it’s usually at the end when not many people are left and you’re about to close.

“I meant to call but I forgot, forgive me?” He asked with a teasing smile, eyes glazed over as he watched you, “I just wanted to ask you something.”

You didn’t hesitate to step out with him, alone in front of your job, clutching the bouquet in your hands.

“So, I’ve been kind of pushing it off because I’m not sure what you’ll think, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately and I can’t wait much longer to ask,” Jungkook started off with a nervous scoff, “And now that we’re out here and I’ve distracted you from work, it’s probably shitty timing but—“

“Jungkook,” You said, looking up at him, “What do you want to ask me?”

“Will you go out with me? I mean… I know we’ve gone on a few dates here and there but I don’t think to keep going with this without asking you for a relationship. I want to get to know you more and more and I don’t want to think about you possibly misreading my intentions and I just… really want to be your boyfriend,” Jungkook finished.

A smile spread on your lips as you leaned into him, one hand around his neck while the other held the bouquet from falling. His hands fell effortlessly on your waist, pulling you closer, feeling you nod your head against him, “Is this a yes?”

“Yes,” You kissed his cheek, “Orchids are my favorite also.”

“Really?” He asked feigning surprise, “I guess I was lucky picking them out.”

“Are you staying for a drink?” You asked pulling back despite his hold.

“I don’t think so, I’ve got another crazy day tomorrow and I’ve got some errands to run. Do you close tonight?” Jungkook asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “You work too much?”

“I work too much?” You asked with a laugh, “You’re the one with back to back meetings.”

It was oddly endearing seeing the way he pouted despite his tough exterior. He wore a black suit and his hair was combed back, driving his usual Porsche but then pouting at you rather cutely and delivering you your favorite flowers.

“You’re right, I’ll take a few days off and spend all my time with you,” Jungkook said playfully, “If you think I’m clingy now just you wait.”

“Okay, okay,” You pushed against his chest lightly, “I have to get back inside before Yoongi kills me. Thank you for the flowers.”

“Mhm,” Jungkook bit his lip, keeping you close to him still as he refused to let go of your hand, “Can I get a kiss before you go?”

You sighed, pretending to find it bothersome but let him pull you back. You kissed him goodbye with a promise to call him when you get home and went inside as he drove off.

The flowers looked pretty in the clear cylinder vase you fit them into once you got home that night. You ignored it when Taehyung slammed the door and set the flowers on your vanity, smiling a little to yourself as you got ready for bed.

It took a week for him to officially ask you to be his date for the event of the year. He wanted to appreciate the tranquility he had with you at least a little before he brought you to everyone close to him. He didn’t want your opinion about him changing but he also wanted to show you off finally. In the end, he asked you over dinner and you had no reason to turn him down.

You didn’t fully understand what he was inviting you to and the gift he left for you one day only left you more confused.

“Just try it on, baby,” Jungkook urged you on as he busied himself in your bedroom while you stared at the box on your bed, “I’m sorry I couldn’t find anything better at the last minute but you’ll look beautiful either way.”

He already thought you looked pretty with how you styled your hair and makeup, you just needed a pretty bustier gown with orchids to match. It was a vintage Dolce & Gabbana dress that accentuates your figure nicely. Your neck looked plane but he fixed that with a few gold pieces and rushed you out the room. Taehyung wasn’t home—not that either of you cared if he was—but if you could avoid him the better. You didn’t need him looking at you some type of way and you’re sure Jungkook could go without it too.

“I could’ve found something to wear, you didn’t have to,” You tried to say but it was clear he wasn’t listening.

“I wanted to,” Jungkook fixed the cuffs of his suit, checking the time on his watch. “We’ll be late if we don’t get going now.”

When he first told you about the charity gala, you weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe a few auctions, some guest speakers or small press but this was so much more than that. Hundreds of people filed into the large venue, chandeliers held high and disco balls spinning. Everyone wore suits and beautiful dresses who wore them more confidently than you did yours. There were performance acts happening all around you and a few people you’ve seen on television in attendance. Without meaning to, you leaned against Jungkook as he navigated through the seating and found your table.

“Look who’s finally decided to let us meet his girlfriend,” Someone said from the table as Jungkook searched around for his place card. Usually, he sat with his parents and his brother and his family but he started with his friends first. The others were busy speaking on stage and right now the guys seemed less intimidating.

“Y/n, this is Jimin, you’ll learn he never thinks before he speaks,” Jungkook joked, making you want to smile but unsure if you should.

“You clean up nicely for a waitress,” Someone else said and Jungkook looked up immediately. Hoseok was obviously joking—perhaps to impress the girl he’s been seeing and the one he set Jungkook up with for a date [who was surprisingly on Jin’s arm now]. One of the girls snickered, making your brows furrow.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Namjoon told him off, directing Jungkook to sit down, noticing how ready he was to speak up.

“You’re prettier than he said,” Namjoon told you with a polite smile. Jungkook’s hand rested on the back of your chair as he looked around for his parents before asking you, “Just ignore some of the stuff they say. I’ll handle it.”

“I’m not worried,” You admitted, sitting straighter as you looked at your name plaque on the dining set in front of you. He smiled down at you, “You are prettier than I first said.”

“So what’s it like busting tables, Y/n?” Some woman asked you and Jungkook turned, clearly annoyed. He couldn’t understand why Hoseok would bring the girl he went on a date with to the gala as Jin’s date instead. It didn’t make sense and once again his dear friend was bringing questionable guests.

“About as pleasant as your company,” You said with a smile, “Perhaps a bit more, I’d assume? I don’t know, I'm not a waitress.”

You were a bartender and a cashier, if this random woman is going to insult you could she at least be accurate? Either way, there’s nothing wrong with being in the service industry but judging by everyone around the table, they all look down it. You looked at Jungkook, in his designer suit, wearing the designer dress he bought you and feeling very obviously out of place.

“I’m gonna go to the washroom,” You whispered to him and concern flickered in his eyes. Your hand barely grazed his shoulder as you stood up and he placed his hand over it keeping you from leaving just yet.

“Everything okay?” He asked, not caring for anyone else at the table but you at the moment. You nodded with a gentle smile, “Yes, I’ll be right back.”

When you left the table it seemed like everyone was able to catch a proper breath, all looking at Jungkook as if he had something to say. He didn’t let you get too far out of his sight before he stood up too.

“Where are you going?” Jimin asked with an amused expression, “I want Y/n back, she’s cute.”

“I’m gonna find us better company,” Jungkook said as he looked at the women and Hoseok, “Sober company.”

“Come on man, we’re just messing around,” he said turning to Jin hoping for some help but Jin chose to stay out of it, “She’s great, honestly. Not what I expected.”

“Hobi,” one of the girls complained but Jungkook was taking his drink and leaving.

You tried to fix your appearance in the mirror but there wasn’t anything specific you could point to. There was just something that felt wrong and maybe it was being here at all. Maybe you’re moving too fast? You’ve already agreed to go out with him and you have strong feelings for him but if those are his friends… and these are the parties he attends… maybe you’re not cut out for it.

The women were flooded in designer and a sort of elegance you’re sure you didn’t possess and the others seemed just as luxurious. You work two jobs to keep a shitty roof over your head while you’re attending a ball in a dress worth more than what you make in a month. You might act like you’re not nervous but you’re anxious. It feels like you’re pretending to be comfortable. Do you deserve this sort of treatment from him? All he’s done since you met him is keep you company, shower you in gifts, listen you every word you said, and… brought you around those close to him but were you right for him?

He seemed too good for you.

“I was beginning to think you ran out on me,” Jungkook said with a chuckle as he watched you jump in surprise. He stood near the entrance to the washrooms and waited for you to come out for what felt like forever.

“You really are impatient,” You teased as he pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips, “Is everyone still at the table?”

“Probably,” Jungkook said, taking your hand in his and walking through the crowds, “But I’m sick of them, let’s do our own thing for now.”

Jungkook was as attentive as ever. He introduced you to anyone who came up to him and he looked genuinely happy to have you there by his side. You haven’t been seeing each other for long at all, but it feels right. At one point you reunited with his friends, except Jimin was off somewhere with Jin and the two girls. The rest welcomed you just fine and asked you questions about yourself. Sometimes Jungkook would say something about you that you had no idea he knew. Hoseok found it adorable how he spoke for you with a sense of pride or excitement. It was obvious to anyone who paid attention that Jungkook felt strongly for you and you for him. Although hesitant to let you in, you seemed to charm your way with his friends and it made him happy to see how well you fit in.

“Leaving already?” Namjoon asked when Jungkook made his rounds of farewell to everyone he knew.

“Yeah, we’re… tired,” Jungkook said but the smile on his face said otherwise, “And it’s late.”

“Hm,” Namjoon seemed amused as he looked down at the arm Jungkook had around your waist and how it ran along your hip, holding you close. The two of you looked like proper lovers on their honeymoon and he couldn’t help but laugh, knowing neither of you were close to tired—just ready to leave.

He smirked, “Have fun.”

“What did that mean?” You asked as Jungkook led you out but he just shrugged. Valet brought his car and you got in with him.

“Don’t know,” Jungkook said leaning over the middle consoled to kiss you, “Will you spend the night at my place?”

“I don’t have clothes,” You said, smiling at the way he seemed to deject, worrying at his bottom lip.

“I mean… we won’t really need tha—“

“Jungkook!” You hit his arm playfully, making him laugh. He drove to his place with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. He lived in a penthouse in the sky, at one of the most expensive apartments in the whole city. The entire ride up the elevator was filled with his rough hands holding you in his arms, telling you how beautiful you looked tonight.

“I can’t take too much credit,” You teased, arms around his neck as you went to the top floors, “You’re the one who picked out the dress.”

“It’s not about the dress,” Jungkook whispered, cupping your face in his hands, “It’s about the person wearing it.”

“And what about when I’m not wearing it?” You asked, stepping out of the elevator once it got to his floor. You walked ahead of him and he couldn’t help but look after you. Your hips swayed with each step, walking so effortlessly in a dress that accentuated your shape. It had his attention all night and he knew tonight was the night he’d have you. You were hard to resist but he was patient, he waited for the right timing to make sure what he felt was right and it was. He was so into you it was all he could think about.

“Y/n,” Jungkook called for you before you could skip too far from him. The two of you stood in the foyer now and he was taking your hand in his to keep you from wandering too far inside. His place was huge, the entrance alone had a level of class you didn’t expect. It was a two level penthouse with a grand staircase and pool on the balcony. Your heels created an echo that felt never endless and in the middle of the foyer was a rounded table with a small stack of mail and a large vase of orchids.

Now you feel bad always dragging him to your small bedroom in an apartment you shared with an ex boyfriend. It was something Jungkook never seemed bothered by—even when Taehyung would make a fuss about something—and that made you feel even more embarrassed.

You were too distracted to notice when he closed the space between you, hands on your waist as he pulled you against him.

“You’ve been handsy all night, y’know,” You teased him with a smile, turning in his arms to face him. He let his forehead lean against yours, and closed the space between your lips until you were kissing.

There was a hint of a smile into the kiss as he deepened it by dipping his head low, mouths moving in sync. Even with your heels, you couldn’t quite reach him and tried to lean upward.

Jungkook’s hands traced down your waist, falling to your hips and without pulling away, pulled you onto the table, sliding his mail to the floor. A light squeal left your lips, holding him tighter, “Jungkook.”

“I can’t help it,” He began to trail soft kisses down your neck, nibbling here and there to get a reaction out of you, “I’ve been good all the time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a cute and amused laugh that made him smile. One of the straps of your dress slipped down your shoulders and he hooked a finger into the thin fabric and pushed it back into spot. Jungkook didn’t hesitate to help you down from the table, not yet letting you go but walked toward the staircase “And I’ve got you all alone now. Nobody asking you for another round of drinks, or your… roommate, just you and I. I don’t think I can hold back any longer.”

With that being said, he guided you up the stairs taking you down a hallway toward the main bedroom. It was modern and dark with a wall of windows that overlooked the city lights. His bed was at the center with black sheets that he set you down and begins kissing you again.

Your hands ran down the front of his suit, pushed the jacket off and untucked it from his slacks. Every time you see him he’s dressed so nicely but you wanted to see what it looked like underneath. One time it had been late and last minute when he saw you and was dressed in a casual hoodie and sweats. You made out on your bed but never got far enough to take your clothes off. You know he’s muscular and lean but you needed to see it all.

Although your pace of undressing him was quick to your knowing, it wasn’t enough for him. He yanked at the buttons, pulling it off and your jaw nearly dropped.

"Tattoos?" You questioned with surprise, as he sat back on his haunches playing with the buckle of his belt. He unclipped the back of his silver watch, throwing it on the floor and pulled his belt fully out of the loops.

“Surprising?” He responded looking down at. Your dress was ruffled up around your waist and your legs looked smooth. You sat back on your hands to meet him halfway for another kiss and while his mouth was concentrated on yours and your tongues danced against each other, he slipped his hands down your back. Your dress had a lower back cut, barely held together by a ribbon that had been tempting him all night. How easy it would have been to undo it and kiss along your spine.

A soft gasp slipped past your lips and swallowed by his as he pushed the straps off your shoulder and let it pool around your breasts. He slipped it further down exposing more of yourself to him and he kissed down your neck. You were slowly fall back into his pillows with his mouth against your collarbone, guiding you to your back so he could take the dress off you.

He left wet kiss down your chest, hands tracing along your ribcage as you arched into him and your breasts fell and rose with each heavy breath you took. mouth left wet kisses down to your collarbone and between your breasts. You let out a sigh feeling his gentle touch and he cupped your soft mound, squeezing lightly before he brought his lips to your hardening bud.

“Is this good?” Jungkook asked almost shyly, tongue sneaking a touch on your nipple as his thumb swiped over it feeling it begin to stiffen. You could barely form words to respond when he repeated the actions a couple times.

"Jungko—ngh," you whined wriggling around a little for more. He looked up at you through a mess of hair and his teasing tongue flicked your nipple as his other hand groped the flesh of your left breast.

You touched along his back wanting to feel more of him pushing your breasts in his face and he drooled all over your boobs, sucking and licking your skin while you arched into him.

Once his tongue had grown sore, Jungkook moved along down your stomach pulling on it in hopes that he could get it off. With a small huff in annoyance, he sat back, looking down at your half naked body and tried to work out a way to take it off you. He raised your legs against his shoulders, sliding the flimsy fabric off and throwing it to the floor next to his shirt.

It didn’t go ignored the fact that you had been completely bare underneath, your pubic area exposed to him as you’ve gone all night with no panties and it was only now he realized.

“You had nothing under this entire time?” Jungkook asked, finally pulling his own pants down, not bothering to wait to get his briefs off and did them both at the same time. He barely gave you time to appreciate the veins leading down his V-line toward his hardened cock before he was leaning down to kiss you again, “If I would’ve known we would’ve never left your apartment.”

“Good thing I didn’t tell you then,” You said between gasps when he licked the shell of your ear, pressing his naked body against yours.

Tonight had been something he’s known for months and a yearly event that he needed to attend. If he had known and seriously kept you in bed you’re sure he would’ve heard an earful. You only chose to go bare so you wouldn’t get a panty line on the dress.

He must’ve liked your chest because he went back to your breasts hungrily latching onto a nipple again, choosing not to respond anymore as he got lost in your warmth.

Like earlier when he got the dress off, he hitched your right leg up until it was bent close to your stomach, exposing more of your wet pussy to his greedy eyes. Silky strings of arousal glazed over your folds making him run his tongue along his bottom lip. Jungkook was focused on your wet cunt, dragging a finger along the center where your juices puddled at your entrance. It was a wet, creamy sort of slick that coated his fingers and your clit.

You released a moan at stimulation, jaw going slack when Jungkook gripped your hips with his free hand and pressed you firmly to the bed. Making sure you wouldn’t squirm away, he dropped to his stomach, face between your lips as he went for a taste.

His lips were soft against your folds, eyes locked onto the sight of your puffy lips and let his tongue lick up the puddle of arousal. He practically sucked on it for a taste and left open mouth kisses on your cunt. You gripped the bed sheets tightly, legs threatening to shut but whenever you tried to squirm his head followed your movements.

Jungkook could barely breathe but it felt unnecessary as he nipped at your labia, sucking it into his mouth and letting your clit rut against the tip of his rounded nose. In all honesty, there was only one thing on his mind right now. He wanted to please you and make you feel good. He wanted to make you forget about any other guy and make you think of him and only him. His mouth closed over the stiffened clit suddenly and he began to lick and suck, feeling the outline of your slit get his chin wet like a dog lapping at water with thirst.

You had to be the sweetest thing to ever grace his tongue and it was making him lose his mind—aimlessly rutting his stiff cock against the bed.

Your head had fully tipped back, no longer paying attention to the pleasure he brought between your legs and sunk into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling moaning. Jungkook watched you succumb to what he gave you and he snaked a hand along your body, feeling the way your stomach caved in with deep breaths and settled a grip on your tits. His fingers were wet and he used the liquid to coat your nipples, rubbing them between fingers and quite literally tongue fucking you with your hips humping his face.

You were in ecstasy with his mouth slobbering all over your cunt. You couldn’t remember the last time you let someone touch you—pleasure you. It surely wasn’t with the ex you lived with. You stopped letting him in long before you broke up and even then he didn’t make you feel the way Jungkook did.

"Oh—" you moaned softly, hands in his

dark hair keeping him in place. He didn't say anything only guided you through an orgasm, feeling the way your legs shook and your breath hitched. Your clit twitched in his mouth and he tried to soothe the feeling with tender lips, tongue lapping at your release as you came down from your high.

Your eyes opened, looking right at the red tip of his cock, aching with need and pointing straight at you. He leaked with precum just from what he had done to you and he needed more. You tried to sit up on shaky legs, meeting him halfway for a messy tongue kiss, licking your arousal off his lips and some spit mixed into it. It was nasty but it made him grown with lust, especially when your hand snaked around his mushroom tip.

Jungkook dropped his forehead against your shoulder, staring down at your naked bodies and focusing on the hand you had on him. Your thumb was rubbing against the slit, smearing clear arousal around his head. His brows knitted together, a confused expression as you tried leaning back, managing to pull him into bed. It didn’t take long for him to get the hint and get on his back.

“Baby,” Jungkook tried to warn as you shifted to sit between his legs, leaning down to his stiff member. He was so close already and wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to handle before he had a chance to be inside you. A dry gasp left his lips as you went in without warning.

You flattened your tongue on the underside of his length, teasing a long lick from his base to the tip. Spit pooled in your mouth that you let drool out of your mouth and cover his tip, eyes on him the whole time. His eyes felt heavy but he refused to let them shut, wanting to see the way you took his cock into your mouth seductively.

A deep, throaty men left his lips as you swallowed as much of him as you could; never pulling your eyes off him and his head nearly tipped back with pleasure. Holding the base of his cock with one hand, you begin to bob your head setting a good pace, with your other hand on his muscular thigh.

Your eyes lock on the obvious muscles flexing under your touch, his abdomen more prominent than before and you eyed his tattoos curiously. Whatever you couldn’t fit into your mouth was jerked off by your free hand that would occasionally run a little lower to massage his scrotum.

You can tell he was close which left you with a sense of pride. Your nose pressed into his pubic bone, taking steady breaths as you flattened your tongue and relaxed your throat to fit whatever more you can. Jungkook panted feeling the throb of his cock as his tip hit the back of your throat.

You roughly swallow around him, suppressing a gag and resume to deep throat him.

"Fucking hell," he groaned tossing his head back in bliss, hand hiding his face as it scrunched together in pleasure. Moans were pouring out of his mouth, sounds muffled into his hand, "I'm so—close."

It hit him at once, hips nearly licking from how hard his muscles tightened with pleasure. His cock twitched warning a gag from you before he couldn’t take anymore. You didn’t pull away, swallowing what you could of his release.

Jungkook slowly comes down from his high, hand petting your hair. His eyes were hazy and his mouth dry. It felt like he couldn't move a muscle but he needed to feel your mouth on his. He could taste himself on you and with your aftertaste on his he wished to kiss more, pulling you onto his lap.

It was the best head he’s ever received yet his cock ached for more.

“Condom?” You asked, nipping at his ear lobe making his eyes roll. He didn’t bother to shift you off his lap as he blindly felt around his nightstand for protection.

He let you slide it onto his member, watching it bounce back up, too stiff to budge and held placed a hand at the base as you moved to straddle him.

The expression you made as you sank onto his length was utterly beautiful and you radiated a confidence in taking him that he hadn’t seen before. Every time he’d seen you has led up to this moment where you could finally be as intimate as you please and he wasn’t the only one jumping for the chance. He didn't push to move even if he really wanted to and instead let you adjust. He wanted this to be pleasurable to you too.

"Jungkook," you whined, hands flat on his chest making your tits perk up and he carefully shifted his hips, rolling them up to dig just a little deeper.

“That’s it baby,” he muttered under his breath, watching your hair fall forward as you tried to concentrate on his thrusts. You ground your hips against him and he watched your body shudder with pleasure. It was hypnotic the way you pulled him and he couldn’t help but lean upward, kissing one of your breasts as you rode his dick for the first time.

He groped at your ass, spreading the soft cheeks apart and rammed into you when you threw your head back with a whimper, "Feels good."

You threw your arms around him, suffocating him against your chest as he bounced you on his dick, moaning against your nipples and drooling. Jungkook's nail dug into your soft flesh as he lifted your hips up and down on his cock.

He felt stuck, unable to move his hips as much as he wanted to and with a low grunt, he rolled you onto your back, knees digging into the mattress as your legs wrapped around his waist, “Fuck, I can’t.”

You didn’t pay much attention to his words as Jungkook began to quite literally drop dick inside you, grinding his pelvis into you with each deep thrust and it felt nasty to be fucked this way.

A familiar ring of nerves clenching around his member as it sucked him into your folds. He wasn't going to last much longer either.

He hasn't slept with someone in months and it definitely didn't feel like this. He didn’t give it up to just anyone despite what reputation he might have, and it took him time to sleep with you. He had to feel intimate in other ways before he let himself feel the pleasure you brought him.

“Gonna cum for me?” He asked softly, kissing your jaw and hugging your waist as he dug your pussy out, feeling your nails claw at his back.

“Please,” you begged, snuggling into his neck and his chest tightened with want. He put more purpose into his thrusts, bringing you and himself so close to the edge that you would tip over any moment. You sounded too pretty begging for him to just ignore.

A wave of pleasure washed over you, skin rising with bumps as a shiver ran down your body. He held you tightly as you moaned in euphoria, coming undone once again. Jungkook couldn’t hold on much longer and your legs around him gave him no choice but to fuck the rest of length in you until he came into the condom.

You laid together for a moment, both shaking and softly petty each other as you came down. Jungkook’s fingers combed your hair back and you straightened your sore legs as you let him pull out.

You don’t remember much aside from the drowsiness and he cleaned you up better than you could’ve.

He lied back in bed, pulling the covers over your naked body and fell asleep in your arms.

Once the sun rose into the sky, sneaking into the bedroom through the blinds and waking you from a heavy sleep, you found yourself feeling sore. You attempted to stretch but Jungkook’s arm trapped you against him.

“What time is it?” You mumbled to yourself, looking down at your naked body feeling self conscious as you rolled onto your side to find your phone. It was somewhere out in the foyer with the rest of your things you’d forgotten.

The time on Jungkook’s alarm clock read ten minutes past the bus. You should’ve been on it and on your way to the cafe.

“Y/n,” Jungkook mumbled sleepily, sitting up a little to see what was holding your attention, “Back to sleep.”

“I’m going to be late to the cafe,” You said, attempting to get up but failing miserably once he pulled you back down.

“Who cares about that one, let’s sleep a little longer,” He said and although your heart raced, you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Don’t you have work today? We’ll both be late,” You tried to reason but your now clingy boyfriend wasn’t hearing any of it.

“I’m in line to be CFO, I can do whatever I want and today I’m choosing to spend as much time with you as possible,” Jungkook said arrogantly but it was so easy to look past when he kissed your palm affectionately.

“Not all of us are as lucky,” You sighed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips as you tried getting out of bed. Instead you just ended up underneath him.

His smile was mischievous, “So I’ve been thinking…”

“Yes?”

“We already barely have time to see each other,” Jungkook said with a small pout, “And you live so far with someone who doesn’t deserve to see you as often as he does…”

“Well, maybe you should come stay with me. I know you said Yeaun doesn’t have the space to let you move in with her and I really don’t want you stressing about rent or living with someone you don’t want to live with,” Jungkook told you, slowly rolling off you once he felt he had your attention, “So what do you say?”

“You live far,” You tried to say, sitting up and clutching the sheets to your front. You weren’t completely opposed to it but shocked nevertheless.

“That’s why I think you should quit at the cafe,” Jungkook said eagerly, “That way you could focus on just one job and have so much more free time. I’ll take you or get you a driver—a car?, whatever you need to get to the bar. I know you like working there but at least you wouldn’t be running back and forth between jobs. I live far but I’m asking you, will you move in with me?”

“I have to think about it,” you sighed, sinking further into bed and the thought of getting up to answer missed calls from your job made you want to hide under the covers. You really did not like working there. It was early hours, shitty pay, and rude people. At least at the bar it was nighttime and the people knew you. And it would be nice to no longer live with Taehyung…

Jungkook couldn’t help but smile, pulling you into his arms knowing you were seriously considering it, “… And if you ever decide you don’t want to be at the bar either… you’ll be with me and have all the time in the world to do what you want.”

“You’re offering too much,” You said playfully, hugging him lovingly, “I’ll really start to think about it.”

“Please, I could give you whatever you want if you just let me,” Jungkook says.

In some strange, unexplainable way, he fell for someone so unlike him. It was effortless and comforting to the point that nothing would bother him about it and all he wanted was to be with you. He could ignore everything else, or solve anything just to be with you.

It’s like you’re what he’s been looking for and he’s what you need—someone trusting, reliable and loving.

Ever since he saw you buying orchids at the convenience store, he can’t help but think of them when he thinks of you. You remind him of one.

Beautiful, charming, graceful. It didn’t matter if you had different upbringings or experiences, all he knows is you’re fit for him and he’s fit for you. He’ll show you things you’ve never seen, treat you to luxuries and care while you teach him more about yourself. Let him really get to know you and what makes you smile.

To do that, you have to let him in.

“So no work?” Jungkook asked hopefully making you roll your eyes, trying not to smile.

“I guess not,” You sighed, feeling him begin to smile against you and hurried to stop him, “But I should still go home.”

“To pack?”

“No, to shower and get dressed,” You corrected him, laughing at how he whined, “Well talk about it more later, last night was…”

“A lot?”

“You can say that”

::.

haven’t posted in forever and I needed to drop something for yall 😭I hope you enjoy it when it’s out and pls bear with me lol. idk if it’s good I’ve been working on it for too long to tell There’s definitely errors and questions yall might have so pls feel free to send it in inbox!

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