#and in reality they were made without legs and why would they

[nomoredying]

knockout

personal boxing trainer!sevika x actress!reader

tags: modern au, gym flirting, locker room incident™, eventual fingering. a/n: english is not my first language — please correct me if you find any mistakes, ty. sevika might refer to the reader as “stark”, that’s the last name i gave her cuz i don’t like «y/l/n»

you knew you were in trouble the moment you saw her.

when you first accepted the role of a girl who’ve mastered at box you didn’t fully process how hard it would be to achieve something that would let you fake it. reality hit you hard when you met sevika.

to be honest, you just expected a random muscular man who will motivate you with some bullshit and recommend certain protein bars. instead here she was, standing before you — a woman (which is already a win) who looked like she could lift you and your emotional baggage. the last one is much, much heavier.

sevika.

no introduction beyond. she wore a grey tank top, her dark hair pulled back carelessly, skin glowing under the lights. there was a scar running down her cheekbone — thin, old. her arms looked like they could split a tree in half. you tried not to stare.

you failed.

“is it an actress thing — wearing sunglasses indoors?”

you pushed them up into your hair, “something like that,” grinning.

there is only one word that could perfectly sum up your first day — pain.

you’ve done pilates, sure. you jogged occasionally. once played tennis for two months in a fit of motivation. but boxing was something else entirely. the gloves felt like bricks. your stance was off. your breath — gone in the first ten minutes. sevika did not coo or encourage, but she didn’t bark either. she simply watched, gave short corrections and moved your elbows without asking.

⚢ ⚢ ⚢

by the end of the third week, you had bruises on your ribs and a new favourite part of your day.

sevika wasn’t talkative. when you tried a little small talk, she shot you a glare. so you decided that you’ll do the talking for both of you. lucky for her you were a true yapper. 

she noticed things.

“you didn’t sleep,”

“you’re holding tension in your shoulders again,” 

“eat before you come next time. you get dizzy,”

yes, maybe she said those things in a way that made you think she did not care about you absolutely, but it meant she was looking. although, isn’t that part of her job? you’re also an overthinker.

but you still tried not to read too much into the way it felt like scoring a goal in a dream when you made sevika laugh – really laugh – because it was so rare.

one afternoon, after another long session, she sat beside you on a bench and handed you a cold bottle of water. you looked at her, flushed and half-dead.

“why are you doing this?” sevika asked with an unreadable face.

you raised an eyebrow. “for the film, which you already know. are you losing memories? did i drive you mad?” 

she rolled her eyes. “you didn’t need to go full method and you’re not exactly a fan.”

you stared at your hands. your knuckles were red. bruised. you smiled faintly.

“i didn’t want to fake it. i’ve faked a lot of things lately.” and then you just had to add a little joke. “and box fans would take me down if my left leg stood in the wrong way.”

sevika studied you for a long beat. then said, quietly:

“you’re better than you think.” 

shit.

⚢ ⚢ ⚢

you genuinely think you two have gotten along.

sure, when you showed up five minutes late with two coffees in your hand — apparently, sevika likes it sweeter — she would roll her eyes, arms crossed, already holding the gloves.

“stark,” she’d spit like it was a warning.

“i’m here, aren’t i?” you’d grin back.

the warmups were practically muscle memory. punch. block. step. reset. sevika’s hands on her shoulders, her hips, nudging her into form. she didn’t explain much — just said, “feel it. don’t think.”which, for you, was like saying “just stop breathing.”

but you were improving. the hits had weight now. you didn’t flinch every time sevika stepped close. unfortunately, you also had a habit of collapsing flat onto the mat the second they finished sparring.

and sevika hated that.

“you gonna nap every time you hit the floor?”

“yes,” you replied, lying spread-eagle, dramatically dead.

sevika tossed a towel at your face. “get up.”

“no. respect the process.”

“you’ve been lying there for ten minutes.” she was slightly annoyed. though sometimes you think that’s her factory settings.

“feels like three.”

“you’re using the mat as a mattress.”

“and you use sarcasm as a defence mechanism, so what?”

sevika blinked. then smirked, just a little. “smart mouth for someone who throws punches like barista.” 

you gasped. “take that back.”

“i won’t.”

“i’m deeply hurt.”

“good,” sevika said, turning away — but her shoulders shook with quiet laughter.

the teasing came too easy.

you said something dumb, sevika made a face. you stumbled on footwork, sevika groaned theatrically and muttered, “tragic,” 

“do you ever compliment me?” you asked one day, panting, gloves drooping.

“i said you didn’t suck last Friday.”

“that’s not a compliment.”

“think of it as one, then,”

surprisingly, you also managed to have simple, nice conversations. the silences between you two weren’t uncomfortable, but you liked talking to sevika. seems like she tolerated you. at least she answered your questions. well, most of them. for example, now you know that she was punched in the face outside the ring more than once and deserved. 

⚢ ⚢ ⚢

it was raining. you hadn’t expected it to pour — you rarely checked the forecast — and then stepped out of the gym just to sigh, because your car was in the shop so you either need to order a cab or run to the nearest subway.

“you taking a swim?” came sevika’s voice, already unlocking her car.

you squinted. “you drive?” a stupid question.

which is why sevika snorted. “no, i teleport. get in,”

her car was dark and mostly clean, except the mess of a boxing tape, takeout napkins and a lighter jammed in the cupholder. sevika drove with one hand, window down, her other arm draped casually out as she lit a cigarette.

“can you put it out?” you muttered, because you’ve been trying to quit for a while now and the smell didn’t help.

sevika turned her head slowly — and exhaled a lazy stream of smoke directly at you.

“i hate you,” you said flatly, glaring at her.

“no, you don’t,” she successfully ignored you, eyes on the road.

you insisted. “i do,”

“you don’t,” she insisted too.

you turned away, looking out the window, trying to hide your stupid smile. it didn’t take long enough until you looked at her again. at her nose, sharp jawline, focused eyes with dark eyeshadow around them. her hair. is it soft? 

you absolutely need to sketch her profile. and you also need to stop staring at people.

sevika chuckled low in her throat, flicked ash again, and then said, too casually: “you keep lookin’ at me like that, stark, I’m gonna have to pull over and ruin your whole day.”

the car was silent.

you blinked. “excuse me?”

“you heard me.”

you stared straight ahead. your ears were on fire. your hands, suddenly very aware of themselves, clenched around the seatbelt strap. sevika didn’t look at you. she just drove.

“god,” you muttered under her breath, “you are so full of yourself.”

sevika just smiled — cigarette between her lips, like sin incarnate.

when she finally got home after dropping you off at your place and lay down on her soft, beloved bed, sevika closed her eyes, sighing. why did she say that shit? 

she’s not sure. maybe she wanted you to finally quit with the staring. or maybe she just needs to get laid. though your little muttering did amuse her. you’re so easy to tease, how can she help it?

the one other thing she sometimes can’t help too is her curiosity. she didn’t care who you were outside the gym. rich people were always dramatic, and she’d trained worse. but—

she still searched up your name. 

thousands of results. red carpets. interviews. some viral tweets asking you to ruin them, fan edits. threads. apparently, you were a natural ginger and she have been thinking your hair was fake all this time. sevika wasn’t into cinema and yet she found herself scrolling films with you starring in them. 

ended up watching an indie dark psychological thriller about a woman spiralling without realising it. she watched it all in one sitting, beer forgotten beside her. everything around forgotten but you on the screen, acting your heart out. slowly unraveling. stunning, raw.

fucking hell.

⚢ ⚢ ⚢

meanwhile, you had nothing. no profile to stalk — you checked that on the first day. no feed to scroll. sevika might as well just have a flip phone. 

they had, however, exchanged numbers. briefly. just in case time of the session will change or anything like that. expectedly, she ignores you most of the time. expectedly, you text her even more.

did you ghost me or do you just text like a 50 y.o retired plumber [you, 18:40]

[sevika, 18:46] You text like a teenager, who spends all their time at home locked in their room

that’s rich coming from someone who sends one word responses like «k» and expects that to count as conversation [you, 18:48]

[sevika, 18:48] K

sometimes, you just need to give up. 

despite her low communication skills, sevika’s been actually quite helpful with some scenes in the script. you enjoy the way the sound of her voice changes when she explains a move your character made or why did she make it.

but one afternoon you regret your enthusiasm.

⚢ ⚢ ⚢

it was your last day of training, the film production would start just in a few days. you were nervous and you came early to ask about a scene in the film as if you two hadn’t discussed it dozens of times already. someone at the front waved her toward the back, “sevika’s probably in the coaches’ wing.”

big mistake.

you wandered into a room — plain, clean, quiet. then a door opened. steam rolled out. and there stood sevika.

completely naked. towel around her neck. skin wet. dripping. hair pushed back. entire body on display like some cruel, hyperreal statue.

you did not move.

sevika stared at you like really? “looking for something?”

you made a sound. like a squeak. like a wounded animal. then you spun and fled.

when she finally showed up at the ring with that smug little face of hers, you pointed your index finger at her, preventing anything she was about to say:

“no. no. you’re not allowed to say anything,”

sevika grinned, raising her hands in a surrender. 

that surrender did not last long. you were alone, the gym dark except for the lights above the ring. you were flustered, drinking water like it was your last meal. and still pissed about earlier. still flushed from remembering it. sevika leaned against the ropes, arms crossed, watching you.

“you done acting like you didn’t enjoy the show?” she said, slow and low.

you rolled your eyes. “you’re so funny,” stood up, eyes on the older woman. 

sevika looked at you like she was considering something — and a moment later, like she made a decision. she grabbed you by the jaw, pulling close. your mouths crashed. messy, hot, starved. 

“tell me,” sevika muttered between kisses, voice hoarse, “does that pretty mouth ever shut up, or do I have to stuff it with something?”

“fuck, you’re–“ whatever you wanted to say, it was forgotten the moment she started leaving wet kisses on your neck. 

you didn’t even notice how you found yourself pressed against the nearest wall by sevika. the only thing you could focus were her hands, taking your t-shirt off.

“we have to even the score, don’t you think?” sevika murmured, her fingers making your bra fall on the floor with a little click behind your back. 

you looked intoxicating. or at least that’s what her widened pupils told you.

sevika’s hand squeezed one of your bare breasts, soft gasp escaping your lips and immediately being swallowed by another hungry kiss. she couldn’t get enough. neither could you.

in fact, you wanted more.

“sevika,” you murmured, asking.

she grinned. “if you want me to touch you properly, you gotta ask properly too,” her hand teasingly tugged your sweats’ waistband.

“oh, don’t tease,” a hiss comes out, instead of pleading. “sevika!”

“tch,” sevika slid your sweatpants down. your panties had the same fate. “so demanding and so wet..” you closed your eyes, but she tilted your chin up. “eyes on me. i’ll ask you again — what do you want?”

“you. i want to feel you. i—“ seems like she was as eager as you were, because she immediately found your clit, rubbing it gently.

and then, maybe not so gently, her two fingers slipped into you. slowly, letting you get used to it.

all while her grey eyes stubbornly remained on yours, watching you as she fucks you. 

“beautiful,” sevika kissed you again, her thrusts getting harder and deeper.

“fuck. i can’t, i can’t,” you mumbled and your grip around her neck tightened. 

“do you want me to stop?” she teased, slowing down.

“no. don’t you dare,” your reply came immediately.

“then take it all like a good little girl you are,”

and you did. sevika made sure you did.

⚢ ⚢ ⚢

you didn’t see each other for months after that. the film was shot in another country so you buried yourself in production — long days, long nights, crying on set, laughing on set. 

“wow, you’re really convincing. have you really never done box before this?” someone would ask, surprised by your thorough preparation for the film which only took three months.

“no, i haven’t,” you’d chuckle back, thinking about dirty hands wrapping your wrists, a low voice saying hit harder.

then came the promo-tour and instead of spending most of your day on set throwing punches, you were busy doing interviews and press.

sevika trained other clients. fucked around a little. even fought in one underground match. but nobody stuck in her head like the ginger actress with the ridiculous smirk and adorable smile. how could you not when your face was everywhere? it wouldn’t be if she didn’t purposely search your name in browser which was her only source of media, but oh well.

you invited her to the premiere. the first thing you did when you got the chance.

[you, 14:16] i got you tickets. if you don’t show up i’ll know it’s because you’re scared of seeing me breathtakingly beautiful on the red carpet

I’ve seen you naked, Stark [sevika, 14:32]

[you, 14:40] not like this you haven’t

[you, 14:42] come

and so she did. 

you found her at the afterparty, smoking. of course.

“you came,” you said, biting back your smile, your eyes greedily taking her in. all of her.

her answer was simple. “well, you asked,” 

“you cut your hair. i like it,” you finally let your lips curl into a wide smile. 

“you were right,” sevika said, surprisingly gentle.

“about what?”

“breathtakingly beautiful,” low and rough.

[pointlessjey]

Whisper to me your shrimp secrets (shrimp design courtesy of @earthworms-worm )

[ozzgin]

Monster Dating Show

Do you have a thing for humans? Have you always dreamed of seeing one with your very own eyes? Now is your chance! We’ve just made the impossible achievable, turned fiction into reality: a genuine human is waiting for you!

You cross your legs and tap your arm nervously, eyeing the clock on the wall. In a few moments, you will be entering the grand stage.

Surely you must've skipped some steps. Most people start with dating apps, or smile particularly long at the barista signing their coffee cup. They don't just...star in a live show.

You never expected to be part of this nonsense, either. One day, you woke up with an invitation in your mail, asking you to be a bachelor for a new TV series. Why you, of all people? You're just an average person, living the average life. Perhaps that's exactly it, you thought at the time. You're more relatable to the audience.

Everything has been vague, shrouded in mystery. This should've convinced you to turn around, but the intrigue was too great: would you be matched with others? What kind of people were going participate? Where was this going to be aired, even? The channel they named was nowhere to be found. You've scoured the Internet, searching for CreatureTV, with no results.

Finally, you hear the ring, signaling your entrance. The grand doors open, and you're briefly blinded by the flood of spotlights. As your eyes accustom to the scene, you cannot help the silent gasp escaping your mouth.

Behind the stands, monstrous creatures and unholy beasts soar all the way to the tall ceilings. Disheveled werewolves, alien aberrations, eldritch horrors; tentacles slither across the floor, claws dig into the neatly decorated barriers.

"Could it be?" one monster remarks, fat strings of drool pouring out of its fanged mouth.

"A human! It truly is a human!"

You can only stare back in terror at the hundreds of eyes hungrily devouring you. As you unconsciously take a step back, the doors slam shut, nonchalant to your growing confusion.

"Fellas, take a step back!" the host shouts, slapping his scaly hand against the table. "It's a fragile one, you see? We don't want any accidents."

He takes a moment to clear his throat, then continues:

"As promised, this is the human you will be competing for. It's up to you to win (Y/N)'s heart. You already know the rules, I'm certain"

He glances at the camera, then at his watch.

"Without further ado, the courting begins...now."

[Monster Dating Show Series]

[snoopyracing]

champagne coast — ln4

pairing: lando norris x reader word count: 19k warnings: cursing and alcohol use includes: friends to lovers, summer!lando, mutual pining, fluff, and a little angst summary: when lando and you spend summer break together you don't expect italy to hold such a special place in your heart.... or lando and you go on vacation and everyone thinks you're a couple. playlist for the fic: spotify | apple music

masterlist

─── ༺❀༻ ───

It was the Monday before the Belgium Grand Prix when Lando asked – what are you doing for summer break?

The sun had started to set over the coast, its golden reflection rippling across the water and onto the balcony of Lando’s Monaco apartment. The same balcony that the two of you currently resided on, choosing to share the wicker couch instead of one of you sitting in one of the empty chairs.

You were sat sideways on the couch with your legs crossed, your view consisting more of Lando than the picturesque sunset over the sea. A cheap bottle of pink moscato, which was your favorite, was sitting on the table where Lando had his feet propped up.

He’d always complain about how sweet it was, but then drink more of it than you. In all reality, he’d actually grown to love it because of you, but he’d never tell you that. He’d only been able to find it at one place in Monaco, so when he knew you were coming to visit he always made sure to have a couple bottles on hand and maybe a bottle for himself when he was missing you.

Your eyes met his as you processed his question. This right now was your summer vacation. He surely knew that, right? “Summer break? I don’t have a summer break like you do, Lando.” It was true, you had barely managed to get this week off from work to be able to go to Belgium, let alone have a month off. “I figured me being here for a couple days then going to Belgium would be my vacation.”

A disapproving sigh escapes past his lips as he speaks. “That is not a vacation.”

“Well it sure as hell beats being stuck at an office in London.”

He downed the remainder of the wine in his glass and fully turned his body towards you. His arm resting across the back of the couch, his fingers nearly touching you. “I think you should come with me on vacation.”

You stifle a groan by taking a drink of your wine. “Lando, you know I don’t do Ibiza. It's not my kind of place, especially this time of year.” It was a beautiful place no doubt, but the big party scene was not your favorite. And the couple times you had gone with Lando and your shared friend group it was so chaotic and you had a hangover that lasted for what seemed like a week. So no– Ibiza and you weren’t the best of friends.

“Who said anything about Ibiza?” He’s got a smirk toying at the corners of his lips, you can tell by the way his upper lip twitches slightly. Not that you stare at his lips that much to be able to notice that kind of thing.

“Lando Norris not going to Ibiza during his summer break? Should I alert the press? Did you hit your head? Are you running a fever?” You lean forward to check his temperature, but he playfully swatted away your hand with a giggle before you could get close enough. “Have you broken the news to Fewt-”

That smirk had fully developed across his face as he cut you off. “Who said anything about Max?”

Now you really thought that he’d bumped his head or was slightly tipsy already. You cocked an eyebrow at him in question. “Where are you going then? Especially without Max?”

Lando leaned back, the wicker creaking beneath him, but his eyes were still trained on you. Golden hour had made them even more blue, resembling the crystal blue water that was just a short walk away. “I’m going wherever you want to go.”

“Lando.”

“Y/N.” He’s the one to cock an eyebrow now.

“I can’t go with you.”

His smirk had turned into a pout and he knew how to work those big blue eyes, especially on you. “Why not? Wherever you want to go– we will go. Not many people get that opportunity Y/N.”

You go to take another drink and realize your glass is empty, but before you can reach for the bottle Lando’s already got it in his hands, reaching over slightly to pour you another glass. “Who all is going then if Max isn’t going?”

He sets the bottle back down on the table, hesitating for a moment before speaking. You two are close, probably the closest friend he has compared to Max, but he worries that you won’t be up for what he’s about to suggest. “It would just be me and you.”

You feel your cheeks get hot at his proposal, but you shake it off, blaming it on the wine.

As much as the idea of Lando and you going on a trip together sounds amazing, you just don’t think you can make it work. You live a normal life and being able to just go on lavish trips at the drop of a hat is not something you get to experience, no matter how much Lando wants you to or you would like to.

“I would love to Lan, but I don't think I could get the time off again.” Your finger nervously circles the rim of the wine glass as you contemplate even bringing your other reason up. Mainly because you know what his answer will be, but against your better judgment you take another swig of the wine as liquid courage before telling him the embarrassing truth. “I also just can’t afford it.”

And without skipping a beat he blurts out. “I’ll pay.” You’re immediately shaking your head no, but before you can verbally deny his offer he’s speaking again “Seriously Y/N. I will pay. It’s not a big deal.”

Except him paying your way for this trip is a big deal. Just how it’s a big deal everytime you come and visit him in Monaco and he insists that you don’t spend a dime while you’re here. It’s bad enough that you stay at his place, let alone have him pay for your dinner every night. Or how he is always offering to fly you out to races on your free weekends. Or insisting that the random gifts he gives you don’t cost that much, like you can’t read the designer labels on the boxes or labels.

It makes you feel bad that you can’t offer the same back to him. The constant worry that he might think you are using him for his money makes your stomach hurt because it’s the last thing you’d ever do. He’s one of the most giving and kindest people you know and to be able to call him your best friend is something you treasure. And you truly hope he knows how much you appreciate everything he does for you, but how could he not when you tell him every chance you get.

“Lando, really I cannot let you pay for me to go on vacation. It’s one thing to let me crash at your apartment and for you to get me passes to races, which I appreciate more than you will ever know. But I draw the line at a whole vacation. I don’t want to seem like a freeloader who is using you, that’s honestly the la-”

“Oh my god will you just let me spoil you!” Lando had enough of your endless rambling. Your need to always try and decline his gifts or offerings until he convinces you that you are worthy of them drives him crazy. To Lando there isn’t a person on Earth who deserves everything and more than you. And the fact that he can afford to give you anything you’d ever want tickles him pink. Hell if it was possible, he’d buy you the whole damn universe, even if you hadn’t asked for it.

“I hate that you think– that I would think you’re using me. Never in a million years would I think that. You mean a lot to me Y/N, truly. You’re one the most important people in my life and you deserve everything and more that I give you. If I thought you were using me, I would not be asking you to go on vacation with me, believe me. I love having you around and with us not seeing each other like we used to, I figured a trip with just the two of us would be nice.”

He pauses for a moment as he scoots a little closer to you on the couch, your legs touching as the glow from the sun envelopes around you two. “Now please don’t try and worm your way out of this trip. I’ve missed you so much and if you don’t end up going I think you’re just gonna have to move in with me.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics, but try not to let his heartfelt words get to your head. “How would I even get the time off work again? Tell them ‘Oh my famous F1 driver best friend wants to take me on a trip. Can I please have some more time off?’ I don’t think that would work.”

“Well I think it would work. Especially if you add in that I’m super hot.”

The giggles that come from you lets you know that you’ve drank your fair share of wine for the evening. “Oh I don’t think they would ever tell me no If I added that in.”

“If they do say no then just quit and I’ll get you a job somehow with McLaren or Quadrant or something. I just really want to go on this trip with you.”

You aren’t sure if it's the wine in your system or the fact that you want nothing more right now than to spend a week with Lando in some beautiful country, without a care in the world. But you ignore every responsible and logical part of you and tell him what he wants to hear.

“Alright. So where are we going then?”

His eyes light up and the smile that spreads across his face is comparable to that first win smile. “That’s all up to you baby.”

Both of your hearts skip a beat at the term of endearment that came from him. His because he can’t believe he let it slip and yours because you can’t believe he called you that so easily. But you both ignore it and you focus on the one place you’d had on your mind since he mentioned taking a trip.

“Italy?” You suggest with a hopeful smile on your face.

He fills up his glass with the last of the fruit juice like wine and holds it up towards you, your glasses clinking together in a toast. “Italy it is then.”

─── ༺❀༻ ───

Six days later an email notification pops up on your phone as you’re sitting in McLaren’s hospitality, talking with Lando’s Mom. You glance at who it’s from, not wanting to be rude and get on your phone mid conversation, but when you see your boss’s contact you can’t help but open it. “I’m sorry, it’s from work.” Cisca waved you off, the conversation had only consisted of why they couldn’t stock better snacks in hospitality, and she knew if work was emailing you on a Sunday it had to be important.

You had emailed them Monday night requesting the time off and when they hadn’t responded by Friday you figured they were denying it. Or firing you for requesting more time off while currently being on a vacation. So to be getting this email on a Sunday had you worried, but as your eyes scanned the email you couldn’t hold back the excitement. By some higher power unbestowed to you, they had granted you the time off.

“Never seen someone so excited over an email from work.” Cisca teased.

“Yeah. Honestly thought I was getting fired, but they approved my time off for the Italy trip Lando and I are taking.” You leaned back in the chair, relief finally washing over you.

“Just the two of you?” Cisca had her suspicions about her son’s feelings towards you and your feelings towards him. She’d secretly hoped the two of you would end up together the first time she met you years ago. She honestly thought you were his girlfriend that day and was surprised when he introduced you as his friend. Then she thought maybe he was hiding your relationship because she had never known her son to bring around a female friend like he had you.

You had attended family dinners, a couple holidays, races, and so many other things that just didn’t seem normal to bring a friend to. They had become so accustomed to you being around that when he finally said that he was bringing home his girlfriend for everyone to meet and you didn’t walk through the door— everyone was a little shell shocked. The relationship didn’t last long and she had her theories as to why. To Cisca there was just no way the two of you didn’t have feelings for eachother, she could see it plain as day, and it drove her crazy that the two of you didn’t see it.

“Yeah. At first I thought he was asking me to go to Ibiza again with everyone and you know me, it’s not my thing. But then he said we could go anywhere I wanted and that it was just me and him, so I chose Italy.” You gathered your things, eager to tell Lando the good news before race time. “You raised a good man, Cisca. I couldn’t ask for a better person in my life than him.”

There’s a smile on her face as she watches you talk about Lando, how your smile never falters and how that twinkle in your eye seems to get brighter the more you talk about him. “Thank you honey. You had better go tell him, hadn’t you?”

“I’ll be back!”

Thankfully Lando’s not that hard to find, he’s in the garage looking over some data on the monitors with Will when you spot him. You stand back out of the way, waiting until he’s done, but as soon as he turns to walk away you’re racing towards him. Your arms flinging around him from behind and you can feel him tense under you, but when he hears your laughter his muscles relax.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Lando asks as he turns around to face you, his hands lingering on your hips.

“Hmmm. It may have something to do with work approving my time off.”

That same smile from the other night finds its way onto his face and he’s pulling you into his arms, the two of you swaying back and forth as he nuzzles his head into your neck. “I knew they would approve it, it was meant to be.” His voice tickles your neck as he speaks causing a giggle to escape past your lips.

“Can’t believe we get to spend a week together in Italy.” You state as he releases you from his grip.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, still not sure that he wouldn’t rather be going to Ibiza with his friends.”You’re sure you’re not gonna miss Ibiza?”

His fingers toy with the hem of your shirt as he speaks– his blue eyes boring into yours. “I’d miss you more if I went.” And there isn’t a single ounce of doubt in his words. If he ended up going to Ibiza without you, he’d be at a club wondering what you were doing. Eventually downing one too many shots to try and numb that annoying ache in his chest that forms when you aren’t around. The one that even with you around this week, he had felt occasionally at the idea of you not being able to go to Italy.

The idea of him spending his summer break back in England had crossed his mind a couple times, especially if that meant he got to spend time with you. Luckily though fate was on his side today and he wouldn’t have to deal with that ache for the foreseeable future.

You can feel the slight blush on your cheeks as you process what Lando had said to you and you pray he doesn’t notice it. Just him simply saying he’d miss you if he went to Ibiza should not have you blushing, but here recently it seemed like that was all he could do was make you blush.

A familiar Australian accent hits your ears and around the corner comes Oscar, his hand clamping down on Lando’s shoulder as he comes up behind him. “Y/N. Haven’t seen you in awhile.” His bunny teeth showing as he flashes you a smile.

Your mouth barely opens to speak before Lando’s speaking for you. “I know. She’s been too busy working back in London to come see her favorite person.”

“I’m really such a horrible friend. I’m so sorry Oscar, I really should make more time to see you. In fact, how’s Australia this time of year? I think I might come visit you.” The playful smirk on your face and Oscar’s laugh does nothing to tell Lando that you’re just joking and like a little kid he’s got his arms crossed across his chest with a slight pout on his face.

“Um. I think I’m your favorite person Y/N. Plus you can’t even go to Australia because we are going to Italy.”

Oscar and you can’t help but laugh at Lando’s dramatics, but Oscar wants to tease Lando even further. He knows how his older teammate feels about you, even if Lando won’t give the idea any time of day when Oscar brings it up. Lando had confided in Oscar about his idea to take you on a trip, but Oscar didn’t think he’d actually go through with it. “Italy? Who’s all going? Maybe Lily and I could tag along?”

Lando’s eyes widen at Oscar’s suggestion, mainly because he knows you’d jump at any opportunity to spend time with Lily and this trip was meant to be just for the two of you. “It’s just gonna be me and Y/N…” He trials off, trying to figure out how to nicely tell Oscar that he can’t come.

“There's a month between Singapore and Austin. We should all plan something for then.” You chime in. As much as you would love to spend time with Oscar and Lily, you really want to have this trip just be Lando and you.

Lando’s surprised at you turning down Oscar’s suggestion, but smiles and nods towards Oscar, agreeing with your idea. “Yeah that sounds like a good idea.” Oscar states, a small smirk on his face as he eyes the two of you, fully knowing that you’ll come back from Italy together. And if you don’t Oscar thinks he may have to knock some sense into his teammate.

The driver’s parade was set to start soon, so you tell Oscar you’ll see him around and give Lando a hug, knowing you won’t see him again until after the race. “I’ll see you later, yeah? Be safe and good luck.”

Lando’s grip on you lingers, not wanting to fully let you go just yet, but when they get the final warning that it’s time to go he reluctantly frees you. A small frown on his face as he heads towards the track and you go back to hospitality.

The two McLaren drivers stood side by side on the flatbed of the moving truck, smiles on their faces as they waved at the fans in the grandstands. “Never seen two friends like you and Y/N go on a trip together– alone.” Oscar’s voice is low, there’s an interview going on to his left, but he’s loud enough that Lando can hear him.

Lando keeps looking straight forward as he speaks. “Don’t know what you mean by that.”

“I think you fully know what I mean.”

Max, who was on the other side of Lando, had been eavesdropping the whole time, and couldn’t help but put his two cents in. “If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about. I just want to say, do us all a favor and finally tell her how you feel.”

Lando shook his head at the two drivers. You two were just very close best friends, there wasn’t anything he needed to admit to you. It was just a trip that two best friends were going on and there was nothing more to it– right?

─── ༺❀༻ ───

A week and a half later your plane touches down in Naples and even though the flight from London is only around three hours you want nothing more than to just get to the hotel and relax.

The Uber ride from the airport to the hotel thankfully doesn’t take long and you have no issue with sitting down in the lobby of the hotel with all the luggage while Lando checks you two in. You do notice that it’s taking quite a long time for Lando to check in and as you glance up from your phone towards the reception desk you see him talking with the worker and showing her something on his phone. Then with a sigh and a shake of his head he turns on his heel back towards you.

“Everything alright?” You ask.

He slips his phone back into his pocket and grabs his suitcase. “I booked us a two bedroom suite and they told me that all they have available is a one bedroom. Even though I showed them the booking on my phone, someone is already in it. So, I’ll just take the couch and you can have the bed.”

This place was fancy, and Lando had undoubtedly paid a pretty penny for the two nights that you were staying here. You would have thought they would have comped the room or something for their mistake. But by the displeased look on his face it didn’t seem they offered him anything but a sorry for the inconvenience.

Even with the hotel screwing up the room, the one you end up with is amazing and as you enter the room your jaw drops slightly at it. You set your bags down and explore the room further, taking in all the beautiful artwork on the walls and the natural light streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows. You enter a door to your left and it’s the bedroom, which is even better than the main room, mainly because of the huge balcony that overlooks the sea.

There’s a gentle breeze in the air as you lean against the railing, taking in the view and the hustle and bustle from the surrounding area.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Lando’s voice makes you jump, you were so lost in your own little world you didn’t even hear him come out onto the balcony. You nod your head in agreement as he slots himself beside you, mimicking your actions of leaning on the railing. “And it’s not even the best part of our trip.”

“You know you didn’t have to get such a nice room, we are only in Naples for two days.” As much as you try not to feel guilty about him paying for all of this, you do.

“And what did I say a couple weeks ago?”

A groan emits from you as you remember his words to you in Monaco. “You said to let you spoil me.”

“Exactly. I just want you to enjoy yourself and stop worrying about how much everything costs. We are here to relax and have fun, which means figuring out what we want to do tonight.”

You ponder your endless options and all you really want to do is sit on this balcony and enjoy the view, but your stomach growling tells you maybe dinner would be a good idea first. “We are in Italy– how about getting some pizza and then just come back here and relax?” Lando agrees and while you’re freshening up he looks up good pizza places within walking distance.

You two are just about ready to leave when there's a knock on the door, followed by room service!

A confused look is shared between you two, but when Lando looks through the peephole there stands a worker with a room service cart. He opens the door and is greeted with a smile from the employee.

“From the hotel as an apology about the room.” The employee hands Lando an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne nestled in it. “Have a nice rest of your stay.”

Lando looks back at you with an amused look on his face as the guy quickly leaves, the wheels of the cart squeaking as he hurries down the hall. “Well, we have something to drink on the balcony later.” Lando states as he sets the bucket down on the coffee table.

“Champagne and pizza? No thanks.” You see there’s a card attached to the bottle and as you open the envelope and read the words written, your cheeks turn scarlet.

“What does it say?” Lando questions, moving to stand behind you so he can read it too. His eyes scan the letter and he soon finds himself in the same state as you. He clears his throat as he steps back, suddenly feeling too close to you at the moment.

to the happy couple,

we are so deeply sorry about the mix up with rooms and we hope you can accept our apologies. we’ve sent a bottle of the finest champagne that you can get in naples and have comped any room service you may order during your stay. as always if you need anything please don’t hesitate to call the front desk and once again we sincerely apologize for our mistake. we hope you enjoy your stay here and the city of naples.

The letter isn’t spoken about, actually what you two were addressed as isn’t spoken about, but you both agree that their actions were nice. The walk to the pizza place is quiet, the both of you occasionally pointing out things that you think are interesting or pretty, but both of your minds are preoccupied with being mistaken for a couple. Anyone else would have laughed it off, but clearly not the two of you.

By the time you’re back at the hotel and sat on the balcony with the pizza and champagne your conversation had returned to normal. You teasing Lando about not even drinking the glass he had poured for himself and him complaining about you insisting that you get a pizza that has peppers on it.

“You know what would make this evening even better?” The pizza is long gone and the two of you are sat admiring the painting in the sky left behind from the sun.

“Some pink moscato?” There’s a grin on his face as he says it. If there’s one thing he knows you love, it’s a glass of pink moscato on a balcony with a view.

You try to hide the smile on your face as you glance over at him, but he’s caught you. “You know me too well Norris.”

“Should’ve told that employee that we wanted a ten dollar bottle of wine instead of that champagne.” Lando jokes.

“Thought you didn’t like it? That it was too sweet?”

He shuffles slightly in his seat, fully knowing that you’d caught on to his facade. “I may have grown to love it.” He admits quietly.

You’d known for a while, but hearing him say it was much more satisfying. “Yeah. Kinda figured it out last year when you started drinking more of it than me.”

Nighttime draws near and once you start yawning, so does Lando, and after the fourth round of yawning Lando states that it’s time for bed. The subject the two of you hadn’t discussed any further than what was said in the lobby earlier. The guilt started to eat at you as you brushed your teeth, he’d invited you and is paying for everything and he doesn’t even get to sleep in a bed? What kind of friend were you?

Lando was making the couch up as you walked out of the bathroom and for this being a luxury hotel that couch looked stiff and seemed to be more for show than actual comfort. He already had a bad back and it looked like sleeping on that couch was going to have him trying to find a chiropractor tomorrow instead of sightseeing. “Lan. You take the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

He doesn’t even look back at you, still occupied with trying to make the couch somewhat comfortable. “No. I’ll be fine. You take the bed.”

“Lando.”

“Y/N.”

“Lando, look at me.” You knew he wasn’t going to budge with the whole couch thing, so you thought of the next best thing. The two of you sharing the bed. It was plenty big and truly it shouldn’t be that big of a deal if you two shared it. You were grown adults and bestfriends, no one should have to sleep on the couch.

His focus tears away from the couch and over to you, who’s already in bed and under the covers. “Look at how big this bed is.” Your body extends over to the other side trying to show him just how big the bed is. “Just sleep in the bed with me, there is plenty of room.”

Your offer takes him by surprise and he stills for a moment, he’d love nothing more than to climb into that bed right now, but a part of his brain is telling him not to. And he’s about ready to tell you no once again until he makes eye contact with you. Those damn eyes of yours could be used in interrogation rooms across the world, one look into them and he’s crumbling like a poorly built sandcastle. The gentle pat on the empty side of the bed is what flattens the sandcastle and he’s mumbling out an okay before sliding under the sheets next to you.

The two of you don’t know what to do for a moment, both still and flat on your backs under the sheets, like if you moved an inch the gremlin under the bed was going to get you. But eventually Lando turns on his side, mumbling out a goodnight as he pulls the comforter closer to him. You take his actions as a sign for you to roll over too and you figured that falling asleep wouldn’t be an issue after all the yawning earlier, but you were wrong. You tried counting sheep, tried laying on your back, tried anything you could think of to fall asleep and nothing worked. It wasn’t like there was a major time difference between here and London, it was literally only an hour, so unfortunately jet lag could not be to blame.

Lando hadn’t moved the whole time and you figured he fell asleep as soon as he turned over, but you were bored and going a little crazy because even though you were tired, you couldn’t fall asleep. “Lando.” You whispered, but got no response. “Lando. Are you awake?” You whisper a little louder this time, but still no response. So with a defeated sigh you roll back over and shut your eyes, praying that this time you can go to sleep. But within a matter of seconds you feel the bed shift and Lando’s voice echoing through the room.

“I’m awake.”

You roll back over— the two of you now facing each other. “Why didn’t you answer me a minute ago?”

“I was trying to go to sleep myself.”

“Oh sorry. I’ll go out to the other room and watch some TV or something.” You barely move an inch before Lando’s got his fingers wrapped around your forearm, gently pulling you back towards him.

“No, don't leave.”

You can feel your heartbeat quickening as you realize just how close the two of you are. The glow from the moon cascades through the balcony doors allowing you to make out the moles on his face and those pretty long eyelashes of his that make his already breathtaking eyes seem even more beautiful. Sometimes you think he has stars in his eyes from the way that they sparkle. And as the two of you lay here right now, you realize the only reason that the moonlight is flooding into the room is because she’s looking for her lost stars that have found a home in Lando’s eyes.

“You got any ideas on how to fall asleep? I’ve tried just about everything in the book.” For some reason you're whispering and you wonder if it’s from how close you are to Lando’s face or how suddenly nervous you are to be this close to Lando.

He’s silent for a moment, the logical and sane part of him screaming at him to not even suggest what he’s been thinking about ever since climbing under these sheets. The mere idea of it being the thing that had prevented him from being fast asleep by now. But he’s got you at literal fingertips length and he thinks there may not be another opportunity like this again. So– he acts with his heart and not his brain.

“Come here.” He’s moved onto his back with his arm outstretched towards you.

“Huh?” You know exactly what he’s insinuating, but you can’t actually believe that he is.

“You wanted an idea on how to fall asleep and this is my idea. I’ll get you to fall asleep in no time.

“You think us cuddling is gonna get me to fall asleep?” You definitely hadn’t wondered what it would be like to be wrapped up in Lando’s arms before. How it would feel to have his fingertips trance mindless patterns across your skin or have your head on his chest. He was your best friend, which meant those thoughts had never crossed your mind– right?

He shrugs, trying to hide the nervousness in his demeanor, the mere thought of you denying him right now was enough to have him on the next flight back to Monaco in the morning. He should have never put himself in this situation, but god as soon as he climbed into this bed all he wanted to do was have you wrapped up in his arms.

It had consumed his brain, and then consumed it even more because why was he having this desire to have such a tender moment with his best friend? Though his brain stops spiraling when he feels the bed shift and you’re suddenly tucking yourself into his side, arm slung over his torso, and your head laying on his chest. The same chest that his heart is about ready to beat out of and he prays you can’t hear how hard it’s working.

But as you both get settled and Lando’s heartbeat finally mellows out he realizes just how right this feels, like the two of you were matching puzzle pieces. Any other girl he had cuddled with before now seemed to feel wrong because as far as he was concerned, nothing felt better than this. It felt natural and easy and he found himself drawing absent minded patterns on your side where your shirt had bunched up.

He’d spend the rest of his life here in this moment with you if he could. And when he hears your slight snores something short circuits in his brain and he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your head mumbling out goodnight before he’s out like a light too. The moonlight blanketing over the two of you, who right now look more like lovers than best friends.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

The next morning you’re already up and ready for the day by the time Lando wakes up and he tries to hide the disappointment of not waking up next to you, already missing the feeling of having you so close. A feeling though nice, he knew it was one that he probably shouldn’t be feeling. He asks you if you slept well while he’s getting ready and you tell him yes, not going into very much detail, for your own sake and his.

The day is full of sightseeing and lots of walking, which is something that Lando likes to complain about. You visit Pompeii and a handful of other places for you and Lando to nerd out about and truly be tourists. You eat amazing food that Lando says his trainer will hate him for, but he justifies it with the excuse of being on vacation. Hundreds of pictures were taken, your phones already begging for more storage and it was only the first day of the trip. Lando even went as far as bringing an actual camera, stating that lando.jpg would be revived soon.

But in between the sightseeing, eating, and everything else– both of your brains immediately go back to the sleeping arrangements from last night. You both can’t stop thinking about it, but no one brings it up, almost like it’s something you should be ashamed of. No one wants to admit how right it felt to be in eachothers arms last night or how both of you probably had the best sleep of your lives.

You didn’t want to admit that when you woke up this morning to Lando spooning you, your stomach was doing flips over the realization that you had moved in the middle of the night and he had found his way back to you. So many thoughts and emotions running through your brains, yet you both think it’s better to just act like it's not a big deal.

Night falls once again and Lando crawls into bed next to you. You’re both absolutely spent after the eventful day you’ve had and Lando worries that you won’t need him to fall asleep, but his worries soon dissipate because you’re tucking yourself into his side as soon as he’s gotten himself comfortable. You’re like a moth to a flame– the consequences of these actions never even enter your mind as slowly feel yourself drifting off to sleep.

And when morning comes you don’t run away when you feel Lando’s arms around you, even with the butterflies making an appearance again. You enjoy your moment alone, the sun shining in through the windows, the sound of the city already alive, and the way Lando looks as he sleeps. It's truly a beautiful morning.

He wakes up not too long after you and there’s a funny feeling in his chest when he realizes that he’s gotten to wake up with you still in his arms. That you were the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. It all just feels so natural and right, that once again no words are spoken about this very non-platonic thing that is happening between you two.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

“We’ve got a little bit a drive ahead of us today.” Lando states as he comes out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. Water droplets are scattered across his tan skin, his damp curls falling slightly onto his forehead. You’re trying not to stare, but good lord how could anyone not.

“It’s only like an hour.” You're still sitting in bed, propped up against the headboard as you now watch him rummage through his suitcase.

He holds up a shirt and shorts, silently asking for your opinion. You give him a nod of approval and he heads back to the bathroom to get dressed, but he leaves the door slightly cracked so he can still talk to you. “Yeah it was an hour. I’ve canceled the driver and made some new plans for today.”

“New plans?” You raise your voice slightly so he can hear you.

“It’s a surprise.” He peeks his head around the slightly open door— a mischievous smile painted across his face, before disappearing behind it once more. “So you had better start getting ready.” He commands as the door fully opens, revealing a fully dressed Lando.

A few short moments later a domestic scene plays out in the bathroom mirror. The double sinks both occupied, various hair products, makeup, and other random items are scattered across the counter. You’re watching Lando through the mirror as he tries to wrangle the mop of curls on his head, but everytime you look away he’s watching you brush your teeth or do your skincare. And the occasional times your eyes do meet in the mirror you’re both like little kids, eyes immediately darting away with smiles on your faces and little giggles echoing through the bathroom.

“You gonna tell me what the surprise is?” Patience had never been your strong suit and thus knowing about surprises was like a form of torture to you.

“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise now would it?” He’s still screwing with his hair, but he’s looking at you through the mirror.

“Oh come on, just tell me. Pretty pretty please?” You’ve come up behind him, your chin resting on his shoulder as you flash your best puppy dog eyes at him through the mirror. And for a split second Lando almost cracks– those puppy dog eyes working on him better than you would have ever thought.

“The faster we pack everything up, the faster you get the surprise.” He’s shocked his words come out smoothly, his brain still foggy from your pretty eyes and close contact.

Ten minutes later you’re walking out of the elevator and into the hotel lobby, where Lando tells you to wait while he goes outside for a moment. You assume the surprise is outside and so you try to peek and see what’s out there, but he’s coming back in before you can get a good look.

“Alright let’s go.”

You don’t see anything that you would consider surprise worthy as you walk out the doors, but then Lando leads you towards the cars parked outside the hotel and stops in front of a vintage yellow Ferrari. Your eyes dart back and forth between Lando and the car, unsure if he was just stopping to admire it or if you were going to be riding in it. He answers your unasked question by opening the passenger side door, motioning for you to get in.

“Is this the surprise? Where did you even get this car from?” Your eyes widening over the car itself and the fact that he’d gone through the trouble of even finding the car.

“It’s part of the surprise-” He’s got a smirk on his face as he speaks “and I have my connections.” He motions once again for you to get into the car and this time you don’t oblige. The leather seat soft under your legs as you sit down, the car was surely close to 60 years old, yet still looked brand new.

Lando puts the luggage in the trunk while you're examining all of the car’s little quirks and details while you wait.

“Ok, you ready?” Lando asks as he gets in the driver's seat.

“Gonna tell me the other part of the surprise?”

He sighs, he wanted you to figure it out on your own, but you were so persistent sometimes. “You know how you’ve always talked about wanting to drive along the coast of Italy?” You nod, a smile already forming on your face as you realize what he’s planned for you. “Well, instead of just taking the straight shot over, we’re gonna take the long way all along the Amalfi coast. And I figured it was only fitting that we do it in a Ferrari, considering we are in Italy after all.”

You can’t wipe the smile off your face as you stare at Lando from the passenger seat. Sometimes you wondered if he was even listening to you when you spoke, but then he pulls stuff like this and you know that he’s always listening– remembering things that you care about or like. “God, I don’t deserve you.”

Thankfully the car is still parked because you’re pulling Lando into a bone crushing hug, your cheek smushed up against the side of his head, a giggle emitting from him as he tries to hug you back.

“When you told me your work approved the time off, I knew for sure that this was one thing that I wanted to make happen. That same night I was online trying to find a car to rent for the day, but then I saw this one for sale…” His words trail off and your jaw drops at the realization, but in all reality you know it’s a very Lando thing to do.

“And now we’re sitting in your newest baby?”

He’s got a sheepish look on his face as he speaks. “As soon as I saw it I knew it was the perfect car for this. Plus it’s the ultimate vacation souvenir!”

“You’re crazy.” He actually couldn’t be more perfect.

“Yeah, but you love me.” He teases as he starts the engine.

“Unfortunately.”

─── ༺❀༻ ───

The long winding road along the coast provided scenery that was beyond your wildest dreams. It was serene and picturesque– like something straight out of a movie. The bright blue water on one side of the road and the white stone mountains on the other. The various tunnels that somehow had even more breathtaking views on the other side of them. The handful of towns that you had to drive through, each of them more charming than the last, you only wished you had enough time to stay a week in all of them.

As simple as this was, you would have been more than content with this trip if you went home tomorrow, not that you wanted to, it was just that sometimes the simple things in life meant more than anything lavish to you. You weren’t hard to please, all you needed was Lando singing along to some song on the radio, beautiful scenery, and the wind blowing in your hair for you to be the happiest girl in the world right now.

The whole trip your attention was divided between the coastal beauty and the beauty in the driver's seat. You couldn’t help but glance over ever so often at Lando, especially when you’d hear him start to sing along to a song. He just looked so ethereal sitting next to you, one hand on the steering wheel– the other resting between you two.

There was a moment where you felt the sudden urge to reach out and intertwine your fingers with his, a moment of insanity you’d thought. It surely had nothing to do with how sunkissed he looked from only being in the sun one day, or how the wind had made his curls the perfect amount of messy, or how you’d catch him looking over at you with a smile on his face.

If only you knew that Lando had been fighting the urge to reach out and grab your hand too. He’d never seen you so ecstatic over something as simple as going for a drive, but he’d drive this car till he ran out of road or gas, whichever came first, just to see that smile of yours. The way your eyes sparkled in the sunlight and how you giggled at his singing was just an added bonus, but all of them made his chest feel funny. He’d been around the world more times than he could count, seen so many breathtaking places, but right now none of those places compared to the beauty that was sitting next to him in this car.

You’re in your own little world so much that you don’t even realize you’ve made it to your destination until Lando’s putting the car in park in front of a very luxurious looking villa. “We’ve arrived.” Lando states in a sing-song voice.

“Is this when you tell me Max and everyone else are actually coming too?” You question, flabbergasted over the size of the house. And you can tell what he’s thinking just by his facial expression. “Lando this place is huge just for the two of us.”

He rolls his eyes before getting out of the car to get luggage. “It’s actually a lot smaller than you think.”

When you step foot into the two story villa it immediately has that Mediterranean coast charm with intricate tile floors, artwork that adorns the walls, and windows with the most gorgeous views– needles to say you’re in love.

Then you take in just how big the place is with it’s one too many bedrooms and bathrooms and various other rooms that you probably won’t even use. Lando’s words echo in your head as you explore the house some more, and there’s nothing small about this place at all. “You’re such a liar Lan.” Your words are playful as you walk through one of the many french doors in the house that leads out to the back.

“Lie? I would nev-”

“Oh my god!” He’s cut off by you realizing that the backyard of this villa is nothing shy of paradise. A massive pergola covered part of the back of the house with vibrant bougainvillea lining the top and hanging down the sides. Various other flowers and plants are scattered strategically around the area. Under the pergola there's an outdoor kitchen and a large glass dining table, clearly meant to host a group of people, not two. Further out there’s a pool with sunbeds lined down one side of it– a poolside bar on the other.

All of these things are great, but the real show stopper is the view that this place has. From the front of the house you can’t really tell just how close you are to the water, but from out back it’s a completely different view. There’s a separate sitting area slightly further out from the pool. It’s got a little pergola of its own with couches and chairs and one of those fancy rock fire pits and that is where you get the best view.

It’s like something out of a nature documentary– it’s so perfect that it almost seems fake. The sea is so close that you can hear the waves crashing against the rocks and it’s just endless bright blue water for days. You thought the view in Naples was pretty, but this was breathtaking.

“Knew you’d love this place.” Lando states as he comes up beside you, acting like he hadn’t been lingering behind you the whole time, admiring the view (you) from afar.

It was true though, Lando knew as soon as he saw this place online that it was the one. It didn’t matter that he paid an astronomical amount for it or that the house was way too big for just the two of you. All it took was for him to see the view to know you’d be the happiest girl in the world here.

He could picture you two sitting out here in the evening, watching the sun set over the coast, undoubtedly with a bottle of pink moscato. You’d end up drinking one too many glasses and your cheeks would get red and you’d get the giggles.

As Lando stood here– eyes never leaving the beautiful scene in front of him. He can’t help but feel that funny feeling in his chest over how radiant and happy you look. And he thinks that if this house was for sale he’d buy it in a heartbeat, if that meant he got to see you like this all the time.

A smile finds its way onto your face as you glance over at the guy you call your best friend. “You weren’t lying when you said you were gonna spoil me, huh?” You gently nudge him with your elbow, your smile growing even bigger at his response.

“Only the best for my favorite person.” His smile is equally as big as you lean your head on his shoulder and in that moment he thinks that maybe the reserve driver could just finish out the season and he could just stay here with you.

That night as you both head to your rooms there’s an obvious tension in the air. You’re both slowly making your ascent up the stairs and lingering in the hall, trying to milk every last second until you inevitably have to go into your separate rooms.

After so long though, you’re the first to cave as your hand reaches for the doorknob. Your door creaks open and you’re mumbling out goodnight lan, i’ll see you in the morning before entering the room. Although you don’t close the door behind you and Lando takes that as an invitation to linger in your doorway. He doesn’t need to speak for you to know he’s there, you can feel his presence, and subconsciously you’ve left that door open for him.

“Goodnight Y/N.” You’ve got your back turned to him as you're digging through your suitcase for pajamas, but you can hear the slight grin he has on his face as he speaks.

The sight of Lando as you turn around has butterflies erupting in your stomach and it makes you feel weird to be feeling those things about your best friend. He’s leaned up against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest and that grin that you’d sensed him having was still on his face as he looked at you. Your eyes scanned over him, focusing on little details like his hair still being wind tousled and how the tops of his cheeks were slightly burnt from the car ride today.

And for someone who claimed to not need a ton of sleep– he looked so sleepy as the two of you locked eyes. Those big blue eyes slowly blinking and drooping ever so slightly as his head now too rested against the door frame. He still donned the hoodie that you teased him about putting on earlier after his claims of it being chilly once the sun set, only adding to the sleepy look he had going on right now.

Someone had never looked so cozy and you wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in his arms, but that wasn’t going to happen tonight. You will tell him goodnight again and he’ll close the door behind him before shuffling over to his room. Your mind will be preoccupied with him as you get ready for bed, the image of him in your doorway forever burned into your mind as you brush your teeth. As you crawl into bed you won’t think about how cold the sheets feel or how you want to be cuddled up to your best friend. You won’t think about how it’s been two hours that you’ve laid here and sleep has yet to greet you. And you certainly won’t think about how you’d be fast asleep right now if Lando was beside you.

But unfortunately you do think about all those things and you’ve exhausted every resource to try and distract you from it. It was different at the hotel when there was only one bed, but now with multiple bedrooms to choose from there was no reason for the two of you to sleep in the same bed. Lines were already blurring between you two without either of you knowing it and if you chose to go seek solace with Lando then those lines would blur even more.

But you didn’t know that your actions would eventually have consequences and seconds later you’re throwing the covers off of you with only one destination in mind– Lando’s room. The journey though, is short lived because as soon as you open your door you’re met with a wide eyed Lando, his fist frozen in the air like he was getting ready to knock on your door.

The frozen fist moves to rubbing the back of his neck as he speaks to you. “Sorry, was coming to see if you were still awake.”

“I was coming to see if you were up too.” He’s still got that hoodie on from earlier, but you noticed he’d changed out his shorts for boxers. His hair was even more messy and you’d wondered if he had even fallen asleep yet. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

Lando shrugs. “Not really– kept tossing and turning.” He acts like the reason he can’t go to sleep isn’t right in front of him as he rests his head on the familiar door frame.

“Yeah I can tell by your hair.” You tease. He just gives you a half assed smile and when he doesn’t tease you back that’s when you realize just how tired he is. “You want to watch some TV or something? ”

He shakes his head no. The only thing he wants to do is go to sleep, but how can he when you’re not next to him? It was embarrassing to admit that only after two nights of sharing the same bed that he couldn’t sleep on his own, but here he was. His big bed felt too empty and he realized that even if he slept in a twin sized bed it would still feel empty without you next to him.

Not to mention he’d found comfort in you being his personal heater at night. It was no secret that Lando ran cold, often seen sporting a jacket during race weekends while his teammate was in shorts. So with his personal heater gone, he’d resorted to wearing a hoodie to bed, which didn’t come close to holding a candle to you.

When he finally worked up the courage to get up and go to your room he was pleasantly surprised to find you up too and facing the same problem as him. A little sliver of him hoping that it was the exact same problem and that you couldn’t sleep without him.

For a split second you caught his eyes looking past you and towards your bed. He couldn’t have made it any more obvious, but if was actually hinting at what you thought he was hinting at, then you weren’t going to pass up on the opportunity. It wasn’t a coincidence that he had come to your door and that you both had trouble sleeping in separate beds. So, you act on impulse and tell him come on just sleep in here tonight and like a little kid who’s gotten scared of the thunder at night he’s crawling into your bed in an instant.

It’s like you two are magnets– immediately finding your way to each other under the sheets and it doesn’t take long for the both of you to finally fall asleep. And some time in the middle of the night Lando had shed his hoodie, no longer needing it with you pressed against him. When you two wake in the morning with the sun streaming through the windows and sleepy smiles plastered on your faces, there’s an unspoken agreement that even with the plethora of beds in this house, you two would be sleeping in the same one every night.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

Lando and you were best friends, nothing more. Nevermind the sharing a bed every night or the longing glances or the sometimes suggestive thoughts you had about him. So maybe your friendship wasn’t practical or normal, but there was nothing romantic going on between you two. It was something you had drilled into your head for some time now. You’d try to ignore the way your heart would speed up when you’d catch him looking at you or the way he always has to have physical contact with you. And any other crazy thoughts that you’d speculated about had always been pushed aside rather quickly. He was your best friend after all and once again nothing more.

Though over the course of the week you’d found yourself having a hard time in pushing aside those non platonic thoughts about Lando. There were instances you two had found yourselves in that you just couldn’t ignore.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

“What’s the plan for today?” You ask as the two of you are sitting outside the cutest little restaurant, enjoying brunch.

Lando finishes the last little bit of his eggs before answering you. “Well nothing that involves you getting behind a motor vehicle with the way you’ve been downing those bellinis.” You roll your eyes at his dramatics. Yes, you’d had your fair share of bellinis, but they were so damn good and there really wasn’t that much alcohol in them for it to be an issue. “How about we just see where the day takes us?”

“Well I already had the idea of renting jet skis in my head, but I guess we’ll do what you suggested.” You joke.

Now Lando’s the one to roll his eyes at you as he flags down the waiter for the check. He doesn’t even look at it when it’s brought over, he just hands his card over like it’s nothing. It’s something that you still aren’t used to him doing even after knowing him for so long and you’re sure he’s gotten ripped off more times than he could imagine.

He quickly signs for it once the waiter comes back and with his card back in his wallet you’re free to go. Except when you stand up all those bellinis hit you and you’re a little unsteady on your feet, something that Lando clocks immediately. You aren’t drunk, just buzzed, but Lando isn’t going to let you live this down. “You wanted to rent jet skis huh?” He teases as he wraps an arm around your waist to steady you.

“Think we still could to be honest.” You’re confident in your ability to walk on your own, but Lando insists on keeping his hold on you.

“Well I don’t want to waste a day at the hospital, so let’s just look around at the shops.”

You’d passed them on your way to brunch and Lando had promised you’d come back to them. They were cute little stores, each one specializing in certain things. You took your time in each one, feeling the silky material of some of the dresses, admiring the leather detailing on the handbags, and gawking at the dazzling jewelry in the displays. Everything was quite luxurious and your eyes couldn’t help but linger on a certain bag and bracelet, but the price tags were all you had to see to know they weren’t coming home with you.

Lando had been watching you the whole time, fully prepared to be your bag boy and was ready to pull out his wallet whenever he’d see you pick something up. But much to his disappointment, all you did was look and after going through all the stores you left empty handed. “You didn’t see anything you wanted?” Lando asks as you continue down the street.

You simply shrug your shoulders at him. “Nothing that I couldn’t live without.” He doesn’t press the matter anymore, fully knowing that he’d be coming back sometime this week to get you that bag and bracelet that you kept circling back to.

The streets are charming and bright. It’s a place that you can’t help but feel alive in, especially as the summer sun beats down on you, but the light breeze coming in off the sea makes it bearable. Your buzz was long gone, but Lando still insisted that you link your arm with his as you stroll down the streets– just in case. You don’t oblige to his request, enjoying the feeling of holding onto his solid bicep as the sound of him slightly humming the song that was playing at brunch fills your ears.

A sense of peacefulness washes over you and it’s at this moment that you don’t feel like you’re on the arm of the famous Formula 1 driver Lando Norris. He doesn’t have a million cameras on him or people flocking to him for an autograph. It’s just you and your best friend Lando– the boy who was gagging when you teased the idea of ordering fish at dinner last night or who you laid in bed with this morning, watching dumb Tiktoks until you were both in tears laughing. It was nice for once, to just have Lando.

You’re just about ready to circle back to the villa when you hear a woman shouting in Italian from down the street. You’re not anywhere near fluent, but you recognize some basic words and what you’ve heard has you pulling Lando towards the voice.

Fior! Bei Fiori!

At the end of the street there stood the lady, who had a cart of the most vibrant fresh flowers. When she spotted the two of you approaching, a smile painted itself across her face. “I think your pretty girl deserves some flowers, don’t you?”

The corners of your mouth turn upwards and a smile is painted across your face. You can feel your cheeks getting warm at her statement, at the implication that you were Lando’s, but it’s his response that makes them comparable to the roses found on the cart.

Lando feels his chest get tight over the lady assuming the two of you were together. It’s nothing new, for people to assume that he’s with a girl just because he’s seen with one. Though for some reason when someone says it about you, it gets a reaction out of him. He’s grinning as he looks at you and then back to the sweet old lady. “You’re right, my pretty girl does deserve some flowers.”

The butterflies that erupted in your stomach at his words were embarrassing and not the appropriate reaction to be having over your best friend, but his comment wasn’t very platonic either. You’re blushing and grinning, probably very easily comparable to a school girl at the moment. He’s got a smug look on his face as he hands you of course the biggest bouquet the lady had. It’s truly a beautiful bouquet and it smells divine, it had anything you could have gotten at the shops beaten by a mile.

As you head back towards the villa you can’t wipe the smile off your face and you can’t stop thinking about my pretty girl. The words shamelessly repeating over and over again in your head. “So you think I’m pretty huh?” You tease.

Now Lando’s the one to blush and he hopes you just think it’s just from the heat and sun as you look at him. “Of course I do. I’d have to be blind to not think so.” He’s sincere with his words, he truly thinks you’re one of the most breathtaking women he’s ever met– intellectually and physically.

You lean your head on his arm, the same one you’ve still wrapped yourself around. “You sure know how to swoon 'em.”

“You’re my best friend. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

And for the first time, for both of you, it feels weird and almost stings to hear the word best friend said out loud. Because deep down you know you’re way more than that.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

Although you weren’t that much of a party girl you didn’t mind going out every once in a while. So when Lando suggested going out to one of the bars tonight it didn’t seem like a bad idea. You’d done your fair share of relaxing and to you that meant a night out deserved to be had.

With a final spritz of your perfume you’re ready to go and as you looked in the mirror one last time you couldn’t help but think damn, I look good. You found Lando waiting for you in the foyer, his head lifting up from his phone at the sound of your heels clicking down the stairs. “Might want to close your mouth before you attract flies Lan.” He hadn’t even realized he was in that much of a trance until you said something, he could feel his cheeks getting warm at getting caught.

You hook your arm with his as he leads you out the front door. “Sorry, you just look unreal tonight.”

“Well you don’t look too bad yourself.” He’d chosen his tried and true white button up, leaving the first few buttons undone, which revealed even more of his gorgeous tanned skin. How someone could make something as simple as a white button up shirt look so good was beyond you, but it was clearly something he was skilled at.

The bar you end up at is relatively small and you realize it must be the most popular one with how packed it is. It’s on the coast and there’s a gorgeous outdoor area that you are immediately drawn to, mainly because there’s slightly less people out here. It’s still a good time though and the people are somehow even more rowdy out here and you wonder if it’s the fresh air.

You’ve danced, drank, laughed, talked, everything you could think of on a night out. It's been nice, especially doing it all with Lando, who somehow through the course of the night has undone more buttons on his shirt and you think he might as well just undo them all. It’s clearly getting late from how the crowd is slowly starting to thin out, but you two are still having a ball, and you figure you’ll stay till they kick you out.

Lando’s gone inside to get you both another drink, which he easily could have gotten from the bartender out here, but he claimed that the guy didn’t know what he was doing. While you wait you venture off to a far corner of the patio that’s somewhat empty. There’s a couple people sitting in chairs sharing a cigarette, but other than that you’re alone. Even in the dark the view is amazing and as you lean on the railing a nice breeze comes in off the water. It’s relaxing and nice, especially when you’re that sticky kind of sweaty and a little more drunk than you realize.

“Absolutely beautiful.” You jump at the unfamiliar, yet familiar voice. It had been a minute since you’d heard another British accent besides Lando’s. When you turn around to put a face to the voice you aren’t expecting to see such a gorgeous man standing there. He’s really the whole package– stunning blue eyes, pretty smile, fluffy light brown hair, nice facial hair.

“Uh- yeah it is.” You assumed he was talking about the view.

“Can I join you?”

He’s cute and you wouldn’t mind some company, so you tell him yes.

“Where’d your boyfriend run off to?” He asks as he nurses his Corona.

“He’s not my boyfriend, but I’m not wrong in assuming you know who he is, right?” This guy is in his twenties and British, if he didn’t know who Lando was then he had to be living under a rock.

He takes a swig of his beer before responding. “I know who he is.”

You scoff, there was a big possibility that he was using you to get to meet Lando, it was something you’d dealt with many times before. Guys showing interest in you only in hopes of becoming Lando’s friend or even worse girls who would befriend you only to try and get with Lando. You weren’t some step on the ladder that led to Lando, you were your own person with feelings and a life, who deserved to have people like you for you, not who you knew.

Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the fact that you’re done being led on by people, but either way you confront the guy about it. “Are you using me to get to him?”

You hear him laugh a little and it lights a fire in you, but his words extinguish it before it gets out of control. “I was brave enough to come over here and willingly flirt with you before I even knew if he was your boyfriend or not. If I was trying to use you to get to him, I don’t think that would be a good plan. Which now that I know you’re not his girlfriend, kinda makes me think he’s an idiot. How could he have a girl like you in his life and not be madly in love with you?”

Your brain is fuzzy as you’re trying to process what he’s said. “Sorry wait- you were flirting with me?”

He’s got a cheeky grin on his face and he lets out a chuckle at your cluelessness. “When I said ‘absolutely beautiful’ I wasn’t talking about the view.”

“Oh.” You’d thought it was kind of weird for him to just randomly say that about the view, but for it to be aimed towards you was the last thing you had thought of. “Well, flirt all you want then.”

Not only did this place have one bartender that was incompetent, it seemed like all of them were. Lando had waited for what seemed like ages for a beer and a vodka cranberry. It wasn’t even that busy at the bar for it to be taking so long and at one point he contemplated just going behind the bar and doing it himself. By the time he finally got them he was surprised you hadn’t come looking for him, but when he made his way out onto the patio he saw exactly why you hadn’t.

Over in the corner Lando sees you doubled over laughing with some guy as he watches from afar. His grip on the glasses gets tighter as he sees you place your hand on the guy's arm. The tightness in his chest increases the longer he stands here and watches. It bothers him more than he cares to admit– to see you with some random guy. To hear that laugh of yours and him not being the source of it is driving him crazy. But what really sends him over the edge is when the guy tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear and without a second thought he’s storming over there.

Lando tries to play it cool as he approaches and he’s glad he’s got these drinks to use as an excuse. Your mid conversation when Lando interrupts, but he doesn’t care one bit. “Here’s your drink.” He says as he pushes the slightly watered down glass towards you.

“Oh thanks Lan.” You flash him a smile, but his face is emotionless and the fun light hearted atmosphere has suddenly turned awkward. For some reason you feel like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t have. “Um, Lando this is-” You remember at that moment that you hadn’t even asked the guy his name, which to you makes this even more awkward.

“Harry.”

“Right. Lando, this is Harry.” You motion between the two men. “Harry, this is Lando.”

Harry extends a hand out to Lando and they very awkwardly shake hands. “Nice to meet you mate.”

Lando only nods his head at him before turning his focus back to you. “I think we should get going, they are gonna close soon.”

You think he’s joking, considering he’d waited all that time to get these drinks, and now he suddenly wants to leave. “I just got my drink, can we at least stay until I finish it?” It also feels rude to just abruptly leave in the middle of the conversation that you were enjoying with Harry. But Lando doesn’t know how to hide his emotions very well and by the look on his face you know he’s being serious.

“Well you can stay, but I’m leaving.” He knows he shouldn’t leave you alone with some guy you just met, but god he doesn’t think he can stand here and watch you flirt with him anymore than he already has. So, without hearing your response he starts making his way towards the exit.

A regretful look washes across your face as you look at Harry. “That was so rude of him, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s up with him, he never acts like that.” You take a big swig of your drink, fully knowing dealing with Lando is gonna be a pain. “It was really nice talking to you, but I better go hunt him down.”

He shrugs, clearly not as upset over this whole situation as Lando or you are. “No biggie, I’m sure we’ll see each other around. It’s a small place.” You bid him goodbye, but you don’t get very far before he’s hollering. “Can I at least get your Instagram?” Which has you coming back and quickly exchanging usernames before you're off again to find Lando.

You run into him in the bar and it looks like he was coming back out towards the patio. A look of relief washes over him when he sees you and he’s leading you away from the loud music and out the front exit before either of you can say anything. Only once the bass of the music is a faint sound in the distance does Lando speak up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone with that guy. I was coming back in when you found me.”

“I appreciate you looking out for me, but you were kinda rude to him for no reason.”

Guess you were diving in head first with this.

Lando stops walking and turns to face you, a confused look on his face. “I wasn’t being rude.”

“Yes you were. We were having a conversation and you just butted in and demanded we leave. Not to mention you wouldn’t even speak to him. He was nice, you would have liked him if you gave him the time of day.”

“You barely know the guy, you talked to him for what ten-fifteen minutes? I just didn’t have a good feeling about him.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his dumb excuse. He shook the guy's hand and didn’t get a good feeling about him? Bullshit. “Well if you didn’t have a good feeling about him then why’d you leave me with him?” He’d started to walk again, but stopped dead in his tracks at your words, spinning on his heel to face you once again.

“I already told you I regretted leaving you. I just had to get out of there for a second.”

“Why?” You were being adamant, your arms crossed across your chest as you waited for his answer.

He knew exactly why, but he couldn’t tell you that, he hadn’t even fully accepted it himself. “I don’t know Y/N.”

You’re getting frustrated with him and these damn heels that you chose to wear are not making your mood any better. “There’s a reason for everything, Lando. How would you like it if I acted like you did tonight with a girl you were talking to? You’d be livid.”

He completely ignores your accusation and turns the conversation in another direction. It had been itching at him to know if you were just being nice or if you were actually interested in the guy, so he plucked up the courage to ask. “So you were flirting with him?”

The look on your face is one of pure confusion, but your tone is nothing but shitty. “I’m not sure how you jumped to that conclusion from what I said or why it’s really any of your concern, but yeah it was just some harmless flirting. I’m sorry for having a little fun!” You were thankful that it was late enough for the street to be relatively empty, the last thing that needed to happen was pictures or a video getting out of you two arguing. You were sure there were already rumors about you two being on vacation together, you could only imagine how this would be misconstrued.

Hearing that his best friend was potentially interested in someone else had his head spinning and he could no longer blame his reactions on the alcohol. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore, ignore the way his heart raced when he looked at you. Or how he loved hearing that old lady call you his girl the other day.

It had been building up– festering almost this whole week and maybe subconsciously he wanted to go on this trip with you to see if there was some truth to what everyone had teased him about. He just didn’t think it would actually be true. Or that at two in the morning on a dimly lit street in Italy, during an argument, he would finally accept that he was in love with you.

But even with him realizing he’s in love with you, that doesn’t stop him from being an absolute idiot. “He was probably just using you to get to me.” Lando immediately regrets what he said as soon as it comes out of his mouth. He knows that's a sore subject for you and the look of hurt on your face makes his stomach churn.

“Now you’re just being mean.” You’re sure it’s a mixture of things that are contributing to the salty tears welling up in your eyes at the moment, but it’s Lando’s comment that actually makes them fall. You’re storming off before he can say anything, wishing you would have just stayed at the bar with Harry.

Lando knows he’s an idiot, but he also knows he’s the one who lit the match, which means he’s gotta be the one to put it out. “Y/N come on. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have said that.” He catches up with you rather quickly, your heels slowing you down.

“Just leave me be Lando.”

“Y/N. Stop walking for just a minute.” He’s grabbing at your arm, trying to halt your movement.

You stop and face him and for what it’s worth he does look sorry, but that doesn’t change how you feel. “What? You want to poke fun at me some more?”

“No I-”

“You know I was just having a little harmless fun with that guy, like you said I talked to him for what? Fifteen minutes? Nothing was going to come out of it. But is it really that far-fetched of an idea for a guy to actually be interested in me just for me? Am I that undesirable and unlovable for it to seem like a reality? Or was he like everyone else who’s used me and threw me away as soon as they got their five minutes of the almighty Lando Norris experience?”

The tears that slide down your cheeks are a mixture of anger and embarrassment and maybe you were being a little dramatic. Perhaps the multiple drinks you’d consumed weren’t helping either, but when the person you care about the most says something like that, something you’d confided in him about, it hurts.

Lando feels his heart break to hear you talk about yourself like that. All he wants to do is to scream out that you’re not undesirable or unlovable. He’s wanted you and loved you for some time now, the moment it started he’s not sure, but he knows it didn’t happen overnight. It’s always been there– he was just too blind to see it.

He’s not entirely sure on how to make this right, he knows he was an ass, but he also knows he can’t take back what’s been said. The worst part is that he knows exactly how you feel and somehow he still thought that was a good thing to throw in your face– all because he was jealous. He could deal with people trying to use him, he’d developed a sixth sense for them and never let it get too far, but you were too kind. Your big heart and trusting of others had gotten you burned one too many times and it hurt Lando even more to know that all that had happened because of him.

“I should have never said that to you. I know first hand how it feels to have people use me and the only reason you’ve had to deal with that is because of me. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Your sniffles fill the night air as you try to calm yourself down. While people used you to get to Lando, at least they didn’t want to be your friend to leech off your fame. Use you for your money and generosity, expecting paddock passes and some lavish lifestyle. People saw Lando as an object rather than a person more times than not. While your feelings were valid and Lando was still an ass for saying that, you realized to be in his shoes was worse. So, you wipe away your tears and accept his apology indirectly. “Think we’ve only got each other at this point.”

His voice is soft as he approaches you, his hand reaching up to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face. “Don’t think I need anyone else but you.”

The tender moment has you turning to putty in his hands– the argument pushed to the back of your mind. His hand moves to cup your face and his tumb brushes gently across your cheek. You feel like time has frozen in this moment and for a split second you swear he looks at your lips, like he’s going to kiss you. The fact that this is your best friend is no concern to you at the moment. Then the moment between you two is ruined just as fast as it began, the sound of a very loud and drunk group of people leaving the bar up the street brings you both back to reality.

You back away from each other slowly, like you weren’t sure exactly what had just almost happened. You’d already resorted to blaming it on both of your emotions still running wild and the alcohol still coursing through your veins. The group of people are getting closer, their obnoxious singing getting louder as each second passes. They might not even know who Lando is, but you aren’t in the mood to wait around and find out, the last thing you want to deal with right now is drunk fans. “We’ve had too much to drink, my head and feet hurt. Let’s go home.” You grumble as you begin the trek home once again, your feet aching more and more with each step.

Lando stops for a moment and kicks off his shoes, he couldn’t let you walk in pain the whole way home. Especially after the pain he had caused moments ago. “Here put these on, your feet are killing you.” He hands you the white sneakers before squatting down in front of you to help you get your heels off.

Your feet already thank you as you slip on the oversized shoes that clomp on the stone street. And like a magnet you find yourself wrapping your arm around his as you walk down the street. You’re sure you two are a sight–you in shoes that are way too big and Lando only in socks as he holds your heels for you.

“You know you’re still an ass.” You tell him as you lean your head on his shoulder.

“I know.”

“You know you aren’t unloveable.” He hopes you know he’s being sincere, your words still replaying in his mind as you walk.

“I know.”

By the time you make it back to the villa you’re both exhausted. The alcohol, the argument, that moment between you two, the walk home– you were sure tomorrow morning would be a rough one. There aren’t many words spoken as you get ready for bed and as you slide under the covers next to Lando you can’t shake something from your mind from tonight, and it wasn’t the argument.

It was the fact that during the whole time you were chatting with Harry, you couldn’t help but compare him to Lando. There wasn’t the same sparkle in his eye like Lando, his smile wasn’t the same, his laugh. It seemed like everything that you noticed about this guy came second best to Lando. Sure you were having fun and he was nice, but not once had the thought of Lando slipped your mind. And even right now, with Lando next to you, you’re still somehow thinking about him.

It didn’t take long for Lando to fall asleep and you were on the verge of it when your phone went off on the nightstand. Usually, you would just ignore it, but something in you told you to see what it was.

harryinsta is now following you

You then see that he had sent you a DM and you’re expecting it to be about meeting up some time, which you were going to politely decline, but it’s quite the opposite.

harryintsa: i must have been mistaken earlier. lando's not an idiot.

yourinsta: huh?

harryinsta: he’s in love with you lol

Your heart nearly beats out of your chest as you read the message over and over again. Lando wasn’t in love with you, was he? Sure you’d heard it from just about everyone in your life that you two were in love with each other, but you always thought it was silly. You guys were just best friends is what you would always say, but to hear it come from a literal stranger was different.

You couldn’t lie that you hadn’t recently had your moments of perhaps thinking that he did, though you’d always talk yourself out of the idea. Although, if he was in love with you that may explain his behavior tonight. Or maybe it was just the alcohol like you’d originally thought. Then the tender moment you two shared entered your mind and suddenly the gears in your head are working overtime.

You locked your phone and sat it back down on the nightstand. Just from a simple DM you’d gone from being dead tired to now being wide awake– staring at the ceiling. You’re not sure how much time had passed as you laid there over analyzing every interaction with Lando. You were struggling enough trying to figure out the things you had recently felt about Lando, let alone the possibility that he was in love with you. All you knew for sure was that things weren’t the same between you two, you’d felt a shift when you were with him in Monaco before the Belgium GP. It had only amplified during this trip and you had a feeling that by the end of it things would be different.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

Two days later you’re sunbathing on a comfy lounger on the beach, while Lando’s out in the water doing god knows what. You’d given up on watching him a while ago, deciding instead to be productive and try to catch up to Lando’s tan level. Which, after laying here for some time now, it seemed impossible. That boy could be in the sun for a day and have a glowing tan– you not so much.

Moments later you think a cloud has passed in front of the sun, but when you feel cool water droplets on your hot skin you peek open one eye to find a wet and grinning Lando standing over you. “Hi.”

“Hi.” You greet him back as you sit up, your smile matching his. “Did you have fun out there?”

“I had a lot of fun and the water felt amazing. You should have got in.”

“I will later.” You notice he’s got one of his hands behind his back like he’s hiding something. “Lan, what have you got?” He tries to play dumb for a moment, trying to wind you up, but he eventually caves and pulls a plastic pail from behind his back. “Please don’t tell me you stole that from a kid.” Your half joking and half being serious, because where the hell did he get that from?

“I did not steal it from a kid– I borrowed it.” The smile on his face never falls as he continues to speak. “They had a bunch of them. I don't think they’ll miss it. Plus I needed something to put your present in.”

You cock an eyebrow at him, curiosity written all over your face. “My present?”

He’s smiling so hard as he sits down at the end of the lounger that you think this must be the best present in the world. Seconds later the pail is turned upside down and out falls the prettiest seashells. Your heart swells when you realize all that time he had spent out in the water he was looking for shells– for you. There’s a light pink one that catches your eye and Lando notices when you reach for it.

“Knew you’d like that one.”

Of course he knew that, sometimes you think he knows you better than you know yourself. “Can’t believe you spent all that time finding them.”

He shrugs like it’s an everyday thing. “I knew it would make you happy, which meant I enjoyed doing it. Really only took me so long because I wanted them all to be perfect for you.”

The sun beating down on you feels cold with how hard you’re blushing. “You’re my favorite person, you know that?”

Lando starts to get shy when you get sappy, like he hadn’t just said the sweetest thing a second ago. He’s smiling, but focuses on carefully putting the shells back into the pail. “You’re my favorite person too.”

A while later you decide to open up the umbrella between the two loungers. You had chosen to give up on the tanning lifestyle and instead dive into a new book. While Lando was fast asleep on the lounger next to you, apparently all that hunting for shells had worn him out.

You’d noticed out of the corner of your eye awhile ago that a little boy kept glancing over in your direction, specifically at Lando. You knew he had to have been a fan or he was the kid Lando stole the pail from. The nervous glances back and forth tell you that thankfully he’s a fan and you think it’s the cutest thing. You’re in the middle of considering waking Lando up so the boy could come over when you hear a groan that is undoubtedly Lando awaking from his slumber.

“What are you looking at?” He asks as he rubs his eyes.

You nod your head in the direction of the boy who’s just seen that Lando is awake and is practically bouncing with glee. “Think you may have a fan.”

A big grin spreads across Lando’s face as he sees the little boy. Lando loved meeting all his fans, but meeting the kids was his favorite. He thinks a big part of the reason he always makes sure to find time for the younger fans was because he was that kid once. Before he was ever F1 driver Lando Norris, he was just a kid who finally got the chance to meet their idol and he knows that picture or an autograph means the world to them

Lando motions for the boy to come over and he’s instantly tugging on his Mom’s shirt to get her to come with him. She gives you guys a questioning look and when Lando motions again they both come over.

The little boy’s Italian accent is the cutest thing ever as he greets you two and you can tell just how much it means to him to be talking to Lando.

“What’s your name?” Lando asks as he signs a beach towel of all things.

“Luca and I’m seven!”

“Seven is a great age. You know I started karting when I was seven!”

Luca’s eyes get as wide as saucers as he glances back at his Mom, who is already shutting down any talk of Luca karting. “I told you possibly next year. You’re still my little baby. I don't want you getting hurt!”

Lando gives the Mom an apologetic look. “How about a picture?” Which easily takes Luca’s attention away from karting, as he’s already at Lando’s side with a big smile on his face before his Mom has her phone out.

They take a couple pictures and high fives are exchanged throughout their interaction. The whole thing is very sweet and you can’t help but look on in adoration, fully knowing that Lando would make a great Father one day.

You see that Luca keeps looking over at you and then back to Lando, but you don’t pay that much mind to it. You figured he was just nervous or something, but what comes out of his mouth next takes you by surprise.

“Your girlfriend is very pretty.”

You feel your heart skip a beat and you glance over at Lando to see what his reaction is. You prepare yourself for the worst, but in true Lando fashion he’s all smiles. In fact he’s sporting that full face smile of his and it makes you feel funny.

“Thank you buddy, I think so too.” He looks over at you with nothing but love in his eyes and you’re immediately looking away like some shy school girl.

Thankfully, the Mom comes to your aid and quickly changes the subject. “Ok Luca, you’ve bothered them enough. We should get back to our spot. Thank them for their time.”

His cute little voice mutters out grazie as he gives you a small wave goodbye.

“It was very nice to meet you, Luca.” Lando bids him farewell and you both wave back at the little boy.

As soon as they’re gone you’re immediately shoving your face back into your book, you don’t even want to talk about what had just happened. It was nothing really to be so worked up over, it was just a little kid who saw two people together and assumed they were together. It happens all the time. But it is a big deal when you find yourself liking being referred to as Lando’s girlfriend. It doesn’t help when neither of you deny it and correct the person. Lando likes to play into it and you love it too much to say anything.

Ever since getting that DM the other night your mind had been in a whirlwind over how Lando felt about you and how you felt about him. Hell you can’t even look at him right now, you’re so in your head that you’ve been staring at the same page for the last five minutes. You just wished the book you were reading could tell you how to come to terms with the fact that you’re in love with your best friend.

It was something you’d realized the other night while you were awake overthinking everything. Those feelings had always been there, but you had just pushed them aside, ignoring every little butterfly or rapid heartbeat. When they actually turned into romantic feelings you have no clue because as far as you knew, you and Lando had always been like this.

You two just dove in head first into the co-dependent friendship that was more like a relationship lifestyle. All those times you’d gone to his parents house for family dinners and holidays, both of you attached at the hip. How he wanted to ask you to move to Monaco with him and then almost didn’t even move because he said he’d miss you too much. The group vacations that always ended up with you two going off and doing your own thing. The texts from him every Wednesday before a race asking if he needed to get you a paddock pass and a flight. This trip in particular– sleeping in the same bed when you don’t have to, the cuddling, the getting mistaken for a couple three times so far, the fact that it was just you two alone on the trip.

It was all there the whole time and you wondered how you could have been so blind to not realize it sooner. You were in love with him. You loved his pretty eyes and curls and the way his real laugh only seemed to come out around you. You loved his big heart and his caring nature and sometimes you thought he was too nice to be a Formula 1 driver.

You loved everything about him and truth be told it made your stomach hurt from how much you loved him. You wanted to actually be his and be able to kiss those pink lips that you sometimes found yourself staring at. When people said you were his girlfriend you wanted it to actually be true and not have it be Lando just playing along. You were so down bad that you prayed that Harry was right and that Lando was actually in love with you too.

While you were freaking out, so was Lando. When you immediately went back to reading your book and not speaking a word, he figured he had weirded you out by basically implying that you were his girlfriend. He just figured it was easier to go along with what the kid thought than explain that you weren’t his girlfriend, but god does he wish you were. He didn’t know what to say to try and test the waters because he knew whatever he would say would come out awkward and he didn’t want to make things worse. So, once again it’s not talked about and you two pretend that it didn’t happen when you finally speak again.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

It’s the last day of the trip and you’re dreading going back to reality and away from this little slice of heaven. The only thing you have to look forward to is the supposed fancy dinner that Lando had planned for tonight, which was what you were currently getting ready for. Music plays through your phone and you softly sing along as you do your makeup. When you look up after digging in your makeup bag you spot Lando in the mirror, leaning against the door frame behind you. Your eyes lower and you see that he’s holding two gift bags.

"Those better be for your Mom.” You state as you put the finishing touches on your makeup.

“I think we both know they aren’t.” He sees you roll your eyes in the mirror and it only makes him want to spoil you more. “It’s our last day, I think you deserve a parting gift.”

You turn to face him as he makes his way over to you. “I haven’t gotten you a single thing this whole time. It makes me feel bad.”

Lando only shakes his head at you. “You being here with me is the best gift you could have ever gotten me. I truly don’t need anything else.” He hands you the bags. “Now open them please.”

A small smile finds its way onto your face as you take the bags from him. You decide to open the bigger bag first and once you pull out the tissue paper you know exactly what it is. It’s still in its dust bag, but you see the branding and your jaw is dropping before you even see the actual thing. “You did not get me this bag Lando!” You exclaim as you remove the dust bag and see that it’s the same bag you were eyeing at the store the other day.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Saw you eyeing it and knew I had to get it for you and before you say anything else open the other present.”

You set the handbag down and grab the smaller gift trying to figure out what else he could have possibly gotten you. When you open it and see the bracelet you were also looking at the other day you’re at a loss for words. “Lando Norris!” You could slap him, hug him, kiss him, and yell at him all at once. He’d dropped probably close to six grand on these two gifts and your head is spinning at the thought of it.

“Don’t even say anything about the price. I know you’re thinking it, but I wouldn’t have bought you them if I couldn’t afford it. I wanted you to have them, you deserve nice things.” You deserved a lot more than a handbag and a bracelet, but what he thought you deserved money couldn’t buy.

You know there's no use in fighting him on it, but you still feel bad that he just spends all this money on you. He takes the bracelet from the box and fastens it around your wrist, the diamonds glittering in the light as you move it around. It’s truly stunning and the handbag will go great with your outfit tonight. As soon as you two make eye contact again you’re pulling him into a bone crushing hug and you two stay like that for probably longer than necessary. “Thank you a million times Lan. I love them both so much.”

It’s time to leave for dinner shortly after that and when you arrive at the restaurant the host guides you back to a secluded corner. It’s a very romantic ambiance and you can’t help but feel like you’re on a date, which wouldn’t be a horrible thing. Moments later a waiter comes over with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “It’s on the house– for the special couple.”

There it is again and it seems like with each time it happens it makes your heart race even more. Lando shifts in his seat and you focus on the rising bubbles in the glasses as the waiter pours the champagne. Lando tells him thank you and your attention moves to the menu.

“What are you thinking about getting?” You ask, ignoring the obvious.

“Probably the steak.” He grabs the flute of champagne and takes a drink. “What was that? The fourth time now?”

You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you’re surprised he’s decided to talk about it. “Yeah it was.” You set the menu down and grab the other flute. “Think I’ll get the steak too.”

Dinner actually turns out to be an amazing time. The food is decadent and Lando and you have good conversations that don’t revolve around you two being mistaken for a couple or being in love with each other. When the waiter brings the bill you’re quite sad because that just means this trip is that much closer to being over.

You take your time heading back to the villa, trying to savor every last moment you’ve got here. The sun was low in the sky by the time you get back and you tell Lando just how you want to spend your final evening in Italy. You hurry and change into comfier clothes and take off all your makeup before heading to the spot with the best view out back. Lando makes his way out there not too long after you, but he’s got one more surprise for you.

“Don’t think the evening or this trip would be complete without this now would it?” He pulls a bottle of pink moscato from behind his back along with two wine glasses.

He knew you too well, but it was something you loved dearly about him. “You’re a man after my heart Norris.”

He hands you a glass as he sits down next to you, the sun just beginning to set on the horizon. “I try.”

There’s a comfortable silence between you two for a while and the only sound to be heard is from the waves below. It feels like paradise sitting here with this amazing view and the guy you love next to you. It’s probably boring to the majority of people, but this was everything you could ask for and more and the perfect way to end this amazing trip. You lean in closer to Lando, your head resting on his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you. A content sigh escapes past your lips as his thumb starts to draw mindless circles on your arm.

“Thank you again for everything. This trip was amazing and I’m glad we got to go together– just you and me.”

“I’m glad too. It was probably the best summer break trip I’ve had. Don’t think Ibiza will be seeing me for a while.”

You’re not even looking at him, but you can sense the smile on his face and you can’t help but laugh at his lie. “Yeah, and I don’t like pink moscato.”

“Alright so Ibiza will inevitably see me, but not as much as Italy.” He pauses for a moment, glancing down at you still resting on his shoulder, his heart swelling just by looking at you. “I think this may be our place now, just for the two of us.” His voice is soft when he says it, like he’s not sure if he wanted to say it outloud.

You lift your head up and are met with his piercing blue eyes staring back at you. He looked radiant as golden hour cascades over him and it’s like you’re in a trance as you look at him. You take in every last bit of him, all the little details about him that you’ve memorized over the years. The slight stubble on his face from not shaving for a couple days, the little moles, his long and somehow always curled eyelashes, those pink lips of his. He’s everything you could have ever dreamed of and more. You’ve had him at fingertip length for so long now and all you want to do is reach out for him, take what you want and never let go.

Lando feels his breath catch in his throat as you two make eye contact. You’d never looked more beautiful than in this moment and he doesn’t know how much longer he can take without you actually being his. You were the love of his life, his best friend, and everything he’s ever wanted. It may have taken him a long time to realize it, but he’s never felt like this about anyone before. You know each other like the back of your hands and it only makes sense that you’d be the one for him.

And it’s in this moment that it clicks for you two that it’s now or never. You’re never going to have a perfect moment like this again. It feels right, like the universe wants this moment to happen and if you let it go to waste you may never get the chance again. Lando takes his free hand and gently cups your face, his thumb ever so softly rubbing across your cheek. You’re practically putty in his hands and you feel like your heart is gonna beat out of your chest. You want to scream out to him that you love him, that you want to be his, but you can barely get your brain to communicate with your mouth.

“Lan-”

That’s all you can get out before Lando’s leaning in and his lips are on yours. He tastes like the sugary sweet wine and his lips are soft as they move in sync with yours. Kissing him is even better than you’d imagined and as your hand reaches up to his neck you deepen the kiss. It feels like you two had kissed a thousand times before and as he pulls away you’re already left wanting more.

Your foreheads rest against each other, both of you breathless and a little light headed from that singular kiss. When you both actually internalize what’s just happened you’re both grinning, that then turns into laughing and it’s like music to both of your ears to hear each other laugh.

“I think that was a long time coming.” You state as you finally lean back onto the couch.

Lando reaches out for your hand, intertwining his with yours. “When did you realize?”

“That night when we got into that argument, which looking back now, you were totally jealous.”

“I was not jealous!” He tries to be serious, but the knowing look on your face has him cracking. “Ok I was jealous.”

“When did you realize?” You question.

“That same night. I couldn’t understand why you flirting with that guy bothered me so much. Well I guess now we know.”

“Yeah cause you’re in loooveee with me.” You’re laughing as you speak, but he shuts you up with another kiss and leaves you pouting when he pulls away.

“Only kissed you twice and you’re already pouting when I pull away? I think you’re in loooveee with me.”

You lean back in, capturing his lips in yet another kiss and you’re like teenagers who’ve gotten into their first relationship.

Lando sighs when you stop kissing him, he can’t believe he could have had this sooner if he would have just opened his eyes. “You think you could get another week off from work?”

You’d do anything to get another week in a paradise with him, but you know it’s not possible. “Hmm, why don’t you just spend a week in London with me?”

“Well you haven’t even told them that you now have a famous F1 driver boyfriend. Who if they didn’t know already is very needy and needs to see his girlfriend.” He teases.

“Well you forgot to add that you’re my hot and famous F1 driver boyfriend.” You counter back.

You’re both grinning like fools at each other and as you curl up into his side and take in the last sunset you’ll see in the place that now holds such a special place in both of your hearts, you’re glad you let him convince you to come on this trip.

As the sun finally sets over the water you actually say those three little words.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[lucidfairies]

take a hit [e.w]

pairing: inexperienced!reader x dealer!ellie

synopsis: for the first time, you're interested in sharing a joint with Ellie, and she doesn't let the moment get passed up

warnings: intox, cnc, weed/smoking, head [r!receiving], fingering [r!receiving], strap [r!receiving], pet names (mama, baby, good girl, slut, pretty), unrealistic squirting, ellie uses reader to get off, lots of use of the word force and lots of ellie's thoughts that include force

wc: 2.5k

a/n: short n sweet! long time no see 💘 (ps this is kind of shitty until the last thousand words where it actually gets good lmao 😭)

“ellie?” you yelled from the bedroom, plopping down on the bed with a huff. she entered the room, leaning against the door frame and smiling. “do you have any weed on you? I think I might want to try some.” ellie was taken aback by the question. you were never one for smoking or drinking, let alone somewhere outside of a party environment, or for leisure.

you guys had been together for a while, but smoking together was something that ellie never thought she’d see. you made it very clear from the beginning that you would not be partaking in ellie’s ‘business’, as you called it. she hardly considered it that; ten or so customers did not make a business, just a side hustle.

“yeah I have weed baby,” you watched as she walked over towards the closet and pulled out a shoe box, cleanly organized with wrap paper, weed, grinders, and other things that you didn’t know or couldn’t name. she sat down across from you on the bed, pulling out her supplies and setting it up. “do you want me to roll it or do you know how?” she asked, but the paper was already in her hands.

“you do it,” you changed positions so that you were straddling the bed, shirt falling between your legs to cover your underwear. she was looking.

“I’m gonna put in a little more than I normally do to make it feel good, okay mama?” you nodded eagerly, her plan unbeknownst to you. she made it seem like that; like she just did it to make you feel good, but in reality, she overfilled it so that halfway through the joint you wouldn’t be able to see straight.

she got up, turning the bedroom lights down low to create a pretty ambiance. you slipped the joint between your lips, waiting for her to come over and light it for you, which she did. she had you sit in her lap, pulling the joint from between your lips between every hit, just so that you would know you were a princess.

after a few hits, the room was already beginning to spin. “els why aren’t you hitting it?” you asked, pouting as you tried to push her hand towards her face with little luck. she took a short hit to make you happy and keep you relaxed before forcing it between your lips again. she made you hit it over and over again until you were sure you were in outer space.

that’s when her plan unfolded. suddenly, her hands were running up the sides of your thighs and her hot mouth found your neck. you whined lazily, her touch feeling so much better than it usually did. “ellie what are you doing?” you slurred, not coherent enough to fight back as she grabbed your hips and forced you down onto her lap. an immediate gush of wetness filled your panties when your clit brushed over her bulge. “ellie,” you slurred again, whining into her neck as your hips rolled down again.

“shhh, it’s okay baby. you wanna be a good girl and hit this again for me?” she held the joint up to your lips once again, and like the good girl you were, you took it between your lips and sucked. “that’s it, that’s my good princess, isn’t it?” she cooed. she took the joint from you and sat it in the ashtray, flipping you so that you were under her. “god, you’re just so pretty, aren’t you? can’t keep my hands off you. you did this to yourself, baby, such a slut without pants on, huh?” you whimpered as her hand came up under your shirt and harshly pulled your nipple.

something about this felt wrong, but it also felt so right. you loved the way she took over and decided what was going to happen, you loved the way your body felt and reacted to her in your cloudy headspace.

you whined as her fingers ran gently over your cunt through your shorts. you were so wet and your clit was pumping so hard, you had to have her in you. Your hips jolted and ground down on her thigh and fingers, making her chuckle. “now we want it, don’t we? that’s all it took, baby, you just needed a few hits to let me take control.” you nodded your head frantically as she pulled your shirt over your head.

her mouth danced down your neck with sweet bites until she made her way to your tits. she took one in her mouth and the other in her hand, hitting just the spot to make you writh under her. she gave both just the attention they needed, leaving marks along the way, before continuing down your stomach, stopping at your pubic bone.

“before I fuck you, you’re gonna take another hit of the joint. how’s that sound, pretty?” the joint was still burning a little, almost out, but it was enough to take a hit, a long hit, because ellie held it to your lips and kept it there until she saw fit. once she decided you were ready, she tossed it back in the ashtray and immediately attached her lips to your clit.

you were so spacey and sleepy but it felt so good. nothing like what you were used to. every perfect flick of her tongue was like touching heaven. she rotated between flicking her tongue up and down, side to side, going in circles, and sucking, and she practically had you coming in seconds.

she didn’t care that you lousily came once within the first minute, she continued and traced your entrance with the tip of her finger, sending electric shocks through your system. the pads of her fingers were rough from her guitar, and you could feel the callouses as she teased you.

finally, she pushed her first finger in, wasting no time in crooking it up to the perfect spot. when she had you stretched out enough, she added another, and even another. the weed was relaxing you so much that you hadn’t even noticed the slight burn from the third finger, because you had never taken it before now.

“oh ellie,” you moaned, hands gripping the sheets as your head spun. “ellie I’m gonna cum.” you slurred as the pressure in your pelvis grew and bolts of pleasure started shooting throughout your body. her free hand moved from your hip to your tit, pinching your nipple once again.

you came for the second time, back arching and desperate for her to never stop.

“ellie I’m tired,” you pouted as she came up from between your legs and kissed you. you tasted yourself from her lips as her tongue grazed yours, she sucked gently and you moaned.

she pulled away, cooing at you. "if only we were done," she said as she stood to walk away, venturing into the closet to get, what she called, her 'strap box'. she thought it was funny to call it that.

she clipped her harness onto her hips and attached her favorite strap; it was forest green in color, nearing eight inches in length. she knew you couldn't always take it all, that's what made it fun for her. especially having you this way, where your head was in the clouds and your body was much more lenient to the things she wanted to do to it.

"flip over, ass up," ellie said, and you complied as she climbed onto the bed behind you. she pressed down on your lower back, deepening your arch. it was slightly uncomfortable, but the way she was looking at your pussy like a hungry dog made you forget the uncomfortability.

ellie never cared much for cleaning you up in between rounds, so when she ran the tip of her strap through your folds and down to your clit, your cum smeared all over your pussy. she almost came in her boxers at the sight of it.

rather roughly, ellie jerked her hips forward, pushing the first three inches in you. it didn't hurt like you anticipated, your body and mind were too lax for anything to hurt much. "today," ellie groaned softly as you took another couple inches. "you're going to take the whole thing. how's that sound?"

you didn't get a chance to answer before she was forcing another inch in you, only one to go before her hips pressed against your ass. your hands gripped the sheets, pressure gathering from the length in your abdomen.

ellie knew it would hurt if she put the last inch in, but she craved it. she couldn't resist the idea of you stretched out wide for her thick, cum soaked strap. she needed it.

she reached over you, wrapping her slender fingers over your mouth and pulling you up as she forced the last inch in you. you whined in pain, protests coming from your covered mouth, but she was too lost to listen. your head rested on her shoulder now, and she used this to reach around and trace your clit while she fucked into you.

she was going fast, slamming her hips into you as hard as she could. the harder the slam, the better it felt against her clit. since you had came twice already, she was focused on herself; meaning that she went as hard and as fast as she needed to to get herself off.

with a final harsh jerk, she coated her boxers and soaked through the inside of the harness. she released your mouth and clit and roughly pushed you forward, unrelenting as you neared your third orgasm of the night.

she grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled it with every thrust, and just like that, the pressure from your stomach and bladder were releasing, and you were coming and squirting all over her.

she pulled out and flipped you onto your back, harshly slapping your clit. "such a fucking mess," she said slowly, with a slap between every word. tears streaked your cheeks from her brutal overstimulation and pain, and ellie lived for her. she wondered how many more times she could slap your sensitive spot between your legs before you begged her to stop, but she figured she would save that for next time.

once you were cleaned up and cared for, she left to acquire more weed. there was no way in hell she wasn't doing this with you again.

tags: @bvnfetti @kl1q @kaykeryyy @katemartinis @r3wbeef

[personapeters]

✰ 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐣 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

— kook or pogue; doesn’t matter, simply your sweet boyfriend, jj

rating: sfw — cw: slightly suggestive

— boyfriend jj who… insists on physically lifting you into and out of the boat every time, or at the very least holding your hands. the one time you leapt out when his back was turned, you lost your footing and almost tumbled into the water, to which jj was very displeased: “alright, nope, see, that’s why we don’t do that.”

— boyfriend jj who… thinks you’re the funniest person on the planet — the way he cackles at every joke you tell makes you question if it’s forced, or exaggerated at the least, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. your humor matches his so perfectly that everything you say or do he only wishes he would have thought of first. the two of you are constantly a nonstop giggling mess full of silly inside jokes and plain stupidity.

— boyfriend jj who… thrives off of long hugs with you; specifically when it feels more like you’re just holding him. hiding his face in your neck and breathing you in calms his nerves in a way that smoking weed never could.

— boyfriend jj who… is absolutely mesmerized by everything you do; whether that be your makeup (he thinks you’re the artist and the art), or simply steering the boat (the way the wind blows in your hair and the sun highlights each and every shade is unreal). he often finds himself completely zoned out of reality with soft blue eyes as he marvels in awe at everything that is you. he's often chewing the inside of his lip as he stares, quickly averting his gaze to his hands when you look his way, though it’s always so obvious.

— boyfriend jj who… loves when you come to watch him surf, though it’s stressful watching him disappear under the waves for what feels like minutes at a time. but, without fail, he always ends up running to you with a big, toothy smile as he wraps a cold, muscular arm around your waist, pressing wet, salty lips to yours as he beams with excitement: “babe, did you fuckin’ see that?!”

— boyfriend jj who… isn’t too good at saying ‘i love you’ but shows it in everything he does: plucking you random flowers (and weeds, though he doesn’t know that), fixing your top as you chat amongst friends, keeping a hair tie on his wrist because he just knows you’re going to need one, always keeping physical touch with you in some way (absentmindedly twirling your hair, resting your legs on his lap, holding your hand, leaning on your shoulder).

— boyfriend jj who… tries to contain his himself but is more than willing to get in a fight when it comes to you; whether it be one too many comments made about you in order to taunt him or another man’s hand lingering on yours for way too long, jj is quick to set things straight no matter who it puts him up against.

— boyfriend jj who… gets jealous very easily but tries his hardest to control it. before you started dating, he would simply avert his attention or walk away from any situation involving you and a guy, knowing he shouldn’t be jealous but he couldn’t help it. now that you’re officially his, his emotion is worn clearly on his face.

— boyfriend jj who… falls asleep virtually anywhere, as long as you were around. he hates it, obviously wanting to be awake when he’s with you, but the feeling of genuine comfort and safety you give him is nothing like he’d ever felt at home, or anywhere, so he often finds his head on your lap or shoulder, fighting a slumber.

— boyfriend jj who… likes to take off his cap and place it backwards on your head whenever you’re making out, always laughing into the kiss whenever it inevitably falls over your eyes.

— boyfriend jj who… noticed your awestruck reaction to once finding the ‘perfect’ seashell in the sand and now brings you the prettiest, shiniest, most perfect seashells he can find — no matter who it inconveniences: “dude, it’s been, like, twenty minutes! can’t we just buy one somewhere?” pope groaned. “yeah, let me get a fake i.d. and forge a check, too, since we’re frauds now,” jj scoffed.

— boyfriend jj who… has absolutely no filter so he often just says things that you then have to somehow answer for: “is your hair supposed to look like that?” he’d wonder aloud innocently. “jj!” you’d whisper before clearing your throat, “he just means did you have to use any product or-or anything or is it naturally so pretty?”

— boyfriend jj who… remembers all the little things about you, despite his forgetful and oblivious nature, often taking you by surprise when he mentions them: “nah, you won’t like that, s’got peanut butter in it.” or "wait, the same girl who kicked down your sandcastle in third grade? i hate that bitch. sorry, sorry, continue.”

— boyfriend jj who… let’s you fiddle with the numerous rings and bracelets adorning his hands whenever you want, knowing it’s a calming distraction whenever you’re anxious. often times, you’ll be sitting with his large hand on your lap, twisting and pulling at the metal around his fingers as he chatted amongst his friends, completely unfazed by your fidgeting — he’s used to (and loves) it.

— boyfriend jj who… carves the both of your initials into the trunks of numerous tree’s across the island, whether it’s one on the side of a busy street or in the depths of a secluded wood — he likes knowing that you’re etched permanently everywhere.

 personapeters 2025 — all rights reserved • masterlist

[kaivenom]

Hey hey!! Can you do the op dilfs reaction to reader who sleeps naked? 👀

One Piece Dilfs reacting to reader sleeping naked

Characters: Doflamingo, Mihawk, Crocodile, Smoker, Shanks

A/N: I hope you like it, it turns a little NSFW, but what other reason would the reader have to sleep naked?

Masterlist

Dracule Mihawk

I picture him sleeping naked or sleeping with a victorian nightgown, either way he doesn´t seem impressed by your naked body.

He just lays on the bed like a husband dying from influenza and sleeps buuuuut...

He has your naked body next to him and his mind knows so his dreams start to get a little horny.

Unconsciously his body starts to roll to your side and hug you from behind.

You smile noticing that, Mihawk could be very stoic but when he is asleep is when he is really vunerable, and emotional.

He starts dry humping your leg and moving to your crotch.

You just let it be, thinking it's just his unconcious body doing what he needs, but in reality, Mihawk is wide awake.

Donquixote Doflamingo

Many people thinks he will wake you up, WRONG.

He will put a challenge to himself: doing everything he can to you without waking you up.

He is big, really big so it's difficult for him to not wake you up with his mere weight on the mattress, but he tries... every single time.

He some times is able to sink his cock into you and other times he can't even put his hand on you... your sleep habits are very unpredictable.

He sometimes is more respectfull like brusing your inner thights, carresing your breasts, kissing your neck, etc.

Other times he is just all tongue on your cunt instantly and moaning like a mess.

One ocasionally situation when he doesn't try to do anything to you is when he is specially sad/nostalgic about his past.

Then he wakes you up and lays his head on your chest to just ear your eartbeat.

Sr. Crocodile

Spents like half an hour watching you sleep, building up his excitiment to approach you.

He wakes you up with a slight touch.

"Hey brat, what were you thinking going onto bed naked? You wanted to tempt me?"

You woke up slowly, with a smile on your face.

"Maybe"

"Then you have to get a punishmet but right now both of us need a reward, no?"

Simple and direct, just like his deals in job. He just wants to be with you in that moment.

Smoker

A little shocked at first, ¿what if somebody else came into the room instead of him?

But then he stares at you, ass up and just so peacefull.

He starts to feel hot and hard, even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone.

He says to himself that he is a better man and starts to wander around the house, moving and doing stuff, trying to relax his mind.

The thing is that he ends up in the bedroom every couple of minutes.

Everytime examining your body more and staying more.

He tries to shower but when he is about to enter the bathroom, he just regrets it.

He enters the bedroom so disturbed that he woke you up and instantly felt bad, all the hotness was thrown away.

Well, that was until you smiled at him and invited him to join you in bed.

He tried to continue with his rude being but as soon as you touched him, he started to melt in his softer side.

Akagami Shanks

He laughs like really loud and in consecuence, wakes you up.

He then starts to aproach you with a devilish smile.

The bed cracks with his weight and you start considering covering yourself with a blancket, that smile doesn't inspire confidence.

One word, animal.

Don't ask why he got so riled up but you know the how.

Being naked on bed, pretending to sleep, just waiting for him to come and see you.

That thing made a click on his brain and he just couldn't get enough of the view or you.

But all with that stupid grin, half love dork half savage animal.

[labelneo]

rivals to refuge | player 333

PAIRING | squid game!ex-boyfriend!myung-gi x player!reader

You couldn't stand him. Not after what he’d done. But, inside the games, he was the only thing you had to hold on to.

GENRE | enemies to lovers, romance

WORD LENGTH | 5.9k words

AUTHOR’S NOTES | i’m taking squid game requests, so if you have any requests/suggestions, send an ask/comment! i’ll also tag whoever would like to be tagged in them! also, request for this fic was made by @vinaluvsu ! enjoy!

If looks could kill, 100 billion won would have been added to the bank hanging from the room you were currently standing in. Your gaze was set on the back of Player 333’s head as you watched him at the voting stand, his hand hovering over the two buttons. Red and blue. Myung-gi had always been stupid, the current red patch on his clothing proved so. You wondered how stupid he would be now. 

You hear the click of the button from your spot next to the bunk beds, quickly raising your gaze to the screen on the wall. The number of X’s rises by one as you look back and watch Myung-gi reach for his new badge. 

Maybe he isn’t as stupid as he seemed. 

You, however, still couldn’t believe it. Not only could you believe the situation you were in, but you also couldn’t believe that here, in this room, is where you would find Myung-gi again. The same Myung-gi that had left you 6 months ago without warning. You thought he may have had something to do with his investment failures as a cryptocurrency trader a couple months before. He owed a lot of people a lot of money, and you were not oblivious to the fact. 

However, after supporting for the weeks following the investments failures, he left your shared apartment one day, only to never come back. You had called, texted, and reached out more times than you could count the days, weeks, and months following his disappearance. You never found out what had led to him to disappear for one day to another. Not until you found yourself stuck in the room you were currently standing in. 

On the first day you had arrived, along with everyone else, you also had a lot of questions of why you were in the room you were in. You remember how the room broke out into loud voices. You were too confused to make sense of any of it. That was until you watched the screen fill with videos of those who were also in the room. You watched Myung-gi’s face pop out on the video, and how his scam and money loss was the reason he had been invited to join the game. From that moment, all you could feel was rage. He hadn’t been killed due to his scam like you may have believed at one point. 

He had just decided to leave you. 

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that it felt good to witness Myung-gi’s face filled with fear while watching Thanos and Nam-gyu confront him after the first game. You remember how after being thrown around for a bit before Player 001 interfered, he had gotten up and dusted himself off, still shaken from the ordeal. That’s when he first noticed you in the room. But, your gaze didn’t shake from the expression it had been holding. A gaze full of hate. You were glad he had been pushed around a bit. It’s the least he deserved. You think your gaze spoke enough words that day too, as he didn’t try to approach you either. 

You’re brought back to reality when you hear Player 001 called to cast his vote. His body leans forward as he presses into his choice. Red. You quickly raise your gaze again to the screen. 

Fuck. You think to yourself. Still not enough to get out of this damn place. 

You don’t move from your spot, watching as your teammates come back to the bunks once the voting ends. You owed your life to them after they had helped you in the last game, the 6-legged pentathlon, but, right now, all you left was like it hadn’t mattered anyways. It seemed like you would never get out. 

You sit with your team for the rest of the evening, telling stories about your lives. Gi-hun, that was the name of the man who had played the games before. The rest of the group went on with saying their names, and you felt internally grateful that you had found a group that was as connected as the one you were in now. 

Before the lights could be turned off for the night, you excuse yourself to the restrooms, passing Myung-gi on the way. It seemed like he wanted to stop you on your way out of the room, but he pushed his body back onto his bed after a second of trying. You simply kept walking, you didn’t feel like wasting your breath with him anyways. 

Your trip to the bathroom consisted of you splashing your face with the cold water running out the faucet. You look at your reflection in the mirror, wondering if Myung-gi could notice how much stress he had caused after his disappearance on your person. For lack of better words, you looked tired. You try not to get too lost in your thoughts, thoughts you had already cycled through a million times. Myung-gi left, and even though he was now here, in the same place as you, he was gone. He had been gone a long time ago. 

Making your way back to the beds, you try not to get too lost in thought, completely becoming unaware of your surroundings. So, you don’t notice the figure approaching you until you feel a grip on your upper arm. The place you were in wasn’t a place for slow reactions, so as quick as you felt the touch to your arm, you just as quickly moved your body to face the person grabbing you, slamming your forearm right onto Myung-gi’s neck. 

Myung-gi, on the other hand, wasn’t sure what he expected. Seeing you here was the last thing he expected to happen after he woke up in a green jumpsuit along with another 435 people. But now, you’re here and only inches away from him with your arm pressed harshly into his neck. Myung-gi’s stare matches yours at that moment. He noticed how your stare remained cold from the moment you had reacted to his touch, but he also noticed the crease that had popped up on your forehead when you realized it was him, the crease he knew showed up when you were annoyed. 

And, he’s not happy about it. He shoves you off of him, and you take a step back realizing who the person who had touched you had been. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, earning an immediate scoff from you. 

Straightening your sleeve, you answer sternly, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’d thought maybe you'd be happy to see me,” Myung-gi states clearly. You find it unbelievable.  

“Well,” you start, letting out a breath, “I don’t know where you’d even get that idea from.”

Myung-gi doesn’t seem to know what to do next. He crosses his arms, thinking about why you would be here. He figures you know why he’s here, you’d see it on the screen on the wall yourself. 

“So, what? You’re in here for money?”

“Of course I am Myung-gi, you’d know that if you weren’t such a prick.”

Myung-gi blinks hard at your name-calling, taken back. “Well, I’m sorry I was such a shitty boyfriend.” 

“Me too.”

You don’t say anything else, pushing past him to make your way back to your group. He wasn’t someone who you needed in your life anymore. Still, the interaction hurt. You’d made up millions of scenarios in your mind about seeing him again. You thought he’d run up to you, pull you in, apologize, and explain why he had left you in the dark. But, that’s not what happened. You don’t care for it anyways. 

You try not to think too much about your interaction with Myung-gi as you fall asleep. The next day comes quick, even though there wasn’t much to do to begin with. However, when you know your life's on the line every second you are in this place, the possibility of death comes by as fast as you'd expect. Having nowhere else to go, you lounge around the main room all day with your same teammates, waiting for the next game. When you hear that female voice come from the speakers, you feel goosebumps form on your skin. You didn’t want to have to fight for your life, but you had no other choice at this point.

Mingle. It reminded you of carousel rides you used to take when you were younger. Except, you had never felt so much anxiety on a carousel ride as children’s music played. You had been running around the entire game, pulled by whichever person on your now formed alliance team managed to pull you first. You’ve already made it this far, but as the rounds passed, the amount of blood on the floor also increased. You had slipped on it on the way out of one of the rooms, your clothes now somewhat covered in blood. Dae-ho had been the one to pick you up, giving you a reassuring smile that you would be okay. Although you were grateful for his attempt to comfort you, you were too frazzled by everything happening to give anything other than a small smile of acknowledgement in return. He had seen the way you smile had twitched, but he didn’t push you further. He understood. 

You sat in one of the rooms with Young-il, Gi-hun, and Jung-bae. The four of you wait for the main room to be cleared of dead bodies, sitting in silence before Young-il begins to speak. 

“Who was that boy you were talking to yesterday?”

You know the question is for you. Truth be told, after every round that had passed, you scanned the room to find Myung-gi. You hated him, that’s what you told yourself. But, that didn’t mean you wanted to see him dead. 

“He’s someone I know from the outside.”

Young-il hums in acknowledgment. He knows you're bluffing. The other two men in the room know that as well. 

Jung-bae turns his head towards you, “He’s been looking for every round, you know? That’s what you've been doing too.”

You don’t move. “Look at you,” you tease, whistling afterwards before continuing, “sir.” You raise your hand up to your forehead, mocking a salute. The men in the room laugh quietly at your behavior. 

And although you were trying to make a light-hearted moment out of the situation, you wondered if what Young-bae said was true. 

Has Myung-gi really been looking for you?

The spinning, the music, all these people around you. It was all too much. Your eyes keep and keep darting in every direction in every round so far. You’re tired. You’re worried. You’re scared. You don’t feel the platform when it stops spinning. You don’t realize when the music cuts out to announce the round’s number, and you don’t react when everyone around you starts darting in all directions. 

30…

You almost lose your footing when you feel a tug at your upper arm. Looking to your right, you see Gi-hun pulling you towards him. 2. You snap yourself back to reality as he pulls you harshly, trying to match up with the pace he is running. But just as quickly as you had tried to pull yourself together, you find yourself running into another player and falling straight to the floor. 

25…

It all happened too quickly, and you’re not sure who you had run into, and where Gi-hun had gone. There’s blood on your hands from following on the floor, and Gi-hun isn’t holding on to you anymore. You pick yourself up and, in a haste, look around for him.  

20…

You can’t hear much over the desperate cries of those around you, begging for a partner to complete the required number. You dart your eyes in every direction.  You finally see Gi-hun who’s yelling for you, but it’s too late. You watch as he is forcefully pulled into one of the rooms by another player.

15…

Your heart sinks to your stomach. Looking around again, you tell yourself that it’s best you found a room now before it's too late. You run towards a room you see hasn’t been occupied yet, and you hope you’ll eventually manage to find someone to pull into the room with you. 

10…

Running in that direction, you see another player, a girl on the floor. You watch how she can barely pick herself up from how much she had been trampled on. Watching as others step on her and run over her body, you run towards her, picking her up from the floor. You can’t just let her die. 

9…

At this point, you’re dragging her body in the direction of the room. You’re begging her to walk, to try and stand on her own, but she’s too weak to keep going.

8…

Maybe this is how you’ll die, playing hero.

7…

What if no one ever finds your body?

6…

There’s still so much you haven't done with your life. 

5…

Is this how it ends?

4…

Will you ever get to tell Myung-gi the truth?

Your thoughts and your desperate attempt to drag the girl hanging from your body are interrupted when you feel someone pull your body. You lose your balance, and taken back from the surprising attack, you also lose your grip on the young girl, dropping her onto the floor. You try to reach for her again, but the yanking on your arm is too forceful as whoever grabbed you pulls you away.

“No!” You yell, reaching for the girl’s hand as she has it extend towards you. 

A second more passes before you’re thrown inside one of the rooms, hearing the door click, and the decision you didn’t make being solidified. You don’t even look at whoever it had been who had pulled you against your will. Instead, you rush to look out the cut out rectangle on the room’s door, looking in the direction the girl that was once attached to you had fallen. You see her on the floor where you had left her. It was too late for her.

You watch as her eyes shift to make eye contact with you. 

“Unnie,” she sees, her hand reaching out for you one last time, “please.”

You think about how you could save her, unrealistic ideas forming in your head. But as quick as your thoughts came, a gunshot rings in your ears, and you watch the girl’s hand fall back onto the floor. 

You struggle to take your eyes off of her. She’s gone, and you couldn’t save her. You feel the guilt take over your body. Maybe if you would have been faster or stronger, maybe even smarter, you would have found a way to avoid her death. 

You hear your name being called from behind you. It’s the only thing that brings you back to reality. For a second, you think maybe it was Young-il or Dae-ho who had ended up grabbing you. But, you knew that voice anywhere. Turning around, slowly, you look to see Myung-gi standing behind you.

He has a look on his face that you can’t seem to make out. His eyes seem to soften when he looks at you. Maybe he senses the guilt you’re feeling, but you don’t want to believe that. He had pulled you in to save his own life at the cost of someone else’s, that’s what you wanted to believe. You didn’t want to make him a hero. 

You take a step forward and shove him away from you. He tries to grab your hands, but you keep pushing at his chest, trying to get him as far away from you as you can. “You didn’t have to help me! I had that handled!” 

“Handled?” He exclaims. “You call that handled? You were going to die!”

You face twists in disgust. He’s not a good person, and you're not about to make him one either. 

“No,” you scream, shaking your head, pointing towards the door, “I could've saved her. This is your fault.”

Myung-gi matches the volume of your voice, grabbing your shoulders, “You would've died, along with everyone else that’s out there!”

“That wasn’t your decision to make!”

Myung-gi’s eyes wide, like an attempt for you to try and understand where he was coming from. “Come on, Y/N! I just saved your life!”

You shake your head, your eyebrows curving into one another. “No, you didn’t save me. You killed her.”

You don’t know what to say to him anymore, and you don’t have energy to either. Maybe you could say something about how he broke your heart the day he left and never came back. How he made you feel when he left and never told you why, and how it made you feel like you were so unworthy of an explanation. You stand there, hoping maybe he’ll say something instead. But, all Myung-gi does is stand there, looking at you with challenging eyes. 

If he was waiting for a thank you, he was going to have to wait a lifetime. You take a few steps back until you feel your back hit one of the walls surrounding you. Letting your body fall to the floor, you don’t know what to do anymore except wait for the bodies outside the door to be taken away so that you could finally leave this stupid game. 

Myung-gi does the same, letting his body fall to the floor, taking a seat as far away from you as he could. The two of you were only a few feet away from one another, but even in the months he had been gone, this is the farther he had ever felt from you. 

Rushing back to the main room, you hear Myung-gi trying to catch up to you. He’s calling out your name, but you don’t want to talk. A part of you is grateful, he saved your life. You knew, deep down, that you would have never made it into the room if you had kept dragging that poor girl into the room with you. But, how could you be thankful to Myung-gi for saving you? After he had left you, and disappeared, how could he come back into your life and play hero? 

Your anger had only grown in the time you and Myung-gi had been sitting in the small mingle room waiting for those who had survived to be released from the game. You’re thinking about everything you should’ve said to Myung-gi while you still had the chance, but your thoughts are interrupted when you feel him grab your arm once more.

You yank your hand, and hard, knowing no one would be the one grabbing your arm besides him. Myung-gi sees the wrinkle in your forehead form once more, the same wrinkle that had formed a million times while the two of you had been together, and the same wrinkle that had sent him over the edge during your first interaction a day earlier. Except, this time, he doesn’t get angry. You see the way his expression grows gentle, but you’re too fired up to care. Your emotions have been bubbling up for months at this point, and you don’t care to even give him a second to catch his breath after both of you almost lost your lives. Now’s your chance to say everything you never got to say.

“You,” you say, pointing your finger straight into his chest, “think you can just disappear? Just like that, in the way you did, and now that you find me here, you get to be my hero?”

Myung-gi reaches for your hand, the one that’s still close to his chest, but you slap it away. “Don’t touch me!”

“Y/N, I know you’re angry, but it’s so much more complicat-”

“Oh, I’m sure it was,” you interrupt, not caring enough to let him finish. “So complicated you didn’t care to tell me or explain anything.”

“I didn’t have a choice! Just let me explain, okay? Maybe if you just heard me out you wouldn’t be so emotional about all this!” Myung-gi cringes at his words. 

God. He thinks. I shouldn’t have said that.

“Emotional?” You question. “That’s fucking rich,” you snarl. “Coming from you.” 

By this point, a crowd had gathered, but neither of you seemed to notice. 

You take a step forward, giving Myung-gi a look he couldn’t register. Your gaze was cold and unmoving. “You’re the one who left, without a word. You left me,” you point to yourself, and Myung-gi can see tears start forming in your eyes, “to deal with everything alone. And, now you’re here, trying to save the day.” 

“But all you are”, you say, emphasizing each word, “is a fucking coward.” 

Myung-gi feels his fists clench on his sides, his eyes locking onto yours. “You don’t know anything.”

You don’t break eye contact as you respond, “I don’t want to. Just stay out of my way.” 

You make your way back to your group, leaving Myung-gi standing alone. He doesn’t know what to do or say. But he is thinking one thing. That you were right. That’s what he was thinking. He should’ve just told you the truth, instead of running away like a coward. 

Myung-gi looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, gripping the edges to the sink. 

Get it together, Myung-gi. Get it together. 

In his attempt to bring you back to him, he had only managed to make things worse. But he had tried to save your life, so why couldn’t you just be grateful at the very least?

The bathroom’s main door creaks open as Thanos walks in with Nam-gyu. Myungi-gi, too riled up because of his problems with you, attempts to make his way out the bathroom, only to stop when he notices Thanos messing with Min-su. 

Realizing that Thanos was attempting to threaten Min-su because of his choice to change his vote from O to X, Myung-gi finds it in himself to yell out to the rest of the men in the room, attempting to alert them of what Thanos was doing. The men huddle into the center of the restroom, and Thanos, unhappy with the situation, decides to confront Myung-gi. 

“MG Coin,” Thanos starts, “Have you lost your mind?” Thanos waves his hand in front of Myung-gi's face in an attempt to irk him, something he had been committed to do the entire time they had been there. 

But Myung-gi stands his ground, not wanting to let Thanos get to him. Your words are ringing in his mind. Coward. That’s all Myung-gi hears in his head at this moment. He had to prove to himself, and you, that he wasn’t going to be a coward anymore.

Thanos, realizing that Myung-gi wasn’t going to falter, decides to try and provoke Myung-gi further, “It’s because of that girl, isn’t it? 

“That bitch from earlier?” Nam-gyu adds. “It looked like they were a thing, remember?” 

Thanos smirks once he sees the way Myung-gi faces shifts at the mention of you. Myung-gi tries to keep himself as calm as he can, but he’d be damned if you were dragged into his problems. He had already done that to you once. 

Nam-gyu continues, enjoying adding more fuel to the fire, “I like her. Maybe, we can-”

“Leave her alone, you bastards,” Myung-gi interrupts, stepping forward and pissed at the idea of them doing anything to you. 

Thanos remains unfazed. “You’re getting all worked up. Something is definitely going on there.”  

“MG Coin,” Thano repeats again, taking a step forward, “If you press X again tomorrow, I’ll cut off your finger, give it to her, and ask her out. And she’ll love it.” 

Myung-gi can feel the anger bubbling up inside him. He blinks, registering what Thanos just said to him. He could take Thanos pushing him around, but he wouldn’t let Thanos do anything to you.

Without thinking, Myung-gi’s body reacts, tightening his right hand into a fist and launching himself in Thano’s direction. The silence that had fallen in the room was interrupted by the sound of Myung-gi’s fist coming into contact with Thano’s jaw, before the room that was divided by Team O and Team X began to launch themselves at one another. 

Before Thanos can compose himself again, Myung-gi wastes no time to launch himself again at the purple-haired man, driven by the thought of you. If this was the way to protect you from Thanos and his friend, he wasn’t going to hesitate another second in dealing with Thanos. 

They wrestle until Thanos manages to pin Myung-gi onto the ground, throwing punches at Myung-gi’s face. 

“Your money, your girl, your life, they’re all mine!” 

Thanos grips Myung-gi’s throat. Myung-gi tries to fight him off, but Thano’s pupils are dilated. He’s high, and there’s nothing he won’t do.

Myung-gi tries gasping for air, clawing at Thano’s grasp. His vision darkens and darkens as the seconds go by. Maybe this is how he’ll die, on a bathroom floor, in the middle nowhere, where no one will ever find his body, and with you never knowing the truth. He’ll die with you hating him. 

Y/N. 

He sees you in a flash. The day before he disappeared, how you laid next to him your shared room. How you opened your eyes and looked at him with stars in your eyes. How he reached over to touch your soft skin. How you smiled at him. How you pushed the hair out of his eyes. He remembers how his heart fluttered when you pressed the warmth of your body against his. He remembers the guilt he felt when he left you that next day, knowing he wouldn't be back for a while. 

Then, he sees your angry face. The fire in your eyes every time you've looked at him since the two of you have been here. How when he saw you, he thought maybe he'd have the courage to tell you the truth, but, instead, his emotions got the best of him. But, you need to know the truth. God, he can’t die with you hating him.

Feeling for the fork in his pocket, he manages to use the last of his strength to lunge at Thanos’ throat. Blood spews onto Myung-gi’s face, and he doesn’t know how to react, frozen from the site in front of him. It isn’t until he feels Thano’s grip loosening that he manages to break free. Gasping for air, Myung-gi manages to drag himself into a stall, his vision finally clearing. 

He leans against the stall door, trying to steady his breathing. His mind's racing, filled with the thought of you. 

The room falls into a tense, frightening silence as the fighting starts to reach an end. Myung-gi can hear the sounds of others, the murmur of conversations, the sounds of those dying as they struggle with their last breaths. Yet, he can’t focus on anything except getting back to you. He needs to find you and make sure you’re okay.  

Myung-gi pushes himself up, his body aching from the fight. He steps out of the stall, catching his reflection in the mirror. He’s bruised and covered in blood. 

Still, with determination, he exits the bathroom. His steps are unsteady, but he continues to make his way through all the corridors, heading back to the main room. He manages to catch up to some others on team X, taking a deep breath as they all approach the door. He can’t face the rest of what's to come alone, and he can't let you face it alone either. 

You sat still as you watched the argument that was breaking out in front of you. One moment you were sitting with the group, making jokes as you all tried to entertain one another. The next, the group of men that had gone into the bathroom minutes ago come back angry at one another. Angry and bloody. You listen as they tell one another, blaming each other for starting the fight. 

You began to worry about what this means. If killing one another also counts as a player losing, then no one was safe either in or out of the games. You start to think back to mingle. You were still angry at Myung-gi, but you know you weren’t angry at him for saving your life. How could you be? 

That’s when you remembered that Myung-gi had also gone into the bathroom, and he hadn’t come back out yet. 

You stand up from the spot you're in, looking over the small crowds that had formed and scanned the room. Myung-gi isn’t in the room, and you begin to wonder if he’s dead on the bathroom floor. 

Your heart drops. You feel guilt starting to eat at you. If Myung-gi’s dead, then he died thinking you hated him. 

Before you can keep thinking the worst, you hear one of the only doors of the room swing open, watching how Myung-gi stumbles in, covered in the most blood than anyone else in the room. Eyes widening, you began to worry about what happened to him. Everyone in the room continues to yell at one another, but your eyes don’t pull away from Myung-gi.

You watch as his eyes scan the room, looking for something. When his eyes land on you, his body shifts to move towards you. Without a second thought, you get up in a hurry to him. 

When you reach him, you help him walk towards your bed. He reiterates that he’s fine over and over again, but you’re having a hard time believing him with the state he is currently in. 

“What happened?” You say, scanning his face, “Is this blood yours? Where are you hurt?” 

You place your hands on both sides of his face, turning his head slightly from one side to the other in an attempt to find a source that blood could be coming from. Myung-gi doesn’t say anything, he’s too tired to. All he feels like doing at that moment leaning into the warmth of your hands, and that's exactly what he does, closing his eyes as he enjoys the comfort of being held by you. 

Taken back by the sudden action, you pull your hands away. Not as quickly as you had been doing in the past couple of days, but you still didn’t feel as though the action was appropriate. But, your gaze isn’t as harsh as it had been towards him in the past few days either, and Myung-gi takes note of that. 

“Baby,” Myung-gi says. He knows he’s still dazed from the fight, but he has to tell you the truth. “We need to talk.”

You don’t say anything, but your heart flutters at the pet name. Still, you find it inappropriate given the circumstances. “Don’t call me that.”

You rip off the fabric off some of your clothing and wipe at the blood on his face. Tears are forming in your eyes, and you don’t know if you're angry or hurt or too riled up at this point. Myung-gi sees you trying to hold back your tears as you wipe at his face, and he brings his hand up to grab yours. You try to pull back, but he keeps his hold on you. 

“Let me help you,” you say as you attempt to pull away from his grip. 

Myung-gi keeps looking at your eyes, trying to get you to look at him. “Look at me.”

You keep fighting his grip, but Myung-gi doesn’t budge. He knows you're still upset over what he did to you. You have every right to be. 

“Y/N,” he says softly, “look at me, please. Stop fighting me.”

By now, all the physical and emotional strength you had was gone. You wanted to fall into Myung-gi arms. You wanted it to just go back to the way it used to be.  

“I’m sorry.” Myung-gi cupped your face with his hands, looking into your eyes. “I’m sorry for leaving the way I did.”

“Why did you leave?” He can hear the quiver in your voice, and he feels his heart break even more than it already had been in the past few months. He hated himself for what he did to you.

“I had to” he says, scanning your face and seeing all the worry you had manifesting onto your features, “I had to go.”

He pulled your face in closer, wanting to make sure you heard everything he had to say, “After everything that happened, after all those investments I made, I owed a lot of people a lot of money. They started threatening me, and I couldn’t let anything happen to you because of me. So, I ran. I ran so they’d chase after me and so that you wouldn’t be in any danger because of my problems.”

You stay quiet, continuing to listen to him. “But not a day went by that I didn’t think about you or coming back home to you. I came back for you, that’s why I was in town again, but after the stupid salesman gave me the card on the subway, I thought I could get some money together so I could pay off my debt and finally come back home to you without any worries.” 

A tear slid down your cheek. You didn’t know what to think. 

“But,” Myung-gi added, “I never stopped thinking about you. And, I never stopped loving you, baby. I’m sorry for acting the way I have been, I just… I know I didn’t do things right. I was afraid you might have already moved on by now and that all I had was hope in something that doesn’t exist between us anymore.” 

“Myung-gi,” you say, finally finding in yourself to say something, “I’m really angry with you right now.”

Myung-gi feels a lump grow in his throat. “I know.”

You take his hands off your face, and Myung-gi lets his head drop down. Maybe, he has lost you for good. 

“But I never stopped loving you either.” You intertwine your hands with his, and Myung-gi lifts his head up in surprise. 

A small smile forms on both of your faces. Myung-gi lifts your connected hands to his lips, kissing your hands. He scans your face, and you feel your cheeks warm up to his affection. He has a look on his face that you know too well. 

A silence falls over the both of you. It was all lot to take in from both sides, but Myung-gi had missed you so much, and he just needed to take you all in. He had already lost so much time with you, he didn’t want to lose any more time ever again. 

“Can I kiss you?”

You take a second to make a decision before giving him a small nod. He leans in, and you close your eyes before you feel the plushiness of his lips come into contact with yours. He grabs your waist, pulling you in, and you let your hands rest on his jaw line. 

Pulling away for air, Myung-gi takes another couple of seconds to look at your face as he traced your features with his finger gently and lovingly, a gesture you had missed more than you could express.

“We’re getting out of here.” Myung-gi says as he pecks your lips. “And I will spend every day for the rest of my life making it up to you. 

You nod at his words. You know that not everything is resolved between the two of you yet, but you now have the answers you had been looking for. And that was good enough for now.

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[cosmicmunsonwrites]

i’ll drive, i’ll drive all night

bf!rafe cameron x fem!reader

cw — alcohol, brief talks abt arguing, this is lowk short

summary — you drunk call rafe for a ride home from your friends house.

a/n — whipped this up in a few minutes so please don’t be too harsh. request!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

you sat outside with the warm breeze as you waited on the steps to your best friends house for your boyfriend to pick you up. you were completely out of it, eyes feeling heavy, body all soft and feeling like jelly from the copious amounts of alcohol coursing through you.

you’d probably had one too many drinks and you were expecting a lecture from rafe when he arrived but you were too far past the point of caring. you just wanted to see him and go home after the terrible day you’d had.

the two of you had argued earlier in the afternoon which eventually led to you both parting ways and not speaking for a few hours. you were both very opinionated and you had attitudes that often didn’t mix well when you were frustrated. one of you usually apologized though and you guys moved past it.

this one was different though. you knew you’d been a little mean in your replies but you also felt like he deserved a little reality check. you currently couldn’t even remember why you were arguing due to your drunken state, but you knew it was something you guys could easily get over. you two would probably forget about it by morning anyway.

when you finally saw the big truck pull into the driveway, you quickly stood and almost immediately regretted the sudden action. your head began to spin and a pain accumulated behind your eyelids as you drunkenly stumbled to his car. he was standing on the passengers side waiting for you.

once you approached after tripping over your own feet, he opened up the door for you without a word and helped you up the big step to get inside. he shut it behind you and made his way into his own seat. he assured you had your seatbelt on and began reversing out of the driveway without a word.

“i’m sorry,” you slurred quietly, noticing the way both his hands held the steering wheel instead of one of them resting on your thigh. “didn’t know who else to call.”

you heard him sigh and begin to drive. “would rather you call me than anyone else,” he admitted honestly and spared a glance in your direction. his heart broke a little at the soft pout on your lips and the sad glint in your eyes. “‘nd i’m not mad at you, baby. ‘s fine.”

your eyes glistened with tears as you looked at him. “you’re not?” you mumbled under your breath, eyes feeling heavier and your head getting all foggy.

he shook his head with a shrug and gently rested his hand on your lower thigh just above your knee, thumb soothing over your skin reassuringly. “could never be mad at you,” he said before the car fell into a comfortable silence. the only sound being the quiet song playing on his radio.

you didn’t know when you fell asleep or how long it’d been since, but you began to wake to the sight of rafe standing in front of you looking extremely focused and a soft towel being dragged carefully over your cheeks. you were sat on the bathroom counter with your legs spread slightly and him standing between them with majority of your body weight leaning against his.

he was holding your jaw in one hand while the other hand did what you assumed was taking off your makeup. when you finally fluttered your eyes open for real this time, he scanned your face and placed the towel down on the counter. “you have fun tonight?”

you nodded and smiled softly. “mhm. morgan’s friends are really nice. the bar was so cool,” you replied, awkwardly rubbing your hands along your thighs not knowing whether or not it was appropriate to touch him. “‘m really sorry, rafe.”

he went silent for a moment but his eyes stayed fixed on yours. “its okay, sweetheart. we both said some shit we shouldn’t have. ‘s alright. people make mistakes.”

“i was bein’ a bitch earlier,” you mumbled, leaning your forehead against his chest.

he laughed softly and smoothed a hand down the back of your head comfortingly. “i think i can handle your attitude pretty well by now,” he replied just barely above a whisper. “c’mon. time for bed.”

you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands found the backs of your thighs, lifting you and walking you to your shared bedroom before dropping you down gently on your side. he was quick to pull his shirt over his head and crawl under the covers beside you.

you scooted closer to his side and sighed at the familiar warmth you enjoyed so much. his arm loosely fell to the dip of your waist as he scrolled through netflix to find a movie on, knowing you couldn’t sleep without the tv on. “i love you baby,” you muttered through a sleep-laced voice.

he smiled and pressed a kiss to your hair. “i love you more, angel.”

[hitoshitoshi]

How to Give Zayne a Blowjob! [Zayne x Fem!Reader 18+]

Summary: You give Zayne the best blowjob of his life. WC: 2.5k Tags: Mentions of Riding and Creampie, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Deepthroat, Intimate and Passionate Sex, Sensitive Zayne, Cum Swallowing, Hair pulling, Gentle Dom Zayne, Body Worship.

Contrary to popular belief, Zayne was a sensitive man ー that is, his entire body, cock included. It was an accumulation of years being in the medical field, constantly being busy and never having time to get laid or even to jack off was why he was always sensitive to your touch. You discovered that Zayne didn't last long in bed during the first time you and him made love together in missionary. The moment that he was buried into your sweet pussy to the hilt, Zayne almost came right then and there inside of you ーoverwhelmed by how good you felt around him. 

It was a miracle that Zayne even lasted 7 minutes and 45 seconds, where Zayne was lost in a haze of ecstasy. Every squeeze of your tight pussy sends shocks of pleasure though his body ー feeling every ridge, every cushiony place inside of you, his cock mapping out your entire pussy, memorising it by touch and feeling alone. Zayne himself wasn't the type of man to moan, but he let out a choked gasp of pleasure when he came deep inside of you, letting out shuttered breaths right by your ear.

Ever since then, missionary was not his go-to position since he has a new one. Now, Zayne craves the sight of you on top of him. His breath would catch everytime you sink down on his hard cock, marvelling at how perfect you and your pussy was for him. Zayne found it utterly mesmerising by the way that your thighs would quiver against his hips, the subtle flex of your lower abs as you moved back and forth, lost in your pleasure. Whenever he would see the light hitting your chest, making your chest glow as you rid him, he would always have to resist the urge to sit up and give you hickies all over your chest; it was safe to say that each time, he would always lose to that temptation. That temptation, being you. Zayne's hands would roam all around your body, alternating between feather-like touches, to full on gripping onto you to ground himself to reality. Every gasp, every moan that you made was just so euphoric to him.

Though he rarely voiced it, Zayne loved it when you used him for your pleasure. He was a gentle service dom, doing whatever it takes to make you feel good. He found profound satisfaction in your pleasure, he'd get off to you grinding your pussy on him just to chase your orgasm. Zayne would always look at you with a mix of desire and pure utter adoration. He would always think about how beautiful you looked like this ー all broken and stupid you were because of him, how desperate he made you for him, how lucky he is to have you, and how he wanted to make you feel this good forever.

You wanted to give back to him this time, this time, you wanted to draw out the pleasure for him. You wanted him to savour that feeling of ecstasy. You moved Zayne on your shared bed, arranging him so that he was propped up, a pillow behind his lower back with his upper back leaning against the headboard. You had Zayne's legs spread wide open on each side of you. Zayne's pale skin was flushed with arousal, a light sheen of sweat made him glow underneath the soft light. You glanced down between his muscular thighs, your mouth watered at the sight of his hard cock ー a whole 8 inch cock with a 1.6 inch diameter, slightly curved upward with a large vein running down from the tip of his cock to the bottom with a glistening tip ー Zayne's cock was always so pretty to you. 

As you lowered your head  down between Zayne's spread thighs, your mouth watered at the sight of his hard cock, a bead of pre-cum glistened on top of his pink tip. He twitched under your gaze, seeing that sent you into a small power trip because you did this to him without even touching him. Your fingers trailed lightly along his inner thighs, you felt how his muscles quivered beneath your touch. You glanced up at Zayne though your lashes, a coy smile played on your lips. Cute. Zayne was so so cute. Zayne's ears betrayed himself as it turned a deep shade of red, his own body betraying his stoic exterior for pleasure ー the pleasure you gave him.

As much as you craved the feeling of Zayne’s cock in your mouth, you were determined to savour every moment of this experience, every moment of this experience; starting from his knees, you began a torturously slow journey upwards, your lips trailing over his inner thighs. Each kiss was a whispered promise — a reverent worship of his body. You took your time, memorising every centimetre of his skin with your mouth. 

Zayne’s body had responded so beautifully to your teasing; every shudder, every twitch of a muscle beneath your lips was a victory —  a map of his most sensitive spots. You could feel the tension coiling within him, his sensitivity being the cause of the downfall of his self composure. Zayne’s voice was breathless and strained; a thrill was sent through you, fueling your desire to push him further. You nipped at his inner thigh, alternating pressure and intensity, leaving a trail of small hickeys in your wake. These marks were your claim on him —   reminder of this moment that would linger for days. 

The sound of fabric scrunching had filled the air as Zayne’s fingers clenched and unclenched in the sheets; you ran your tongue along each line of his defined muscles, tracing the prominent veins with the tip of your tongue. The taste and scent of his skin, a heady mix of musk and a hint of bergamot from his cologne, was intoxicating.

Zayne’s usual eloquence had deserted him, reduced to gasps with his hips bucking up, wanting your mouth on his aching length. He needed you so badly, it was like an itch in his soul that only you could soothe. You glanced up at Zayne, taking in the sight of the usually composed Chief of surgery coming undone beneath your touch, how he looked absolutely ravished without you even touching his cock. His chest heaved with each ragged breath, a light sheen of sweat making his skin glow in the soft light. In that moment, Zayne had thought you were the loveliest woman he had ever seen —  and the cruelest for drawing out his sweet torture.

Your hand grasped Zayne’s thick cock — you couldn’t touch your thumb and middle fingers together around its impressive girth; the velvety skin felt like fire against your palm, pulsing with his rapid heartbeat. You placed a gentle kiss on Zayne’s flushed and leaking tip, his precum coating your lips with a tantalising warmth. As you pull back slightly, a strand of his cum stretched between your lips and his sensitive cockhead. The sight of your lips connected to him in such a lewd way made your pussy throb with need. Zayne’s breath caught sharply in his throat, his jaw clenched as he fought to maintain control and not take you right then and there as you made a deal with him to let you pleasure him however you liked tonight. You saw the struggle play out across Zayne’s features — his brows furrowed slightly, the muscles in his neck tightened as he swallowed hard as he desperately held back a whimper that threatened to escape; his eyelids fluttered its shadows onto his flushed cheeks. Zayne looked ethereal when he was getting lost in pleasure.

You trailed kisses up and down the underside of Zayne’s cock, tracing each vein with your tongue. When you finally wrapped your lips around the lips around the tip of Zayne’s cock, he let out a heavy sigh as he leaned his head back against the headboard, exposing more of his throat. Zayne’s Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the saliva that pooled in his mouth.  A quiet moan escaped you as you sank your head down, taking Zayne deeper into the wet heat of your mouth; the vibrations travelled down his shaft, drawing a miniscule shudder from Zayne that you felt more than saw. The weight of his heavy cock on your tongue, the stretch of your lips around his girth, and his scent was utterly intoxicating. You breathed steadily through your nose as you focused on relaxing your throat as his tip hit the back of your mouth —  you wanted to take him even deeper — no, you needed to. 

Zayne’s lips parted, releasing soft and quiet, needy breaths that sent your heart racing. Even now, Zayne fought to keep his voice down, but you could hear the strain in each exhale and feel the tension in his body. His hand found its way to the back of your head, his long fingers tangled in your hair; the grip was firm yet gentle. Zayne’s legs widened slightly, unconsciously giving you more access, his body’s eagerness betrayed his mind’s attempt to maintain control. 

Your left hand gripped Zyne’s inner thigh, keeping his legs spread wide; the warmth of his skin against your palm was intoxicating, and you could feel the subtle tremors of his muscles beneath your touch. Your right hand moved to cup his balls, gently rolling and massaging them as you continued to work his cock with your mouth. The dual stimulation drew another sharp intake of air from Zayne, his hips jerking involuntarily before he settled down a bit. His fingers tightened in your hair, not quite pulling but holding on as if you were his only anchor to sanity. A bead of sweat trailed down his temple and you saw the rapid rise and fall of his chest as his breathing became more laboured. The usually stoic doctor was coming undone from your touch, his carefully maintained composure was cracking with each passing moment. A low, inaudible groan escaped him, quickly bitten back but not before you heard it —  a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

That sound that Zayne made was your motivation, you needed to hear more of it. You increased the speed of your head bobbing, making sure to relax your throat when you were taking his entire length into your mouth and down your throat, and ensuring that you sucked when you were pulling your head off of Zayne’s cock. You were careful to never pull Zayne out of your mouth too much, always keeping the tip of his cock in your mouth. It was getting messy —  real messy —  just how you liked it. You could feel his pre-cum hitting the back of your throat as saliva pooled in your mouth, making Zayne’s cock, balls, and thighs glisten in the dim light. 

Zayne’s left eye cracked open slightly between soft groans; his touch was gentle as you gave him what you hoped was the best blow job in his entire existance. His fingers trembled slightly as he pushed your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ears so that he could see your gorgeous eyes. His gaze was half-lidded as he treasured how beautiful you looked in the soft lighting —  hair dishevelled, face flushed, your hand playing with his balls, your teary eyes looking up at him, and your nose right up against his trimmed pubes with his cock buried deep in your throat. 

The intimacy of the moment was palpable; even though this was an incredibly crude scene, what Zayne focused on instead of the pleasure that he was feeling, but you. The way you were with him, so eager for him, how you felt so much love for him that you’d take time out of your life to make him feel so good, and how you were just unequivocally you. Your heart raced as you saw that glimpse of vulnerability in Zayne’s eyes. His chest heaved with each laboured breath, and you could feel the tension in his thighs as he fought to keep his hips still. 

You could sense the building tension in Zayne’s body, his breathing grew more ragged, punctuated by soft, barely audible groans and grunts that came out of his lips. You perked up even more when you saw Zayne’s abs clench —  a clear indicator that he was going to cum soon, and that made you really excited as you redoubled your efforts. You hollowed your cheeks and increased the suction as you bobbed your head; your tongue traced patterns along his shaft. Your right hand, still cupping his balls, began a gentle massaging motion —  adding to the onslaught of stimulation. 

Zayne’s breathing became increasingly erratic, his chest heaved with each laboured breath. His hips began to twitch involuntarily; small, short thrusts that betrayed his waning control. The hand in your hair tightened its grip with a particular sense of urgency to cue you that he was going to cum soon. His cock seemed to swell even further in your mouth, pulsing with his rapid heartbeat; pre-cum flowed more freely now, coating your tongue with its salty and slightly bitter taste. Zayne’s usual composure was long gone, replaced by a man consumed by pleasure. Soft, breathy whimpers, grunts, and groans escaped him. his head was thrown back against the headboard, exposing the long line of his throat; Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard with his lips parted as he panted. Zayne’s face and ears were flushed in a beautiful shade of red. 

Suddenly, Zayne’s body went rigid. A strangled grunt escaped him as his orgasm hit; his cock pulsed forcibly in your mouth, spilling his hot cum in your throat in thick spurts. You swallowed eagerly, savouring the taste of him as wave after wave of pleasure wracked his body. One thing you loved about Zayne’s cum was that there was a lot of it. 

Zayne’s fingers tightened in your hair, holding you in place as he rode out his orgasm. You could feel the tremors running through him; hear the quiet, broken grunts and whimpers that he couldn’t quite suppress. You took pleasure in the knowledge that you could only make him feel this way.

As the intensity of his orgasm began to ebb, Zayne’s grip on your hair loosened. His body relaxed, sinking into the bed as his body went limp. You slowly and gently pulled off his softening cock, placing a final, tender kiss on the tip before looking up at him. 

Zayne’s eyes were half-lidded and glazed with post-orgasic bliss. A light sheen of sweat covered his flushed skin, making him glisten in the dim light; his chest rose and fell with deep, satisfied breaths. The sight of him being so thoroughly relaxed in pleasure sent a fresh wave of arousal though you that you pushed aside, prioritising Zayne’s needs first.

With gentle hands, Zayne pulled you up into his arms, readjusting both of your positions so that you laid on top of him, still in bed. His thumb brushed across your lower lip as he wiped away a bead of his cum that had escaped. Then, with infinite tenderness, Zayne leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips —  a silent thank you, filled with warmth and affection.

A/N: No thoughts, just pure horniness. I just want to pamper Zayne :(( he deserves it the most. The things I'd do for this man if he was real---

Masterlist | TWITTER

[viaxslz]

⭔﹐⌗ ATTENTION ﹕ᶻz﹒

享受 ! .°. ݁₊ 𐙚 gn!reader, cw: established relationship, post argument, making up, cold shoulders, pet names, oh take me back to this era 😭😭, not proofread :P

CHAN

You’ve been giving Chan the cold shoulder for hours after your argument. arms crossed, death glare loaded, and air pods in even though they’re not playing anything. Chan knows he's in trouble. You’re not even acknowledging the dog pics he sent you. The dog pics. That’s when he knows it’s serious. Cue Chan pacing back and forth in the living room like a sitcom dad. He's googling "how to apologize to your emotionally intelligent but terrifyingly stubborn significant other who might actually kill you with their eyes." No real help. He decides to go with the classic Chan combo: guilt + dramatic flair + ✨stupid charm✨. Next thing you know, he’s dramatically fake-sniffling outside your door with a Bluetooth speaker playing “Apologize” by OneRepublic at full volume. “Baby… it’s too late to apolo—oh wait, no, it’s NOT too late! That’s why I’m here!” You crack the door open just to glare, and that’s when he shoves a plate of perfectly microwaved dino nuggets into your hands like it’s a peace treaty. “I made these with love. And regret. Mostly regret. But also love.” You’re still silent. So he pulls out his final weapon: a handwritten letter addressed to “The Love of My Life (Who Could Annihilate Me With One Look).” It’s full of sappy lines like “Your silence hurts more than leg day” and “You’re my favorite notification and also includes a stick figure drawing of you kicking his butt, labeled “Me if I ever mess up again.” You finally snort, trying to stay mad but failing. He gasps. “Was that a laugh? Did you just—was that forgiveness I heard in your nose?” You: “That was me trying not to choke on a nugget, actually.” Chan grins like he just won an Oscar. “I’ll take it.” And before you know it, you’re in his arms, still pretending you’re annoyed, while he whispers sweet apologies into your ear and asks if you want to co-parent a puppy someday because, you know, trust rebuilding.

LEE KNOW

Minho isn’t the type to beg for forgiveness. At least, that’s what he tells himself. In reality, he’s been sulking in the kitchen for an hour, dramatically peeling oranges like they personally offended him because someone (you) won’t talk to him after your argument. He’s not even sure who was right anymore. Probably you. But admitting that out loud would break his cool, and that’s illegal in Minho Land. Instead, he starts making increasingly loud commentary to his cats. “Soonyoung, do you think I was being unreasonable? Hmm? No? Exactly. At least someone understands me.” You’re in the next room, scrolling on your phone, clearly ignoring him. He walks by casually and accidentally drops a photo of you two on the floor. “Oops,” he says way too loudly. “Didn’t mean to drop this beautiful memory we shared when we were still talking to each other like normal, emotionally stable people.” Still nothing. You don’t even blink. That’s when he resorts to phase two: petty bribery. He slides a plate of your favorite snack across the table toward you without saying a word. There’s a sticky note on it that says: “I’m still mad but I miss you more. Don’t let the cat eat this.” You glance at it, unimpressed. So he ups the ante and sends you a meme one of himself, edited to look like he’s crying in a corner with the caption: “Me after realizing I can’t win a fight against my insanely hot and emotionally intelligent partner.” Finally, you let out a laugh, and he looks up from across the room like a cat that’s pretending it doesn’t care but has been watching you the whole time. “Oh, so you do still love me,” he smirks, leaning against the counter. You: “I still haven’t forgiven you.” Minho: “That’s okay. I forgive me for both of us.” You roll your eyes and throw a pillow at him. He catches it, kisses it dramatically, and says, “Tell your representative we accept the terms.” Later, he lets Dori sit in your lap while he curls up next to you, whispering, “I hate fighting with you. Let’s not do that again. Unless you’re into angry make-ups. In which case, I’m very available.”

CHANGBIN

Changbin messed up. He knows it. You know it. The neighbors probably know it because you haven’t responded to a single thing he’s said in two hours and he’s been dramatically sighing every five minutes like someone just told him protein shakes were banned. He starts pacing the apartment like he’s mentally preparing for a final boss fight. Even his muscles look tense. He mutters to himself like a stressed-out drama lead. "Okay Changbin, you’ve survived leg day, you’ve survived Jihoon’s cooking, you can survive this." He tries casual tactics first. Walks by you holding a gallon of water like he’s not suffering. Drops a casual “sup” in the most broken voice ever. You don’t even blink. So he levels up: Operation Cute & Desperate. You hear rustling in the bedroom. Fifteen minutes later, he walks out in your hoodie, the one that’s comically tight on him and a headband with little bear ears. His arms are crossed. His face is dead serious. “I’m here to apologize,” he says, voice an octave higher. “As your oversized emotional support bear.” You blink. He waddles closer, overly dramatic. “I’ve been thinking about my actions. While lifting. And crying. Slightly. Okay maybe a lot. But my point is look into these bear ears and tell me you don’t miss me.” You burst out laughing. He grins like he just benched 300 pounds of forgiveness. But he’s not done. He dramatically pulls out a tiny tub of ice cream from behind his back like it’s an engagement ring. “I come bearing peace offerings and high-calorie emotional healing. If this doesn’t work, I’ll let you pick the next gym playlist. Even if it’s… ballads.” You, narrowing your eyes: “Even the sad ones with rain sound effects?” He winces. “Even those.” You pull him into a hug, bear ears squishing slightly, and he lets out a victorious sigh.

HYUNJIN

The argument was dumb. Like, really dumb. Something about the dishes and his suspicious ability to avoid them like they’re cursed. But now you’re not talking to him, and Hyunjin is spiraling. He’s lying facedown on the floor like a Victorian man fainting in a corset. Felix: “Dude, are you okay?” Hyunjin, muffled into the carpet: “No. My soulmate hates me and the world has lost color.” He tries texting you, but you left him on read. Tragic. So he gets creative. You walk into the living room and freeze. There’s a handwritten note taped to the wall that says: “In this house, i love and respect the queen (you). Even when she is intimidating and scary and not talking to me.” Below it: a trail of rose petals… leading to the kitchen… where you find Hyunjin in an apron, holding a vacuum cleaner in one hand and a spatula in the other like some kind of domestic apology warrior. “I have vacuumed. I have cooked. I have suffered.” You stare at him. He drops the spatula. “Do I get forgiveness points if I say you’re prettier when you’re mad?” You squint. “No.” He gasps. “How dare. I’m literally groveling. Do you know how much I hate crumbs on my socks? I vacuumed for you. That’s love.” You try to keep a straight face, but he’s got that kicked puppy look and there’s flour in his hair. It’s… kind of adorable. “I’m still mad.” He nods solemnly, walks over, and holds up a crayon drawing of the two of you holding hands, labeled: “Me + The Love of My Life (please forgive me I am weak without you)” You burst out laughing, finally giving in. He beams like he just won an award. Hyunjin, hugging you tightly: “I’ll do dishes every day this week.” You: “And next week.” Hyunjin: “Let’s not push it.”

HAN

Han is not handling this well. You're ignoring him and he’s been pacing the room like a raccoon on Red Bull. The argument was over something stupid (probably him forgetting to text you back because he was distracted by a pigeon outside), but now you’re giving him the silent treatment and he’s one sad meme away from spiraling. He sends you a voice note titled “Please Listen or I Will Cry in Public” You open it. It’s just him saying “hi” in 27 different accents, followed by a long sigh and then: “I miss you. Also, I stubbed my toe and I feel like that’s karma.” Still no response. So he launches Operation Desperate But Make It Stupid™. You walk into the kitchen to find a post-it note stuck to your favorite snack: “This snack is yours. So is my heart. Please take both.” Then there’s another note on the fridge: “If this is where the cold stuff goes, why are you being so cold to me :(((((” Another one on the toilet: “I flushed my pride. Let me back in your heart.” You’re trying not to laugh, but it’s becoming physically impossible. Then you hear him yell from the living room: “BABY PLEASE I CAN’T WORK UNDER THESE CONDITIONS. I TRIED TO WRITE LYRICS AND THEY TURNED INTO A SAD POEM ABOUT YOUR LEFT EYEBROW.” You peek your head out and he’s sitting dramatically on the floor with a ukulele he can’t play, strumming random strings while freestyle rapping an apology. “I was dumb and now I’m numb, You’re my queen and I’m your crumb, Forgive me please, or I’ll become…A worm.” You: “…A worm?” Jisung: “An unlovable worm.” You finally burst out laughing. He scrambles to his feet like he just got a Grammy and hugs you tight, not letting go. “I’m sorry. I was dumb. I always mess things up but I don’t wanna mess us up. You mean too much to me, even more than ramen. That’s serious.” You: “Even more than convenience store ramen at 3am?” He gasps. “Don’t make me say it again. It hurts.”

FELIX

You’re mad. And Felix? He’s a walking apology wrapped in sunshine and panic. He’s been following you around the apartment at a five-foot distance like a sad Roomba. Every time you turn, he freezes like he’s been caught committing a crime. He tries whispering your name dramatically like a telenovela character. “Y/N… Y/N, please… don’t do this. Not like this. Don’t ghost me while we’re still in the same house. It’s emotional terrorism.” You ignore him. So he leaves and comes back wearing the most ridiculous outfit known to mankind: your fuzzy pink robe, heart-shaped sunglasses, and a single oven mitt. “Look,” he says, dead serious. “This is what losing your affection did to me. I have no sense of fashion. No sense of self. I tried to toast bread but forgot to plug in the toaster.” You raise an eyebrow. So he ups the ante. Grabs your plushie and gently makes it “walk” toward you with a high-pitched voice. “Hi! I’m Mr. Snuggles and I think you should forgive Lixie because he’s really sorry and his freckles are crying.” You cover your face trying not to laugh. “Help what???” Then he puts the plushie down, sighs deeply, and finally drops the crack for a second. “I know I hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to. I’d never do anything to make you feel ignored or unimportant, but I messed up. So… I’ll keep making a fool of myself until you smile again.” You glance up, and he’s got his arms wide open like a dramatic K-drama confession, still in your robe. You: “You look like a chaotic sleepover aunt.” Him, with the brightest grin: “But am I your forgiven chaotic sleepover aunt?” You sigh, walk over, and hug him. He melts immediately, nearly collapsing with relief. “I’ll be better,” he murmurs into your shoulder. “I promise. Even if I have to learn how to use the toaster properly.”

SEUNGMIN

The argument was small but loud. And now you’ve gone full cold shoulder. No eye contact. No banter. No sarcastic jabs. Nothing. For Seungmin, that’s worse than death. At first, he tries to out-ignore you out of pure spite. He walks past you dramatically sipping water like he’s never been hydrated a day in his life. Slams the cup down. Sighs. Doesn’t look at you. Repeats. Then he escalates. You walk into the kitchen and the fridge has a post-it that says: “This is where cold things go. Just like your heart apparently.” You spot your favorite snack on the counter. The packaging is untouched… but there’s another note: “I was going to eat this out of petty revenge, but I remembered I’m a good person. Unlike some people.” You almost laugh. Almost. Later, you hear him muttering while gaming: “Wow, teammates who actually listen… must be nice…” You finally lose it and throw a pillow at him. He catches it midair like a smug little gremlin and smirks. “So you can still see me. Thought I turned invisible.” You: “You’re so dramatic.” Seungmin, fake offended: “I haven’t even started yet.” Then he softens. Just a little. Barely. “I don’t like fighting with you. And I definitely don’t like not talking to you. I’m still mad, but I miss you more.” He walks over, hands in pockets, and says it without looking directly at you. “I’m sorry for being a jerk. I’m working on it. Please don’t stay mad too long, okay?” You stare at him. He stares at the floor. “…Also I may or may not have named your pillow Kevin and cried into him last night.” You: “You WHAT—” Seungmin: “Shhh. Kevin and I are going through a lot.”

JEONGIN

Jeongin, immediately after the argument: “I don’t care. I’m not apologizing. I was RIGHT.” Jeongin, 20 minutes later, whispering to Hyunjin: “She’s not looking at me. Should I fake an injury?” Hyunjin: “What kind?” Jeongin: “Emotional.” Cue Operation Unbothered (but obviously very bothered). He starts acting extra around the house. Slams drawers. Loudly types on his phone with the keyboard click sounds on. Walks past you with exaggerated sighs and occasional mutters like: “Guess I’ll just go be emotionally damaged… ALONE.” You stay silent. Now it’s desperation hour. He walks in wearing a crown made from a cereal box, holding a mop like a sword. “I have returned from the Kingdom of Regret. I bring apologies and emotional growth.” You blink. He bows deeply, knocking the crown off his head. “Your silence wounds me, fair lady. I shall now sing of my sorrow.” You: “Jeongin, don’t—” Too late. He whips out his phone, plays the most dramatic instrumental music he can find, and starts fake-sobbing like he’s in a historical drama. “Forgive me, for I was young and foolish—AND STUPID. MOSTLY STUPID.” You’re cackling at this point, and he breaks character instantly, grinning like he just won the lottery. “AH, SHE SMILES. I AM REDEEMED.” You: “You’re so annoying.” Him, smug: “But… forgiven?” You roll your eyes, tug him into a hug, and he melts instantly, still holding the mop. “Next time,” you mumble, “just say sorry like a normal person.” He grins into your shoulder. “Where’s the drama in that?”

PERM TAGLIST 📌🔖 ──── @the-sea-called-history02 @oc3anfloor @queenofdumbfuckery @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @my-neurodivergent-world @bookswillfindyouaway @beal-o @velvetmoonlght

[asvtrials]

𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒

Emperor Geta x fem!reader, minors dni!

masterlist

summary: Emperor Geta was a selfish lover. He expected you to give him everything, every thread of your being, body, and soul. Yet he refused to do the same. Why would he? He was the Emperor and you were nothing but his concubine, not too long ago you were a common whore that he just happen to take a liking to, just a vessel for his satisfaction. So why was his mind suddenly screaming for him to kneel before you, to let your thighs straddle his face until he suffocates? warnings/tags: smut, mention of an orgy in the beginning, mention of exhibitionism, generally ancient Rome things, Emperor Geta tries to act unbothered but is smitten for his concubine, facesitting, oral (f! receiving), p in v, kind of rough, sub/dom dynamics (obviously), implied abuse, potentially out of character, not accurate to the Gladiator franchise...

a/n: This man is consuming my thoughts. This is me basically pushing my pussy drunk Geta agenda. I love the idea of Emperor Geta being arrogant and selfish but caving at the idea of hearing her scream and moan as loudly as that woman. 'Mae Columba' means my dove, 'Corculum' means sweetheart. Also, this is my first time writing this man

tags: @teechallas-blog @ladynoonwraith @quuinyoung @ghostinhours @slasherflickchick @marn13s-vilewhispers @munsongirl48 @getas-empress @hillarymurray4 @cleo-2345 @lookingformuses @meganfoxismywife @claa-01 @funsquadgoalzz-blog w/c: 3.3k English is not my first language. Sorry for any mistakes I make. I tried present tense for the first time.

── ୨ৎ

Your thin tunic provides you with little to no warmth, yet you weren't cold even on this chilly night.

Your Emperor's hand runs up and down your right side, his fingers keep grazing your nipple but he is too focused on conversing with Macrinus to notice the impact of his action.

Your eyes wander around the room, from the people who drank, smoked, and laughed, too gone to do anything other than that, to the numerous naked, sweaty bodies intertwined with each other in the most intimate way that was humanly possible.

Yet there was nothing intimate about what you observe. It was primal and carnal, most of them didn't even look like people anymore, the scene becoming too animalistic and raw.

These types of gatherings were rather common in the Palatine and you have gotten used to settings like this one. But this time you couldn't take your eyes off of two people. Two prostitutes amongst the crowd of moving bodies caught your attention.

A woman sitting on top of a man, on his face… The expression of pure bliss she had looks like it was taken out of a vulgar painting, a carefully crafted sculpture depicting the most euphoric moment of one's life. The man's tongue works meticulously on the woman’s cunt making her scream and moan like she was touched by the god's themselves.

The sight was enough for your breath to get caught in your throat. 

That made Emperor Geta turn with a frown, some wine dripping from his full lips. You don’t notice that his eyes travel the path of your gaze, focusing on the same pair as you.

You snap back to reality when his hand gripped your thigh. If you weren't used to his rough touches you would yelp in pain.

When you meet his eyes, there's something behind them that makes you pause. Without a second glance, he turns back to his conversation, leaving you confused. But you don’t miss the way his hand slides further between your legs, almost teasingly.

It wasn't unusual for him to touch you in front of everyone, be it in these types of events or when the gladiator fights bored him to the point where he ordered you to get on your knees and ‘entertain’ him yourself.

But this time, his thumb merely grazes the thin fabric of your tunic between your legs as his hands grip your exposed thigh. Possessively.

Your mind started to race. Did you anger him? Was he upset?

You are in a room filled with naked bodies fucking each other like animals and it never angered him before when you watched. Sometimes you would even comment how ‘sloppy’ their technique was and he would chuckle. So what happened now?

You lean on his side, sliding your hand to his cheek, caressing it gently. He doesn’t react but he doesn’t push you away either. That feels like a win, an opening.

After being his concubine for so long you learned how to behave around him, how to slither your way out of trouble in case you had upset him.

A little touch here, a kiss there, a plea for forgiveness honeyed with praises about how good he is to you along with some dick sucking usually does the trick.

Geta was an emperor but he was also a man with a very big ego. You quickly understood that as much as it is a nuisance it could also become an advantage.

By the time you followed him to his chambers, it was well past midnight.

He had made it a habit to share a bed with you, not even the guards looked surprised anymore.

He walks inside the moment the guards open the heavy doors. He reaches for his golden belt with a heavy sigh but you quickly stop him. “Let me, my Emperor.” You speak, your voice soft. You quickly approach him and meet his stern gaze, waiting for his approval.

Geta lets go of the belt, letting his arms fall to his sides. He looks spent and tired from the long day but you could sense something else frustrating him.

Carefully, you undo his belt, feeling his shoulders relax at the loss of the heavy material. Your eyes travel up his body before finally meeting his gaze through your lashes but you are met with the same cold look from before. 

You take a step back to settle the belt on the table. You aren’t sure if you should approach him again. You expected him to kiss you, to touch you while you were so close but he didn't do either. He just watched you with a raised brow and gritted teeth.

You avert your gaze, focusing on the detailed carvings of the table ignoring the fact that you had seen it a million times before.

You hear his sandals brush against the marble floor, making you shiver. You weren't sure what to expect, he hasn't looked this displeased with you in a long while.

“Mae Columba” ‘My dove’ he says, his voice barely above a whisper but it still held the authority of an Emperor. “Do you know why you wear such lavish cloths?” He asks, not expecting you to answer before continuing, his voice dropping “Why do you smell as good as you smell? Why do golden jewels hang from your ears and wrap around your wrists? Why you aren't passed around my soldiers like a common whore?” 

He was right behind you now, his arms coming to cage you between him and the table. 

His harsh words forced tears to collect on your lash line. You took a deep breath but your voice still quivered as you spoke. “Because you're the Emperor…”

“Because I'm the Emperor.” He repeats softly against your ear, yet there is no softness in his tone. “Then why do you wish for me to become someone else?” 

“I don—” 

“Lies!” He shouts, making you flinch away.

You don't dare to face him, remaining turned to him as his hands start to wander down your sides. “I saw how you looked at those filthy commoners…you were entranced, my dove” 

“My Emperor I—” 

“Have I not done enough for you?” He whispered, but his quiet tone gave you no comfort. His hands moved to your clothed chest, squeezing your breasts mercilessly.

A small whine escapes your lips, your back arching against him. “You gave me everything, my Emperor.” You manage to say through rugged breaths.

He hums pleased. “Clearly not enough since you wish to see me between your legs like a filthy whore.” He murmurs against your ear.

“No!” You yelp, grabbing his forearms after he squeezes your breasts particularly hard. 

Your thighs meet in an attempt to soothe the aching between your legs. “I promise.”

“You promise?” He asks, his tone dripping with disbelief and mockery. 

“Yes! I promise.” You reply quickly, desperation seeping out of your words.

“On the bed.” he commands lowly and you comply without words.

The bed was thrice the size of the bed you used to sleep in, soft with satin sheets and numerous pillows. A bed that an emperor deserved. You weren't sure if you deserved it, yet here you were, lying on the Emperor's sheets like you did many other times.

He looms over your lying figure eyes rolling down every curve of your body like a wolf eyeing a little lamb. His favorite little lamb. 

The one that he never feasts upon but rather chases around until the poor thing is spent and exhausted and pliant for him to bite all he wants.

Geta’s hands find your ankles and he pulls you to him, earning a surprised yelp from you. He crawls to you, entrapping you between his arms once again.

He melts against your mouth, lips moving harshly against yours, refusing to give you a second to breathe. You cry loudly when his teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“My Emperor” you moan against his rough endeavors but he doesn’t stop, you aren’t sure if he even heard you. He was too busy squeezing your already bruising flesh, not even bothering to remove your tunic.

Red liquid escapes from the wound that Geta so eagerly opened. The metallic taste travels to your mouth but he doesn’t seem to mind, and as much as it scares you, neither do you. Instead, you claw at his back breathlessly repeating your words “My Emperor…Let me show you my devotion.”

Geta studies you, his big eyes making him look almost innocent under the dim candlelight.

His lips open to speak his mind, your spit and blood coating them but instead of speaking, he gently caresses your bottom lip with his thumb, smearing the blood.

What are these thoughts? These foolish ideas that plague his mind? His gaze couldn’t deter from your tearful eyes as he let his thumb run down your chin, the faint color of the blood following along.

You were so easy to break, to tear apart and carve as you pleased. He always did just that.

Yet you always came back.

You didn’t have a choice, he wasn’t foolish enough to forget that. But still, you looked at him with a particular dedication that Gate couldn’t quite comprehend. 

Basically, involuntarily he whispers, letting his palm rest on the side of your face “You’ve proven your devotion, corculum. You’ve been so good…” Geta leans closer, his nose pressing your cheek. He breathes in your scent, fighting the urge to squeeze your face with his fingers.

Your breath hitches when he pushes his thumb past your inviting lips and he feels a moan threaten to spill when you sucked on his digit immediately. He couldn’t uncover any thoughts behind your eyes, only lust. Lust for him. Just like he lusted you.

Why is his breath coming out so short, why is his heart threatening to jump from his chest and into your arms? He isn’t even inside you yet and he feels like he can’t think properly.

You weren’t quiet during your shared activities but Geta was always too focused on his own selfish pleasure, rarely caring about yours.

But right now he feels the inexplicable urge to make you scream his name, to make everyone in the palace know, everyone in Rome, the urge to get on his knees and worship you just to get the blessing of your sounds in return.

Oh, you were sent by Venus herself, there was no doubt. There was no other explanation for his crazed thoughts.

The whine that he brings from you when he pulls his hand away burns something deep in his chest. He quickly yanks at his clothes, uncovering his naked, toned body.

Your eyes don’t dare to travel down but you find yourself on your fours, crawling to him. You press your lips to his stomach, tracing his toned body with your lips and tongue softly, teasingly.

A low growl leaves Geta from deep within his throat as he runs his hand through your hair, nearly gently before he grips your locks. He pulls your head back forcing your eyes to meet his, the sudden harshness causing you to freeze.

“You are an enchantress, aren’t you? You have turned me into a madman.” He mutters softly, his tone almost despairing as his blunt nails massage your scalp.

Looking up at him through your lashes you blink, unsure of what to say. Was this an indictment? It sounded more like a statement.

“I wouldn’t do such a thing, my Emperor.” You say softly.

He hums quietly, eyes falling to your legs and he has to swallow hard.

He has seen you like this so many times, and yet you left him speechless every time. From the first time he had bed you, you had left him speechless. Put a spell on him the moment he pushed his cock inside your warm, dripping cunt.

His mind told him to pound you against the mattress as hard as he could, so that every time your core throbbed tomorrow you would remember how vile it was for you to imagine him, your Emperor, between your thighs.

But his body betrayed him. He leans in, his bottom lip grazing your inner thigh.

“I don’t think you realize what you’re doing to me, mae columba” He whispers, so quietly that you could miss it if your senses weren’t so heightened.

He released a quivering breath before pressing his lips on your skin. You gasp at the action, gripping the smooth sheets. The feeling of your flushed skin against his lips was exhilarating, it was the beginning of something that he wasn’t sure he could control. 

Without a second thought, his mouth starts to bruise your thighs fervently, his teeth plunging into your flesh like you were his last meal before the guillotine.

Your moans and cries fill the room and Geta’s heart as he continues to mark your thighs, his intensity matching a starved wolf.

He wanted more. He was insatiable, he was always insatiable.

With a swift movement, he flips the both of you. You yelp in surprise, as you land on his chest, your legs spread apart. 

His head finds the soft mattress but he wouldn’t care even if it was the hard floor. All he could focus on was your clothed core, inches away from his face.

“My Emperor!” You begin. You weren’t sure what to say, how are you even supposed to react to such a scene?

Rome’s Emperor gazing at you between your thighs, looking as famished as ever.

“Quiet.” He growls, his arms coming to wrap around your thighs. His hands slowly travel up your body, dragging your tunic with his fingers revealing more of your skin.

Your naked cunt was inches away from his face, his breath hitting your soaked folds sending a shiver down your spine.

His eyes couldn’t leave your core, mouth watering at the sight. Impatient, you peel off the dress, revealing your naked body.

It was a pattern whenever you were around him. But this time it didn’t make your cheeks burn about being so vulnerable before his ravenous gaze. On the contrary, it made your chest flutter with satisfaction as you lay on top of one of Rome’s brutal Emperors.

No warning was given to you before he harshly pulled you down to him. His tongue lays flat against your pussy, emitting a desperate sound from you. Soon enough he was lost in the feeling of your wetness.  There was no point in fighting your spell anymore, he was already hypnotized. 

Your eyes can’t leave his face. The way he loses himself so eagerly forces your breath to become shallow and desparate.

His tongue laps on your cunt sloppily, and your juices run down his chin though he never wavers, not even for a second. His mouth worked against your folds like he wanted to consume you whole, to drain you of your essence.

“Gods!” You moan loudly, throwing your head back. “My Emperor!” You cry out.

He whimpers against your pussy, he fucking whimpers. You aren’t sure if you can hold on much longer after that. It seems like any fear or shame you had abandoned your body because you start to rock your hips against his face, his nose brushing against clit with every move.

“I can’t take it anymore, my Emperor—” you gasp, your body trembling uncontrollably.

He grabs your waist, his nails digging into your skin possesively. He pulls you even closer to him, if that is even possible, his tongue running over your folds callously.

Your climax came to you like a violent wave, your body shakes violently after your release. Geta doesn’t stop though, his tongue collecting your fluids even if you jolted and whined.

He only stopped when he had nothing else to take. Like always.

You fall to the side, your mouth agape as you pant frenziedly. Geta isn’t looking any better, his slick-covered lips are parted slightly and his chest rises and falls rapidly.

“Gods…” You breathe out.

Geta finally finds his strength again, moving to position himself above you. His burning body pressed against your side, his lips brushing your temple. “Where the gods between your legs, corculum?”

“That’s what it felt like” You whisper and he fought the urge to smirk. 

“Turn around.” He orders lowly, the playfulness draining from his voice.

With all the strength left in you, you comply, turning around to lie on your chest. You gasp when the Emperor effortlessly lifts your thighs off the mattress. 

You whine at the feeling of his hard cock brushing against your dripping cunt. 

With one forceful push he’s inside your tight walls and you scream. Your nails rake at the satin sheets as he grunts at the warmness that envelops his cock. “You always feel so good, my dove. Like you were made for me” He groans, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

“P-perhaps I was” You moan, the sound muffled by the sheets, your eyes nearly rolling back.

He sneers lowly. “Always know just what to say. How to bewitch me with your words…”

You yelp when you feel his hand clutch your jaw and pull you backward. Your back slams against his hard chest. He draws his hips back making you whine at the feeling of his dick slipping away before slamming it back inside. He did it again and again until you were crying and clawing at his hand.

“My Emperor!” You cry out and if it wasn’t for his strong hands you would’ve fallen forward.

His cock hits you so deep, so good you can’t help the tears that run down your flushed cheeks and the lewd cries that fall from your lips still they aren’t nearly as lewd as the wet, sloppy sounds that follow after every intense thrust.

His own grunts are so loud against your ear that you swear you can come from the sounds he’s making alone. It was never this intimate with Geta, so close. He usually pushes your head against the pillows and fucks you into the mattress like an animal. You rarely see his face or hear his sounds other than the harsh words he spews at you.

Your back arches at the harshness of his thrusts, and your head falls on his shoulder. His hand slides down to your core. You feel his smirk against your ear when he flicks your clit and you flinch.

“Geta!” You scream his name as you come for a second time for the night, your voice hoarse from all the screaming.

If your brain wasn't mushed from pleasure you would slap a hand over your mouth, bracing yourself for his palm landing on your cheek.

He grabs your face and turns your head to face him. The moment your eyes meet you know there won’t be any repercussions for your defiance. His pupils are so blown to the point where you couldn’t locate the light brown of his iris. He pulls you for a heated kiss and with one last, mind-numbing thurst he spills his seed deep inside you.

He falls forward and pulls you with him. You fall on all your fours, his chest falling flush on your back. You whimper when his cock moves inside your overstimulated pussy with the movement.

Geta’s breath was hot against your shoulder and his hands squeezed your waist occasionally, seemingly without noticing.

“My Emperor,” You breathed out. “Forgiv—”

“Quiet.” He rasped, silencing you immediately.

He threw the both of you to the side, pulling you closer to him by the waist.

That day Geta, with his dick deep inside you, realized two things. That you have probably enchanted him and that he didn’t care one bit. 

Because if being bewitched meant that he would spend his living days between your legs, getting drunk on you, then he would gladly do it.

[martiniblues]

JUNO , spencer reid

pairing boyfriend!spencer x fem!reader

synopsis while babysitting henry for jj, spencer’s seeming disinterest with children starts to shift. this makes your mind wonder into unfamiliar territory you and spencer hadn’t spoken of yet: kids.

genre talks of pregnancy and children (duh), very suggestive towards the end but no smut, this is very self indulgent since i can’t get this song or spencer off my mind so here you go lol.

wc 2k?? (i got a little carried away)

“sorry for this being so last minute!" jj scrambled, passing henry over to you along with his diaper bag. the blonde ran a hand through her short hair, adjusting from where the two-year-old played with it upon their arrival. 

“it’s all good, seriously. you know how much i love babysitting this cute thing.” you tickled henry’s side, making him squirm. 

jj’s eyes averted to the figure behind you, pursing her lips. “you sure he’s okay with this?” you turned your head, noticing spencer trying to look at the two of you without being noticed. 

it’s not that spencer didn’t like kids; it’s just hard to know how to talk to them when you were a child genius. 

you turned back to jj, attempting to ease her worry. “he’ll come around to it.” you shrugged, knowing that spencer would either sit and observe or fully engage. no in between.

after bidding your goodbyes, you walked over to spencer, taking a seat beside him on the couch. “so what should we do, little man?” you perched henry in your lap, resting your feet on the coffee table so he could sit against your perched thighs. 

spencer looked at you as if he were the “little man” in question. henry just babbled, throwing his arms around as you cooed. “what do we do with him?” spencer asked, leaning closer into your shoulder to inspect the baby in your lap. 

you laughed at his seriousness, turning to look at your boyfriend. “have you never been around a baby in your life or something?” you teased, lifting henry so he was closer to you both.

“did you know that babies are born with about seventy reflexes? that’s why when you place a baby on a surface to stand, they automatically start doing a stepping motion.” he spoke, watching henry kick his legs as you stood him on your lap. you looked over at him quizzically. “for someone who’s so awkward around babies, you sure do know a lot about them.” 

spencer flushed slightly, “i just haven’t had the chance to be around any until now.” he nudges your shoulder before crossing his arms. 

“well, here’s your chance.” you held henry out to spencer, which made him squirm and mumble yet again. “hold him while i go bring his bag in here.” 

he hesitated, looking between you and the baby as if this were a test. yet, despite the nervousness, he reached out, mimicking your position earlier. when you were content with how henry laid on spencer’s legs, you walked out of the room.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t purposely take your time collecting his things, wanting spencer to have some alone time with henry. finally satisfied with your departure, you peaked your head into the room, nearly melting at the sight. 

the once stiff and nervous spencer you had left with henry was now replaced with a content, smiling one. his voice went up a few pitches as he responded to henry’s nonsense. “oh wow, really?” his lips were pulled into a smile as he played with him, letting henry’s small hand encase his slender fingers. 

you couldn’t help but let your head wander; how could you not? sure you thought about a future with spencer. a future where you were married and maybe with kids, but you had never brought it up being too nervous to scare spencer off.

but now watching him light up with henry in his lap, you wanted nothing more than for your daydreams to become reality. 

“someone wants you back in here, i think.” you snapped out of your daze, focusing on the two sets of eyes staring at you. both holding the same smiles and wide eyes. 

god, you swore you felt your ovaries jump.

“i see that you two are getting along now.” you placed henry’s diaper bag on the table, sitting yourself on the ground before laying out his blanket and a few toys. spencer joined you, placing henry on his stomach, then laid beside you, mirroring the baby’s position. 

“who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?” you laughed, in awe of how much spencer had adjusted to the small being in just a matter of minutes.

he looked up at you as he shook a little plushie in front of henry’s face. “sorry to disappoint, but this is still your boyfriend,” spencer quipped before you pushed his head jokingly, messing up his hair in the process. 

the sound of high-pitched squeals took both of your attentions away from one another. there henry lay, clapping his hands in favor of you and spencer’s playful fighting. 

“yeah, you like when i show him who’s boss, huh?” you caressed the soft skin of henry’s cheek, making him giggle. spencer sighed, “come on, man, i thought we were really becoming friends” he exasperated, laying his head in his hands dramatically.

this only brought more squeals from the baby, making your cheeks almost grow sore from how hard you were smiling. 

“awe spence, it’s okay.” you egged on your act by petting his hair back into place. this caused your boyfriend to lift his head; a big pout on his lips made yours perk up. 

with your attention being taken away from henry by spencer’s rare expression, you hadn’t noticed the stuffed animal caught between the baby’s hands. before you could do anything, the small bear was chucked into spencer’s face, causing an uproar of noises from henry.

“i’m starting to question this whole babysitting thing.” spencer winced, looking at you as you laughed along with henry. 

 

despite the teasing from earlier, spencer continued to be enamored with henry. him even insisting he help feed and change him when time came.

the whole ordeal feeling so domestic, apart of you wished jj could have spent a couple more days for her and will in favor of you seeing spencer like this for longer.

“thank you, again for taking care of him.” jj propped her hip against the counter as she fumbled for her phone out of her purse.

“of course, it really was no problem.” you turned at the sound of spencer’s soft voice, thanking henry for “helping” him clean.

“honestly, i think someone enjoyed this a bit more than we thought.” you gestured at spencer as he settled henry on his hip, the baby grasping onto his button-up shirt. 

your whole body ran hot at sight. spencer looked really good as a pretend dad. 

“no kidding, the team is going to flip when i show them the pictures you took of them.” she glanced at her phone, noting the off-guard photos you stole of spencer and henry. 

one was of him feeding him as he walked around the living room, another of him explaining some of the books organized on his shelves in a very formal fashion despite henry’s lack of knowledge, and finally one of them eye-to-eye playing on the floor with various toys. 

your heart swelled looking back at them, the questions you had been so careful not to ask begging to be verbalized. 

before you could sink any further, spencer came over, handing jj henry and his bag almost reluctantly. noticing the time, jj was quick to leave in order to keep the baby’s sleeping schedule on track but thanked you guys repeatedly before finally closing the door. 

clicking the lock shut, you mentally prepared yourself for the words about to come out of your mouth. 

“you had more fun than you bargained for, didn’t you?” you met spencer on the couch, him reaching out to pull your legs over his, making your heart leap. 

“i did, actually.” spencer began smoothing his hands up and down your calf before continuing. “honestly when you mentioned henry coming over, i was a little- i don’t know scared? i just didn’t want to disappoint him or you.” he bit his lip like he was stopping himself from letting the whole truth out. 

“oh spence, you were perfect. honestly, i’m very proud of you.” you reached out, caressing the side of his face, causing him to look at you. 

he noticed your wondering eyes, waiting for you to continue. “actually i um…” you shifted pulling your legs under yourself so you could sit up. 

breathing in deeply, you continued, “today kind of got me thinking about us and our future.” spencer was looking at you with such admiration that you had fixed your gaze on your hands.

“i know we haven’t really brought it up before, but seeing you and henry today had me-“ 

before you could finish, spencer’s lips were pressed against yours, resulting in a shocked gasp from you. he kissed you, mumbling words each time his lips parted to take yours in again. 

“i want that, i really do.” he breathed, finally separating from you for just a moment. 

“you want what, spence?” you were in shock, to be honest, knowing what he meant but wanting to hear him say it word for word. 

without another word, he positioned you in his lap, legs straddling his own. “i want a family with you. i want a sliver of what we had today to become ours one day.” his eyes didn’t break from yours, his pupils blown wide and sparkly.

for the thousandth time that day, you had to bite back a smile. “you mean that?” you questioned, one hand coming to comb through his hair and the other resting on his neck. 

he kissed your cheek, forehead, nose, and finally your lips before he spoke. “every single one. i mean, one of you is cute.” he cupped your cheek as he spoke. “but two though? that’s something.” he finished, smirking at you. 

you couldn’t contain your happiness, crashing his lips to yours again feverishly. even though you knew the both of you were in no place to have a kid now, there was no harm in playing with the fantasy for now. 

even if the real thing wouldn’t come to be for a good few years.

spencer pulled you flush against him, one his hands leaving your hips to trail up your spine and settle onto the back of your neck. a moan slipped past your lips as goosebumps erupted on your skin. 

you pulled on his shirt, hinting at where this was going as if it weren’t obvious to the man beneath you. he looked up at you, kissing you once more before dragging you to your shared bed. 

your blouse and shorts were off before your back hit the sheets, spencer still standing ahead of you unbuttoning his work shirt. 

you sat up on your knees, crawling to the edge of the bed to take over. after each undone button, you kissed his skin, making him gasp as his fingers raked through your hair. 

pulling his shirt all the way off, you made your way to his pants, pulling him closer by his belt loop. you bit your lip, noticing the gears turning in his head.

“you know statistics say missionary or doggy are the best positions to get pregnant in.” spencer let out in shallow breaths as his belt clinked on the floor. 

“oh, yeah and why is that genius?” you leaned back on your elbows while spencer finished removing himself of his pants. he took you in, the tiny pink bow on your underwear made spencer rethink his crude response. 

“deeper penetration,” he said almost too smoothly, making you laugh. it was hard to take statistics seriously when you were both nearly naked. 

before he could settle above you, you shimmied up the bed. ridding yourself of the rest of your clothes, you positioned yourself on your hands. looking over your shoulder, you saw the way spencer’s eyes widened in shock.

“have you ever tried this one?”

my first spencer fic omg. lowk crazy because i’ve been obsessed with this man since the ripe age of 12 but here we are. will probably be writing a lot more of him since im rewatching cm at the moment so stay tuned! request box is always open <333

[sinofwriting]

Claiming - Max Verstappen (Dark Fic)

Words: 2,231 Summary: In a world where F1 drivers can claim someone as a wife while at a race, here is Max’s version. Note(s): DARK FIC, NSFW. Reader is essentially kidnapped. I’d like to thank lovey on Ko-fi for commissioning this. I had a lot of fun writing this and oh boy did it take a turn I wasn’t expecting. Takes place in 2023. Also, once again thank you to 🦢 anon for this idea and all your thoughts! Claiming wouldn’t be a thing without you.

Charles’ Version

Masterlist | Support Me! 

Since a month ago the emotion she’s felt most is confusion. From the moment a security guard and an FIA official escorted her from the grandstands to the Red Bull garage, to Max Verstappen’s drivers room. From him gently grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it, to the conference room where the FIA official explained things to her and god, she felt like she had only heard every three words, to now.

Max is the source of all her confusion, because he is confusing. He’s aggressive and dominant on track. So clearly hates press and events he’s forced to go to. If he likes you, he likes to make you laugh and make sure you’re happy. He’s attentive in a way she didn’t know was possible.

As soon as they were in Monaco after the race, after he claimed her, and she fiddles with the heavy diamond ring on her finger at the thought, he had taken her to the grocery store, claiming that his fridge and pantry were empty since he’d just come home from a triple header. She hadn’t realized then but as they walked through the grocery store he had watched her closely. Watched what shelves she paused at, what brands and items she put in the cart versus the ones she made small faces at. Making a note of them all.

It wasn’t until a few days later when someone came by to drop off groceries and she saw all that all the groceries were things and brands she likes that she started to realized that it’s quietness in the grocery store, him following behind her, hadn’t been him giving her a bit of space, some grace, but rather him making notes of what she likes.

She’s unable to hide anything from him, which is even more confusing, because he doesn’t know her. Had chosen her seemingly on a whim. When she was told why she got taken his driver’s room by the FIA official, she had thought it was some sort of prank, a joke, but as three different binders had been laid out in front of her and proof of everything had been shown to her, had proved that she had been claimed, that she was now married to Max Verstappen the odd, weird, confusing reality had sunk in.

She had honestly figured as she laid awake next to Max that night that she would be just kept at his place for quick relief. Asked to undress and roll or bend over whenever he needed a quick easy fuck along with someone to keep his place clean and cooked meals in the fridge. She hadn’t expected for him to not even touch her like that.

He did however like to look at her like that. Eyes darkening, just a little narrowed as his jaw would sometimes twitch, deep breaths through his nose. But he never touched her like that which made her more confused because he did touch her.

He kissed her hand in greeting, put his hand on her lower back, would sling an arm around her waist, put his arm over her shoulders. He’d make their legs intertwine in bed or practically blanket her with his body when he didn’t have her cuddling into him, head resting on his t-shirt covered chest. Max hadn’t even tried kissing her on the lips despite clearly wanting to with the way he would sometimes stare at them as she talked.

Max Verstappen is confusing.

—

Max knows that he was supposed to claim a wife much sooner than he did. He could have done so the day of his first win, when they pulled him aside and told him that he could. He knows that’s what they wanted. They wanted him to claim a wife, to calm down, to bring a little less negative press to the sport. Luckily it was up to him to decide and there was no way in fucking hell he was claiming a wife. He made that clear in his celebrations with the team and his private words to people about how the FIA could fuck off.

He was also lucky that Red Bull backed his decision. He was their first driver since Mark Webber to get to claim a wife, the youngest in the history of the sport. The FIA couldn’t pressure him into it or punish him for not claiming anyone yet, but they could try and flaunt options for him to choose from. And they did. They did every year at nearly every race until finally the start of the 2022 season happened and there was a number one on his car.

That didn’t mean they stopped during the 2022 season, it was just significantly less than before. And now in 2023, just a few races away from winning his third championship, they hadn’t bothered him at all. The end of Monza marked them never being able to bother him again, he thinks as he watches his wife look at the clothes he had delivered for her. His now three championship trophies somewhat framing her with how she stands in front of the large couch.

They were all in her sizes, some from brands that she already had clothes from and other’s from more luxury brands that he had to be familiar with. She liked the one a lot, her fingers kept going back to the two tops from there, rubbing the fabric. He’ll have to take her to their store after COTA, he muses. The heat in Qatar had been too much for his poor wife and it had even got the better of him.

“Do you like them?” He asks, wrapping his arms around her from behind, relishing in the sharp inhale she gives, the slight sped up breathing.

“I do. They are all really nice.”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head, making a note to not buy her anymore hoodies, or at least buy them for himself and wear them a few times. She had worn so many of his, he figured she’d want one or two of her own, but the hoodie was the only thing her eyes and fingers had not returned to. “Good. I have some jewelry coming for you tomorrow as well.”

“Oh, thank you, Max.”

“Of course, vrouw.” He smirks at the way her body shivers at the Dutch word for wife.

—

It’s been nearly three months since Monza, since Max claimed her, since she became his wife. Which means it’s been three months since the last time she got off, six months since she last had sex. The sex part she can deal with, but she doesn’t think she’s gone this long without masturbating since she learned what it was and started doing it. And it feels like it’s killing her.

Because Max… Max is handsome. She’s seen tweets and things about how Max is ugly and she can’t even begin to comprehend that. He has some of the bluest eyes she’s ever seen, a nice jaw just barely covered with facial hair, slightly pouty lips and god it kills her that she hasn’t kissed them yet, kissed the freckle that rests on his top left lip. He has broad shoulders, strong arms, large hands, fingers that make her thighs press together when they tap against her hips or press into her. And his thighs. Every time she sees them, whether it’s in shorts or boxers, she can feel herself clench around nothing.

Maybe he wouldn’t affect her so much if he didn’t so clearly want her back. But he does. His eyes more and more frequently watching her, want simmering in them. And he’s never been shy about his morning wood, but instead of tilting his hips away from her, scooting away, or just adjusting her so it’s not pressed against her, now he stays. Lets her choose to move away when she feels him against her.

She never moves away, not until they absolutely have to get up.

She’s reached her limit, however. She constantly feels turned on, a warmth always burning inside of her, sometimes getting stoked to burn a little hotter and she fears that if she doesn’t get off in the next few hours she will jump Max. It’s tempting to just get to it, just lay down and fuck herself quickly, but that won’t leave her satisfied. She needs more than one quick orgasm to satisfy herself and she’s in luck because Max is leaving the house, having been invited to a paddle match.

She accepts the kiss on the cheek he gives her, wishing him good luck and then waits by the front door for a few minutes before turning and nearly rushing to the bedroom. Her arms somehow get tangled in her tank top as she pulls it off and her fingers fumble with her pajama pants and underwear as she tries to push them down. It takes longer than she wants, but finally she’s undressed. There’s an urge to fall onto the bed, but she forces it away, forces herself to take a deep breath as she goes to their closet.

Going to one of her shoe boxes, she lifts the lid, breath shaky as her fingers touch the lace of a La Perla balconette. She had never spent more than seventy dollars on a bra before Max, had privately thought people who spent more than a hundred dollars on scraps of lace and fabric were crazy but as she feels this against her fingers, she understands why people spend so much.

Her fingers are surprisingly steady as she puts on the balconette and matching panties. As she looks at herself in the mirror, hands rubbing at the body, her breath catches. She looked good, hot even. The lace against her skin making her blood rush.

She’s nearly back into the bedroom when she spots the shirt that Max had been wearing to sleep in last night. It’s just barely hanging on the edge of the hamper, about to fall on the floor. Before she can stop herself, she snags it and throws it on, breathing in the familiar and nice smell of Max.

Laying on the bed, she runs her hands over her body, eyes fluttering shut as they go under her shirt. Her breath catches as they trail over her stomach, fingers pausing at the waistband of her panties before moving back. They trace over the lace details of her top, breath catching when the tips of her fingers catch on her pebbled nipples. Moaning as she twists and pulls at them lightly, thighs pressing together.

She continues to play with her breasts, enjoying the feel of them and the lace in her hands. Drawing moans and whines from herself as she squeezes them, pinching and twisting her nipples, grazing her nipples with the tip of her finger. She’s aching for more, her panties damp. Her dominant hand leaves her breast, fingers just about to slip into her panties and there’s a hand clamping around her wrist.

Her eyes fly open, a gasp leaving her. “Max.” Her other hand drops away from her breast.

His grip on her wrist tightens, eyes darker than she’s ever seen them. Her name comes out in a near growl.

Her tongue darts out, swiping across her bottom lip and Max’s eyes fall to them at the motion and she breaks. “Please. Max, please.”

“Please what?”

She takes a shaky breath, “Touch me, kiss me. Please, Max.”

It’s like she blinks and he’s on top of her, his hand no longer gripping her wrist but instead gripping at her hip as he kisses her. She moans at the roughness of it, not even noticing him adjusting her until he’s fully in between her legs, one of them hitched around his waist. She only notices when he grinds their hips together, the friction making her break the kiss, panting as her fingers rake over his back.

“Max. Please.”

“What vrouw? Am I not kissing you?” He presses a kiss to her neck, over the flutter of her pulse. “Touching you?” He rolls his hips into hers.

She throws her head back at the contact. “I want,” a whine leaves her as he dips his head, running his tongue over her still lace covered nipple. “Fuck, Max.”

His hand still gripping her at her hip tightens its hold and she hopes he leaves bruises. “What do you want?”

“I want,” She nearly loses her train of thought again when grinds into her again. “Want you to fuck me. Please, Max, want you so bad.”

He groans, head resting on her chest as he gives a slightly stuttered thrust.

The slight loss of control makes her moan, her other leg moving to wrap around him, encouraging him to grind against her. She wants him. She wants him to touch her everywhere, not leave a single place that hasn’t felt his touch. She wants to feel his breath against her lips, his teeth sinking into her skin. She wants the press of bruises as he holds her tighter than maybe he should. She wants him sinking into her over and over again even though she hasn’t felt it once yet. She wants and wants and she doesn’t think that doing this once, twice, a hundred, a thousand times, will satisfy that want.

[nutmegtales]

Fucking Clowns - Part 2

Barbara replayed the grainy video recording of the initial assessment of one Danny Smith. The boy had been admitted for causing a scene and then reportedly being detached from reality, and a potential risk to himself.

As per their newer procedures the cops had brought him to the lower security section of the Arkham facility for observation. At least 24 hours to let the body cycle through whatever drug might have triggered a psychosis. Arkham was well equipped for this kind of cool off period now, and they weren't unaccustomed to being flooded with fear toxin patients or other mass victims.

After those 24 hours though with no sign of improvement or other casualties displaying similar symptoms he was brought through to the initial assessment.

To say it had not gone well was an understatement. Babs hit pause on the moment when the doctor had begun to explain the situation: where Danny was, that he would go through a number of tests for his health, that he might have to stay for a while, and they may trial some medication for him. The frozen image was grainy but she could still see the look of absolute terror on the kids face.

She fast forwards through the outburst, as the kid refuses to be a lab rat, as he shoves out of the chair and goes to storm off before stopping in mid path, like someone was blocking his way. As he turned around again and was seemingly stopped again. And again. And again. As he shouted at the air to leave him alone, to let him go. As he rounded on the psych screaming that he would not take anything, no pills, no needles, that no one could make him. That he wasn't a lab rat over and over and over.

She hit play again once she reached the point they'd calmed him down and walked him through his options. They were going over why the kid thought he was here "Because I died" he said it so matter of factly, she could believe him. He said it the same way Jason did, in the tone of a 'fuck you'. But that didn't mean it was true.

"Because the ghosts want me here" another point in favour of psychosis.

"Because Batman wouldn't kill the Fucking Joker". It had been a quiet admission, almost too quiet for the recording equipment to pick up. Babs rewound and replayed that moment another few times, checking over the notes but not able to find a reference to it. She watched further on in the recording as the psych asked what Danny had just said, but the boy refused to repeat it.

Babs knew though, she was pretty certain she was not mistaken in what she heard.

She clicked open some of the more recent notes the nurses made. And yeah, her heart sank a little as she read there were quite a few mentions of Batman's name screamed in accusations, and a few little notes about oddities here and there. Cold spots, times where the kid had caught something that someone his size shouldn't have been able to lift. Times where he had items there was no explanation for him having. She'd gone over the rest of the recordings but hadn't found anything concrete herself.

She opened up a file of her own titled Potential Future Rogues, and added the name Danny Smith to the list with a check against Grudge and a question mark against Meta. That's all she'd do for now, without anything more solid or a real name to go on there was no point bringing this to anyone else's attention yet.

She sighed to herself and rubbed her eyes. It had already been a long night, and she was only part way through her long list of preventative procedures she'd made for herself. This might end up being nothing, but she'd still rather have a leg up on the situation if it ever does become an issue. This and the million other potential problems.

'Ah Babs', she thought to herself 'you really like to make work for yourself don't you.'

---

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[08luvmailz]

★ ﾟ๑ I'D DO ANTHING JUST FOR ME TO SEE YOU AGAIN ୧ ⊹ ࣪

ᡴꪫ which yeon sieun sees you visiting him ୧ ⊹ ࣪ first part ／ party on you ୧ ⊹ ࣪ second part ／console me, and then i'll leave without a trace ──⠀ angst to fluff , set on ep7 of s2 , depictions of self harm , bullying , graphic scenes ⸝⸝ ◜◡◝ i got sick ... so i couldn't finish writing yesterday. please do make some requests <3

reader will be called dokja ／ because in reader in korean is dokja

For an entire year, she had tried everything to make herself feel whole again.

For someone, so bright — her smile had become rare, something she stored away in a locked box, fearing it would shatter if she opened it.

The fluorescent lights in the hallway buzzed above her, and the cold linoleum floor echoed each step as if the empty school itself whispered her name. Every corner held eyes that whispered behind tilted heads; every passing shoulder carried a story she used to be part of. She walked through that river of eyes like a stone sinking silently, carrying the weight of whispers in her chest.

She remembered how it felt at first, when the quiet ache had swelled like a balloon inside her ribs. She had tried to stretch it with excuses – busying herself with homework until her hands cramped, munching down snacks until her stomach ached, even jogging until her legs turned to jelly – anything to squeeze out a little satisfaction.

But nothing made the emptiness truly leave. It was like trying to fill a black hole with water; every drop vanished before it could make a ripple. In class, she doodled nothing except the back of her mind on the margins of her notebook: a heart that wouldn’t fill, a mouth that wouldn’t smile.

During lunch, while others crowded around tables trading jokes and laughter, she found a quiet corner.

The cafeteria lights and clatter of trays felt distant, as if she watched it happen in someone else’s dream. She chewed slowly on her rice, its dull flavor on her tongue.

She wondered if they were wondering why she ate so slowly, or thought she must eat quickly to stay strong. In her head, she counted the seconds between bites, hoping to feel any sensation more than the gnawing void inside.

She would glance on the table near her, It was the table they used to sat on. But she quickly disregard the gnawing pain of memories her brain kept locked in.

She heard the rumors.

Kids at her locker thinking she couldn’t hear, imagining her knuckles bruised from something they didn’t understand, lips curling into cruel stories.

She was the shadow stretching long across the hallway’s bright walls – not quite human, not quite monster. Some were scared to approach, afraid she might lash out with hands that had, one time, raised to defend something small and precious.

Each morning felt like climbing a hill she could never reach the top of. Even the sun casting light through her kitchen window failed to warm her insides. Her reflection in the mirror as she put on her uniform was a girl with tired eyes, the kind that quiet mornings and too many secrets give you.

She wondered if the corners of her mouth had forgotten how to go up. On some mornings, she pinched her palm with her nails just to feel a flash of anything real, a proof that she was still there and not just an echo.

She often thought about who she used to be, or who she wanted to be.

Sometimes, in rare moments alone in the afternoon, she would hum a tune she once loved, and for a breath she’d almost believe everything would be okay again.

But when the bell rang and the hurried footsteps as the hallway became empty, reality clung to her again like a cold coat. She straightened her spine, squared her shoulders, tried to make herself small and unnoticeable so she could disappear into the background.

It was easier this way – so people wouldn't come closer anymore.

As the year dragged on, she built a quiet routine of coping.

Some days, after the final bell, she would find a hidden corner of the library and bury her face in a book, leaning into the paper and print so she could hold a whisper of someone else’s story.

Other days, she walked home along side streets, feet crunching on gravel, head down so that the roofs of houses blurred her vision and no one would say her name.

At night, before sleep stole her away, she sometimes imagined a dinner table where just once someone passed her plate without a warning glance. Those dreams faded by dawn, leaving only the morning ache.

She watched the other students as if from behind glass. They passed her in the halls—heads held high, friends jabbering shoulder-to-shoulder. They worried about tests, cram schools, summer vacation or going out.

Sometimes at night, late when everything was dark and the house was empty, she touched the scars she kept hidden on her wrist. They were faint lines, as if she had cut herself just enough to feel. Enough to remember that I’m here.

The ache in her stomach and heart became the same longing, and she ached to feel anything but hollow. Yet morning would come, as it always did, and she would tuck those memories back inside her ribcage and wear her uniform once more.

She was careful now.

Careful to walk in the center of the corridors so no one had reason to crowd her. Careful to keep her voice low if a teacher asked her a question.

She preferred to blend into the pattern of her desk in class or the gray cement wall outside the school, so that anyone might forget she was there at all. She told herself that being invisible was the least she could offer the world.

Sometimes when she passed a reflection in a store window, she stared at the girl who looked back with hungry eyes and wondered if that was her, really, or just another stranger pulling a cart alongside the frozen aisles of life. She envied how warm and bright her classmates appeared in her imagination, as if they wore their warmth and hunger on their tongues without any effort.

She started learning how to ride Suho’s motorcycle a month after everything happened. Not because she had a reason. Just because sitting still made her feel like she’d disappear.

It wasn’t easy. Her hands weren’t made for handlebars or throttle grips, and the engine always roared too loud for her quiet head. But she kept practicing. Around the block, then across the neighborhood, then down the same roads Suho used to ride when he was still—

She doesn’t finish the sentence. She just keeps riding.

Sometimes she visits his grandmother first, carrying grocery bags that dig red marks into her palms. They don’t talk much—just share the silence like old friends do. She helps clean, picks up the mail, waters the plants that Suho forgot to before everything fell apart. And then, like ritual, she visits the hospital.

She doesn’t bring flowers anymore. That stopped after the fifth week. Now it’s just her, a quiet chair, and Suho’s breathing. She talks sometimes, about nothing. About school. About how the vending machine’s been out of her favorite drink for a week straight. About the bike.

She took the job to keep her mind busy. A delivery service. Something that paid just enough and asked for nothing back. Using Suho's helmet that's too big on her because she couldn't used the pink helmet he brought for her, a schedule, and a willingness to keep going even when you’re tired.

She took the job because she wanted to make up for what she didn’t do—what she should’ve done back then. Maybe if she earned enough, it could at least cover Suho’s expenses for a few months. So when he woke up, he wouldn’t have to think about wasting time trying to make money again. He could just rest, catch up with everything he missed.

That was the idea. That was a brilliant plan.

Oh, how wrong she was.

It was hard to juggle everything—school during the day, taekwondo classes after, then deliveries until late. Her body ached more often now. Sleep became something borrowed, not earned. And sometimes, when she stared too long at her schedule, she wondered how Suho managed to do it all.

Then she let out a bitter chuckle.

Right. He didn’t study much.

He tried—she remembered that. Showing up to class with tired eyes, scribbling half-hearted notes, pretending to care when the teacher called on him. But studying was never the plan for him. He wasn’t built for libraries or lecture halls. He was planning to survive. To make a living. To take care of the people he loved, even if that meant running himself to the ground.

Now here she was, retracing his steps. As if mimicking his life could somehow bring him back. As if it could undo what happened.

But the truth was, she wasn’t doing this because it was right.

She was doing it because she didn’t know how else to grieve.

She was doing it to remember that she still lived for him—the only one.

It wasn’t like she suddenly believed in responsibility or wanted to prove something to her parents—they didn’t care either way. They nagged her about it at first, asking why she had to deliver food like some desperate kid. She told them she was trying to live like an adult now.

That was a lie.

What she really meant was: I need to do something that hurts a little. Something that makes me feel like I’m still here.

She picked up the helmet, looked at the old bike, and thought, If I could ride it well enough, maybe it would feel like Suho was still beside me.

At times, when she was in the saddle delivering food, her route veered past Sieun’s old neighborhood before she could stop herself. The engine’s hum would carry her right to the curb beneath that familiar streetlamp where they once sheltered from rain.

She’d cut the engine and sit in silence, remembering how he held the umbrella too high—as if standing close was its own kind of risk. She’d force a small, aching smile, tell herself it was only a shortcut on the map.

Other days, she’d pull up behind a low brick wall, park the bike with a screech, and leap off, ready to startle him. But in her memory, his voice would reach her first: “Too loud,” he’d said, never bothering to turn around.

So she’d shake off the pain, clip her helmet on again, and push forward—deliveries waiting, regret left to catch up on its own.

Most of all, she rode just like Suho used to—late into the evening, weaving between streetlights and memories. Each package she carried was fuel for her guilt, her promise to cover weeks of missed chores and unspoken goodbyes.

She was learning to ride the weight of her grief as surely as she learned to handle the throttle: both made her body ache, but at least it meant she was still moving.

She remembered, when she smiled at the mirror for the first time in a long while.

It wasn’t a triumphant smile—more like a small, crooked thing, half-formed and unsure, but there nonetheless. The bathroom was filled with the sharp scent of drugstore dye, gloves stained with streaks of artificial chestnut. She worked in silence, dragging the brush through her hair, clumsily but with care, as if repainting herself would somehow peel away the weight she carried on her shoulders.

When she finished drying it, the strands fanned out like paper—too soft, too light, the color warmer than she imagined. Under the cheap lighting, it almost looked orange. She stared at her reflection, blinked once, and let out a short, surprised laugh.

She looked like she was wearing a wig. Like a stranger trying on someone else’s softness.

She remembered when the three would glance at her when she questioned them if she would look good in a light brown haired color. The two nodded and Beomseok complimented her with a thought, then Suho—that bitch.

Said, "If you ever dyed your hair. You would look like wearing a wig"

She chuckled to herself that a kick was met on his face after he made a comment.

And yet... something about it made her pause. Not in shame. Not in regret. But in that fleeting, suspended moment where grief and girlhood blur.

It didn’t fix anything. But it made her feel like maybe she could try again.

Even if it was just hair.

Even if it was just for a second.

Then, it started.

The bullying.

The girls started again, their voices high and biting, a chorus of yapping dogs circling, teeth bared but too afraid to bite. Each word they threw at her was a stone, meant to make her crack. But the cracks were inside. The outside? The outside was numb, cold—so cold it almost felt like she wasn't even there. Not until the bathroom, cornered between the walls, did she feel the heat of her own anger rising.

Not at them.

No, not at them.

At herself.

She hated how she'd let it get to this point. How had she become this quiet thing—this thing that let them talk, let them push? If it were the old her, she'd have torn them apart by now. Fists flying, voice roaring. She would’ve been the storm they couldn't handle. She would’ve shown them what it meant to not be afraid.

A year ago, she would have struck first—fists flying before thought. She would have tasted the shock in their eyes as blood bloomed on her knuckles. But that girl was gone. Now she stood still, back pressed to cool porcelain, heart hammering a fierce rhythm against her ribs.

But not now.

Now, silence was all she could afford them. Giving them her attention, her energy—it felt like losing, like handing them the power to keep dragging her back into their pit. So, she waited. Let them bark, let them jeer.

She was waiting for the one to make a move. She could feel it coming. The sharpness of her breath, the way her lip trembled under the weight of what she wanted to do.

The fluorescent light hummed overhead, and the walls felt too close, as if they meant to press her in. She looked at them—low laughs, the scrape of heels on tile. Shadows swept across the stalls, narrowing in on her.

They surrounded her: girls with cigarettes dangling from their lips, eyes bright with cruelty. Their words stung—whispers of psycho, freak, worse. Each insult landed in her chest like a stone.

Her lips were dry, chapped beneath the heavy lipstick, so bright it almost hurt to see. She imagined, for a moment, what it would look like—if that lipstick were smeared with blood. Her blood or theirs, it didn’t matter. The thought of wiping it off with their mocking laughter, of seeing them eat their own arrogance, was a sickening sort of satisfaction.

The laughter, the cigarette smoke curling around their words—it all burned her. She didn’t need to move, didn’t need to react. But the fantasy? The fantasy was enough. They'd never know the rage coiled inside her like a snake, waiting for the right moment to strike.

But that moment never came. And she realized, standing there, that maybe it never would. She was a prisoner of her own calm.

She paused, breath steadying, and Suho’s voice cut through the noise in her head. “If they corner you, don’t let them control the space. Use anything around you. Make them intimidate you.” Not her teacher’s drills—Suho’s words, like a lifeline.

She straightened her spine. Every inch of her stood tall: shoulders back, chin up, eyes locked on the ring leader. The others fell silent, startled by the sudden shift in the air. She moved forward, step by deliberate step, until she was toe-to-toe with the girl who’d cornered her.

Her voice was low, rough from disuse—but clear.

" You done spouting bullshit? "

The hallway seemed to hold its breath. The girl’s smirk faltered as a tremor of hesitation rippled through the circle. And for the first time that day, She felt something bloom behind her ribs—not fear, but a fierce, electric calm. The world had tilted back into place. She owned this moment. And they knew it.

The girl scoffed, a bitter sound curling from her lips like smoke. Her voice trembled, mechanical and unsure, stuttering as if caught between fury and fear. “What did you say?” she asked, trying to hold the edges of control, to wear confidence like armor—though it barely clung to her.

“You just keep talking,” she spat. “Saying things you don’t even understand. You’ve got the ego of a man compensating for something small—so small. Always acting like you're above everyone, but you’re nothing more than a coward in a mask.”

Her anger was wildfire now, unchecked and consuming. She moved fast—too fast—reaching out to strike, to make the moment hers again. But the other girl was faster. Calm. Cold. She caught her wrist mid-air, twisted it hard.

There was a snap—sharp, sickening.

A breath caught in the girl’s throat.

She screamed in pain then came the kick, swift and brutal, sending her stumbling backward, wounded pride trailing behind her like a torn ribbon. She hurled in pain clutching her hand as she lay on the ground.

And then—silence.

She had the space she needed. A clear path to run, to disappear, to let this be over.

But she didn’t move.

Not yet, she isn't done.

They circled her like wolves, four against one, grinning with the kind of confidence that came in packs. Cheap perfume, chewing gum, and bad intentions hung thick in the air.

The first came charging, wild and loud. She sidestepped, smooth as water, and swept a leg out low. The girl hit the ground with a thud, her pride landing harder than her body. As another was baffled but lunged—fists swinging, rage without form. She caught her wrist mid-swing, twisted, and sent an elbow into her ribs. The sound that followed was breathless, raw.

The third tried to out-think her. She went low, hands reaching for ankles, but didn’t see the spin. A heel cracked across her jaw with the grace of violence learned in silence. She folded, crumpled, still.

The last girl hesitated.

She could’ve run. Could’ve walked away with just a bruise to her ego.

“Don’t,” she warned, softly. Like mercy.

But pride struck first, than being humble.

She attacked—and in seconds, she was face-down, her wrist bent behind her back, the ground cold and unforgiving. Her face met with the cold disgusting floor where many student stepped in.

She exhaled.

She looked at them with no compassion, she knelt and plucked a crumpled cigarette pack from one of their jackets. Held it up between two fingers like something dead.

“Pick them up,” she said.

No one answered, nor moved.

She exhaled with a look of annoyance.

She stood over them, still as a statue, the echo of violence humming in her bones. Around her, the bathroom was silent save for their ragged breathing—tile cold beneath scraped palms, smoke clinging to the walls like ghosts.

“PICKED THEM UP!” she shouted, voice cracking through the air like a whip.

It boomed off the tiled walls, reverberating through the stillness. The room swallowed the sound, but it stayed there, vibrating in the bones of those crouched on the floor.

They moved slowly, heads bowed like scolded children, fingers fumbling for the torn paper and crushed filters. One by one, they gathered the pieces.

She didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

"Eat it." she commanded at them, as the other stare at her in fear. Others obeyed too quickly afraid to have more blooming bruises on their faces.

But the one who had confronted her—the first to strike, the first to fall—didn’t look away.

She sat against the tiled wall, cradling her broken wrist with the other hand, eyes burning with fury. It wasn’t fear in her face—it was defiance. Pride refusing to kneel, even in defeat.

Blood at the corner of her lip. Breathing sharp. Hate alive in her throat.

She walked toward her—not rushed, not cruel, just deliberate. Controlled. Her knees bent with a soft thud against the tile as she knelt before the girl. A single cigarette still burned on the floor, its ember a fading eye. She picked it up between her fingers, unflinching as the heat kissed her skin.

“Still holding onto that pride?” she asked, almost gently.

She caught her face in one hand, fingers gripping her cheeks, steady and strong. Thumb pried her mouth open.

“No more talking.” She murmured at her, and smiled at her. Sickingly.

The cigarette went in.

Smoke. Ash. Pained gasped. Burning tongue. Silence.

She watched her chew it—eyes wet, teeth grinding through heat and paper and humiliation. The taste of defiance turned to ash on her tongue.

She held her gaze the whole time at her. Chewing at her own pride.

Then she let go.

Her fingers slipped from the girl's face like a dying breeze. And then, without fury—only finality—she slapped her. A clean, echoing sound that cracked through the heavy stillness like a gunshot in a chapel. No rage in it. Just closure. She rose to her feet, slow and composed, the chaos behind her shrinking as if it had never touched her.

At the door, she paused.

The air in the bathroom was thick—smoke curling like ghosts above the flickering light, blood and ash staining silence. The girls were curled inward, pain folding their bodies like paper. Eyes wide, throats dry. Beaten, but still watching.

She turned to face them one last time.

“Tell a teacher,” she said, voice low but thunderous, coiled with quiet venom. “And it won’t just be my fists or my feet kneeling to your faces.” Her eyes swept over them—each one trembling, pride shattered and stinging beneath the skin.

“I’ll make sure you can’t even look in the mirror without choking on what you see.”

A breath.

“I will kill you.”

No screams. No theatrics. Just that promise—quiet and unshakeable.

Then she stepped through the doorway and disappeared. The door slammed behind her with the force of a verdict. The lock clicked shut, sealing the room like a tomb.

She walked slowly, each step measured, as though the weight of her own actions had yet to fully settle. Her heartbeat still echoed in her chest, a steady drum beneath the skin. The rush, that surge of power, still coursed through her veins like fire, bright and consuming.

But she remained composed.

Her breath, though quick, was steady, like the calm after a storm. The chaos of the bathroom—those faces crumpled in pain, the smell of smoke and defeat—was already fading into the periphery of her mind.

Her fingers, still tingling from the force of the slap, brushed against the cold metal of the doorframe as she passed. Her body knew what it had done, but her mind? Her mind was already someplace else, already turning over the pieces like a puzzle that had just been solved.

She didn't regret it. Not in that moment.

She didn’t need to look back.

She just have to keep moving forward.

Its been a year.

After endless of orders, knocking on doors, she fell asleep face-down on a half-finished worksheet, the highlighter uncapped and bleeding neon yellow into the page.

When she slept, she was impossible to wake—like the world could end outside her window and she’d sleep through the fire. It had become her escape, her only silence. But not tonight.

Her phone rang loud and sharp, slicing through the quiet like panic often does. She stirred, groggy and annoyed, until her eyes caught the caller ID: Hospital.

She blinked.

Hospital

Her heart didn’t stop—it collapsed.

She answered without thinking, her voice breathless, the fear already creeping up her spine. “Hello?”

The voice on the other end was formal, wrapped in professional indifference. “Hello. Is this Dokja-ssi’s phone?”

Her breath hitched. Something about the tone felt wrong. Off. Too careful. “Yes—yes, this is her. I’m Dokja. Why? What’s going on?” she asked, already standing, legs shaky, the panic flooding her veins.

“There’s been a complication,” the voice replied, each word like a crack in her chest. "Patient Anh Suho, is in a critical condition, Unfortunately, Sieun-ssi responded but he didn't came. Are you able to come?" The nurse voice replied.

For a second, time slowed. Then it shattered.

She didn’t respond. The call had ended. Or maybe she had ended it. She couldn’t remember. Her limbs moved on instinct. She didn’t change clothes. She didn’t think. She just ran.

She ran like she did the night everything fell apart.

She ran like apologies could catch up to prayers.

She ran like her heart would stop before she made it.

She ran even if her tears wouldn't stop streaming until her eyes became blurry at the sight.

She called and called Suho’s grandmother, but the line rang endlessly. The silence on the other end pressed against her ears like grief.

When she burst through the hospital entrance, breathless and wild-eyed, she was met with chaos—blurred voices, sharp lights, the dull smell of antiseptic, and somewhere behind it all, fear.

A nurse met her halfway, calm hands reaching to steady her. "Dokja-ssi? "she asked gently, guiding her to a seat. She nodded, unable to speak.

Then everything came too fast— loud shouts, jarring footsteps.

Too real.

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. She just stood there, rooted to the floor as the world blurred into chaos.

Through the small square of glass, her eyes locked onto the scene like it might disappear if she looked away. Suho’s body, too still on the stretcher, wires snaking across his chest. The defibrillator pads were already in place. The sound of machines echoed even through the door, shrill and unrelenting.

She saw the moment his heart flatlined.

The jagged spike of the monitor became a flat line.

"He's in cardiac arrest!"

Doctors shouted orders she couldn’t understand, but her body translated their panic anyway. Hands moved fast, efficient and desperate, as if time could be bribed to give them more.

His chest lifted—once, twice—under compressions, and she could barely hear the nurse behind her asking her to sit down.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

All she could do was stare at the blinking lights, watching as they flickered like dying stars in a collapsing sky. He had always burned so bright. And now—Now he was fighting to stay lit.

Tears clung to her lashes, but she didn’t cry. Not yet. Not when he was still in there. Not when he might still wake up.

She placed a hand against the glass.

“Suho,” she whispered like it was a promise. Like her voice could reach him where machines couldn’t.

She didn’t know how long she stood there. Could’ve been minutes. Could’ve been forever. Time twisted itself into knots.

All she knew was that she had never felt so helpless.

Inside, the doctor called for another round. The paddles pressed to his chest.

Clear.

His body jolted.

She flinched.

Her knees gave out before she even realized she was falling. The cold linoleum kissed her skin, and her fingers clawed at the base of the emergency room door—desperate, aching, as if she could tear through it and pull him back with her own bare hands.

“Suho,” she choked out, once, then again—until his name was no longer a name, but a prayer dragged through broken sobs.

Her body folded in on itself. Shoulders shaking, forehead pressed against the wood like it could listen. Like maybe if she stayed close enough, he’d hear her crying and come back just to scold her for it.

She wailed quietly at first, then louder, all the grief she had buried beneath discipline and duty unspooling in the rawest of ways. She gripped the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth, nails digging in until her knuckles turned white.

Her voice cracked, mouth trembling as she whispered, “Please… please don’t go.”

No one answered.

Only the muffled chaos of the emergency room beyond the door. The soft buzz of machines still fighting to keep him here. The frantic shuffle of shoes and fabric and sterile urgency.

She quickly kneeled, blood in her throat and prayers in her lungs. Asking the universe, begging God, “If you're here, save him.”

Not long after, the noise settled. The beeping of machines, the shouting of doctors, the chaos in the emergency room all blurred into a dull hum as Suho’s heart slowly found its rhythm again.

She sat there, knees still trembling beneath her, as a nurse gently approached her. She had no words to offer, no comfort to give, but the way she placed a steady hand on her shoulder said enough. It was an anchor in a sea of uncertainty.

“Suho’s stable now,” the nurse said softly, but her voice was still kind, despite the exhaustion that clung to her like a second skin. “He’s in critical care, but the immediate danger has passed.”

“His vitals are steady. We’ll monitor him, of course.” The nurse’s tone was reassuring, but she couldn’t shake the cold dread that clung to her, the fear that, at any moment, everything could tip back into the unknown.

The doctor stepped in next, his presence steady but brisk, offering the facts as they were. “His heart stopped for a few moments, but we were able to stabilize him,” he said, glancing at the monitor and then at her. “We’ll continue monitoring him closely for the next few hours. He’s strong. He’ll pull through. But it’s too early to say much more.”

She nodded, the weight of his words settling into her bones. But her mind couldn’t quite rest on the relief; it was tangled in the knots of everything she had felt before this moment, the panic, the helplessness, the feeling of losing him before she even had the chance to understand what he truly meant to her.

She managed to speak, though her voice felt foreign. “Can I see him?”

The nurse and doctor exchanged glances. The doctor nodded. “Just for a moment. He’s sedated, but we’ll allow a brief visit.”

As they led her to Suho’s room, She felt her legs heavy, like she was walking through water. When she reached the threshold of his room, she stopped, standing there in the doorway for a moment, watching him. The sight of him—his face pale but familiar, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the monitors—was almost too much to bear.

But she stepped inside. Slowly. Quietly. As if afraid that if she moved too fast, she would wake from this nightmare too soon.

There, in the quiet hum of the hospital room, she sat by his bed, her hand carefully brushing through his hair.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t need to.

All she could do was stay. And wait.

"You scared the shit out of me, you bastard." Her voice cracked, soft but heavy with the weight of everything she had felt in the past few hours.

A bitter chuckle escaped her lips, her fingers trembling as they lingered on his hand, still warm, still steady. The tears she had held back now fell freely, pooling on the edges of her lashes before they slipped down her cheeks.

"I thought... I thought I was going to lose you," she whispered, the words raw and honest, the fear she hadn’t known how to voice finally spilling from her. "I didn't know what I'd do without you."

"You always make me worry, don’t you?" she said, her voice quieter now, almost a fond reproach, as if she was talking to herself more than to him.

The sterile room felt colder now, quieter, but her presence by his side warmed the space. She could almost pretend that things were normal, that this moment was just one of those fleeting, quiet moments they used to have—when everything felt right, when there was nothing but them, no chaos, no questions. Just the quiet hum of being together.

"If you scared me like that again, i will kill you." she murmured, her hand brushing over the cool fabric of his hospital gown. "Please, wake up."

But silence was the loud answer.

Soon, she would hear his voice.

Again.

Soon she left the room, as the doctor checked his vitals.

She stepped away from the cold, sterile walls of the waiting room, seeking solace in a quiet corner where she could break without being seen. Her breath caught in her throat as her body trembled, each sob a sharp, painful release of everything she had held back.

She pressed her hand against her mouth, trying to muffle the sound, but it was useless. The grief, the fear, the desperate prayer to some higher power—she couldn’t contain it any longer.

"Please," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please, don’t take him too."

She was lost in her own panic, until her gaze lifted, and through blurred eyes, she saw them.

Three figures in the distance, standing near the entrance of the waiting area.

Their presence felt like a strange disruption, their calm demeanor a stark contrast to the storm inside her. She quickly wiped her tears away, forcing herself to steady her breathing, her chest still tight, aching from the earlier rush of emotion.

She couldn’t show them the cracks. Not now. Not here.

Her eyes darted to the sound of heels clicking against the floor, the sound sharp and confident as it drew closer. Without even looking, she knew.

She recognized the familiar cadence, the polished, poised steps of someone who had a presence that filled the room. And when she heard the words, soft yet piercing, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing over.

“Sieun,” his mother’s voice echoed, a quiet, clipped tone that made her blood run cold.

Her heart stopped for a moment, suspended in time. She didn’t move. She didn’t dare.

She had to stay still. To breathe. To keep herself from trembling at the sight of his mother, at the thought of Sieun.

As the woman turned, disappearing into the hallway, the rest of them—those familiar figures from long ago—remained.

She heard those words again, echoing in her chest like a cracked bell, "Don't worry. He's stable now."

But “stable” felt hollow—an empty promise carved from glass. It pressed against her ribs until she could hardly breathe. Stable meant he had already teetered on the edge.

Stable meant the world had nearly slipped him away once, and could do so again.

In that moment, the corridor’s light blurred into silver dust, and every step she took felt haunted by the question: What had broken him, and could she piece him back together?

Her legs moved before her mind could catch up, standing up as the need to know, to understand, burned through her chest. She walked toward them, each step hesitant but determined, her feet carrying her forward as if they knew the path she needed to take.

When she reached them, her voice was steady, but the question she asked felt like it came from someone else, someone too broken to stop herself.

“What happened to Sieun?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, though she hoped it didn’t sound as fragile as it felt.

Her eyes caught theirs, scanning each face, searching for a truth that had eluded her. And for a split second, in that fleeting moment, she realized how deeply she had missed them, how much she had needed to see them. But all she could focus on was Sieun. Where was he? Was he okay?

They met her gaze, each face shifting with something—pity? Worry? It was hard to tell, but she needed to know. She had to know.

The first met her gaze for an instant—his head shaved close, eyes hard—before he looked away. The second hunched forward, hood drawn tight, fingers drumming an anxious rhythm against his knee. The third leaned back, arms crossed, but his glance flickered to her like a startled bird.

“Who are you?” the one wearing a blazer asked, voice cautious.

Her throat constricted. “I—” She forced the words out. “I’m just asking if he’s okay.”

“Why do you care?” the first boy challenged, sharp eyes narrowing.

“I was his friend,” she whispered, voice thin as spun glass. “Please… just tell me.” They exchanged hesitant looks, the silence stretching between them like a wound.

“We weren’t there,” the boy with folded arms finally said, each word weighed by uncertainty. “Someone brought him in. He… hasn’t woken up yet.” She bowed her head, letting the news settle like snow in her chest.

The boy with a fur jacket on as his voice softened, almost a murmur: “You close to him, then?” She blinked at him, She didn’t know how to answer him. Are you close to him? — the question wasn’t cruel, just curious. Simple. But it rattled something. She would've said we are, once. It would’ve been easy. Natural.

But they weren’t.

Not anymore.

So the silence stretched for a second too long, and she could feel it waiting — the question, the boys, even the fluorescent lights buzzing above. “I was,” she said. Quiet. Honest. Maybe too honest. She didn’t know what else to say. Nothing she could say would explain it anyway.

The words hung in the air behind her as she walked, not really expecting them to understand.

The three boys watched her go, but none of them tried to stop her. It wasn’t like they could.

As she neared the hallway where Sieun’s mother had disappeared, the heels clicking sharply on the tile floor were unmistakable. The woman, tall and dressed in black, walked with a certain kind of authority, but there was something fragile about the way she moved — like even the weight of her own footsteps might be too much for her.

She didn't hesitate. Her legs carried her forward, and before she could second-guess herself, she was standing at the door where his mother had entered.

By the time she reached the door — the same one his mother had disappeared through — her hand was already on the frame, fingers trembling.

She leaned in.

The glass was small, but clear enough to steal her breath.

There he was.

Sieun. Still. Pale. Wires crawling across his skin like questions with no answers. Machines blinking quietly beside him, a soundless rhythm of worry. Her stomach turned. Something inside her dropped.

Her breathe hitched.

Him too?

And she didn't even know.

Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes before she could blink them back, stinging sharp and sudden. Not just because of the sight. But because it felt like some invisible thread had snapped — and she hadn't even realized it was still there until now.

It hit her like a quiet betrayal.

She used to pride herself on noticing things—on knowing when people were hurting even if they didn’t say it out loud. But this?

She hadn’t known a damn thing.

She didn't know what happened.

There was no warning. No signs. Just a body behind glass. A boy who once walked beside her now laid out like a question without an answer.

Her chest ached. Not sharp, just hollow.

She wondered if he tried to reach out. If he hesitated before deleting her number. If he thought about her at all.

Would it have changed anything?

Would she have come running sooner, if she knew?

She didn’t even know what floor he was on until she heard his name from someone else's mouth. And now here she was, heart pressed against glass, breathing in grief like it was her fault she didn’t notice him slipping.

She didn’t notice the door open. Not until a voice sliced through the haze, sharp and clean like a blade pressed too close to skin. “What is it?” The woman’s tone was brisk—businesslike, wrapped in steel—but not cruel. Not yet.

And for a moment, she couldn’t answer. Couldn’t speak. She stood there, breath caught halfway, spine tense like she’d been caught somewhere she shouldn’t be.

What was she supposed to say? That she was standing outside the room of a boy she hadn’t seen in months, one who used to walk beside her like a shadow, now lying still behind glass like a stranger? That she didn’t know why she was here, only that her feet wouldn’t let her go anywhere else?

But none of that would sound right. None of that would explain the tears she hadn’t wiped away, the guilt tightening her chest, the ache of realizing she was too late.

“…What happened to Sieun?” She asked the question again, but it felt heavier this time. More desperate.

The woman paused.

Sieun’s mother glanced at her, with a mask of recognition.

“You...” Sieun’s mother said softly, her voice filled with the weight of years of distance. “You’re the girl who visited us... a year ago?”

She nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

“I was,” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

The woman paused, studying her carefully. There was something in her gaze—concern, perhaps, or understanding—something that made her feel exposed in a way she hadn’t expected.

Sieun’s mother’s eyes softened for just a moment, her expression unreadable, but there was a kindness in the way she spoke next.

But at her first question, her jaw tensed — a small, silent betrayal of everything she refused to let slip. There was a flicker in her eyes, something restrained and quiet, like a dam holding back too much water. She gave a slow shake of her head — not dismissive, not angry — just tired. The kind of tired that lived in the bones, not the muscles. The kind that grief makes permanent.

For a moment, the hallway felt too still. The soft mechanical murmurs behind the walls seemed distant, unimportant. Time hung suspended in fluorescent light and stale air.

Then, finally, Sieun’s mother exhaled — low, controlled, as if she could force herself to stay composed with nothing but breath.

“He’s in a bad state,” she said, and the words landed with the weight of something half-buried. “Unconscious when they brought him in. He got hit by a bus, thankfully it wasn't that critical. But the doctors are trying. They’re doing what they can.”

The ache hit without warning — a sharp, invisible thing that cracked down her spine like lightning. She didn’t know when she started shaking. Only that it hurt to stand still, and it hurt more to listen.

She wanted to ask more. A thousand questions pressed behind her teeth, begging for air. But none of them mattered. Not right now.

“Do you... want to see him?” Sieun’s mother asked, her voice softer now, like she understood what it meant to be left behind by someone still breathing.

“Yes.” Her voice came out too fast, too fragile. “Please. I— I need to.” The older woman gave a quiet nod and turned, her steps slow and heavy. And the girl followed, unsure if her knees were steady enough to carry her through the weight of the moment.

Behind every step was a memory. Behind every breath was something she wished she’d said.

But ahead… ahead was the hope of seeing him again — and maybe, just maybe, a chance to fix what time and silence had fractured.

“Are... are you a friend of Sieun’s?” Sieun’s mother asked, her voice faltering slightly. “I always believed something must have happened... between the two of you.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, a sharp reminder of the distance she had put between them, a distance that had been as much her doing as anyone else’s.

“I used to be his friend,” she replied, her voice faltering, unsure of what else to say. Sieun’s mother’s eyes softened for just a moment, her expression unreadable, but there was a kindness in the way she spoke next.

She steps slowly toward Sieun's room, her heart racing in her chest, and each step feels heavier than the last. The guilt still lingers, but she pushes it aside, forcing herself to focus on the present. She can’t afford to think about the past anymore. Not now.

The reality of what’s happening hits her—she’s finally facing Sieun after all this time, after everything that’s happened. She doesn’t know what she’s going to say, or if she’ll even be able to say anything at all.

But she knows one thing for certain: she has to be there for him, even if it’s just in silence.

The sterile smell of the hospital room fills her senses. The sound of beeping machines and the soft rustle of sheets are the only noises that break the stillness of the room. She looks at him, lying unconscious in the hospital bed. His face is peaceful, but his body is marked with signs of his struggle.

It’s hard to look at him—he looks so fragile, so far from the boy she used to know. She’s reminded of all the things left unsaid, of the friendship that was lost, and the connection that never truly faded, even when she thought it had.

His mother gave a small nod, saying nothing, only shifting slightly to offer the empty seat beside her.

She sat down, the chair cold beneath her, the air colder still.

Silence erupted in the room—not hollow, but thick. The kind that fills your lungs until it’s hard to breathe. Machines hummed gently, steady and indifferent. But everything else felt still, like the world had paused just outside these walls.

She didn’t look at him right away. She couldn’t. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers laced tightly together, as if they were the only thing keeping her grounded.

She heard sieun's mother sighed softly, a mix of relief and lingering worry in her voice. “The doctor says it wasn’t critical, but his nervous system was affected. He’s been having trouble...” Her voice falters a bit.

“...trouble sleeping.” Her voice barely above a whisper, heart racing at the realization. As she finished Sieun's mother sentence. Her eyes widen in surprise, as if a flash of recognition crosses her mind. “Did Sieun tell you this?”

She shakes her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips, though it’s drowned in the ache of regret. “No, I haven’t talked to him... not since he switched schools.” She glanced at her lap, fiddling at the edge of her t-shirt, afraid to look at her.

A pause, her gaze softening, yet heavy with understanding. Her voice becomes quiet but firm, almost as if she’s been waiting to say this. “The moment I saw you standing at our door... I knew you had a connection with him. I don’t know what happened between you two, but I could tell you meant a lot to him.”

She is struck by her words, her heart sinking in guilt. She bows her head into her lap, the tears threatening to spill over. She couldn’t hold it back anymore, not with all the emotions swirling inside her, not after everything she wished she’d done differently.

Her voice lowers with empathy, a soft sadness in her words, as she takes a cautious step closer. “Sieun’s always been reserved... He’s never been good at opening up, especially when it matters the most. That’s how he is... always locking everything inside.” She paused as she glanced at the girl's appearance.

She trembled, shoulders tight, voice barely holding beneath the weight that had sat on her chest for far too long.

“I... I let my pride get in the way,” she whispered, each word splintering against the silence. “I didn’t talk to him when I had the chance... I should’ve, but I didn’t. I thought he’d be fine—like he always is. I told myself he’d figure it out. But now—” her breath hitched, “now he’s in here, like this. And I wasn’t there. I wasn’t even close.”

Her hands lifted, covering her face as the tears finally broke through, warm and merciless.

She hated herself for waiting. For hesitating. For thinking there would always be more time.

The silence they once shared now felt like punishment. A distance she could’ve closed, but didn’t. And now the air between them was filled with wires and machines and too many what-ifs.

If only she’d said something. If only she hadn’t let fear speak louder than her heart.

Now, it might be too late to say any of it at all.

Her voice was calm—steady in a way that only someone who had learned how to carry pain without letting it break them could manage. It reached her like a soft touch, like the kind of comfort that doesn’t need to be loud to be heard.

“It’s not your fault,” she said, not accusing, not dismissive—just honest. A breath left her lips, weary but full of knowing. “You can’t predict everything. Especially with someone like Sieun.”

She paused, as if weighing her next words with care.

“Sometimes... people need to fall a little. Walk into the dark by themselves before they can find their way back. That’s not on you. You can’t carry that alone.”

The words lingered in the quiet, gentle but undeniable. A truth that she hadn’t let herself believe. She had been so sure it was her failure, her silence, her pride that led to this—but maybe... it wasn���t all hers to hold.

Then, softer now, almost like an offering:

“If you were once his friend... maybe you still are. Maybe that hasn’t changed. It’s not too late. He’s been through more than we know, but maybe—just maybe—seeing you now will remind him... that he’s not alone. That someone still cares.”

And in that moment, the she felt something shift—not the ache, not the guilt, but the helplessness. It didn’t fade completely. But it loosened just enough to let hope slip in.

She feels a sudden rush of uncertainty—an ache that rises to her throat and threatens to pull her under. Should she stay? Should she leave? What right did she have to be here, after everything?

Her pride claws at her, whispering that it’s too late. That she should walk away quietly, like she always did. But something deeper—something older and softer—fights back. The part of her that still remembers his tired eyes, his rare half-smiles, the way he tried even when no one else saw it.

Regret crashes against her chest like a wave, but it’s no longer paralyzing. It’s a reminder. Of time wasted. Of words left unsaid. Of the cost of silence.

She glances at Sieun’s mother, who doesn’t speak—just waits with that patient, knowing gaze. Her breath stutters, but her feet don’t move. Something has shifted. The guilt is still there, heavy and sharp, but now it’s tethered to something else—resolve.

She can’t go back. She can’t undo the past.

But maybe... she can be here now.

Maybe this is the moment that matters.

For a moment, the room is silent again. The machines continue to beep steadily, and the she wonders if Sieun can hear her. Wondering if maybe, deep down, he knows that she’s here, that she’s trying. Her eyes start to blur with tears, but she blinks them away.

She stands by his bed, her hands shaking slightly as she places them on the edge of the bed, as she closed her eyes and whispered.

"I'm sorry, Sieun-ah"

The next day felt like a blur.

She quietly steps into the sterile hospital room where Suho still lies, unmoving. She finds solace in the mundane, almost as if speaking about ordinary things could bridge the chasm of everything that had happened recently.

She talks to him, her words flowing easily, the way they used to when everything was simple. She tells him about her day—how the schoolwork felt heavier than usual, how his grandmother seemed well despite the worries she had about him. And she mentions Sieun too, his mother, how strange it felt to walk that line between regret and the need to reconnect.

“I saw his mom yesterday,” she continues, her voice softer now. “She said he’s not critical... but his nervous system’s been hit harder than I expected. He’s having trouble... sleeping. I didn’t know, Suho... I thought I was the one to blame for everything.”

She doesn’t expect an answer, but the words feel like they needed to be said.

She pauses, blinking away a few tears, but laughs softly to herself as she recalls the comforting words of Sieun’s mother. “She said I wasn’t the cause of it... that people sometimes have to go through things alone before they come back. I guess... I didn’t think it would be like this.”

The quiet hum of the machines fills the silence as she sighs, her shoulders slumping as though the weight of it all is settling in. She leans back, taking a long breath, her exhaustion creeping in after days of emotional strain.

Her eyes flutter closed, and before she knows it, the chair becomes a quiet refuge, the steady beeping from Suho’s side becoming the lullaby she never thought she’d need.

Her hand, instinctively, rests on Suho’s, and in the quiet of the night, she falls asleep. It’s not the restful sleep of peace, but the kind that brings temporary relief—a brief escape from the chaos of everything around her.

And even if it’s just for a moment, she finds some comfort in the familiarity of the space, the stillness, and the softness of hope that maybe, just maybe, things will begin to heal.

She stirred awake slowly, but didn’t move. The heaviness in her limbs wasn’t from sleep—it was from everything else. Her head remained rested against the hospital bed, her hand still loosely curled near Suho’s.

The room was dim, still caught between the fading night and the gentle glow of morning.

The door creaked open quietly. She heard it but didn’t open her eyes. Part of her wanted to turn, to see—but she stayed still. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was both.

Then, his voice.

“Suho… I’m sorry I’m late.”

Her breath caught in her throat. That voice, distant yet achingly familiar, dragged her right back to every moment she spent waiting—for answers, for closure, for him.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, her fingers twitching slightly.

And then, the second wound.

“I’m sorry, Dokja-ah.”

It was said softer, like a ghost brushing past her.

She heard the shuffling of shoes, the sound of someone about to leave. Her pride could’ve let him walk. Her anger, too. But grief, time, and the ache of everything unspoken pushed her forward.

She sat up slowly, eyes still fixed ahead, and her voice—tired but sharp—cut through the sterile room, as the machine beeping echoed.

“Took you a year to say that?”

The footsteps paused. Silence stretched—long enough for her heart to pound in her ears.

He froze.

The sound of her voice—raspy, fragile, but laced with something unmistakably raw—stopped him in his tracks. He faced her, still seating on the chair faced forward. She didn’t look at him.

Not yet.

Her eyes stayed on Suho, like she was still guarding something, or maybe just trying to keep herself from unraveling.

A long silence passed before she finally turned her head, just slightly. Enough to see the outline of him in the soft light.

Her gaze didn’t soften, but it didn’t harden either. It just held.

“I waited,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Not for an apology. Just… something. Anything.”

Her hand brushed lightly against Suho’s, grounding her. She didn’t want to cry. Not again. Not in front of him.

“But you disappeared,” she continued. “Like none of it mattered. Like we didn’t matter.” Her voice wavered, but her words stayed steady. “You don’t get to walk in and say sorry like that’s enough.”

She wasn’t yelling.

She didn’t need to.

Her silence hurts the both of them.

She looked at him then, fully—and for a moment, he looked like the boy she used to know. And someone else entirely.

Still, her next words weren’t bitter. Just… tired.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Sieun.”

And beneath it all, she meant it.

Do you even know what you left behind?

He stood there, caught in the doorway like someone who didn’t belong in the scene he'd wandered into. His hands twitched at his sides, empty. Always empty when it came to her. And yet, somehow, this felt heavier than any fight he’d ever taken.

Her words didn’t cut—they lingered.

Hung in the space between them like mist over a lake he was too afraid to step into.

He wanted to speak.

He wanted to explain.

What could he say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse?

So he just looked at her.

The way her shoulders curved inward now. The way her voice cracked like a fault line trying to stay closed. The way she kept glancing at Suho—as if he were the bridge between them. As if he was the only one allowed to still believe in them both.

He swallowed the guilt, thick and sharp. “I didn’t know how to come back,” he said, barely above a whisper. “And when I finally did… I wasn’t sure I deserved to.”

She didn’t respond—not right away.

But her looked says it all, "You didn't even try?"

So he took a step closer.

“I didn’t stop caring,” he murmured. “I just… didn’t know how to carry it without breaking.”

"You think I didn’t notice, but I did," she said, her voice low, not shaking, not angry—just tired. The kind of tired that sits deep in your bones, where no sleep can reach.

She let out a breath, almost a laugh, but it was hollow.

"I just didn’t want to believe it. So I made excuses. I told myself you were busy, or overwhelmed, or just... thinking things through. I waited. I gave you space. And you took it—so much space there was nothing left of you. No message. No call. Not even a goodbye. Just... absence. You left, and I stayed behind trying to stitch something back together that I didn’t even break." Her hands were still clenched at her sides, but her shoulders had slumped slightly, the weight of it all pulling her down again.

"Do you know what that feels like?" she asked, not looking at him now. "To lose everyone, one by one, and then have you—you—just disappear like you were never part of any of it? Suho ended up in a hospital bed. Beomseok vanished like smoke. Yeong-i stopped answering. And then there was just me. Alone. And you were supposed to be the one who stayed." She turned her head toward him, finally meeting his eyes again.

"I waited for you. I waited so long, and it got quiet. So quiet that it hurt. I’d stare at my phone for hours. I'd start typing something to you and delete it before I sent it. I’d run out of reasons to pretend like it was okay, like you were coming back. But I still hoped. Isn’t that sad? I still hoped." Her voice wavered now, just a little. But she didn’t let it fall apart.

"I kept asking myself, what did I do wrong? Was it something I said? Something I didn’t say? Should I have asked more questions, held on tighter, yelled, cried, anything? I was folding myself into pieces trying to find the version of me you wouldn’t walk away from." Her breath caught, but she blinked it back.

She didn’t cry.

She didn't want to anymore.

"And now you're here, and you look sorry, but sorry isn’t a time machine. Sorry doesn’t put things back where they were. Sorry doesn’t tell me why you thought I couldn’t handle the truth when I was already surviving the wreckage you left behind." She took a step back.

"You left. You made that choice. And I lived with the silence. Don’t come back now and act like you were the one hurting."

She stood now, walking past the bed until she was closer to him—arms still at her side, fists clenched.

She shook her head, a bitter laugh slipping past her lips before she could stop it. It sounded smaller than she expected. Tired, too.

“I waited,” she said, the words sitting heavy in her throat. “Every day, I waited for you to come back. And when you didn’t… I started to hate you. But worse than that—I hated myself.”

Her voice thinned, the way it does when something old and buried rises too fast, too sharp. Like the weight of it had finally lodged in her chest and was pressing, hard.

“Because I kept thinking—if I’d just opened my mouth. If I hadn’t let my pride win. If I’d said anything instead of staying silent... maybe we wouldn’t be here. Standing like strangers, pretending we used to be something more.”

Sieun looked pale, like the guilt in his chest had found its way to his face. He looked like he wanted to reach for her, but didn’t. Couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Softer now. Like he meant it, but didn’t believe it was enough.

She looked at him, hollow-eyed.

“I don’t need your sorry,” she said. “I needed you.”

The silence that followed didn’t feel empty. It felt deafening—like the aftermath of a scream. Like the room itself was holding its breath.

She turned away and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket, pretending the motion was casual. It wasn’t.

“If you’re going to leave again,” she said quietly, “just go now.”

“I’m not—” he stated.

“Don’t promise me things,” she snapped, too fast. “You’re not good at keeping them.”

That stopped him. His gaze dropped for a second, shame flickering across his face. But when he looked up again, something had changed. His eyes weren’t defensive or desperate. Just steady. Heavy with everything he hadn’t said until now.

“I know,” he said. “I know you did. You waited.”

He stepped away from the door, not closer to her—but toward the weight between them. Like he was choosing, finally, not to run.

“You think I didn’t want to come back?” he said, his voice quiet. “I did. Every day I told myself—just one message. Just one call. But then I’d remember the way you looked at me the last time. Like I’d already broken something important.”

She opened her mouth—maybe to argue, maybe to agree—but he kept going.

“I couldn’t face Suho. Or you. Or who I used to be. Because after everything fell apart, I thought it was my fault. I thought I ruined everything. And maybe I did.”

There was no anger in his voice. Just weariness.

“I told myself staying away was cleaner. That I wouldn’t hurt you more by showing up broken. But the truth is... I was just scared. Scared of being the one who couldn’t fix what he shattered.”

She didn’t speak. She just stared, hands clenched at her sides, like letting them relax might make all of this too real.

“I thought forgetting would be easier if I stayed gone. But I didn’t forget,” he said. “I just kept losing parts of myself, until there was nothing left that felt like enough.”

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. His words came steady, quiet—but sharp enough to cut.

“I couldn’t face it. I told myself I was protecting you, giving you space, whatever lie made it easier to breathe. But the truth is—I was a coward. Not the dramatic kind, not the ones who run screaming. The quiet kind. The kind that slips out the back door and convinces themselves it’s mercy.”

He looked at her then, really looked—like maybe it had taken this long to let himself.

“I thought if I stayed away long enough, you’d stop needing me. That you’d forget whatever version of me you used to count on. That you’d move on, and I could pretend I didn’t break anything.”

She didn’t say a word. Her jaw was tight. Her eyes were red. But she listened.

“I saw Suho in that bed,” he went on, softer now. “I saw you next to him. And I realized how much I missed. How much I left you to carry. Alone. You always carried everything so quietly—I think I convinced myself you’d be okay without me. But you weren’t. And I wasn’t okay without you either.”

He took a step forward, not asking permission. Just letting her see that maybe—for once—he wasn’t hiding behind silence.

“I’m not going to make promises. I don’t think I have the right to anymore. But I will say this: I never stopped thinking about you. And I was wrong. You didn’t deserve that kind of silence. You didn’t deserve to feel like you were the one left behind.”

“I’m not here to undo it,” he said, voice low, steady. “I know I can’t. I know showing up now doesn’t erase anything.”

His gaze lingered on her—the shine in her eyes that wasn’t light, but tears; the shadows beneath them carved by sleepless nights; the way her hair had grown longer, falling like silence across her shoulders.

She looked heartbreakingly beautiful. Not in the way the world defines it, but in the way sorrow shapes someone who kept going anyway.

And it killed him—

That he was the reason her eyes were wet.

That her sadness wore his name.

She stood there, shoulders tight, something trembling at the edges of her expression. She wanted to scream. Or cry. Or fall into his chest and tell him to hold her like nothing ever broke. But all she could say was, “Then don’t leave again.”

He looked at her, really looked—no flinching, no turning away.

“I won’t,” he said. “Not if you want me to stay.”

The moment his words settled between them, she didn’t think—she moved.

Two steps. Three.

She crashed into him.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders with a desperation that trembled. He froze at first, caught in the sheer force of her pain, then slowly—gently—his arms came up, holding her like she might disappear again if he let go.

Her voice broke between sobs against his shoulder. “I hate you… for disappearing from me.” Her fists curled into his jacket like she wanted to push him away and pull him closer at the same time.

“I hate that you left without a word. I hate that I waited. That I made excuses. That I let you take everything with you.” Sieun didn’t flinch. He just held her tighter, his chin resting lightly against the top of her head, grounding her in the way she didn’t know she still craved.

"I know" he whispered into her ear, as his hands rested carefully on her waist, "I hate myself too."

Her crying wasn’t loud—but it hurt. It was the kind of crying that sounded like years of swallowed grief cracking open in the arms of someone who once knew her heart.

And in that hospital room, with the beep of Suho’s monitors humming steady in the background, it was the most honest they’d ever been.

No more pride.

No more what ifs.

No more sleepless nights.

No more wondering.

No more pretending.

Just them.

The two of them.

And maybe Suho too.

Just them—tired, broken, but finally, finally not alone.

The sobs had quieted into soft sniffles. She didn’t let go at first—but Sieun gently pulled back, just enough to meet her eyes. His voice still low from everything that had been said. "I have to go."

She didn’t flinch. She just blinked, slow and steady, like she was trying to brace herself for something she already knew. “They’re waiting for you, aren't they.” she said to him.

That made him pause. His brow pulled in, confused. “Have you met them?” She nodded once, wiping gently under her eye with the edge of her thumb. Her voice softened, raw at the edges. “They remind me of Suho, Yeong-I and...Beomseok before.” She whispered like a broken tale.

There it was—the way his shoulders dipped, almost imperceptibly. Something in him shifted. A ghost passed between them. And for the briefest second, something rare flickered across his face: a smile. Small, hesitant. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it curled faintly at the corners, like it was trying.

Like it still hurt.

“You want to meet them?”

The question sat between them like glass. Fragile. Waiting.

She looked down, flexed her fingers once, then met his eyes again.

“Do you want me to?”

The air shifted—just slightly. It was still thick with history, but the weight of it wasn’t unbearable anymore. Something in it had softened. And for once, there was no panic in his silence.

He didn’t rush to answer. He just breathed.

“Yeah,” he said at last. “I think I do.”

She took a breath of her own, the kind that comes from choosing to stay, even when the past clings to your ribs. Then she stepped forward—close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed, not quite touching, but near enough that warmth moved between them again.

“Then let’s go,” she said.

So they did. No grand declarations. No clean endings. Just two people walking slowly through the quiet, side by side, carrying what couldn’t be fixed—but not alone this time.

They stepped into the lobby, their fingers still loosely threaded—barely holding, but not letting go. The world outside the hospital buzzed with fluorescent hums and distant footsteps, louder now, clearer somehow. And yet, the quiet between them was no longer something sharp. It was calm. Steady. A kind of peace.

Sieun’s pace faltered when he saw them.

Jun-tae stood with a gaze filled with worry. Go Tak was next to him—always alert, the crease between his brows softening the moment his eyes landed on Sieun. Baku sat on the bench, knee bouncing restlessly like he’d been trying not to bounce off the walls entirely.

Jun-tae noticed first.

“Sieun,” he said simply.

Go Tak straightened, the edge in his posture lifting slightly. “You okay?”

Sieun gave a small nod. His voice was low, but there was something solid in it now.

“Yeah. I'm pretty sure.”

He didn’t elaborate, but none of them needed more than that.

Jun-tae gave a tearful confession, she smiled at him. He was a nice kid. Then this guy—stands up and pats him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Saying that he doesn't need to worry about Sieun at all. Go Tak offered a small nod, concern folding quietly into relief.

“Took you long enough,” he said, voice just above a murmur.

This guy, Baku.

He stood with all the dramatic energy of someone who’d been holding back a performance, like the entire hospital lobby was his stage and he’d just found his cue. With a flourish only Baku could pull off, he patted Jun-tae’s shoulder—a casual gesture that somehow still managed to be loud—and then turned, eyes narrowing like he’d spotted something scandalous.

His gaze dropped to their hands—still loosely laced, still warm from all the unspoken things they hadn’t let go of yet. Baku’s eyes darted between them, growing comically wide. He pointed, slowly, accusingly, like he’d uncovered a government secret.

“WAIT—SIEUN—YOU—SHE—YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?!”

Sieun blinked.

She blinked.

The hand-holding, still soft between them, hadn’t quite registered until that exact moment.

Sieun looked down at their hands like he was just now remembering he’d been holding hers. She didn’t let go, though. Neither did he.

Go Tak rolled his eyes with a sigh. Jun-tae chuckled softly even with tears brimming his eyes.

But Baku was already mid-spin, arms out, voice raised dramatically.

“Can we just take a moment to appreciate this development? Sieun! With a hand-holding—a hand-holding!—in public!”

Sieun groaned under his breath.

“It’s not like that.”

She lifted her chin a little, trying not to smile.

“We’re just close.”

Baku gave them both a slow, skeptical once-over before the corners of his mouth curled up into a knowing grin.

“It’s like the confession scene in Slam Dunk,” he said, voice dipped in exaggerated awe, clutching his chest as if overcome by the sheer romance of it all. “You know—when Rukawa says nothing but it’s everything? The hands, the silence, the undeniable tension—ah, iconic.”

She laughed at him, “…Rukawa never confessed.”

“That’s the point!” Baku cried, throwing his arms up. “The beauty is in the restraint! In the mutual understanding! In the unspoken emotions shimerring beneath the surface!”

Go Tak sighed, clearly done with this.

No one bothered correcting him again.

The group moved on, steps falling into rhythm. The jokes kept coming, the teasing never quite biting. And between all of it, their hands stayed where they were—still laced, still sure.

She smiled as she watched them—three boys tangled in their usual chaos, laughter sparking like old warmth in a place too quiet for too long. Her voice came low, almost a sigh dressed in fondness.

“Wah… he really is like Suho.” She murmured quietly but enough for Sieun to hear. At the sound of her, Sieun turned. His gaze found hers, lingering—not with surprise, but something quieter. Something like recognition. “You’re leaving?”

She nodded, the edges of her smile softening. “I should. I’ve been here too long… and you’ve got company now.” But he was already moving before she finished, closing the distance like a reflex he hadn’t forgotten.

“I’ll walk you out.”

The three looked at them, and just let them be.

They stepped into the hall together, silence pressing gently between them—not heavy, not awkward, just full of all the things neither of them had the courage to name.

Then, from behind them—

“YEAH, SIEUN—TAKE CARE OF YOUR GIRLFRIEND!” Baku’s voice rang out, unfiltered and obnoxiously proud.

Sieun didn’t miss a beat.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

He stated, but his eyes glint at him. "Back off"

Baku grinned wider, unbothered. “So I can ask her out?” A sharp thwack cracked through the air as Go Tak smacked the back of Baku’s head, exasperated. “You idiot.”

She laughed, quietly.

And Sieun, for a moment, almost smiled too. He grasped tightly to her hand as they walked side by side.

The automatic doors slid open in front of them. The cold outside air kissed her cheeks, sharp and sobering. Sieun stepped out beside her, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes cast toward the horizon like he was searching for something that hadn’t quite arrived yet.

They walked a few steps in silence, their shoulders not quite touching, but close enough to feel the presence of one another.

“I wasn’t planning to stay long,” she said quietly, watching her breath curl in the air like smoke. “But it felt hard to leave.”

Sieun looked at her. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

She nodded, eyes fixed on the ground. “I didn’t know what I wanted to say when I saw you again,” she admitted. “But it was never about the words, was it?”

“No,” he murmured. “It was about showing up.”

The silence this time wasn’t heavy. It hung between them like a thread, soft and delicate, but strong enough to hold something unspoken.

She paused near the curb, the edge of where she had to go. He stopped with her.

“Text me,” she said again, barely above a whisper. “Even if it’s just one word.”

“I will.” This time, she smiled—not wide, but real. She took a step backward, eyes still on him.

“Take care of them, okay?” He nodded. “I will.”

And when she turned to leave, he didn’t stop her—not out of apathy, but trust. Trust that she would turn around if she ever needed to, and he’d be there.

Sieun stood beneath the washed-out glow of the awning, the light pooling softly at his feet. He didn’t call her name. Didn’t move. Just watched as she walked into the night, her figure slowly swallowed by shadows and streetlight.

She didn’t look back. Not at first.

But a few steps before the crosswalk, she stopped. The kind of pause that wasn’t hesitation—it was decision.

Then she turned.

Her eyes weren’t bright with tears, and her expression held no drama. Just a kind of quiet knowing. She walked back toward him, deliberate, steady. When she stopped again, it wasn’t hesitation—it was declaration.

From her pocket, she pulled something small.

Then—flick—the arc of motion was smooth, unceremonious. It landed in his hand with the soft clink of metal.

A black punch ring.

Sieun blinked down at it, the cool weight settling into his palm. He didn’t need to ask why. Her voice came low and firm, laced with something fiercer than sadness. “You can’t possibly win with just a ballpen, Sieun-ah. I don’t know what you’re fighting for… but you better win.”

And just like that, she turned.

No goodbye. No glance over her shoulder.

Only the echo of her footsteps and the charged silence she left behind.

Sieun stared at the ring, the hard curve of it pressing into his lifeline.

And then—just barely—a smile found its way to his face.

Not joy. Not hope.

But the kind saying that he was ready.

Ready for her.

Reay to face it all.

After all, he is a hero. A weak one.

♡ note ───── I'd do anything just for you to be mines again. I felt sadness pour into me. When you became a stranger, I knew that you'd be leaving me. Then you became a danger, I felt sadness pour into me.

♡ note ── hope you enjoy it, this would be the last part <3 Probably there would be another one but in S3

───── ★ requested by : @heeknow @alwaysgenerousvoid @snowflakemoon3 @yeon103 @kellystyles18 @littlebluebird2000 @hollxe1 @dripoftheseus @enhajungwonheart @energydrinkstastegood @zuwizy @trasshy-artist @cassieeelim @myouiwp @dutifullyannoyingstrawberrie @rexxiiia @aple-piie @sarangs-world-02 @enhacolor